Chromed- Upgrade

by Richard Parry

  Prophet stood quiet for a moment. “You think that the right incentive would make them stand in the rain as it poured down, burning at their minds?”

  “Not quite, Master. How flexible is the demon?”

  “Flexible?”

  “Yes, Master. Let me explain.” As Julian laid out his ideas, Prophet relaxed, then smiled.

  This time, it wouldn’t hurt.

  Julian met Bernie Eckers at The Hole. The bar was dark. It and Eckers smelled of stale beer. The pudgy, sallow man’s shirt was stained with sweat and grime. He faced Julian from behind the bar, using the wood like a shield. Julian chose the fixer’s place of business figuring it might set the human cockroach at ease. He’d laid out his proposal like fresh chum, but the shark in Eckers hadn’t bit. Not yet.

  “I don’t get it, Oldham.” Eckers rubbed his belly where his shirt didn’t meet his buckle.

  How he’d managed to escape the grip of the Prophet was a curiosity, but in this instance it worked for Julian’s plan. He might get out of this and make decent cash. Prophet didn’t want money. He wanted control. Prophet was the biggest asshole Julian had seen in Reed’s C-suite, but he didn’t seem averse to Julian making a little on the side so long as he remembered who was in charge. Julian’s angle was to give Prophet the control while keeping the proceeds. Nice and simple.

  “You don’t have to get it. It’s a simple proposal, Eckers. You sell it, you keep a percentage.” It was hard to not murder the fat man. Julian’s last couple days had been harder than normal. You need him. At least for a little while.

  “I get that part. Why are you coming to me? You Reed assholes have all kinds of channels for this. You already distribute stuff at a scale I can’t touch.”

  “Sure, we distribute a lot of entertainments that have been proven to be profitable. Those have a history of clinical trials.”

  Eckers shuffled behind the bar, favoring a leg. “Trials.” He held up a tumbler, and Julian nodded. Eckers splashed amber liquid into the glass and pushed it over. “Last time you were here, you broke my shotgun and blew a hole in my roof.” He looked up at the ragged hole that let light and rain in. Both fell in roughly equal measure against the old concrete floor. It cast the inside of The Hole into relief where the tired bar wanted to stay covered in quiet gloom.

  “No, those Apsel motherfuckers blew a hole in your roof.” Julian shook his head.

  “Whatever. You’re all company to me.”

  “The difference is twofold.” Julian forced a smile. “First, we’re coming to you with a profitable endeavor. You make money, we make money.”

  “Fine.” Eckers poured himself Scotch. “What’s the other thing?”

  “We’re going to fix your roof,” said Julian. “In fact, we want to invest in your business. We want you to be one of our strategic partners.”

  Eckers coughed, spitting liquid on the bar. “What the fuck did you say?”

  “Bernie — do you mind if I call you Bernie?”

  “Yes. No. I mean, sure. Call me what you like.” Eckers wiped his chin.

  Julian took the bottle from Eckers. He poured Scotch into Ecker’s glass, the liquid sloshing. “Bernie, we want to enter into a business contract with you.”

  The shorter man squinted at Julian. “What’s the catch?”

  “There will be paperwork, of course.”

  “No, the real catch.”

  “Ah,” said Julian. “This entertainment won’t be Reed branded. There’s … commercial sensitivity at this early stage.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s new.” Julian adjusted his shirt — too tight, I haven’t walked around outside in a while — before putting the bottle down. “There is some risk.”

  “It could blow up in my face,” said Eckers.

  “It could,” agreed Julian. “Without risk, there is little chance of reward.”

  “Right. What’s your risk?” Eckers had fresher sweat stains at his armpits, nervousness already at eleven.

  “The risk for us is that you’re unreliable scum.” Julian spread his hands. “You will probably try to sell us out. You may steal our product.” Eckers swallowed but stayed silent. “We could lose a whole line over this. It’s a risk we’re willing to take, to … expedite the product to market.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes. Because if our risk is realized, we will fucking execute you.”

  Eckers laughed, stopping when Julian didn’t join in. “You always negotiate like this?”

  “This isn’t much of a negotiation,” said Julian. “I’ve made you an offer. It’s a generous offer. A partnership from a major syndicate in your shitty, gasping, desperate business. All in exchange for marketing a new entertainment, a product people will line up down the block to buy. If you don’t want the deal, we’ll take it somewhere else.”

  “No, I want the deal.”

  Julian smiled like a wolf. Of course you do.

  Julian stood outside The Hole, a name more apt than Eckers knew. Or maybe the fat man did. He drew on his cigarette, blowing smoke in a stream. “Your problem is you let greed get in the way of your good sense.”

  Your other problem is you’re talking to yourself. Julian pushed off from the wall, walking back to his car. He managed to stifle the trembling in his leg by clamping a hand on his thigh, driving augmented fingers into weak flesh.

  Why not treat yourself to Chromed: Rogue?

  [https://www.books2read.com/ChromedRogue]