by T. C. Edge
“If you’re sure,” she said firmly. “Then I’ll do what I can to help.”
“He’s sure,” said Tanner, moving over to them in a crouched position. A drone whipped by a little ahead, carefully watched by Remus. “This team would be nothing with you, gorgeous. Now chin up, all right.” He grinned.
“Um, didn’t you just say you thought this mission was…madness?” asked Chloe, curving up an eyebrow.
Tanner shrugged.
“Most missions are,” he said. “You’ve got to be a little mad doing what we do.”
“Case in point,” said Nadia, raising her eyes in Tanner’s direction It was very much for Chloe’s benefit. She smiled, thinking it sweet that her new friends were so keen on making her feel welcome, included, even indispensable. Nadia moved to the edge of the outcrop, looking down pointedly as the nearest drone disappeared into the mist. “So, we doing this or what?” she asked.
The group exchanged glances.
“Chloe,” said Ragan, looking out towards Remus. “Lead the way.”
About an hour later, the little crew slid up an alleyway, stopping at the lip, turning their eyes into the bustling street beyond. They’d reached the populous central districts in downtown LA, the city’s floor now brimming with that familiar energy that spoke of the thousands upon thousands sheltered beneath their feet; living, working, sometimes just existing within the vast, unseen, earthscrapers.
Here, too, the mighty skyscrapers launched skyward, many of their summits invisible in the smog. It was daytime still, only mid-afternoon, and yet the streets held a dim illumination, shadowed as they were from the sky by the monstrous structures above. To combat the lack of natural light, the streets were ever lit by artificial lighting, hues of various colour glowing in the mist, mingling and merging together to form beautiful multi-coloured patterns.
It was, Chloe thought, one of the few attractive things about this place, even though it was probably unintentional.
Ahead, the tide of people was almost constant, a rushing river that couldn’t decide which direction to flow. From left to right, and right to left, people surged, dressed in all manner of colourful and oddly fashioned garments that spoke of the area’s somewhat bohemian attitude towards life. The modern trend of sporting living tattoos was very much in evidence here, many men and women dressing scantily in order to show off their art. The group’s destination, of course, was a parlour that dealt in such things, though the business up top was all a facade. The true purpose of Dax’s tattoo parlour, Ink Alive, was to hide his criminal dealings beneath.
So far, the journey to this spot had been tense, if not troubled. The pastures east of here - mostly residential blocks and abandoned buildings - were familiar to Chloe; she’d fled through the region only days ago, Mikel in hot pursuit, and Ragan coming to her rescue. Now they were part of a team, and heading the other way together. It was hard for Chloe to consider just how quickly things had changed. If I ever get a chance to breathe, she thought, maybe it’ll all sink in.
They’d encountered peacekeepers and soldiers, though never directly, managing to avoid a couple of checkpoints as they ventured down from the hills. Remus, cloaked and fastidious as always, hovered above and provided a route. Any time anyone of suspicion came their way, they hid or rushed on, not wanting to garner any unwanted attention.
Bit by bit, they’d journeyed west, the towers growing taller, the streets busier. Ironically, it was only now that they’d reached the manic downtown regions that they could begin to relax. Here, peacekeepers roamed, though not so frequently or in such large groups.
Chloe couldn’t be sure whether that was simply because they melted into the unceasing sea of people, or because their masters in government chose to leave these streets to fend for themselves. After all, crime was rife here, and hardly hampered. The authorities did little to stem the tide of violence that was becoming so prolific in these parts. Perhaps they had better things to do. Perhaps they just didn’t care.
Whatever it was, it worked for the team. They stepped from the alleyway now, entering into the churning masses, Chloe carefully placed at the centre of the group to provide her with some cover. Tanner and Nadia flanked her, with Ragan at the head. They moved as a tight unit, though were careful not to look overly unnatural or shady. To that effect, Tanner and Nadia chatted loudly, smiling and joking as they went - the two in conversation was, as Chloe had come to see, one of the most natural things she’d ever witnessed.
