Evening fell in a quiet rush, the sun quickly slipping towards the horizon, and then sliding beneath to give way to the night. The cool summer air held the promise of rain as well as a hint of autumn, though months remained until the first leaves would change. The noise of the city didn’t yield to the darkening of the day, instead changing to a different melody as nightclubs opened to pulsing music and swaying crowds under swirling neon lights and hookers emerged to ply their trade on the back streets and darkened corners. The endless cycle continued on, oblivious to everything. Even me.
I stood on the balcony to my apartment, a cigarette dangling loosely from the corner of my mouth. I watched cars dart by, speeding to one destination or another. Dark figures moved along the sidewalks, briefly lit by streetlamps, headlights and storefronts before being swallowed up by the gloom again. It was the same thing every night. With a sigh, I brought my paws up and lit the cigarette, taking a deep drag off the glowing white stick.
I closed my ears to the constant auditory assault of sirens, laughing, crying and all the other sounds of too many people in too small an area, instead choosing to focus on a half-remembered melody plucked from the drifting morass between my ears. I felt my tail sway idly in the gentle breeze as I focused on the music in my skull. Blocking out the noise, and with my eyes closed, I could almost imagine I was somewhere nice. A small house in the country. An isolated temple in a bowl valley in the mountains of some far off country.
A resounding crash from below shattered my peaceful reverie, bringing me back to the noisy chaos around me. With a sigh I leaned over the railing and peered down to the street below, hunting for the source of the commotion. A couple of cars had sped through an intersection and been hit. Most furs were standing around, their phones out and pointed at the accident to record it for the internet. I sighed, a plume of smoke escaping my muzzle with it and leaned further over the balcony. My apartment was on the second floor, with the main entrance around to the other side, away from the street. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d jumped off my balcony, and probably wouldn’t have been the last, but it made me nervous every time.
I swung my legs over and dropped to where I was hanging just by my arms, held there for a moment, before dropping to the sidewalk below. It may not have been very bad, but my heart was still pounding in my chest when my shoes touched ground again. My adrenalin was already churning through my veins as I set out towards the intersection. I couldn’t see anyone moving around the cars, which made me more concerned. My pace quickened.
One of the vehicles had slammed into a lightpole after it had been hit, and that was the one I ran towards. Surprisingly, the door opened easily, if jerkily. I was surprised by what I saw. The airbag had deployed, which might have been the only thing that saved the life of the young purple cat sitting in the driver seat. She hadn’t been wearing her seatbelt, and a tablet lay on the floorboards. She leaned to the side, her eyes closed. I couldn’t tell if her chest was moving, so I gently reached out to find a vein in her neck. The light touch was, apparently, enough to snap her awake, given that as soon as my fingers touched her her head jerked up and her fist met my nose.
“What the hell was that for?” I asked, staggering back, my paw going to my nose to check for bleeding.
“I’m not going to go down without a fight, you Kinzingo bastard!” she shouted, staggering out of the car with tablet in-paw.
Kinzingo.
Everyone knew who the Kinzingo were. It was rather hard not to. They’d started out as a small gang about fifteen years ago, but had managed to move up the underworld ladder to become a ruling faction in the city. Most crime was carried out by them. Everyone knew it, but no one could ever prove it.
“What do the Kinzingo have to do with anything?” I said, reaching out and grabbing the girl before she could fall.
“It doesn’t matter. Just gotta go. . .”
She swooned and lost her balance. I moved forward more and caught her before she could slam into the pavement. There were finally sirens in the distance, slowly growing louder.
“Yeah, you do. To the hospital. You shouldn’t be moving around so much after wrapping a car around a streetlight.”
“No, bad idea. I need to hide. Get off the street. Get out of view. They can find me. I have to go!” She shoved away from me and began to half walk half stumble away.
