Jay Posey - Three

Three surveyed the street and surrounding buildings for the fifth time since Twitch had gone in. This section of Greenstone was surprisingly quiet. Almost vacant. There were a few stragglers here and there, but they seemed out of place. No, actually, they seemed too in place. Too evenly spaced, too strategically positioned. Three watched a man in a long, rumpled coat pass by on the opposite side of the street, noted how careful the man was not to look Three’s way, how careful to keep the coat closed. Perimeter security. Three wondered how much hardware the guy was packing inside the coat. Long gun seemed unnecessary for a two-man meeting. Then again, in Greenstone it never hurt to be over-prepared. Three reached inside his coat and checked his pistol, gave a slight tug to loosen it in its holster. Just in case.

What was taking Twitch so long?

The nearer Cass drew toward the Downtown district, the thinner the crowds got. Knots of people walked together here and there, others clustered together in doorways, on steps. Some glanced at her as she followed the internal beacon that guided her towards her destination, but most ignored her presence completely. She kept her head up, her stride confident, shoulders back. Anyone who looked her way found her looking right back. Experience had taught her that the projection of strength was more important than actual possession of it. Still, it helped her confidence knowing at least she could boost again if she needed it.

Though the walls and alleys still bore the occasional spray of vivid symbols marking territory, the color had otherwise begun to drain from the surroundings. And with the loss of that wild façade, Greenstone was looking less and less like a vibrant city and taking on more and more of its original personality. The street hadn’t changed width, but the walls felt closer, taller, more dominating.

Further ahead, Cass could see the rounded dome of the hangar peeking above the concrete-gray horizon. She put her head down and focused on reaching her goal. Get in, do the deal, get out. She realized she was gripping the jittergun in a tight fist.

Breathe, she told herself.

“Problem.” jCharles was back, looking grim. He moved close to Three, lowered his voice. Eyes roving the surroundings. “There are way more people inside than there should be,” he said. “The fact they let me come back out makes me think they’ve got ’em posted out here, too.”

“Yeah. I count six ground level, two up high. Probably one across the street, second floor window, overlooking the intersection.”

jCharles flicked his eyes that way.

“Shutters are all pulled up there.”

“Perfect vantage to the front and side entrances. They should have someone there.”

“So what do you wanna do?”

As far as Three was concerned, nothing had changed. Not really. Dealing with the Bonefolder was always a trap, in one way or another.

“You walk. I’ll go in.”

“It’s like this, Three. Bonefolder’s in there. Looking for you. So either we’re both going in, or we’re both shooting out.”

“Well. Then I guess we’re goin’ in.”

jCharles stepped back and nodded, glancing up and down the street.

“Bartender’s faster than he looks. The big guy is the last one to worry about. If it goes bad, start right, I’ll take left. Meet you in the middle.”

Three nodded, unfastened his coat, and forced himself to relax.

The closer she got to the hangar, the more apparent it became as to why that was the meeting point of choice. Cass had walked the perimeter twice, and noticed only two doors, each on opposite sides of the structure. The main gates had been pulled to and welded shut long ago, and there were no windows to be seen. It’d be awfully hard to surprise anybody on the inside and still be able to get away without being tracked by someone on the outside. The place was almost tailor-made for deals between untrustworthy business partners.

Cass checked the time. 13:27 GST. Soon. But enough time for one more lap. She’d run her first two perimeter checks clockwise, and started that way again, but something pricked in her gut and caused her to turn back. As she did so, she noticed a man in a grubby brown coat limping her way. When she turned, he hitched his step. The briefest eye contact. A hesitation. Slight, but as if she had startled him, despite being separated by more than thirty feet. He continued on his shuffling way, turned a corner and disappeared down a row of iso-units. By the time she’d reached the line of units he’d taken, he was nowhere in sight.

Paranoia, maybe. But something about the man stuck with her that she didn’t like. Some unplaced familiarity. Or maybe he was just the kind of person she’d expect to find lurking Downtown. Three’s words flashed back to her.

You see anything you don’t like, you walk away.

It’d seemed like good advice at the time, but now it sounded so vague as to be useless. There was a lot down here she didn’t particularly care for. And the deal. The deal was big enough for her to get well, be well, and stay well for good long while. No way was she going to walk away from that chance. She shoved the man out of her mind and finished her final walk around the perimeter.

“Either of you gentlemen carrying any weapons?” the neckless bodyguard asked.

“No,” Three answered, despite the fact that his coat was open and his vicious pistol was widely on display.

The bodyguard smiled, a gleaming white split amidst the pale pink flesh of his face and head. Three hoped this was the “big one” Twitch had mentioned. The Big One looked like a mountain of flesh, poured in a pile and shaped into some vaguely human form by someone whose only experience with anatomy had been muscular. He was dressed in a three-piece suit that looked like it was ready to tear apart if he so much as turned his head. Though it was cleverly tailored and woven, Three could tell from the sheen of the fabric that it was fibrasteel, likely impervious to any stabbing or slashing that might occur.

“And that piece is, I suppose, decorative only?”

“Keeps the kids away is all.”

“The Bonefolder understands the nature of the world in which we live, friend. We do not wish to deprive you of your protection. We mean only to inventory. I would, however, advise you to keep your hands away from your… ornament. This way, please.”

The Big One led them both from the entryway into a large open room, set with a number of tables. There was a bar off to the left, where a man stood wiping down a counter with a rag. The bartender looked to be in his early 60s, and he tipped his head in greeting. Even across the room, the bartender vibrated with menace. An open staircase in the back led up to a second floor, where an open balcony surrounded and overlooked the first floor. Evenly spaced doors off the balcony hinted at some kind of upstairs living quarters.

A knot of men sat or stood around small tables in the center of the room. And there at the large central table, all alone, sat the Bonefolder.

“Gentlemen,” said the Big One. “Be seated.”

Three and jCharles sat themselves across the table from Bonefolder.

“May I have a beverage prepared for you?”

“Bittertonic might be nice,” jCharles answered. “How about you Numbers, something to take the edge off? Good chance to taste something from the top of the shelf.”

Three shook his head, kept his eyes on Bonefolder. He could tell from Twitch’s eager casualness that he was wound tight. Quick count put them down four to one, not counting the Bonefolder. Not good odds even against poorly-trained gun hands.

“Very well,” said the Big One. He motioned to the bartender, who began preparing a drink for jCharles.