by M. T. Miller
“Come on, man, where’s your sense of adventure?” Mark took up something that seemed like a mixture between a pistol and a rifle. “I know you’ve used that thing before.”
“I did,” the Nameless said. “But I do not think I have quite mastered it yet.”
“Suit yourself. Ammunition’s by the side,” Mark said, taking a flat object and shoving it into a port on the weapon’s grip. “Anyway, I’ve waited a couple of days to hear a confirmation, and they do plan on going through with it. So when we roll out, you be careful. I’ll try to have your back, but things can get messy real quick. Best you know about it.”
“Why have you not told the sheriff about this?” the Nameless said as he took up another slightly curved, flat thing, and wondered how to get it to fit into the rifle.
“Things aren’t that simple, Bones,” Mark said. “The best that could happen if I did that is the Grin gets axed. Literally. And even though he may be an asshole, he’s an effective asshole. We need to expand, not knock off members. Say, you do know how to load it, right?”
“No.” The Nameless smiled awkwardly.
“But you just said that you’ve used it before.”
“I did,” the Nameless said. “I shot people with it until it ran out. Then, I switched to a gun. After that, I think I took up a sword…” Things get blurry at this point.
“Ho-lee cow,” Mark said. He put his own gun back on its stand. “I’d give a nut to know how you managed to pull that off. Gimme.”
“Here you go,” the Nameless said.
With a couple of well-exercised motions, Mark loaded the rifle. “At this point I’ll assume that you don’t know about selective fire.”
“What?”
“A sub-function of the safety switch. Never mind. I’ll teach you later.” Mark handed the firearm back to the Nameless. “Mind showing me what you’ve got? The dummies are out there.”
“Of course not,” the Nameless said as he took aim.
He squeezed the trigger. The first shot missed by a wide margin. The second barely grazed the dummy. The third hit the target. The fourth was a bullseye.
“Not bad,” Mark said. “You adapt fast. Although it’s obvious that your balance was off when you started. You think I’m an unusual man, Bones? You should try looking into a mirror once or ten times.”
“I stand by my statement,” the Nameless said. “A sheriff’s son is also a member of his secret police? The whole thing seems horribly unlikely.”
“It would be,” Mark said, “if the whole thing wasn’t my idea in the first place. Well, sort of.”
As if to reassure the Nameless he wasn’t going to use it against him, he picked up his gun slowly. “I’ve spent most of my adult life in this city. I know it all the way down to its rotten core.” He turned toward the dummies, extending his arm. “I grew up knowing that my riches came at the cost of someone’s freedom. Father assured me that was the way things worked. I disagreed.”
He squeezed the trigger, spraying both the dummy and the wall behind it with a barrage of bullets.
“See? Automatic fire,” he said after he exhausted his ammunition. “Anyway, at one point, I just couldn’t take it any longer. I stole a rifle, smuggled it downstairs and shot up a place. Several less pieces of crap. You can imagine just how thrilled my dad was.”
“And you got away with absolutely no consequences?” the Nameless asked.
“Not exactly,” Mark said as he ejected the flat thing and slammed another in. “The big guy upstairs wasn’t exactly impressed by my disregard for his laws. He wanted to have me jailed. But Father begged and begged; even proposed a secret police of sorts, with me being the first member. It made sense, you see. It was about that time that the gangs were starting to misbehave majorly. That’s basically how the Cleanup Crew was born.”
“And the others came after?”
“The membership has changed over the years,” Mark said. “The guy you know as Uncle came in pretty early. The rest have mostly died. No one said this was easy work.”
“And your father has never tried to dissuade you from remaining a member?”
“You kidding me?” Mark said with a chuckle. “He never stops. That’s a parent for you, I guess. One day he might realize that he fathered a natural born killer. Luckily, I’m on the right side.”
Are you?
“Yes. Luckily,” the Nameless said. “Can you tell me about the so-called big guy? Who is he?”
“Afraid I can’t do that,” Mark said, the lines disappearing from his face. “One of the very few things I can’t, actually. The rest of the Management, you may even see around. The big boss? He only ever leaves the penthouse on business, and even then it’s not for long. That’s what Father says, anyway. It’s not like I’ve bugged him.”
“Understood,” the Nameless said. Too bad.
“But know what I can do?” Mark said. “Teach you about selective fire.”
“Please,” the Nameless said.
***
Enjoying the taste of black coffee, the Nameless relaxed in the café. The morning sun was not too intense, and it gave the surrounding desert a sublime beauty.
“I see you have a knack for pretty things,” another sublime beauty said from behind him.
Still seated, the Nameless turned to face her. Lydia stood smiling near the table, her hands resting on her hips. She wore a corset-gown with a symmetrical set of strategically placed holes. Instead of revealing anything, they merely fanned the imagination.
“You look… incredible,” he said.
“Likewise,” she said, sitting opposite the Nameless. “You won’t mind if I take a seat, would you?”
“Not at all,” the Nameless said, closely following her every move.
Chloe suddenly appeared near the table. “What’ll you have, Miss Watson?”
