"I hear you, Chief."
"Okay, take a hike then. Some of us have actual work to do."
Ⓥ
Agent Red looked at the profile on the screen. "I don't see what any of this has to do with me or my Crimson Kings."
Eight Baller stared at him from the display, features completely obscured by a glossy black helmet marked by a large white circle centered by the number eight. His patterned vest and satin shirt were in the purple and black colors of his syndicate, the Krazy Eights. "We have shared interests. I would think that something that threatens our operation would be a threat to yours as well."
Agent Red's base of operations was a low-profile storage facility at one of the many industrial sectors in the Kings District. Nothing plush or extravagant, because unlike many of the idiots who worked for him, he didn't plan on spending any time getting tatted up behind bars. He figured Eight Baller's headquarters were much more luxuriant. Some penthouse with a view of the city, no doubt.
Agent Red folded his arms. "Your operation got sloppy. Too much attention with your clubs and parties. Something was bound to blow sooner or later. You should be grateful it was just a few discotheques."
"The clubs aren't important. They were just fronts for our more lucrative ventures."
Agent Red sneered behind his vermillion mask. "You mean your rape dungeons? If you ask me, that shit deserved to be shut down. What the hell were you thinking?"
Eight Baller exhaled an exaggerated sigh. "All you see is the surface, Red. That's why your CKs are kept at the bottom of the totem pole. It's not the illicit activity; it's the tech that's important. Diabolis wants it finetuned, which is the purpose of the exercise. Haze parlors, sex dens—it's all about perfecting the technology."
"For what?"
"Does it matter? The pay is exquisite; that's what counts. But now, Diabolis is displeased with the raids and particularly the loss of Moneta. I'm coming to you to gauge your interest in becoming a part of this venture."
"You want my soldiers."
"They would be helpful, yes."
"I bet they would. So the cops bust your operation, and you want us to go to war with them? Not interested."
"I can handle the RCE. What I want is for the vigilante activity to stop. Surely you can put your Blood Boyz on that little detail, can't you? Or do I need to make the offer to one of the others? I'm sure the Warmongers would love a shot at it."
Agent Red scoffed. "Yeah, I bet—and take a sizable chunk of your op for good measure."
"That's a risk, certainly. But one I'm willing to take if you're not feeling up to the challenge."
His fist clenched. "No. We'll do it. But I expect to be well-compensated for our efforts."
"You will be. I told you—the pay is—"
"No. Money isn't important. I want something else. Something better."
"What's better than money?"
Respect, he thought. But he'd never admit that to Eight Baller in a million years. "I want an introduction."
Eight Baller stared from the screen for a moment. "The Golden Daggers."
"That's right. Next time you meet, I want to be there."
Eight Baller was silent for a few seconds before he finally nodded. "Very well. Bring me receipts, and I will advance you to the next level."
"Receipts?"
"Bodies. Any of these vigilantes running around the city. Particularly the killer priest and the numero uno himself."
"Vigil."
"That's right. You deliver either of them, and you can write your own ticket. I guarantee it."
Chapter 8: Ambush
Good morning, Neo-Yorkers. You're with Cam Danvers on another NYN Fast Break. Violence exploded near a park in a quiet Kings neighborhood when a crew of Crimson Kings opened fire, killing two people and wounding several others. It's been determined that the CKs were gunning for a particular target: eighteen-year-old Martin Stevenson, who the RCE identified as Hit Boi, one of the so-called Vigilant. According to reports, he spent his free evenings following gang members to their homes and shooting them in the back of the head. Small wonder he was targeted for retaliation. Hit Boi's short-lived career as a vigilante may have reached an end, but the war between syndicate gangs and Vigilant members seems to only be escalating. Although Sergeant Brooks of the RCE released a statement saying that detectives were pursuing several persons of interest, no suspects have been arrested. This is me not holding my breath for a clean resolution to this case.
