Felix took another sip of water and motioned again for the bartender, a rough looking man in his mid-forties.
"Yeah, Felix? Somethin' wrong with your water?" the bartender joked.
"Oh, not at all." Felix held the glass up to the light and made a show of admiring it. "I'm very impressed with it. Nice bouquet. It's, what, a 'thirty-three?"
The bartender smiled again—a barely perceptible upturn at the corner of his mouth. "Good year for water. So, what is it?"
"Oh, just wondering if there's been anything interesting going on here."
The bartender shrugged. "Eh, it's been dull as dust lately. Some new guy named Patterson got a little wasted and smashed up a table last night. S'probably the most exciting thing that's happened."
"What about Diomedes?" Felix asked. He cocked his head back in the freelancer's direction.
"Ah, he's been here with that other guy for the past hour, I guess. Seemed pretty pissed about somethin' or other." The bartender smirked. "Though with him it's hard to tell. Some suit talked to him for a bit. Had an armor-laced overcoat, but I saw the suit under. Diomedes had him by the throat a few times. After that he left." He shrugged.
Felix nodded. "Thanks, Lars," he said, slipping him a twenty. "This should cover the water. And keep your eyes open for me, eh?"
"Can do," said Lars. He took the cash and moved off.
A hand tapped Felix's shoulder a few moments later. Felix was sure even before he turned that it was someone other than Diomedes. If it was Dio, he'd gotten a lot more polite.
"Felix?" Michael asked.
"Yep," Felix nodded and glanced over the kid's shoulder to where Diomedes sat. "Michael, right?"
"It's Romulus now, actually. Diomedes sent me over here to ask if you'd join us."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly how he would've put it, too," Felix said with a grin.
Romulus hesitated, opening his mouth slightly and seeming unsure as to how to respond to the sarcasm. Felix grabbed his water off the bar, deciding to end the kid's awkwardness. He started towards the booth. "I see you've decided to take a freelance name."
"Sure have."
Felix shook his head. "Got to say, I think that's a shame. Always thought that whole street alias business was a little foolish. Your choice, I suppose." Felix also noted with some dismay that his chosen name was—like Diomedes'—from classical mythology. Felix liked mythology, but the choice indicated that the grim freelancer definitely had some influence over his younger roommate. Felix suddenly smiled, remembering something: Diomedes was a Greek hero during the Trojan War, but Romulus was supposedly the founder of Rome, a people descended in theory by fugitives of Troy who were led out of their falling city by Aeneas. Felix wondered if either roommate was aware of the irony. He guessed not.
He never had found out just why Diomedes had chosen his alias. Whatever the reason, it was something interesting; the man had refused to answer and then nearly clocked him when he pried. It remained on a mental list Felix kept of things he wanted to someday discover. Diomedes held onto the secret like his life depended on it, so he figured it would stay on that list a while. Then again, the list wasn't for the easy stuff.
Felix slid into the booth next to Romulus and greeted Diomedes's blank glare with a smile. "Diomedes," Felix said. "Grinning ear to ear as always, I see."
"Took you long enough to get here," the freelancer growled.
Felix shrugged. "They have good water here. Although, now that I think about it—who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip?" he asked brightly, looking and pointing to Romulus and Diomedes in turn. "Three orange whips!" The drink order was directed at a passing patron who continued walking without response. Felix grinned back at them before he had to sigh and shake his head. "No one gets that joke anymore." He leaned in to Romulus. "Not that they ever really did in my lifetime anyway. Maybe I should stop making references to things from a different century, huh?"
The kid gave him a confused look. "I guess so," he answered, looking over to Diomedes, who was rolling his eyes.
"Are you finished?"
"Oh, that's right!" Felix chirped. He had wondered how long Diomedes would let him banter on. He turned back to face him and leaned over the table. "You wanted to talk to me about something, didn't you?"
"We need to find someone."
"A particular someone, or just someone in general?"
"Shut the hell up and let me finish." Felix opted to oblige. "Someone's hired me to find some whacked-out vigilante bastard. Some screwed-up reason he calls himself 'Wraith.' You're helping us find him."
"'Wraith,' huh? Well, it could be worse. Could be something like. . . 'Batguy.' Or 'Irving the Terrible.' Though maybe you should check the comic book stores anyway?" Felix grinned. "It still sounds like he might have read a few too many."
"Dumbass suggestions aren't the kind of help I had in mind."
"I know, I know. I swear, Diomedes, the day you manage a laugh will be the day hell freezes over," said Felix.
"It wasn't funny."
Felix smiled again. "Well, I suppose you have me there, but it was the best I could do at the time." He paused again to sip his water. "Okay, seriously: I've heard of this guy, mainly rumors. I take it you have enough cause to take them at face value?" Felix had reasons of his own to believe the rumors, but he wanted to see what Diomedes would say. His only response was a nod. "Next question. Whoever it was that hired you, why do they want you to find him?"
Romulus seemed about to say something when Diomedes cut him off: "Why should you care? We're hiring you, all you worry about is finding him."
