Roland shook his head in frustration. The sheer level of ‘bad’ encompassed by these realizations was a staggering concept. This situation had gone from ‘kidnapping’ to ‘galactic-scale incident’ in less than 24 hours.
The hunter’s eyes closed for a moment, and Roland worried he might have passed out. Then they fluttered open again, “I just wanted to get paid, man. I played ball. That’s what I know. Call me a medivac now or fuck off.”
Roland briefly considered killing him, then decided against it. Lucia wouldn’t approve of it, and he had promised himself he would try not to act like an amoral murder-bot for her sake. This guy would not be in any shape to bother anyone for several weeks by the looks of it anyway, and perhaps he could be useful. Roland made a strategic decision.
“Listen asshole, you are alive for one reason, and one reason only. Get this message to Marko, and anyone else you think needs to hear it.”
Roland growled, “You fuckers broke the rules, so consider this ‘fair warning’ to everyone. Call off the hunt. From here on out its total war for anybody who takes this bounty, all the way up to the bosses. You get that part? This includes the bosses. Once you go off-world, street rules are no longer in play. This is war.”
The wounded hunter looked perplexed, “You ain’t gonna warn off Marko, Tank. I think he knows all about war, man…”
“No,” Roland interjected, “he only thinks he knows war,” Roland straightened and pulled out his comm, “if he doesn’t cut the shit I will educate him, though. Tell him that. Tell him I’m on my way to see him and I don’t expect to be fucked with.” His growl had become a roar, “Tell them all! Tell them that I will fucking kill every single shit bird they know and burn this entire fucking city to the ground if one more of you assholes so much as makes eye-contact with me before I settle this shit!”
He tossed the comm the hunter, “Tell Marko that if he tests me on this, that I will make an example of him to the rest of the bosses.”
He grabbed a magazine from his belt and reloaded Durendal, “Let ’em all know: The Tank is in town and he hates repeating himself.”
Chapter Sixteen
Red Head, whose real name was Billy McGinty, was in a bad mood. He surveyed the wreckage of his marketplace with grim, unmitigated gloom.
They could recover most of their product from the carnage, but the cars were a total loss. That was a financial blow that would be difficult to bounce back from. The cars kept them mobile, and mobility kept them from getting hit by rival gangs. He could source more cars, but that would mean burning through cash or barter, and that thought was killing his mood.
After the big cyborg had exterminated all of those Regulators, Billy had flown on Roland in a rage. He even went so far as to shoot Roland in the face with his sub-machine gun. Roland responded to this assault with his characteristic poise. After regaining consciousness, Billy resolved himself to keeping a cooler head. It was a testament to Roland’s better nature that he woke up at all, and this was explained to Billy in no uncertain terms.
Billy McGinty was a shrewd man and wanted to know if this strange pair of newcomers represented an opportunity he could exploit. Curiosity was one of his curses, and he endeavored to pry.
“What’s the story, Big Boy?” he gestured to the smoking battlefield, “I don’t get to know why you barged in here and cost me a shit-ton of money? I got four dead men and no fucking vehicles now. Who’s gonna make me whole on this shit?”
Roland wanted to be sympathetic. He really did. Roland just wasn’t that kind of guy though, “Do I look like I sell insurance?” his lopsided smirk was merciless, “Call your agent.”
Billy had no shortage of personality flaws, one of which was a complete and utter lack of fear. Roland’s mastery of intimidation was entirely wasted on the gang leader, who ignored Roland’s jab to press on, “What’s the story, man? I gotta lot of losses to cover here, and I smell money on you two.” He held up his hands before Roland’s glower could transform into violent action, “Easy! I ain’t no thief, man. I’m just sayin’ I’ve got turf and manpower that might help you out is all.”
Roland weighed that for a moment, then chose honesty, “There’s a lot more money in turning us over than there will be in helping us. Smart guy like you has likely figured that out already. Why would I trust you?”
“How many come after you so far?” Billy’s voice intoned with sardonic confidence.
Roland shrugged, “this makes twenty or so, I think.”
“How many dead?” Billy continued.
“Most.”
“And the rest? Are they doin’ just fine?”
“Badly maimed,” Roland conceded.
“How much bounty money can a corpse spend?” Billy smirked, “I figure for a small fry like me? Hah. Getting you where you’re going and the fuck out of my hair is worth more than getting killed over some invisible bounty that like as not gonna get me ganked in a fucking parking lot.”
This was not Roland’s first rodeo, “For a price, I assume, you’ll get us out of here?”
Billy was having a thought. It was a big thought, the type of big ambitious thought that got people like him killed every day. But it was it a good thought, too. Billy wasn’t always a big thinker, but he had achieved leader status in one of the largest gangs in town by seizing opportunities when they presented themselves, and by attempting big things from time to time.