“I think I will take a honey latte today,” Lydia said.
“Small, right?”
“Of course. You know how restless I get after only a touch of caffeine.”
“Coming right up!” Chloe said as she ran back to the counter.
“Unlike you, Horace,” Lydia said, turning back to the Nameless. “How you can keep chugging cup after cup, I’ll never understand.”
“This is my first one for the day,” the Nameless said with a hint of a smile.
“And black too,” Lydia said, dazzling him with the sight of her teeth. “If I had that, I’d probably be jumping up and down the corridor for hours.”
“That sounds like it might be fun to witness,” the Nameless said.
“Me going up and down?” she said. “It does, does it?”
“I… I did not mean to insinuate, miss.”
“And look at him getting all shy! What are you, pious?”
“Not in the least,” the Nameless said.
“It was a joke!” she said. “But if you said ‘yes,’ I wouldn’t have been sorry at all.”
Even though he didn’t understand it, the Nameless laughed. Lydia’s face and the way she smiled were clearly to blame.
“Was that a full-on laugh? It’s a-li-i-ive!” she shouted in such a way that the whole café turned toward them.
Despite his distaste for attention-grabbing, the Nameless kept smiling.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” she said. “To let go. To release that iron grip you have on yourself. I see it. I feel it. And it hurts me as well. I can help you get rid of it, Horace.” She leaned over the table, her face inches away. Her lips, colored crimson, moved hypnotically. “I can set you free.”
“Your honey latte!” Chloe appeared out of nowhere with a steaming cup in her hands.
“Thanks, dear,” Lydia said coldly as she returned to her side.
“Always a pleasure!” Chloe said. She put the beverage down and went back to the counter.
“Where were we?” Lydia said with both her eyebrows raised.
“Last I remember, you were leaning over the table,” the Nameless said. “Feel free to do
it again.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” A smile came back on her face. “An obvious step up. Let some life flow through those veins!”
Too much life is flowing through these veins already. The Nameless’ good mood evaporated instantly.
Lydia’s eyes widened. “What? What’d I say?”
“Nothing,” the Nameless said as he turned to stare out the window again. “Nothing at all.”
“Oh, it’s something, alright!” She slammed her hands on the table. “And you’re gonna tell me just what it is!”
“Merely a bad reaction on my part.” The Nameless turned his gaze back to her. “I apologize. It will not happen again.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said as she leaned back, taking a sip of her latte. “But what can you do. One step at a time, right?”
“That is certainly one way of looking at it,” he said. “What about you, Lydia? What can you tell me about yourself? Other than your unhealthy fascination with me, of course.”
“Oh, there is nothing unhealthy about this, I assure you,” she said, putting her cup down. “But if you must know, I run an entertainment establishment.”
“As in, singing? Dancing? Theater?” the Nameless said. Is she a Madame?
“Something like that,” she said. She lowered her gaze for a moment. “It is a profitable business, but it requires a lot of dedication.”
“It is not anything… unclean, is it?”
“Define ‘unclean,’ and I might give you and answer,” she said. “Or better yet, don’t. I know that look. You want to know if it’s a brothel. It’s not. You want to know if people bump uglies in it. They don’t. Wrap your head around that for a while.”
“What is it, then?”
“I’ll leave it to you to make your own conclusions,” she said. “If you ever get to see it.”
“And how will we determine that?”
“For starters, with dinner,” she said. “How do you feel about Vega’s at eight?”
“Do they serve anything other than plants there?” the Nameless asked. “Because I can hardly stomach this floor’s cuisine.”
“That’s… strange,” she said. “Most everyone who comes here is glad to stop chewing on that additive-laden crap from downstairs.”
“I am not like anyone else,” the Nameless said. And I happen to like it.
“Yeah, I figured that,” she said as she downed the rest of her latte. “Well, I am nothing if not tolerant. Tell you what; I’ll meet you halfway. You get your own chow, I’ll get mine. Be in front of door 251, precisely at eight. It’s a liquor bar, but it lets you bring your own food. How’s that sound?”
“One could hardly call that a ‘dinner’ then,” the Nameless said.
“Nonsense!” she said. “We will be dining, won’t we?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the problem, then?”
“No problem at all,” the Nameless said.
“Wonderful! Looking forward to it,” Lydia said as she rose. “Now if you’ll excuse me, duty calls.”
“I could walk you over,” the Nameless said, also on his feet.
“Nice try,” she said. “No, I don’t think I will be needing that.” She approached the counter. “How much for my latte?”
“I will take care of it,” the Nameless said.
“If you insist,” she said, slowly moving toward the entrance. “Enjoy your day, Horace”
“You too, Lydia,” he said. He waited for her to be gone, and then sat back down.
“Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Bones?” Chloe said as she reappeared at his side.
“Just the check, if you will,” the Nameless said. “And if you can tell me as much as you can about Miss Watson, I will double your tip.”
“Your check will be up in a minute,” Chloe said. “As for the info… I like you, Mr. Bones. I like you a lot. But I like my job more.”
The Nameless’ eyes flew to the barmaid, who immediately turned away.