But switching gears, a bit of good news: the quarterly Lottery winner was chosen today! Olivia Green of Freshkills Island was ecstatic to hear her name announced as the newest resident of Haven Core. She joins us for an exclusive interview after the break.
***
"Jett? Kinda lost you there for a moment."
Jett pulled his eyes from the screen on the wall, focusing on Ronnie, who looked at him with an amused expression. Out of her uniform for once, she wore a heat-appropriate tank top and capris, with dangle earrings the same sky-blue color as her top. Her bare arms were firm and toned, one hand holding a glass of iced tea that dripped condensation over her finger. He loved her natural look: minimal makeup, curly hair carefully casual.
"Sorry. Just distracted for a second."
She glanced back at the screen, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "More bad news. Stuff like that makes me glad for the promotion. Can't say I miss the endless bodies."
Luigi's was a sandwich shop in the Breaks that claimed to serve the best quick bites, and Jett couldn't argue. Since it was his turn to pick the lunch spot, he went with what he knew. He ordered a pastrami with Swiss, Thousand Island dressing and slaw on a footlong bun with spicy Baja chicken and cheddar fries on the side. Ronnie pleasantly surprised him by choosing the Fatty: thinly sliced beef topped by a spicy link, cheddar, Swiss, Pepper Jack, mustard, and spicy mayo with Philly Cheese fries. She surprised him further by finished her meal first.
"Yeah, I bet. How's the work coming along, anyway?"
She shrugged. "Don't really want to talk about work. Quit stalling and play the game."
"Fine. Let's see. Things I know about you that you haven't told me." He narrowed his eyes, pondering. "You bite your nails. That can signal many things, but I'm going to go with concentration. Means you're wildly driven, focused to the point of isolation sometimes."
Her eyebrows raised. "Okay, that hits hard. How could you possibly—"
Leaning back in his chair, he smiled. "I knew someone like you."
"Old girlfriend?"
"My brother."
"Ah. Commander Marcus Wolfe. Hero of the Imperial Wars."
"You've done your research."
"How could I not? It's not every day you meet a legend from another time."
"You never met my brother."
"I'm talking about you, Jett."
He shook his head. "I'm no legend. I just walked in their shadows. My brother was everything I tried to be. Disciplined, decisive, but still empathetic. A natural leader."
"And you're not?"
"It was never natural for me. I copied what he did, followed his example, even when I resented him at times."
"Why?"
"Because he commanded respect when he walked into a room. Me, I had to work off my butt to get it. And even then, I wasn't sure if it was because I'd earned it or because I was Marcus Wolfe's little brother."
She tilted her head. "Younger sibling complex. I would have never guessed. You have such an easy way about yourself. I would have thought you were the oldest if I didn't do the research."
"Well, Marcus died. I had to grow up eventually."
Her eyes glistened with empathy. "I'm sorry, Jett."
He shrugged. "It literally happened ages ago."
"What were your parents like?"
A wry grin touched his mouth. "You're really interested in all this, aren't you?"
She spread out her arms. "Hey—orphan girl here, remember? The idea of family fascinates me."
"Wel
l, my family wasn't exactly the model of domestic bliss. My mother was good to me, of course. I didn't know her long—cancer took her when I was six."
"I'm sorry."
"There you go being sorry. It's okay. I've had plenty of time to deal with it."
"And what about your father?"
He sighed, recalling his father's face. Stern, deeply intelligent. And sad. Always sadness in his gaze. "He was … preoccupied."
"You weren't close?"
"I don't know. Mars and Earth are considered pretty close, but there’s over a hundred million miles between them. That's how Nathan Ryder was. Even when he was near you, he was still distant. He was a complicated man, bent on changing the world. Some might say he succeeded."
Her eyes widened. "Nathan Ryder? The man who pioneered the study of aberrant energy? The founder of the RCE and the—"
"The man who assassinated the last sitting President of the United States. Yeah, that was my dad."
She shook her head in amazement. "
Is there anyone you're related to that's not a historical legend?"
