Anthology: From the Street

"You had me turn down our last two offers," Roan reminded him. "We keep doing that, biz will dry up."

"We agreed to do willing extractions," Delta replied, defensive.

Cami rolled her eyes at him. "And you figure this guy's gonna care where he's parked?" she asked. Roan knew she was in her mid-twenties, but Cami looked a decade older. She'd been clean for about two years now. The drugs had left her face and body scarred, but they'd spared her mind. Which was more than most addicts could claim.

"Enough," Roan snapped. "We took the money, we do the job. Cami, go hack the storage place. Delta, do a fly-by."

They both slouched down, closed their eyes. Delta was back in five minutes.

"Building's warded. Ton of people in the area, too. No real astral security, but I saw a handful of other people in astral-and they saw me. Students, I figure," the ork reported. Roan sighed, running his hands through his buzz-cut hair. Hopefully Cami would have better news. Knowing she liked to take her time, he sent Delta out for food. Roan stretched out his long legs on the couch and flicked on the trid.

A few hours later, the human woman sat up, stretched. Roan muted the trid and put down his takeout. She shook her head at him.

"You're not gonna like this," she said. "Place doesn't have much security-cameras, a couple of guards, maglock doors. The Matrix system is soft as butter."

"So what's the problem?" Delta asked.

"Place is crawling with students. They're everywhere. It's like a horror trid," she said, shuddering. Delta snorted.

"No, seriously. Apparently there's some big push to check all the inventory, put RFID tags on everything. They're updating their computer records at the same time. They've got hordes of college kids doing most of the work. Place closes at 9, doors get locked, and campus security checks on it every few hours. Kids come back at 8 the next morning."

"Still don't see the problem," Delta interrupted. Cami glared at him. He glared back. "Unless you're afraid of a couple of overweight campus sec guys."

"The problem is, the Kennewick Man isn't listed in the inventory. I found the info showing it was transferred, along with a bunch of other stuff, in '21. But it got mislabeled or something-the inventory code it had links to a stuffed bird. A bunch of stuff is like that. Things got even more screwed up after the Crash. That's why they're re-doing the system.

"If we want to find the damn thing, we're going to have to go look through the whole place, item by item. It'll take hours. Days. Years." Cami waved her skinny arms melodramatically.

"Well, how many skeletons can there possibly be?" Roan asked, pragmatic.

"Place was a dumping ground for a lot of the museums that closed down when the NAN took over. I'd guess, maybe a hundred? There's lots of rooms, different climate controls, and they all lock up at 9 sharp. They've got old, hard-wired alarms on 'em, too. Pain in the ass," she muttered.

"How secure is it during the day?" Roan asked, thinking.

"Looks like the students are checked coming in and going out. No bags, no backpacks, no bulky coats. Not much other than that. Who'd want to steal a bunch of birds nests and plant collections?"

"Other than us?" Delta asked, dryly. Cami shrugged.

"So we go in during the day. Take a few days to search the place. When we find it, we go in at night, take it out quickly," Roan said. "You can fake a student ID, can't you?"

"Well, yeah. But, Roan? None of us really have the-ah-preppy college look. Y'know?" Cami pointed out.

"Well, fuck," Roan muttered. "Delta, you know dozens of teenagers," he said, hopeful. Cami and Delta looked at each other, then back at him.

"You want preppy, not ganger." Cami laughed. "But Roan, you want someone else to go in, look around? You know someone who'd blend just fine," she pointed out.

"Well, fuck," he said, with more feeling.

Doc Holly's 'office' was further in Redmond. She had a great deal going with the Crimson Crush: they kept things quiet around her office, she patched them up free of charge. There were rumors she had an even better deal going with a group of ghouls in the area.

A couple of orks wearing red synth-leather jackets patted him down outside the door. Inside, the front room was exactly as he remembered: scarred plastic chairs, peeling paint on the walls, chipped linoleum floors. Someone had tacked up a poster of a puppy on one wall. The smell of bleach was just a little stronger than the smell of vomit. An ork woman sat in one chair, twitching, her eyes dull and unfocused. Another woman was slowly mopping up something red in front of the desk. Roan ignored them both. He leaned against a wall and watched the door at the back.

After about twenty minutes, an ork came out of the door. He had a white bandage across his face and over one ear His shirt was covered in blood.

"Try and keep it dry, Taz. I'll take out the stitches in a week." Holly's voice followed the ork into the waiting room. Roan felt his stomach clench. He pushed away from the wall and walked into the back.

The doctor was stripping off her latex gloves. She looked up when he shut the door behind him, and raised one eyebrow.

"Roan," she said in her quiet, upper-class voice. It was not a voice that belonged in the Redmond Barrens. That had been one of their arguments-one of many. "I don't see any blood. Pity."

"Looking good, Doc," he replied. She was, too, damn it. That smooth, youthful face, with its sexy overbite, her shining brown hair in a stylish cut. Not quite pretty, but sexy as hell. It pissed him off, seeing her in this place. No matter that her heart was as black as coal, or that she traded the dead for drugs. She still looked too fresh, too sweet, to be living in this squalor. Even elves aged, grew worn and scarred, spending enough time on the streets. Not Holly, though. Her sins hadn't caught up with her. Yet.

"Are you sick, Roan?" she asked, moving to put away her supplies. "Catch some horrible intestinal disease?"

"No," he replied.

"Pity. So what do you want, then?" She was looking down at some blood-coated metal things. Roan put his hand on her arm to move her away from the scalpels and blades. Just in case.

"I need a favor, Holly. Something easy," he said. They were the same height-although, like many elves, she was slender, delicate looking. She looked at his hand on her arm and frowned.

"So you've come about your work? Accidentally shoot a client?"

"No, not this time." Roan explained what he needed. Holly listened, then sighed.

"It'll cost you, Roan. I'll do it, for a price," she said. "You know what I want." He looked at her. Her hands were steady, her blue eyes clear. In that moment, he hated himself. Hated her.

He nodded.

"Then I'll see you in the morning," she said, and turned her back on him. He stared at her for another moment, then left. And if he slammed the door on the way out, well, who could blame him?

"Doc's ready," Cami announced, slipping into the back of their van. Roan and Delta were drinking coffee, watching the AR feed that Cami had rigged on the doctor. She picked up a cup, sipped, and nearly spit out the coffee. "Damn it, Delta, why'd you buy the cheap soy crap?" She looked over at Roan, but he was concentrating on the data streaming in through his 'link. Cami sighed. It was going to be a long day.

They spent all day parked in a pay-by-the-hour lot a few blocks away from the storage facility. Roan concentrated on the live feed Holly was sending, watching as her graceful hands opened one long plastic crate after another.

By five o'clock, she'd checked over forty skeletons. None had matched up with the details Cami had provided.

"I'm heading out, Cami," the doctor said into her commlink. "Do you want me to come back in the morning?"