Dead Dwarves, Dirty Deeds

by Derek J. Canyon

  * * *

  Unidentifiable gunk and neon graffiti smeared the grungy phone dispenser. The vending machine’s cracked screen blinked standby, miraculously operative. Bunny slumped against it and inserted a cash card, a phone dropped into the tray. He hurried a few blocks away, found a dark hiding place, and keyed in a number. A few seconds later, the phone’s screen blinked to life. A one-eyed cat answered.

  “Diablo’s,” it said. “Whudya want?”

  Bunny recognized Socket, the exotic neohuman owner of Diablo’s bar. She was yet another escaped joytoy lucky enough to avoid genetic failure and survive for years after her expiration date.

  “Socket, it’s me.”

  “Well, well, well.” Socket grinned, revealing her sharp fangs. “If it ain’t the gimli without a boss. Hey, where are you? I hear you got a case of goodies.”

  Bunny cringed. He had hoped nobody at Diablo’s had heard about his situation. This would only make it that much more difficult.

  “I need to talk to Noose. Is he there?”

  “Of course he is, Bunny. You know he loves to slum it at the best bar in town. Why don’t you limp on over here? Come in the back door. I’ll be waiting.”

  Bunny was not reassured by Socket’s greedy stare.

  “Sorry,” he answered. “No can do. Just get Noose online.”

  The cat-woman frowned, glancing away from the phone. “He’s a little busy. Why don’t you tell me what you want and I’ll pass it on, eh?”

  “Screw that!” Bunny yelled at the phone. “You put Noose on now, or when I do talk to him I’ll tell him you interfered with his biz.”

  “You wouldn’t do that, Bunny-boy!” Socket smiled.

  “Try me.”

  Socket hesitated. Finally she motioned to someone out of view. “File that I boosted you, Bunny. You owe me a favor.”

  “Sure. I’ll forward your calls for a day,” Bunny muttered as Socket moved away. A puff of smoke wafted across the empty screen and the weather worn face of the dwarf named Noose appeared. Bunny sighed in relief.

  “You’re in heap big trouble, Kensington,” Noose stated without preamble, compassion, or humor. He puffed on a cigar.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I hear you fixed a deal with Urgo. Looks like they crossed you. You know, I could’ve hooked you up with some real mercs.”

  “I was in a hurry. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “You haven’t been thinking straight for years. First you double-cross Vance, then you hop out a window, then you flock too long with Giovanni. Now you’re stealing cash from the syndicate and working with street scum. Very not smart.”

  Bunny was surprised at Noose’s accurate information.

  Noose continued. “So, you’re a scrambler, hurting, and in need of serious heavy caliber assistance, right?”

  Bunny nodded.

  “And you think I’m the only chum trustworthy enough to pull your sorry hoop out of the fire?”

  Another nod.

  “I ain’t the Salvation Army, and I don’t do charity work, Kensington. You’re going to fork just like everyone else.”

  “No kidding. Mercs never work for free.”

  “Free don’t buy cigars, Kensington.”

  “So, how much?”

  “How much is your life worth to you?”

  “How about five thousand to get me out of the plex?”

  Noose shook his head, smoke swirled out of view. “Not enough.”

  “Ten thousand?”

  “Nope.”

  Anger rose in Bunny’s gut. “Dammit, Noose! I saved your life. I warned you about that ambush two years ago.”

  “And in return I didn’t kill you for setting up that biz in the first place. Listen, Kensington, I owe you squat. I owe you less than squat. After that sour deal you blacklisted me. You convinced Giovanni to fish for other talent. I lost biz. I should kill you just for that, but I won’t.”

  “Come on, Noose,” Bunny begged. “We’re vat brothers. Family! Nobody’s tighter than dwarves.”

  “Don’t pull that neohuman solidarity crap with me,” Noose scoffed. “Do I look like a civil rights activist to you? Just because we’re based on the same genetic blueprint and were born in a corporate vat doesn’t mean we’re family.”

  “Fine, I don’t need your help!”

  Noose laughed. “Yeah, right! Who do you think you are? Neil the Cybernetic Barbarian? It’s only sheer luck you lasted this long. You’ll never leave the plex without help. Urgo’s steaming since Elmer wound up dead. He wants your blood.”

  “He’s already got some of it.”

  “He’ll get all of it before dawn if you don’t give me what I’m worth.”

  “How much is that?”

  “Half your take.”

  “Like Hell! What are you, bugged?”

  “No, not bugged. Just qualified for the job.”

  “There’s no way I’m forking you half, you blood-sucking little runt! I did pretty well on my own. I geeked Elmer! I can get away without paying your extortion.”

  Noose shrugged. “Good luck.”

  The screen blanked.

  Bunny stared in disbelief at the phone for several minutes. Noose was gone. He had blown his only chance at help.

  Damn!

  He caressed the metal briefcase lying beside him. Money. Wealth. Ease for a lifetime. But it didn’t look like he had much of a lifetime left. Maybe money wasn’t everything.

  He hit redial on the phone and Socket reappeared after only a few seconds.

  “You again? What now, runt?”

  “Is Noose still there? Get him quick.”

  “He’s busy. He’s finished with little rats like you.”

  “Get him to the phone! Tell him it’s a deal! Tell him I agree to his price!”

  “He doesn’t care. You missed your chance.”

  “Dammit, Socket! Just tell him! Tell him I’ll be waiting for him at...at... tell him I’ll be waiting at the sour deal. He can have his money there.”

  The feline neohuman frowned. “What the Hell is the sour deal?”

  “None of your business. He’ll scan me. He gets me out of the plex and I’ll give him half.”

  Socket looked away from the phone. “He heard ya. He’ll be there.”

  Bunny disconnected with a sigh. He pulled the case under his coat and hobbled away.