He laughed. "Yeah—my mom. Wolfe is her maiden name, if you're wondering. Nathan didn't want us to use his name. Thought it would be safer for us."
"Safer?"
"You don't get to be a man like him without making an endless number of enemies. He was always afraid of the backlash, that his actions would result in us being hurt or killed. His paranoia was legendary, but I can't argue that he was wrong. None of that made for good family relationships, though. I didn't understand it back then. I had no idea of the weight that he carried on his shoulders."
She studied his face as though trying to read his mind. "I see that in you sometimes."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You have the look of a quietly-suffering man sometimes." She leaned forward, a sly smile on her lips. "Makes me think you're hiding secrets, Mr. Wolfe."
He hid his unease around a bite of sandwich, taking time to chew before speaking. "Oh, I see what you're doing. Some good ol' interrogation tactics, right?"
"No interrogation. I'm just curious. You hide things, Jett. Even with me, you still won't open up."
"Trust me, this is open."
"Not all the way. Look, I get it."
"Do you?"
"I get being guarded. Hell, I'm the queen of compartmentalizing my emotions. That's why it's easy to spot when you do it."
"Takes one to know one, huh?"
"It does." She glanced down, toying with her napkin. "But I don't want to be that way with you, Jett. I want to know I can trust you."
He reached out, placed a hand on hers. "You can trust me."
"Can I?"
"Sure. Ask me anything."
"Okay. Hmm." She twisted her lips, concentrating. "I want to know more about your past. Tell me about the Imperials."
He groaned. "Not that again."
Her eyes brightened. "What were they really like? Archives portray them like gods or something."
He shook his head. "They definitely weren't gods."
She leaned forward, hanging on his every word. "Did you know any personally?"
"Quite a few. Worked with some of the best. You have to understand, Imperials … they were just people. Like you and me."
She smirked. "I can't lift a truck with my mind."
He rubbed a hand over his head. "Look: the change came suddenly. The aberrant energy from the Desolation killed over a billion people before it ran its course. It infected billions of others. Of those infected, a small percentage gained superhuman abilities. Most of them didn't have too much strength. It took a lot of concentration to pull off anything. That's what kept them from immediately taking over. But the Omegas—those were the ones everyone knows about. They ultimately broke the world in the end. The Skygate was designed to purge the world of aberrant energy to end the Omega's power. They didn't want that to happen. So, they went to war."
"And you fought them?"
"I helped fight them. It was a team effort. Humans and other Imperials who believed in the cause. I ended up being one of the leaders of the ACU, but that more by accident than anything else."
"Must have been a scary experience."
He paused in the act of taking a bite. "I guess it was. It's funny what you get acclimated to. I grew up in the age of Imperials. Some of my friends inherited abilities. It was just the way things were."
She watched him with her chin propped on her hand. "Wow. That's wild. You've lived through so much. Aberrations, the Desolation, the Imperial War, the Skygate collapse … and the Cataclysm."
"Yeah, I'm a dinosaur. Last of my generation, I guess."
"That's not true. There are other layovers from that time."
He shrugged. "A handful scattered across the Territories. I've never personally run into any."
"How do you handle it, Jett?"
"Handle what?"
"The loneliness. Don't give me some offhand answer. I know it's tough on you."
He looked at her for a moment. "How do you handle it?"
She hesitated for a moment before answering. "I'm used to it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I never had anyone from the get-go. Tough orphan girl scrapping for everything—you know the story. I didn't come up with anything to miss. But you—you had people, Jett. Family, friends. I can't even imagine how it must feel to wake up from stasis and everyone you know is gone."
He sucked in a deep breath. "Not good, that's for sure. It's something so raw that I really don't have the words to describe it. It's like ... waking up, and you're not you anymore. The person you were, everything about him has been scrubbed away. And to endure the loss, you have to become someone else. Someone new. Because if you don't, the memories will swallow you. The depression will eat you alive."