Her place, meanwhile, was to stay between them and keep quiet, hood over her head to shield her recognisable complexion, eyes down for the same purpose. Thankfully, Ragan was a near foot taller than her, and Tanner almost the same; two walls to her front and left, with Nadia - also with a several inch advantage - blocking her right.
They moved on, working through the network of alleys and wide streets, squares and markets. The place was suffocating and claustrophobic, the air heavy and dense. A thousand scents lingered in the air, jostling for dominance and attention, some pleasant, others rather the opposite. Street vendors worked to entice people to their food stalls, fans blowing from behind. Perfumers did the same, their fragrances occasionally sweet and appealing, but often overpowering if you got too close. Then there was the general mustiness that came with such a density of sweating flesh, and the stink of trash, piled up in alleys and overflowing from receptacles, waiting for collection that would probably take some time to come.
The open squares gave respite from all this, though the swarm of people only eased up a little. Many of these squares weren’t just intended to provide some more ventilated spots to combat the overwhelming excess, but acted as entry points to the deep earthscrapers below. Often they had a single storey building at their centre, little more than a reception and security desk providing access to the dozens of levels dug beneath the ground. They wouldn’t be industrial earthscrapers, not like Sub-Tower 12 where Chloe hid for several months. There might be work to be had down there, but they were predominantly intended for habitation, Chloe knew, and likely came with a higher quality of living at that.
Her early days living beneath the earth had been a struggle, not least for the horrible feeling of being beneath the earth! Chloe never truly felt comfortable with that, yet it wasn’t much better up here. So high were the buildings, so tight the streets and alleys, so endless the population, that she felt equally claustrophobic right now as she had down there. It wasn’t nice being back.
They hurried on, directed by Ragan, Tanner and Nadia continuing to chat as they went. Tanner was talking about when he used to live here, seeming partially bitter and partially nostalgic, which was something Chloe could understand. Nadia, meanwhile, wasn’t afraid of stating her lack of fondness for the place, talking up Texas and the Southern Republic as being a far nicer place to live. Chloe would have to take her word for that one - she’d never ventured towards Texas in her years on the run.
It was strange, still, to hear the two of them do battle over their homelands. Everyone seemed to have that soft spot for where they came from, sometimes large, sometimes small, but always seemingly there. It was like defending the family that you didn’t much like when confronted by offensive words about them; you just tended to stand behind them, no matter what. The same, perhaps, was true of your place of origin, to some degree or another.
Chloe kept an eye on Remus as she went, often slipping into his perception when she lost sight of him with her real eyes. Given his cloaking function, that happened fairly often, though the link between their nanites gave Chloe a preternatural ability to sense roughly where he was at all times. Mostly he hovered several metres above the heads of the crowd, his form sometimes visible from the clear line he made in the mist. It was enough to draw a few curious eyes as people saw the mist clear without cause, before filling in again a moment later.
Chloe giggled at the sight, hidden there between her companions. She felt…safe with them, as if they’d really have her back if they ran into any troubl
e. That was a feeling that, were she to dwell on it, might well draw a tear. She had friends. Real friends. She wasn’t alone anymore.
She smiled beneath her cloak, and looked at the tall form of Ragan ahead of her. So strange to think that she’d met him only days ago, though he’d been seeking her for some time. To think that he almost caught her once a while back. How different would her life have gone if he had. How might things be now? Would the data have been destroyed? Would she and Ragan now…
She dismissed the thought, suddenly seeing a flickering light ahead. Down the street, among the many neon signs above shops, one blinked particularly brightly.
Ink Alive, it said, the shop sign not only bright, but congruous with its name; it really was alive. The sign moved, changed form, waved to the crowd to come near. It wasn’t just a sign for the shop, but advertising in itself.
Ragan stopped at the sight of it, and drew the group towards a little recess to one side. They slipped from the violent torrent of bodies and reformed into a circle.
