At that point I probably should've taken the less than subtle hint, wrapped up what was left of my sandwich, and left. Unfortunately the decision to shuffle on was abruptly taken from me when Skeezly handed Jax his order and the bill.
"Just put it on his tab," Jax tossed his head in my direction. "I'm sure a friendly rube like him doesn't mind treating me and the lads to a bit of lunch; do you, buddy?" His comments drew a spattering of chuckles from his mates while I quickly assessed my options.
Under normal circumstances, I try not to draw attention to myself. However in this case I decided to make an exception. Old Jax here was begging for a lesson in manners, and I was more than happy to be his instructor.
I casually wiped my mouth and hands with a napkin then leveled cool eyes on my soon-to-be-etiquette pupil. "As a matter of fact I do. And since you and your boy-band are interrupting my meal why don't you lot pick up my tab."
The sneer on Jax's face disappeared and a snap of his fingers brought his cronies in closer. "It's obvious you ain't from around these parts," he growled after taking a menacing step toward me. "Me and my boys run this quad and since you're here that means we run you. So unless you want to wake up in the Hereafter you'd better…"
My stiffened fingers jabbing into his larynx cut off the rest of what was sure to be a memorable threat, and a quick back fist to his right temple sent him falling into the waiting arms of his stunned fellows for a well deserved nap.
Now if this were one of those action holos this would be the scene where, after offing one of their numbers, the Good Guy gives the remaining Bad Guys a chance to rethink their tenuous position and so forth, but we Sanctioners rarely consider ourselves 'Good Guys'. 'Bad-ass Deliverers of Justice', perhaps, but that's about as altruistic as we tend to get. That being the case I set about systematically giving Jax's boys the whipping they so desperately deserved.
Based on the sudden applause I received as I dispatched the motley crew with a variety of hand and foot combinations, I got the feeling that the minor distinction made little difference to these folks.
For me, the sudden notoriety was a bit unnerving. The majority of a Sanctioner's work goes unacknowledged by the general populace so the unexpected adulation was completely foreign to me. As I looked upon the faces of my newfound adoring public, I had to admit that it was a condition that I could easily get used to.
Suddenly I felt a strange tingling at the base of my skull; the type of feeling you get when you're being watched. A quick scan of the crowd produced no obvious answers though I did pay closer attention to the young female who had managed to push her way through the crowd and was now standing beside me.
"That was quite a show," she gushed, a look of satisfaction on her face as her pretty green eyes touched briefly on each of the fallen youths. "You've got some serious skills!"
"Uh...thanks," I stammered while I drank in the sight of her sexy, athletic body.
Her sensuous lips curved into a grin as she brushed a hand through thick auburn hair that provided a nice contrast to her cinnamon colored skin. From the knowing look in her eyes it was obvious that she was used to men gawking at her. "Who are you?"
Her husky voice brought me out of my scandalous ogle, and I flashed my most charming smile. "I'm just a stranger in a strange city trying to enjoy a good meal."
"Ah but you're much more than that my friend," exclaimed an exuberant Skeezly as he approached and gave my shoulder a hearty slap. "Jax and his animals have been preying on us merchants for years but the authorities never do anything about it."
"And why is that?" I asked, once again ignoring the urgings of my inner-voice to not get involved in the affairs of these erstwhile folks. This new-found concern for others could easily become a pernicious habit.
Skeezly spared the unconscious forms of Jax and his crew a disgusted look then turned bitter eyes back to me. "That's just the way it is. Jax is the nephew of Cole Deshler; one of Restan's Judicial Managers which pretty much makes him, and his dogs, untouchable as far as the local law is concerned."
"Ah," I replied empathizing with his anger. Such practices were common in outlying communities but putting an end to them was the job of the local law not a lone, though infinitely talented, Sanctioner. "Well perhaps Jax and his associates will learn some manners after this, and change their wicked ways."
"I doubt it," Skeezly spat. "The only lessons jerks like these understand are the ones that leave you dead."
Several members of the crowd echoed Skeezly sentiment and I was taken aback by their vehemence. In fact, from the way some of the more outspoken of them were eyeing Jax and company I began to wonder if the punks would be allowed to wake up. Fortunately that concern was laid to rest at the sound of approaching sirens.
"You'd better vanish, friend," Skeezly said worriedly. "Most of the Lawmen in this area are on Deshler's payroll and will probably take offense to what you did to Jax and his butt-boys."
I couldn't help but laugh at his statement. "I think you may be right my friend."
"C'mon," the lovely young lady still standing beside me urged, giving me a saucy wink as she tugged on my arm. "I know the perfect place for you to lay low for a few hours!"
Chapter 3
It turns out my new friend, whose name was Tianna, did know the perfect place: her cozy apartment which was about four blocks away from the sight of my little altercation. Once we were safely nestled behind closed doors, she spent the next few hours expressing her...gratitude for my handling of Jax in a way that would've left me in a med-unit had I not been in top physical condition.
When our lustful aerobics finally wound to a close, Tianna spent the remainder of our time together filling me in on the local history.
Brick Town, the name of their quaint little community, was established a few hundred years ago to house the multitude of tradesmen and their families hired by the numerous conglomerates during Restan's industrial expansion.
