-1-
The Stratosphere is opulent, clean, civilized and red. Very red.
I always thought the Mjollner Red was a representation of blood. That it represented their love of savage violence. But I’m beginning to think it’s about vibrancy and being present.
It’s a celebration.
The crowd at the Stratosphere tonight reminds me more of college dorm parties than the Shy Cartel hangouts. The room is full of LED backlit round tables with a full bar in the center. The patrons are mostly young guys around my age who look keyed up and nervous. Most of them are sipping shots of clear liquor in frosted glasses.
The bartenders are the gorgeous hacked Mjollner escorts in 8 inch heels, severe dark makeup and outfits that consist of two pieces of fabric that cover their nipples and some carefully placed string. Their long bare backs show off the extensive tattoos that crawl across their spines and extend to their legs.
I notice an elevated table behind a roped area where a small group of men are wearing unbuttoned shirts that show of their deep red Mjollner ink. Two of the men are surveying the room and exchanging comments while the third is sitting in a chair with a woman. Her dress is hiked up and she straddling his lap, her hips moving slowly over him.
Watching the girl causes me to refocus. I’d had to leave Sage in the trunk to make this seem realistic. To make it seem like I didn’t care about her. I hadn’t wanted to leave her and it was hot in the car. I had to make this quick.
No one seems to take notice of me immediately so I stroll to one of the bar stools and take a seat. This bartender is a man, he is beautiful and pale and made of muscle. He barely looks at me as I approach.
Two of the guys at the bar are speaking in Russian. A lone man at the other side of the bar is sipping his drink, drumming his fingers against the bar making a special effort not to acknowledge me.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” I say pointing to the lone man.
“You have to pay cold, Blondie,” the bartender says in a hard tone.
I pull out some of the cash Rayne had given me and set it on the table
The bartender slides a frosted glass to me. The liquor goes down sharp and tastes more like cold than it does of alcohol. It's unsatisfying.
“Always this crowded ?,” I ask the lone man.
He shrugs and looks harder at the table
“So…is one of those guys the Rektor ?,” I ask, nodding to the roped off table.
A laugh explodes from my other side. I see one of the men who was speaking Russian looking at me amused. He is older with long dark hair.
“You aren’t from around here are you ?,” the older man laughs. “You better just go, kid.”
“It was just a question,” I say coolly.
“It’s not a question you should be asking around this kind of company,” he said gesturing to the room.
I don’t know what possesses me to react.
“What the fuck does that mean ?,” I ask with more edge.
“It means kids like you need to learn some respect.”
I don’t respond this time. I remember that Sara has always told me you can get more information from staying silent than you can from confronting someone. Eventually the guy goes back to his conversation
I swirl my drink in the glass trying to think of what my next plan is. The room has started to fill up and I consider going up to talk to someone when the man who had the girl on his lap starts walking through the crowd. He's wearing a red jacket and there are a series of ugly pinkish knife scars all over his face.
The scarred man weaves through the throng of bodies speaking into people's ears and then that person follows the girl to a door in the back of the bar. He makes it to my table and walks past me to whisper in the ear of the guy next to me.
“I have a business proposition for you if you are interested,” I hear him say.
He walks past me again and makes another circuit around the room before doubling back and putting a hand in my shoulder.
“You’re a long way from home,” he whispers to me and gestures to the girl. “Iy, please give Mr. Shy Cartel a personal escort.”
The girl takes my arm roughly, her nails are pointed like talons and she guides me through the bar to the backroom, where there is only standing room now. I quickly notice everyone in the room is male.
The scarred man walks in behind me with the other two in his crew.
“For those of you who don’t know, I’m Bishop,” the scarred man says. “And as many of you know the Mjollner is always looking for a little help.”
He sounds so professional, he reminds me of when I saw my Dad present at his board meetings. He makes brief eye contact with each person in the room and his speech never falters.
“Now, if you are here for free women you can get the fuck out now. If you are adverse to dying you can also get the fuck out now.”
I could hear some uncomfortable shifts, but no one left. Bishop smiles easily.
“ If you stay,” Bishop continues. “I can give you the opportunity to earn a nice thousands. If you prove your loyalty that could become millions.”
A few nods of excitement go through the room at that. Bishop shares another smile with the crowd.
“If you survive and prove yourself faithful to us you we are always open to full initiation. You'll get access to our bars, clubs, women and apartments. All you need to do is follow instructions," he explains. "If you can manage that, follow the lovely Ms. Iylena Night into the Board room upstairs. She’ll tag you with one of our Syndicates and give you your assignments. And in case it wasn’t obvious to you gentlemen…no touching.”
I move to follow the crowd upstairs, but an arm over mine holds me in place. When the room clears I am left standing with Bishop holding me and the two men who were around him. I assume they are bodyguards judging by the looks in their eyes.
“How stupid does Rayne think the Mjollner are ?,” Bishop asks. “I’ve seen you around. What the hell do you think you are doing here ?”