“We’re here,” he said.
Tanner looked around.
“Um, where? I’m not seeing this Dax anywhere.”
Ragan nodded down the street.
“Ink Alive. It’s his tattoo parlour.”
“He works in a tattoo parlour?”
“It’s a front, Cliff. His true dealings are done below ground.”
“Right, sure. How do we know if he’s there?” Tanner asked.
“We won’t until we go ask,” said Ragan. “I’m thinking it’s best if you two stay here.” He looked at Tanner and Nadia. “No point in us all crowding the guy unnecessarily.”
“Sure,” said Tanner, shrugging. “We’ll find a way to pass the time, huh Nadia. I saw a nice quiet alley a street or so back.” He winked. “Sort of place you’re used to.”
“Shut up,” said Nadia. “Honestly, just…shut up.”
The insult only seemed to spur Tanner on, his grin growing increasingly broad.
“I think he is in,” said Chloe, looking down the street.
“Why?” asked Ragan. “Can Remus sense him?”
“Yeah, there’s that. Also, those two bouncers of his are outside. I’m guessing they mainly guard the door when Dax is about.”
“Ah, them,” said Ragan pointedly. “I’m not sure they’ll be too happy to see me again.”
Their only previous meeting had ended with Ragan knocking them out cold, just as Chloe fled through Dax’s secret passage at the rear of his store.
“Nor me,” said Chloe. “I’m guessing they’ll recognise me now. Maybe…” She thought for a moment. “Maybe it’s best if they don’t see me?”
“You don’t trust them?” asked Ragan. “Hmmm, stupid question,” he said off the look she gave him. “I guess you’re still a wanted woman, even without the data.”
Chloe nodded solemnly. It was a fact she’d gotten used to, one she’d have to live with. The simple truth was that few people would know that the entire reason for her manhunt had now been erased. Most likely, only the NDSA and members of Project Dawn, as well as Martha and her employers, knew that Chloe was no longer a person of interest. At least, not for that reason, anyway.
Around here…well, things were different. If the authorities knew she was here, they’d try to snatch her up immediately. Try, and probably fail, given the abilities of her companions. Data or not, she was considered a violent criminal, and though a great deal of crime went unpunished around here, the things she’d ‘supposedly’ done most certainly wouldn’t. It would be the same almost everywhere, she imagined. It would take a long, long time for people to forget. And even then, she doubted she’d ever be able to live a normal life.
Mostly, that thought didn’t bother her. A normal life to her didn’t have great appeal anymore. What was a normal life, anyway? Working in these writhing streets? Living underground in these deep, subterranean pits? Following the laws set down from above, by those who barely even bothered to enforce them?
The world was a giant knotted ball of ironies, and a deeply unpleasant place. Her fondest memories in recent years had been spent alone, with only Remus for company, safe in her solitude. Some of that had changed now - she had people she trusted, people she felt like she could count on - but the essence had not. If she could complete this job, find some quiet corner of the world, and hide there for the rest of her life, she’d probably be happy enough with that. As long as Ragan was there too…
She blushed at the thought, foolishly. She’d only known him for days, and even then their interactions had been limited. But the truth was that, even in so short a time, something had changed inside her, broken free. She couldn’t go back to being alone again, not after what had happened. She looked at Ragan, and foolish of not, she saw a future. She saw a home.
“Chloe…” It was Ragan’s warm voice again, luring her back out of her thoughts.
“Um, yes Ragan?” she said, blinking.
He frowned.
“Are you all right. You seem a bit…distracted?”
“Sure, I’m good,” she smiled.
Ragan studied her carefully for a moment, then looked back down the street towards the entrance to Ink-Alive. The two hulking bouncers were either side of the door, performing the double role of security staff and ‘living’ billboards, their exposed arms entirely covered in an array of interesting, and moving, artwork.
Ragan looked back to Chloe.