It went a little deeper than naked ambition, too. Billy was tired of the Big Woo street wars and being driven down by rich out-of-town assholes like Marko. Living under the tyranny of white-gloved plutocrats who wanted to hide the drugs and slaves from prying eyes had made Billy McGinty an angry and desperate man. He had been harboring a secret dream for years now. A dream where the people of Big Woo stopped squabbling over Uptown scraps and built their own economy. It was a dream that was shared by many of the Big Woo gang leaders. It was an oft-whispered and frequently schemed dream, but they were all too scared to do anything about it. The bosses had enough money and muscle to crush any gang in the Woo any time they wanted to, and that fear kept everybody’s head down. Billy had the strong impression he might be looking at a chance to alter that dynamic.
Marko was the lynchpin. He was the only one of the bosses willing to live down here and manage the gangs of Big Woo. If a giant machinegun-toting cyborg killer wanted to go after Marko? Billy nurtured that thought in his mind for split second and made his call.
“I figure you’re heading up to see Marko, right?” Billy shifted gears, “And Marko, he don’t want to see you very much, does he?”
“That’s about the size of it,” Roland responded evenly, “if you can get me there without having to fight a running gun battle for the next twenty blocks, then we can do business.”
Yes, Billy McGinty realized he was having one of those moments people talked about, where opportunity and preparation intersected to change everything. He liked the feeling and rolled his dice.
He tossed the big black machine a lopsided grin, “Well pal, Mama McGinty’s favorite son would be delighted to assist.”
“Here’s the deal, Big Boy,” Billy briskly rubbed his palms together, “You got twenty blocks of territory to cover before you get to Umas, where Marko’s compound is. On that route, you got at least four different gangs’ turf to cover, plus however many bounty-hunters are on your tail. I can convince the gangs to not only let you pass, but to run interference on all them bounty hunters, too.”
Roland’s eyes widened, “and how the fuck are you going to accomplish that?”
“We are gonna offer them something worth more than money, Big Boy,” Billy’s eyes sparkled, “something we’ve all wanted for a long time now.”
“And that would be…?”
“Fuckin’ freedom, man! We all hate that these fat fucks from Uptown run everything here. The guys like me, who run the streets, are the real community leaders in the Woo, and we can’t do shit for nobody because of assholes like Marko.”
He pointed at Roland, “So here’s the plan, man. I’ll get the gangs to cover you while you get to the Umas compound, but you gotta do one thing for us.”
Roland tilted his head, “And that would be?”
Billy’s face was grim, “Fuckin’ kill Marko. No matter what your business with him is, you kill him. No deals, no bullshit. Dead. And make sure everyone knows you did it.”
Roland caught on, “So while the bosses retaliate against me, you and your gangs prepare to take the Woo for yourselves.”
Billy nodded assent. “Yup. If they go after us right away, we’ll break. But if they think YOU are the problem, we can get settled in before a new boss sets up.” His red head twitched over to the assortment of broken bodies in the alley, “It sounds like you’re fucked no matter what you do, so it shouldn’t make a difference to you, either way, right?”
Roland had never fought on this side of an insurgency before. He would be lying if he said it don’t feel weird, but the thought of breaking the stranglehold on the Woo was oddly thrilling. Also, he really wanted to kill Marko. “Are you sure the gangs will go along? It will only take one traitor to fuck this up.”
“They’ll go along. We’ve been talking about it for years now,” he nodded again, as much to himself as anyone else, “yeah. They’ll do it.”
Roland stuck out his bear paw of a hand, “Then we have a deal.”
“Fuckin’ A, man!” Billy grinned and grasped the gloved mitt. Roland clamped down with just enough force to make Billy squeak.
The big man leaned his head close to the gangster’s, “Just make sure you do right by me, and do right by this place,” he gave an additional squeeze, “or I’ll be back.”
“Message received,” the red head replied.
It took Billy’s gang, the “Center Street Teamsters” the better part of an hour to make the arrangements. In that time, Roland reloaded all his weapons and got Lucia calm and collected. She was holding up well and almost seemed to be acclimating to the accelerated sensory input. She wasn’t quite sanguine about the furious street battle that had just transpired, but she hadn’t suffered a panic attack or passed out from the stress or excessive stimulus. That felt like progress, at least.
They had moved to the basement of an old multi-story office building just off The Green. It had been a Teamster operating base for a couple of years now and was simultaneously defensible and centrally located. There was a level of hustle and bustle inside that base that belied the pedestrian conception of how a street gang operated. Roland could not help but compare to the camps of various resistance fighters he had witnessed in his time with the Army. The comparison seemed appropriate.
Lucia had listened to the new plan with keen interest. She liked the thought of getting to where they were going without having to shoot the whole way there. But what would happen when they got to Marko was still very nebulous. Roland did not believe in lying about this, so he told her about the deal he struck with McGinty and the Big Woo gangs.
“So we are hitmen now?” She thought she was making a joke, but her own sharp tone surprised even her, “we kill on contract?”
Roland sighed, “We don’t kill anyone, remember? I do.”
Lucia fired back, “We certainly do. Everyone you killed in the last day has been over me and my father. I am dressed like a fucking commando and following a giant cyborg around while people shoot at us both. We are definitely a ‘we’ at this point, buster. So please, convince me that we are not just contract killers in another crime war if we do this?”