“Understood,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-three
The glass hit the floor, shattering into pieces. None of the surrounding drones batted an eye.
“Well, I guess it had to happen at some point,” Rush said, her violet eyes blinking rapidly. She stood in the doorway to her apartment in her baggy t-shirt, her fingers wiggling around where the glass used to be. “I’ve snapped! It’s all over.”
“I assure you,” the Nameless said, “I am quite real.”
“Suuure you are,” said Rush, extending her hand. Her fingers hit his chest and she recoiled. “Hm. Tactile hallucination. Seems I go straight for the big leagues. Figures.”
“Is this a common occurrence for you?” the Nameless asked, remembering his own experience with her chemicals.
“Never happened before,” she said as she grabbed the door and started slowly pushing it closed. “Now, how about you go away like a good little ghost, huh?”
The Nameless pressed his hand against the door. Even with little effort on her part, it was difficult to hold.
“I am real and I am alive, Rush. I am here with a proposition,” he said.
“And I might believe you,” she said, slowly opening her door back up, “if I hadn’t beaten you to a bloody pulp myself. And then you went and injected yourself with my shit. You’re dead, asshole. Now accept it and stop haunting me!”
“What would it take to convince you that I am real? This is getting tiring.”
“You could start by telling me how you regrew your face, for starters.”
“I would love to. But how about inviting me in first? And no, I am not a vampire.” Probably.
“Yeah, sure, come in,” she said, moving to the side. “I think I’ve figured out how to test you anyway.”
“How?” the Nameless said as he stepped inside.
“You’ll see,” said Rush, grabbing the door and closing it behind him.
As the Nameless stood in the middle of the room, Rush proceeded to get her vial stand out.
“I’m gonna give myself a hit,” she said as she dragged the thing in front of a chair. “If you disappear, or turn into a tentacle monster or something, then I’ll know I’m tripping balls.”
“And if I do not?”
“Then you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do,” she said as she loaded the vials into the pistol. “No. No, fuck the if. Start talking now.”
“I have recovered,” he said. “I regrew what you broke off, and endured what you gave me. Although it was neither easy nor pleasant.”
“Bullshit!” she said, her neck slightly tilted and the vial gun pressed against it.
“I am telling the truth,” he said. “Although the means by which I did those things are… unbelievable.”
Rush squeezed the trigger, and the fluids disappeared into her body. Eyes closed, she rolled her head around for several seconds. The vial pistol dropped to the floor, and she pressed her temples with both palms.
“Rush?” the Nameless said.
“Oh, goodie!” she said as she slowly opened her eyes. “You’re real. I might have a few good years left in me yet!”
“So you believe me?”
“Now, no one said that.” The speed at which Rush got back on her feet was inhuman. “But I will listen to what you have to say.”
“I have come here with a propo—“
“Not that!” Rush said. “I want to know how you’ve survived pumping yourself full of my stuff.” She approached him, slowly for a change. “Whatever it is that you’re taking, it might prove useful to me.”
“I am afraid I will have to disappoint,” the Nameless said as he followed her motions. “I am not taking anything."
“Then what it is?” She kept circling around him.
“Would you please stop that?”
“Stop what?” Rush kept moving faster and faster.
“Pacing around me.”
“No,” she said. “Go on.”
How do I even go about this?
the Nameless wondered. He trailed her with his eyes, not letting a single move of hers going unnoticed. If he could share his secret with anyone, it would be her. She is, herself, an aberration.
“I have to kill people,” he said. “Every day or two, I must take a life. If I do not, I keep getting weaker. When I do it, I get better. The effect gets more drastic if I kill several people at once. Do you see where this is going?”
“You’re saying you’re some kind of serial killer?” Rush stopped her pacing. Instead, she stood right before him.
“Yes and no,” he said. “I have killed, but only… mostly in the slums. I attack gang members. Pimps. Oppressors. Scum.”
“And have you tried…” She came up to his face, not unlike a pit bull. “Have you tried not killing people?”
“Not until the end, I did not,” he said. “But I have tried for several days, and the result is not pretty. At some point, I grow so weak I can scarcely move.”
“And how d’you survive that?” She looked ready to punch him in the face.
“With great difficulty,” he said.
Perhaps this was not that great of a decision.
“Yeah…” She turned around as suddenly as she approached. “Yeah, I bet you did. Like that first fight on the night I kicked your ass, yeah. I remember.” She picked up the vial stand, put it back in the locker, and closed it.
“And just like that, you believe me?”
“No other explanation,” Rush said as she turned to face him. “You should be dead. You’re not. Good enough for me.” She came up to the chair and sat down. “Now what did you have in mind?”
“I require the expertise of whoever it is that makes your concoctions,” the Nameless said.
“Oh, you do, now?” She tilted her head to the side, creating an avalanche of purple. “If you liked your trip so much, I can give you more. For a fair price, of course.” She smiled.
“As a matter of fact, I did not like it at all,” the Nameless said. “It was necessary, but… I never want to see what I saw then again.”
“Oh?” She straightened her neck. “I want to hear!”