“Let’s just go,” he said. “Frankly, if they’re working for Dax, I think we can trust them not to go running off to the authorities as soon as they see you.”
“I guess so,” said Chloe, not quite so sure.
Ragan turned his attention to Tanner and Nadia.
“Keep an eye on those two outside the door,” he told them. “Don’t go wandering off, OK. If you see them speaking to any peacekeepers, or acting suspicious once we enter, come let us know.”
The two nodded, and Ragan and Chloe headed off, moving back into the bustling street. Without her full entourage, Chloe felt suddenly exposed. She reached up, repositioning her hood to make sure her face remained in shadow. Eyes down, she sneaked a view ahead, keeping close to Ragan’s side. She took his arm, and he glanced down at her. She liked how it felt to be next to him like this.
It felt natural. Normal. Right.
Chloe and Ragan, against the world, came a foolish thought.
Foolish, yes. But she liked the sound of it anyway.
7
Ragan stepped through the crowd with Chloe linked to his arm, her smell intoxicating. Even over the many competing scents that swirled their way down the street, hers swept up his nose and beyond, sending a pulse of longing through him. She felt so small next to him, so oddly vulnerable, though he knew that wasn’t the case. Perhaps it was him projecting something onto her. Perhaps he wished to see her as in need of saving, because that’s the way he’d thought for so long.
She wasn’t, of course. Chloe could handle herself just as well as he could, and had proven that she didn’t need anyone save Remus to get along just fine. Still, having her clutched tightly to his side sent a thrill through his body, a sensation that he’d never truly felt. It was enlivening to have her so near, so close. To see that look in her eye as she glanced up at him.
His pulse seemed to quicken at the sight, those blue irises of hers so deep, so wondrous. She was as beautiful as he’d always hoped. No, more. That pale, creamy skin, that jet black hair, the soft, feminine features that hid the true power and violent potential that lay within. She was a paradox, a contradiction; that beauty and innocent complexion in such contrast with her ferocity, her independence, her soul so scarred by what she’d seen and done.
He’d never met anyone like her before, no one that came close. For so long he’d wished to find her, help her, save her from her torment. He’d taken it on his shoulders as much as finding and destroying the data itself. Now, spending time with her, getting to know her, she was more than he’d expected. She wa
s sweet, kind, so unexpectedly pure and naive.
It was the way she acted around the group, the way she looked at Tanner and Nadia as they conversed. He’d seen the look in her eyes as if she was seeing such interactions for the first time. She was almost like a child at times, looking around in wonder, learning. And then at others, she’d fall away into herself again, go quiet and sombre, seek time alone. It was all so endearing to Ragan, the girl so enchanting, so fascinating. And so startlingly beautiful.
She was an enigma that he may never fully comprehend. But he knew one thing - he wanted the chance to work her out.
As they walked together, side by side, he had to avoid the urge to turn her in the street, and kiss her right there and then. His mind swirled with thoughts of her, thoughts that needed to be expelled. Work had to come first. The mission had to be his priority.
He realigned his focus, and a moment later they were moving from the bustling masses, weaving their way towards their destination. They emerged in front of the two large bouncers, both calling out to the crowd and trying to drum up business. It took a second for them to recognise Ragan as he came, their first reaction to assume him a potential customer, and enter into a sales pitch.
“Hey there, you look like a man with a dark side,” said one of them. Ragan recalled their names from their previous rendezvous - this one was called Dale, the other Bruno. “I’m thinking something gothic, something dangerous,” went on Dale. “A man like you…” He stopped, eyes turning suddenly fearful, as he recognised who he was speaking with.
“Hey, Dale,” said Ragan breezily, smiling. “No hard feelings about what happened before.”
The brutish man drew a hand instinctively to his jaw, which was bruised from the punch Ragan threw. He scowled, though more from fear than anger.
“W-what do you want?” he asked. “You’re not interested in tattoos…”
“No, we’re not.”