I considered my options. Here was some girl, couldn’t have been older than 14, in a car wreck involving a car that was more than likely stolen, and was apparently involved with the Kinzingo somehow, insisting that the best thing she could do would be to keep going and not go to a hospital. I could just turn and walk away, since clearly it wasn't my concern what happened to her, especially not with the damn Mob after her or the laundry list of criminal charges I could see around me. I could probably overpower her and force her to wait until the paramedics arrived and let them handle her from there. There were cameras all around, so I could always do a dance that might end up going viral. I groaned at myself for even considering the last option even as my feet started moving.
"Let's go, kitten. My apartment is literally right over there, and you need to get off the street if you've got a Mob trail," I said, looping my arm around the feline for support.
To my surprise, she didn't really protest beyond a soft mewing as my hand brushed her side. I hoped she didn't have any internal injuries, as I hadn't the means to treat them. I would really rather avoid having to explain a dead body to the police. Though it was going to end up a moot point. I was assisting with a hit-and-run now. I'd always wanted to be a criminal, it just seemed like such fun.
We made it back to my apartment building quickly enough. By now the police were in the intersection trying to make heads or tails of the scene. I was hoping I'd get lucky and none of the idiots there would point them down this way. Judging by the lack of police presence, I felt as though luck might actually be on our side. I nearly dropped the cat when we rounded the corner to the street the door was on, however. Standing under the streetlight was a figure wearing what looked like an expensive suit, flicking a lighter repeatedly. My thoughts instantly jumped back to gangster movies I'd once seen when I was younger. Maybe that's how they actually dressed, and all those movies we're closer to the truth than anyone wanted to admit.
"Ms. Frittz, I was hoping I might catch you. I'm a bit saddened you turned down our generous offer. Of course, you know what's going go happen now. As for you, I'd back away from the girl and forget you ever saw her. For your own good, you understand."
I let go of her and backed away, slowly edging off to the side with my hands in the air. The cat looked at me, the betrayal evident even though the pain and the dark. It hurt, but already my mind was at work. I needed the gangster to ignore me if there was any chance of saving both our lives. Luckily for me, he seemed completely focused on the girl. Unluckily for me, I saw he had also produced a gun. Time was starting to slow to a crawl as my adrenaline surged into overdrive.
Fight time.
There was a metal pole that sat by the garbage can. A few of the residents used it to help with opening the can. It was rather heavy, and solid. Worked wonders on the garbage can, and apparently skills as well. I swung it as I could, the blow connecting with a sickening crunch. The sound of bone shattering. The Kinzingo thug dropped instantly to the ground like a marionette with the strings cut, a tangled heap of limbs in a slowly spreading pool of black ichor. I stared down at the body for what felt like an endless eternity, so long that at any moment I expected to feel the heat of the sun exploding outwards at the end of it's life. But the only thing I did feel was a soft touch on my arm. The suddenness and utter alienness of that simple gesture caught me off guard.
"We need to go, right now," the cat, Frittz, said.
I remembered my goal. The pipe, my murder weapon, slid noisily into the storm drain as we passed it, me half-carrying the girl as we entered my apartment building. It took a long time for me to unlock the door, the adrenaline making me hands shake like a tree in a tornado, but finally the lock clicked and we slipped inside. I relocked the door behind us, shut and locked the balcony door, pulled all the blinds, and then collapsed on the couch, fumbling for a cigarette. The trembling in my hands almost made it impossible to light the tiny stick. Once the nicotine began to flood my system, I took a look at the lavender feline leaning against the wall, furiously typing on her tablet.
“I’m a little surprised that still works after the crash,” I remarked, pointing my flaming stick of cancerous doom at the device.
“I built it to stand up to a lot. So far, it’s seeming like I did a decent enough job.”
“You built that? Now I’m impressed. I can’t even build a cardboard box.”
"So, not to sound ungrateful, but why exactly did you decide to save me? You don't know me, and you certainly don't owe me anything."
I thought about that for a minute. Why HAD I decided to help her? Pull her from a wrecked car, and then again in the street...