Over the decades what started out as a smattering of pre-fab structures for a transient populace grew into a modest city. Establishment of a governing body comprised of local citizens allowed Brick Town to break away from Restan's restrictive charter but it also opened the door for corruption.
It seems that Restan's Managers weren't thrilled with the idea of the outlaying burb potentially becoming a threat to the larger city's position in Mylan's industrial infrastructure. Thus began the covert but effective sabotage of Brick Town's development by council members more loyal to Restan than their own constituents, and this Deshler character was the latest in a series of greedy, corporate despots preying on the less fortunate.
Tianna's historical oration concluded with a fervent prayer that someday someone would rid their city of him, and I have to admit the story of Brick Town's plight touched a nerve within me. Perhaps if time permitted I would pay Deshler a visit; have a little chat with him on the ways he could better serve his community.
But first things first: Ms Kyle and I had an early morning appointment and I needed to focus my energies on that.
After enjoying another quick round of carnal calisthenics with my eager companion, I bid her goodnight then made my way back to my hotel. A hot shower and a few hours sleep returned me to my lethally robust self, after which I set out for Geraint Tower.
Getting into the Tower was a snap. There isn't an identi-chip in the galaxy that can't be faked. Trust me I know! For this caper I decided assume the role of a pressurization tech from the Rite-Flow company, one of the maintenance firms contracted by the Tower.
In terms of beauty, space, and functionality, mega-plazas like Geraint were a masterpiece of architectural style and technology, but their monstrous dimensions created a veritable meteor shower of environmental concerns; particularly the chore of maintaining a functional atmosphere within the superstructure. On an average day Geraint's halls played host to nearly two hundred-thousand people. With that kind of demand, the respirators required round-the-chrono monitoring to keep the system operati
ng at peak efficiency.
Geraint's atmospheric needs meant major profit for respiratory maintenance companies like Rite-Flow. For me it meant unlimited access to the endless maze of ventilation shafts that riddled the plaza.
Using the diagram of the vent system I had acquired from Rite-Flow's database in pretty much the same way I had obtained the one for Geraint (apparently Kalians where the office personnel of choice around these parts) I quickly made my way to Redemption's sector.
Fortunately for me one of the floor's main junctions was located above Kyle's office which allowed me to stay sequestered in the vents the entire way, after the dismantling of various monitoring and anti-personnel devices of course. Software companies tend to be a cautious lot, but then so am I which is why I plan for every contingency.
My assumed identity would've easily gotten me where I needed to go but this way was better. If you haven't been seen, you can't be identified. I merrily made my way through the vent, smug in my own cleverness; that is until I ran into the cadre of vent-bots stationed at one of the vent's junctures.
The latest thing in robotic security, these two foot high drones came equipped with a multitude of antipersonnel armament, the most dangerous being the micro laser array attached to the front of their ugly cylindrical bodies. Fortunately the juncture's larger circumference allowed for more maneuverability when the ‘bots opened fire.
My agility training served me well as I twisted, rolled, and squirmed around the barrage of lasers and projectile ammunition directed at me. But not even an operative as superbly conditioned as I could stand up to such an onslaught without eventually getting scathed. One of the lasers managed to crease my left shoulder, drawing a painful hiss from my lips as the yellow beam easily burned through my shirt and a few layers of my skin.
I needed to take these things out fast! As I twisted my torso into a position that would've made the Yoga instructors back at headquarters beam with approval, I grabbed an EMP (electro magnetic pulse) grenade from utility belt, thumbed it on and tossed it toward the bots.
Three seconds later our lethal tango came to an abrupt halt as the resulting blast disrupted the circuits of the vent-bots and every other electronic device within a six foot radius. Luckily the only things affected other than the bots were a couple of air circulators. A few offices would get a bit stuffy until their onboard computers reset but that was it.
Unlike traditional EMP devices, the ones used by Sanction Group were of low yield to keep electronic damage to a minimum. They were meant to distract, not destroy which is why I spent the next several minutes giving the four vent-bots, two of which were already starting to come back online, a more...permanent adjusting.
When that was done I quickly gave my injury the medical attention it deserved, removed all traces of my having been in the area, with exception of the mangled bots, and pressed onward.
I rounded the next bend in the shaft and came to a quiet stop behind the corresponding grill. Kyle was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass-steel window, oblivious to everything but the steaming liquid she was cautiously sipping from a porcelain cup.
I deftly disengaged the locks on the grill, dropped silently into her office...and froze as she calmly turned and faced me.
Chapter 4
"You know you could've saved yourself a lot of aggravation by just spiking my coffee pot before I got here," Kyle said, taking another sip from her cup. "But a man like you probably prefers the personal touch."
Let me take a moment to explain the absurdity of this scene.
Having sanctioned two-hundred, sixty three people during the course of my illustrious career, I've experienced a variety of reactions to my appearance. Some folks try to run. Others beg shamelessly for their lives. A few even choose the glory road, hoping the clichéd 'last stand' will be enough to stop the inevitable. Whatever course they plot, Sanctionees generally try like hell to save themselves.