“Fucking Rayne Washington.” I tell him aggressively and pull my arm away from his grasp. “I left.”
Bishop focuses on me and I notice his pupils have been modded to look red with flecks of gold.
“Rayne Washington just let his little errand boy leave ? ,” Bishop says doubtfully.
“He doesn’t know it yet,” I quickly cover. “He treated me like shit because I’m not from around here… I was never one of them.”
“That much is obvious,” Bishop says “Why should I believe your bullshit story ?”
I nod my head to turn on my Syndicate and then project my bank account.
“I stole 7 million dollars in credit from Rayne.I've been doing it for a few months. Just taking small percentages from different accounts. It will probably take months for them to notice. You take me in you. can have 70 percent.”
“7 mil ?," Bishop asks in amusement. "Why not just take it and run ?,”
“The money is tagged, if I spend it he’ll get an alert. I don’t have the tech or the hacking skills to clean it...but I assume you do. I also assume you can protect me.”
Bishop nods slowly and continues to stare me down. I can only hope I sold him on the whole story.
“You don’t get special treatment,” Bishop finally says. “You going to be okay running deals like all these other street kids ?”
“Anything.” I say.
Bishop reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a thin metal ring. He slips it on his middle finger and puts his hand on my collarbone and then down the neck of my shirt. His hand gropes around my bare chest before pausing over my heart. My heart takes an extra beat and there is a sudden tightness in my chest. Like a piece of my heart is trying to break through my skin and into his palm
“You've got tech in your body," he smiles. "Cyborg ?” .
“No, just some biological enhancements.”
Bishop's smile broadens. It makes his scars look worse.
“I think the Mjollner has a lot of uses for a man like you,” he says.
“Good to hear,” I say.
“That Rayne Washington is a false prophet.” Bishop hisses. “ He’s a fucking animal but, you must know that.”
He removes his hand from my shirt as I nod in agreement.
“He kisses a cross on Saturday and then kills a man on Sunday," Bishop continues. "He's manipulative, they way he tricks people into debts and then uses them as indentured servants until they worship him. The Mjollner don’t do that bullshit. What good is your organization if no one wants to fucking be there ? We are purely authentic. We take anyone who wants to do the work and if they do work and stay loyal they get paid.”
“Sounds fair--”
“Anyone lies to us they get shot in the back."
"I get it-"
"You know why in the back ?," Bishop says animatedly. "It keeps the person alive but their entire body is paralyzed. Then we either leave them in the street until they die or one of the docs use them for spare parts.”
“Sounds fair.” I repeat trying to sound confident but the words stick in my throat for a second.
***
-2-
The sun is down by the time I get back to the demolished hotel I had told Bishop I’d been squatting in as shelter. I'd left a makeshift bed and bag of clothes there in case he came to check it out. I quickly change into a black hooded shirt and dark pants and start my 10 mile walk to the bus station.
I wait nearly and hour for the Rock Beach line. After a 40 minutes ride the bus drops me off in a town outside of the Sprawl and I walk another five miles to the Elevated Train Depot & Surplus. I scan my wrist at the ENGINEERS ONLY door and the hack inside makes the doors spring open.
I take an elevator to the 5th floor of tracks and at the end of the floor is the JUNK & PARTS track. I walk along the tracks and into the tunnel. There is only one train up there----it was white and hadn't been operational in years. I don't even know where Sara discovered this rendezvous point. I walk to the last car on the train and scan my wrist to open the doors.
Inside, Sara and Jean are stretched across the trainseats. Sara is running her finger over lines of code and Jean is eating a god damn sandwich.
“You fucked it up, didn't you ?,” Jean asks sitting up. “Did you act too cocky ?”
“No.” I say trying to look more confident. “It went fine. I mean Bishop, the recruiter, he recognized me but he still trusts me. He’s even setting me up in a Mjollner hostel.”
“Good,” Sara said standing. "They'll be other recruits there.The most important thing for you to do is social engineering. Once you get into that hostel you don’t shut up. You talk to everyone and you learn their story. The Mjollner is a boys club and everyone wants to see who has the bigger dick.”
"If that is the case I really should have done this,” Jean quips nudging Sara and she shoves him off the seat.
"I'm going to give you this contact lens with an image capture," she says. "The pieces will dissolve in your eye after 5 hours, but it will transmit us the faces of everyone you meet. Jean and I will run them through facial recognition to see if any of them were there that night."
"Sara...I can't be inside too long," I tell her. "Bishop sounded fucking insane--,"
"We won't let anything happen to you," she cuts me off. "What kind of jobs does he have you doing ?"
“I don’t know. Drug runs probably," I say. "He said I have to start small."
“Fine. Bring all the drugs back here and we'll give you money for them. Make it look like you are really good at selling. You need to get Bishop's attention. Make him want to tell you all his secrets.” She says.
“I know, you've said this to me before-.”
“Okay...sorry. But one more thing. And this is important.”
“What--,”
“Do not fall for their bullshit.”
----
Anyone catch the Lile reference ? (not that it was that well hidden)