Her eyes shimmered with empathy, never leaving his face. "You're a strong man, Jett. I can't imagine what you've gone through. I told you once that you didn't have to go through this alone. At the time, it was an automatic reference to counseling. But now ... I mean it personally. I'm here for you, Jett."
"I appreciate that, Ronnie. Just wish I knew if that means as a friend ... or something more."
She took a sudden interest in the ice inside her cup. "Did you … have someone? At the end? Someone you loved?"
He grimaced. "Yeah."
"And…?"
"And what?"
"And what happened? What was she like?"
He sank in his seat. "I don't know…"
"Look, we're having an honest moment, right? I just want to know what kind of woman would fall for a big lug like you."
He grinned. "Oh, it's like that? Okay … she didn't fall for me. Not even close. I chased her."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Her name was Tatsu. Tatsu Shibata."
"How did you two meet?"
"That part was easy. She was a teammate on my squad."
"The Aberrant Control Unit?"
"Yep. We were combat partners long before things turned into something else."
"Soldier girl, huh? Was she a good fighter?"
"Deadly. Way more dangerous than I was."
"Really? Because I met your doppelganger, and let me tell you—he was pretty dangerous."
"Yeah, you told me. Must've been strange."
"I'll say. He was … intense."
He looked her in the eyes. "You know that wasn't me, right? I would never try to hurt you."
"I know. But I think it made me understand you a little better."
"Really? How?"
"Look—in situations like this…"
He raised an eyebrow. "Like lunch?"
"Yeah. Lunch. We put on our best faces. You know what I'm saying."
"I like to think we're just being our natural selves."
"Yeah, and we are. But it's still our best natural selves. Seeing that side of you—the soldier—made me understand how you can still function after what you've been through. I saw how hard you can be. You're a tough
guy behind the gentleness and easy smiles. Not just tough. Hard. You have to have some hardness to be a survivor."
He flexed his fingers, watching the tendons constrict and relax in his hands. "Not much of a choice, I guess."
"He was so much like you, Jett. I still don't see how—"
His jaw clenched. "Golding, that's how."
"Golding? As in Golding Enterprises that runs the show on surveillance in the city?"
"Yeah, that one. I survived in his stasis lab but paid the price: access to my memories. He harvested them and used them to create those synoid imposters. And that's not all."
"You mean there's something worse than that?"
"Yeah. He also distributed my memories to the Elysia database. Anyone can access them and relieve pieces of my life."
"What? Why didn't you tell me? I can have that shut down."
"Temporarily. It'll just come back through another channel."
"Yeah, but I can make it very hard for anyone who tries. Man, I can't even imagine what that must feel like. I'm so sorry, Jett."
"It's not your fault, Ronnie. I just wish there was a way to shut it down at the source. Wherever that is."
"Well, let me do some digging and I'll do what I can." She glanced at her flickering holoband. "Hold on a sec."
Tapping the datcom in her ear, she listened to someone over the line. "Say what? You mean a major shipment is about to go down, and we're only now hearing about it? Who's in charge of that op? Brooks? Are you kidding me? Listen, I'm coming in now. We have two hours to get this airtight."
Jett glanced at her after she signed off. "Gotta run?"
"Yeah. Sorry, Jett."
"No, I understand. We'll do it again soon."
"Definitely. Thanks for being you, Jett." She got up, squeezing his shoulder as she passed.
"Watch your six out there, Captain."
"I'll try."
He watched her quickly round the corner, then made himself wait two minutes before heading outside into the heat. He tapped his datcom. "Incognito."
"I'm here, Vigil."
"How far is the nearest portable hangar unit?"
"Two blocks away on the rooftop of an abandoned hotel."
"Good. Can you get the suit prepped?"
"Will do. What's going on?"
"I just got word on a major deal going down in a couple of hours. The cops are setting up a sting op to take it down."
Vigil: Inferno Season (The Cyber Knight Chronicles Book 2) Page 12