Felix shook his head. "Information has to flow both ways on this, Dio."
"Don't call me Dio."
Felix ignored the demand. "Knowing why you want him is almost sure to help me determine where we should start looking. Unless there really isn't a 'Wraith' and you just enjoy my company," he added with his best wolfish smile.
"The sonofabitch torched our apartment," Diomedes said a moment later.
Felix nodded. "That would explain your subtle lack of affection for him. But why would someone else hire you to find him for that?"
Romulus spoke for the first time since the start of the conversation. "They think he also set all those warehouse fires recently."
"See, now that makes more sense," said Felix, turning to Romulus. "Question is, why would someone who's only toasted warehouses suddenly decide to burn down an apartment?"
"That's your job, Hiatt," Diomedes said. "Figure it out."
"So I'll be doing that while you sit here and soak up the atmosphere?" Felix was reasonably certain it wasn't true as he said it. Diomedes was also a control freak.
The freelancer shook his head. "We'll be with you to keep you on track. I just don't want you following us around getting paid for nothing."
Felix chuckled. "Now that actually brings up another question: how much are you paying me?"
The two took a few moments to haggle over Felix's fee. They wound up with a small sum, to be paid upon finding the vigilante. Although he was reasonably happy with the agreed upon amount, Felix still made a show of being disappointed. In truth, he admitted to himself, he probably could have gotten at least a little more. He hadn't taken the time to truly bargain seriously. As with the search at Marquand, the hunt was enough to satisfy him—especially when it involved looking for the truth behind a rumor magnet like this "Wraith" person. Any money he got in the bargain purely kept him fed and reasonably comfortable, and even if the money he got from Diomedes hadn't been enough for that, he knew of a few other groups who would pay for the information. More than one gang was offering cash for the Wraith's identity, presumably to avenge comrades whose death he'd allegedly caused. Though he hadn't made mention of it, Felix assumed that that was ultimately what Diomedes planned to do as well. There was rarely any other reason to involve a freelancer in something like this, and the fact that he allegedly burned down Diomedes's home pretty much sealed the deal.
As for Romulus, or whatever Michael preferred to be called, Felix wasn't worried at all. Felix still believed him to be a better man than Diomedes, although how much hanging around with Diomedes would change him was yet to be seen. What he could tell from Romulus's body language spoke of respect for his roommate, if not plain admiration. Felix realized that if his impression of that kid were accurate, it would be a shame if Diomedes influenced him too much.
He'd have to keep an eye on that.
Romulus sat back in the booth as Diomedes and Felix argued quietly over compensation. The discussion of the money held less interest for Romulus than the actual matter of stopping the vigilante-turned-arsonist from doing more harm. How much help would Felix be to them? Regardless, he seemed like an interesting person to have along, at the very least.
He didn't truly know quite what to make of the man's sense of humor, though. This little interaction had already confirmed that Diomedes found it deeply irritating, but Romulus had found himself smiling inwardly from at least most of the quips. So far he didn't think he understood everything that Felix had joked about—he didn't know at all what to make of the "orange whip" comment—but he could still sense the comedic intention behind it.
Was that. . . appropriate? Was "appropriate" even the right word? Diomedes had always taken everything seriously for as long as he had known him. Romulus looked around at the other freelancers who filled the bar. Some looked as tough, or tougher, than Diomedes: large hulking brutes bristling with muscular enhancements, cybernetic limbs and designer street armor. Others were smaller, yet no less imposing: a quiet, strong presence of deadly confidence. And the ones who commanded the most respect? Rarely, if ever, did he catch them laughing. Theirs—especially Diomedes's if he was to truly be his mentor—was the example to follow.
Yet it did feel good to smile, however little, from Felix's antics. Maybe keeping it hidden was the important thing. Further thought on the subject was cut short as Romulus sensed a conclusion in the money matters.
"Now that that's been settled," Felix announced, "let's see if we can't find your little friend." Romulus nodded, excited to be going, and began to slide his way out of the booth. Felix glanced at him. "You have somewhere to be just now?"
Romulus looked back at him, confused. "But, aren't we—" Hadn't he said they were leaving? "I thought you said. . ." He inched back into the booth.
"We need to do a little thinking before we can start acting, Romulus," Felix said. He looked to Diomedes. "Didn't you teach him that yet?"
Diomedes didn't respond.
Romulus wanted to try to explain himself, but after a second or two of searching for the words he decided to just stay quiet and try not to look any more stupid in front of the two. It wasn't that big of a deal anyway, he told himself. Felix's tone had been simple, not scolding. Just chalk it up to a learning experience. Let it go. Easier said than done. He wished Diomedes hadn't seen it. He felt like a child.
Felix took off his mirror shades, clasped his hands in front of his face and leaned on them, thinking. "Incidentally," he began with a glance at Diomedes, "who exactly was it that hired you?"
"I didn't find it necessary to ask," he replied.
Felix chuckled lightly. "I guess that means his money was good. It might've helped us if you'd found that out."