My stomach churned at the thought of the Doberman I had killed. I jumped from the couch and managed to make it to the toilet just in time to lose dinner. There was twenty bucks down the drain, literally. Once the heaving stopped, I rinsed my mouth and emerged. The cat had pulled her shirt up and was gently kneading her side, wincing a few times.
"Here, let me help with that," I offered.
I ran my fingers slowly over her ribs, checking for anything that felt like a break. To her credit, the only response was some wincing. It seemed like luck was forever on her side.
"Doesn't seem to be any breaks or fractures, but I'm no doctor and these aren't an X-ray machine. I would still recommend going to the hospital, though. I know it's pointless to say, since you've already made your opinion on that quite clear. Now, one thing I do know is how to check for a concussion. Open your eyes for me."
I used the light on my phone and watched her pupils. They were a deep green, the colour you would expect to see in a hidden emerald glade deep in the forest, untouched and wild and pure. The depth took me by surprise, the radiant jade orbs seeming more suited to some creature of myth than a little girl. I stared into them longer than I probably should, and with a slight jerk I looked away.
"Well, no concussion as far as I can tell, so your luck continues to hold."
She nodded, pulled her shirt back on, and stretched slowly. I sat back on the couch, sliding another cigarette between my lips. With a smoky sigh, I settled back on the couch with my eyes closed. A moment later there was another click of a lighter. My eyes flicked open.
"You know these things are bad for you, right? Not to mention illegal for you, right?" I remarked.
"Noted. Illegal things and I are great friends. So what's one more to make this day compete, hmm?"
As much as I hated to admit it, she had a point. With everything else that had happened in the past half hour, smoking seemed to be the least of her worries. I had opened my mouth to say something else when there was a sharp rapping at my door.
"It's the police. We'd like to ask you a few questions," the muffled voice beyond announced.
I nearly replied when a purple hand clamped over my muzzle, the attached emerald eyes wide with fear. The knocking repeated itself again, and again there was only silence from inside. The next time it came, it was quieter, further away. I crept silently across the room and peered out the tiny peep hole in the door. Nothing. Guess they were just asking around, not targeting me. I sighed with relief, willing my heart to calm lest it burst from my chest. I'd lost track of how many times today I had nearly had a heart attack, but I was quite certain I was reaching the point when it would no longer be nearly. I padded back across my apartment, my boots making no noise in the carpet.
A lit cigarette appeared in front of me, waving teasingly in front of my eyes. I took it and inhaled, the nicotine filling my lungs and blood. I flopped back on the couch with a smoke-filled sigh.
"So what's the plan, Mr..."
"Talthanir. My name is Talthanir. Sorry. Didn't think of it."
"Well, don't feel bad. I'm Moyra."
Moyra Frittz. Not exactly the name of a supercriminal like she suggested.
"Why are Kinzingo after you anyway? You don't strike me as an evil mastermind or drug runner."
My phone went off after a moment. I fished it out of my jeans pocket and checked my texts. There was a new one with no sender info. 'I'm a hacker.'
"OK, I guess that explains it then. Well, kinda but not really. Being a hacker could get you in all kinds of trouble. And how the hell did you do that? Nevermind, stupid question."
I sounded like an idiot with my rambling. I mentally kicked myself for being stupid.
"So then, what did you do that pissed them off so much?"
"Nothing too major. Just stole twenty million dollars from them."
I choked on the smoke coming from my lungs. A kid stealing that much money from a mob syndicate seemed unreal. Then again, everything about the situation seemed completely unreal. I wondered briefly if I had fallen asleep on the balcony again. My mouth tried to form a coherent sentence, but my brain couldn't process the words right now.
"Yeah, you can imagine they'd be pretty pissed about losing that much money, essentially bankrupting one of their holdings overnight. Guess it's just my personal brand of justice."
The ease of her words as she spoke shook me slightly. Stealing that much money, regardless the source, had to be a felony. Plus the car and fleeing the scene of an accident...the thug I smashed over the head...
"I erased your prints, by the way. Figured you helped me, I might as well help you. If the police find the pipe and get prints, it won't show anything in their scan."