It's what they do.
What they don't do is blithely critique your Sanction methods while drinking a cup of coffee. That just doesn't happen!
"So..." she drawled an amused expression on her face. "Were you planning on saying anything or are you just going to stand there and stare at me all day?"
Actually staring at her wouldn't be such a bad idea. The holo in her file hadn't done her the proper justice.
Dark eyes set in an attractive angular face that, though seamed with age, exuded an inner strength that was almost palpable. There was also a curious familiarity about her but I couldn't put my finger on it.
She stared at me a moment longer then cocked her right eyebrow. "You can speak, can't you?"
"When the occasion calls for it," I replied when my tongue finally decided to cooperate.
Her smile deepened. "I see. And would this be one of those occasions?"
My traitorous lips returned her smile of their own accord. "I suppose it could."
"Well that's good," she said, glaring at me through the steam rising from her mug. "I must say it's been a pleasure watching you work, Mister Slade. You do indeed live up to your reputation."
A startled look consumed my features. "You know who I am?"
"Well of course I do," she said, giving me a wink. "I'm the one that hired you."
Okay, now this situation was getting bizarre. "What are you talking about? This order was issued by…"
"Councilor Josef Adams," she finished my statement, "who was in fact acting on my behalf. You see Mr. Slade I've had my eye on you for some time. I have a little venture in the works and a man of your skill and temperament would make a nice addition to my team. However a test was needed in order for me to properly gauge your abilities. Fortunately our mutual colleague, Councilor Adams, was able to arrange this little...demonstration so I could personally watch you in action."
Several tense moments passed while I slowly digested the data being downloaded. "Let me get this straight: You're looking for operatives and when my name came across your desk you had a Sanction order placed on your own life just so you could evaluate my skills?"
"I would say that pretty much sums up my intentions," Kyle confirmed with a shrug and my eyes flashed angrily.
"Then your intentions were dangerously stupid. I could've killed you. Hell, I still could."
Kyle released a scornful snort. "I doubt that."
"And why is that?" I ground out through tightly clenched teeth resisting the urge to slap the smug look from her face.
Her lips curved into a devious smile. "Because of this." She gave the handle of her mug a brief squeeze and a stasis field sprung up around me, putting my body into an uncomfortable state of paralysis.
With her confidence in my incapacitation assured, Kyle strolled casually up to the field and raised her mug up to my face. "As you can see, Mr. Slade I, too, plan for every contingency. When utilized properly micro-remotes, such as the ones tucked into the handle of my mug come in pretty handy."
She gave the handle another squeeze and the field retracted from my head and neck. I did a few neck rotations to relieve the knotted muscles of my neck and jaw, careful not to over extend. Stasis fields were nasty little things.
"When you're finished with your cranial aerobics I'll be more than happy to answer what I'm sure must be a multitude of questions," Kyle announced having watched my efforts in bemused silence.
Her mocking tone added fuel to the fire of my anger. "At the moment I have just one," I ground out, putting as much menace into my voice as possible. "Who the hell are you and what the hell do you want with me?"
"That's actually two questions, Mr. Slade," Kyle responded unimpressed my hostility. "But given the circumstances I'll allow the error."
"Thanks," I said sourly.
Kyle inclined her head politely toward me. "Don't mention it. Let's start things off by answering your first question about who I am. After that everything else should fall into place."
A feeling of unease settled in my stomach. "And just who are you, Miss Kyle
?"
The smug grin reappeared on her face. Veronika Kyle is just a pseudonym I use for occasions such as these, Mr. Slade. My real name is Raven Jones."
My pulse quickened and my eyes bulged from their sockets. "The Raven Jones; Commander of the Renegades?"
"The one and only," she said then flipped me a jaunty salute. Had my body been free I would've immediately snapped to attention and saluted back.
The Renegades were the crème de la crème of the United System's Defense Corp. Their ranks comprised of the best of the best from all other branches of service. Whereas Sanction Group mostly dealt with situations stemming from political fallout, the Renegades' charter covered every aspect of covert military operations. They were the team the powers-that-be called when the shit really hit the fan.
"Judging by your reaction I take it you've heard of us," Jones remarked dryly.
"I might've heard the name mentioned once or twice," I cried trying hard to sound nonchalant, and failing miserably. "So what is it that you want from me, Commander?"
"Like I said; I've an operation underway and I could use a man of your...attributes."
The tone of her voice when she said 'attributes' sent a shiver down my spine. "And just what attributes are you referring to, Commander? The last time I checked, The Renegade's assassin roster was full."
"Right you are, Mr. Slade, but it's not your Sanction abilities that I'm after; it's your blood."
My mouth went dry. "My...blood?"
Jones chuckled at my obvious fear. "Relax, Artemis; if I may call you that?"
"Yeah, sure," my mouth responded of its own accord. I was still struggling over the 'blood' thing.
"I'm not literally after your blood, only a certain element in it." Once again she raised her mug. "If you promise to behave, I'll drop the stasis field so we can discuss it."
I rolled my eyes in disgust. "Do I have a choice?"
Artemis Slade & The Renegades: Road to Redemption Page 2