Roland’s irritation came out in his voice, “One: this is way bigger than a stupid crime war. The bounty on your head alone is worth more than ten gangs in the Woo could gross in a year. This is big-boy, no-shit, planet-scale conflict. I’ve been in those before. I know how it goes.”
“Two: Marko is a drug-peddling, slave-trading, murdering, thieving, asshole who likes to run this town like a third-world dictator. You can take my word for it or I can show you things in his little palace across town that will curl your high-bred toes, lady.”
“Three: I don’t kill for money. Never have. Marko was on the target list the minute the Dwarf said his stupid name. Not because it was convenient or profitable, but because he is a major general in what is shaping up to be a big-ass war. Taking him off the board is just good strategy.”
He calmed, “Lucia, I know you don’t like any of this. You shouldn’t be here at all. But I am playing to win, here, and I cannot afford moral absolutism right now. Neither can your father.” He gestured to the tired, dirty faces of the gang members surrounding them. “The people of Big Woo have never been able to afford it. It’s just one more luxury item people uptown get to enjoy that the rest of us don’t.”
Roland’s tone surprised her, and left her more than a little insulted. “You can be such an asshole, Roland!” She let the hurt come out in her voice, “I’m not stupid. I know how the world works. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it, or be part of what I think is wrong with it. Excuse me for giving a shit about human life!”
She softened a little, but not much, “I believe you about this Marko character, really I do.”
She took a determined step closer to him, “But I am…”
She poked him in the chest, hard, “… always…”
Poke, “… going…”
Poke, “… to ask…”
She ended with final poke, brutal and sharp, “… ‘why’ when you suddenly decide it’s time to kill someone.”
She folded her arms, “Get used to that, Tin Man, because it won’t change. If I promise not to act like a high-strung rich-bitch about it, can you at least promise to always have a good answer? Because while I may in fact be that rich Uptown bitch, I still worry about watching you do on your own exactly what the Army tried really fucking hard to trick you into doing twenty years ago.”
Roland now felt like a prince among assholes. She was absolutely, unquestionably right. Why did he feel it was unreasonable to ask for a good reason to kill someone? It was a question any free-thinking, well-adjusted human should ask before taking a life. It was exactly the scope of moral self-determination that his handlers in the Army had taken away from him. That irony stung a little: all Lucia wanted was for him to use the thing that the Army stole from him.
This is how you become an amoral murder-bot, he thought to himself. It was so easy to be smug when you ignored all other viewpoints.
He sighed, “Of course. I’m sorry. You are right.” He rubbed his forehead, “I thought you were judging me and I got crabby. Maybe I needed to be judged. I dunno.”
Lucia shook her head, “Stop being such a baby. I get it. You are a soldier, Roland. Soldiers have to kill sometimes. But when you stop asking why…?”
She let the last part trail off, and Roland finished it for her: “Amoral murder-bot?”
“Amoral murder-bot,” she agreed.
“I guess cutting my strings was only the first part, huh, Jiminy Cricket?” Humor was ever the last bastion of the defeated male human.
Lucia laughed, and her face brightened. She stepped in and gave the massive cyborg a hug. It was the first time in decades anyone had hugged him. Her head barely reached the bottom of his pectorals. They looked ridiculous, but it felt nice.
“Keep it up, Pinocchio, and someday you may just get to be a real boy,” she sniffled into his shirt.
Chapter Seventeen
Roland’s threat to the bounty hunter either never went out or just plain didn’t work. The various gangs were already reporting back with intel about teams of bounty hunters roving the streets. McGinty had his informants executing an aggressive disinformation plan in an active attempt to stymie the hunters. It was all a race against time now.
Billy McGinty was in his glory. It was obvious to even the most casual observer he had been planning this in his mind for some time. He snapped choreographed orders and missives to his crew with the practiced ease born of endless repetition. Billy had a three-layer
contingency plan for everything. His contingencies had contingencies, which in turn had back-up plans. Roland approved and told him so.
“We won’t get another chance like this,” Billy responded, “when Marko goes down, the shit is going to hit the fan.” He swept his arms in a wide circle, encompassing the whole area, “All the criminal infrastructure is here in the Woo, so once we cut Marko’s ties loose, we will have all the major supply chains into New Boston locked down before they realize that it was us behind it,” he paused, “You know, as long as you are occupying everyone’s attention, that is.”
Lucia chuckled, “He can manage that.”
Billy looked down at an old paper notebook in his hands. He had never trusted this dream to a Data Pad, so it was all either on old-fashioned cellulose pulp or in his head. “That’s the key, you know,” he explained, “Getting the supply chain under our control means they will have to negotiate with us if there is going to be any narcotics or tail for sale for three hundred miles.”
“Things will get really ugly when we cut the slavers loose,” he added thoughtfully, “We’re gonna get hit hard for that, but it’s part of the new deal, now.”
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