"I...thank you...?" I said uncertainly.
Another knock sounded from my door, hard and forceful.
"FBI, open up!"
My heart froze, blood turning to ice in my veins as the bottom of my stomach dropped out.
"Moyra, I know you're in there. Open up now!"
"That's not the FBI. They wouldn't be here so quickly and they aren't looking for me. Well, by name." Her low whispers barely reached my sensitive ears.
"Kinzingo?" I mouthed.
She nodded quickly. I shot up, my adrenaline surging for the second time tonight. I crossed to my bedroom and grabbed my knife off the stereo speaker that served as my nightstand, and darted back into the living room. It wasn't an overly impressive knife, six inches long and semi-serrated, but it would have to work. Moyra was putting a chair in front of the as quietly as she could as the voice barked out our final warning. I grabbed her tablet and my trench and slid the balcony door open, motioning for her to follow.
A twenty foot drop in front, a murderous thug behind. Not exactly the best situation to be in. I grabbed the cat and lifted her over the edge, slowly sliding her as close to the ground as I could before dropping her. She landed with a soft grunt, falling hard on her butt, but jumped up quickly. Her tablet and my coat followed.
There was pounding at the door now. I slid the balcony door closed, slid over the edge and jumped.
Twenty feet of height doesn't seem like much on the ground. It seems like a lot more when you're standing at it. It feels like a million when you're jumping it on an adrenaline rush while running for your life. The fleeting seconds of falling stretch for eternity. What if I missed the landing and broke my leg? Or my neck? What if I was just moving into an ambush, herded like a scared animal to slaughter?
My feet hit the ground, my knees buckling. I dropped into a roll to bleed off my momentum, but it still hurt. That's the thing the action movies never tell you. The crazy daredevil moves of the hero actually do hurt. I came to my feet and took off running. The patter of feet behind me told me Moyra was following.
I ran down an alley across the street, turning the first chance I got. Break line of sight, it's easier to get an advantage in escaping. Always knew my hours of gaming would come in handy some day. Just not like this.
The street we emerged to was crowded with people staring at the crash. Police cars blocked the intersection to our left, portable lights lighting up the area as they ran their investigation. I took Moyra's hand and guided her through the throng of people slowly, being careful to try and not draw attention to ourselves. Another narrow alley looked ahead of us, cast into deeper shadow by the lights shining around us. We slipped into the cover of darkness, and I paused to take a breath.
"Alright, step one complete. Step two...I have no idea. We need to go somewhere. Get off the streets and hide. And quickly. But it has to be far away from here because they'll look around here first. It's a classic trick. Pretend to slip away but really stay under their noses. Not gonna work. So we need to move. And fast. My car is out since I'm sure there's thugs all over the parking lot. Taxi takes too long. Bus takes too long. So I dunno. I dunno what to do and now I think I will begin freaking out."
I was rambling by that point, pacing back and forth between a dumpster and a small loading dock. This is the part where the big hero comes up with a plan or some conveniently placed object lights up. But I was drawing a blank now.
"Well, I suppose we could steal a car. What's one more crime to add to our spree?"
At any other time, such an idea would have seemed absurd or crazy. But right now, crazy sounded like the name of the tune. I nodded, took my coat, and continued down the alley. Since this was a residential area, with lots of big apartment buildings, there were plenty of choices.
"You know how to hotwire a car, because I don't."
"Newer ones have built in Bluetooth connections with an onboard computer about the same as a home desktop. It controls everything and has sensors and modules and all sorts of nifty things. Just have to find one, and I'm sure I can hack into it easily enough. One of the many advantages of being cute little me," Moyra replied cheerfully.
Guess I couldn't argue that. I looked around but couldn't make out what types of cars there were in the parking lot. It would be impossible for me to find a car in any reasonable amount of time. Moyra typed furiously on her tablet, walking slowly after me, not taking her eyes off the glowing screen.
"I think I've got one, lemme just trace the signal through the IP address... Yep, found us a pair of wheels. Next lot over."