"I didn't find it necessary to ask."
"Yes, so you said."
Romulus found himself wanting to question the procedure again. Was it usual to ask, or was it something best left unsaid? How might it help them?
He kept quiet. This probably wasn't the best time to start asking questions like that, especially after nearly vaulting out of the booth a moment before. Besides, if he listened well enough, he might find the answers he was looking for anyway.
"Do you at least remember what the man you talked to looked like?" Felix probed. "Maybe I'd know him from somewhere?"
Diomedes gave a brief description of the man with the ponytail as Felix listened. Romulus tried to form his own description, hoping to redeem himself a little by adding any details Diomedes left out. As it happened, he could.
"He also had a touch screen data pad that folded out from his left arm," he offered after Diomedes had finished.
Felix nodded. "Was the arm metal or skinned?"
"Skinned," Diomedes replied. There was a hint of annoyance in his voice that did not go unnoticed by Romulus, who returned his blank stare with a mildly perplexed one of his own.
"Yeah," said Romulus, looking back to Felix. "Looked pretty expensive to me."
"Know a lot about organic synthetics, kid?"
"Er, well, as much as most people, I think. Why?"
Felix shrugged. "Just curious. You remember a brand name on that data pad?" Romulus shook his head. Felix looked to Diomedes. "Dio?"
"No," the freelancer insisted. He turned to stare at the wall.
"Just checking," Felix said, seeming to ignore Diomedes's impatience. He then closed his eyes. For a moment, it seemed to Romulus that Felix was lost in thought before his eyes opened again and he shook his head with a frown. "I don't know him."
"You sure?" Romulus asked.
Felix smiled. "Kid, my memory is one of the few things in this life that I very rarely question." He sighed. "But seeing as I don't know this guy, it's probably a moot point anyway."
"The man we are actually looking for," Diomedes sniped. "What do you know about him?"
"Like I said, there's a lot of rumors out there I've heard. Sorting them from the truth is always the tricky part." He smiled. "I wouldn't be surprised if he turns into Northgate's own Sasquatch soon. People'll start seeing things and call them 'Wraith,' if it hasn't happened already. Gets to be fashionable, even if it's a bit ludicrous. Sort of like some other things I could mention, eh, Romulus?
"As a matter of fact," he continued before Romulus could ponder his last comment, "I'm reasonably certain the man we're looking for isn't even called 'Wraith.'"
Diomedes furrowed his brow. "Explain."
"I put that badly. I should've said he doesn't call himself that. I've heard that that was what some drunk on the street called him after he saved him from some gangers. The name stuck for a lack of something to take its place."
"You're sure?" Diomedes asked.
"Like I said, it's hard to sort the rumors from the truth. I put more stock in this mainly because it seems to make a tad more sense for a name like that to come from a wino, if you'll pardon the term."
"That's assuming things make sense in this city," Romulus broke in.
Felix smiled gently. "Things always make sense, kid. It's just that most of the time you don't know the whole picture. Machinery behind the scenes, systems that command them. I'd give you an example, but I think I've tried your roommate's patience a little much already. He's waiting for me to explain how what I've just mentioned about the name will help us, and if I wait too long he may cease to be his usual smiling self."
Diomedes's expression confirmed the smaller man's assertion. "How does it help us?"
Felix shrugged. "Don't know. But you asked for information. It might help us, it might not—but there it is. That's not all I know, of course. One thing that's nearly definite is his method. His main focus seems to be gangers, though there's rumored to be a few times others have been killed, too."
"What kind of others?" Romulus asked. He didn't exactly like the sound of that.
Felix shrugged again. "The only others I've heard about have been creeps who didn't seem connected to gangs but were involved in some sort of violent criminal activity."
"The guy who talked to us said his vigilante work missed the mark a bit. Have you heard anything about that?"
"Nothing specific," Felix replied. "Now that you mention it, most of his actions that I've heard of could be argued to be good. Not many people would feel too sorry for most of those gangers. But then, history's written by those who survive it."
"This bastard cost me a lot," Diomedes grumbled. "I don't see any damn good thing about that."
"Didn't say there was. It's just that before now, I hadn't heard of this sort of thing. I'll be the first to admit that we shouldn't rule out the possibility that it's happened before."
But it had happened before, Romulus thought. "What about the warehouse arsons?"
"That's what I'm talking about. Until now I hadn't known anything about our boy being connected with them." Felix paused to take another sip of water. "But we can go over that in a few minutes. First let me finish my original thought. Most gang deaths fall into two categories. Those caused by guns of whatever kind—which is about, I'd say, fifty to sixty percent—and those caused by other means: knives, bare hands, combat cybernetics—both standard and black market—and your good old-fashioned blunt object."
"Anything that isn't a gun," Diomedes summarized dryly.
"Exactly. But from what I've heard, our vigilante friend exclusively prefers the second category. Most of his alleged victims have been either cut up or beaten to a pulp."
Romulus swallowed. "Cut up?"
A Shadow in the Flames (The New Aeneid Cycle) Page 4