We ran across the blacktop, crashing through a shrub wall with yellowing leaves and into the next. The car we approached had its running lights on, the Amber light shining like a beacon in the dark. Two down from it, a car bounced up and down, sultry moaning sounding through the fogged glass. Classy. Moyra seemed not to notice, though I doubt she missed it. She reached the car first, opening the driver door.
"Uh-uh, not happening. I saw what happened last time you drove, and I would rather not have another traumatic experience tonight."
The girl sighed and walked around to the passenger side and got in. Bad enough I'm putting my life at risk, now I'm getting attitude about it. The car started a moment after I climbed in. A moment later and we were on the street, finally putting real distance between us and my apartment. I wondered how much time had passed, wondered if it was even worth it to try. Had we spent too long getting here? Every time a car approached behind us, I tensed, expecting bullets to fly through the windshield. But none came.
"Any idea where we should go? I don't exactly think a motel would be a good idea right now. Got a friend or something you can stay with?"
My question hung in the air without a response, the only sound in the car the gentle roar of the engine. I opened my mouth, about to ask again when she answered.
"Lots of warehouses and abandoned buildings along the north-end of town. We could probably hide in one of them for the night. But we should ditch the car soon. with all the commotion tonight, it probably won't be long before it gets reported stolen."
Made a certain amount of sense, or at least seemed to. I drove for another half-hour, turning randomly so we weren't bee-lining there. I didn't know if the car had GPS, or if it was disabled or something, but it just seemed like a good thing to do. Maybe not draw attention to our destination as quickly. We ditched the car in the parking lot of a home décor store and continued on foot.
My adrenaline had long worn off, replaced by a weary fear bordering on becoming full blown panic. Moyra trotted along beside me, softly humming a tune and swinging her arms back and forth.
"How can you be this calm about everything that has happened? You didn't even seem fazed in my apartment, and now you're humming like you're taking a stroll in spring," I asked.
"Calm? I'm not calm. I'm fucking terrified. I've almost pissed myself several times now. And that would probably have been the worst thing that could happen to me right now. But if I act calm and be relaxed, maybe I can convince my brain that I really am calm and relaxed. The brain is a computer, after all. I'm trying to hack it," the purple cat replied matter-of-factly.
"Seems valid. Is it working?"
"Not in the slightest."
"Damn. I was hoping at least one of us had a level head right now."
We continued in silence, crossing under the interstate. The roar of traffic, even getting so late in the night, was still deafening in the enclosed space. After an hour, a jagged lightning bolt flashed across the sky, the weather making good on its promise. Our pace quickened. We were in sight of the warehouse when the sky opened up, at first with a soft patter of a few drops, increasing steadily until it was pouring. We ducked under a bus station, getting a slight reprieve from the deluge.
"Good thing this thing is waterproofed. Never thought I would actually need it, but figured it couldn't hurt. Guess it paid for itself now. Give me a moment while I hunt for a suitable building."
I waited in silence, shivering slightly in the cold and the wet. Of all the things that had been happening, the rain just seemed to top it off. Stupid rain. I pulled out my pack of cigarettes, absent-mindedly lit two, and passed it over. Moyra took it without comment, not even glancing up. It almost seemed normal.
"I think I found one. Seasonal post-office overflow warehouse. They open it to help accommodate the Christmas shipping mess. Closed for the summer, so we should be safe."
I nodded, but made no attempt to move. I was going to finish my damn cigarette first. After ten minutes, we ventured back into the rain, running to reach the building faster.
"If it's closed, how will we get in? It's gotta be locked."
"I can pick it if it is."
Picking locks. Hacking into everything that sends a signal. Fancy custom hardware. My life was beginning to seem like a spy novel. I expected at any moment for Moyra turn out to be working deep undercover for some three-letter'd government agency and swear me to secrecy under penalty of death. Or for her to suddenly turn into a ninja.
I huddled under the eaves of the building, which offered almost no cover for the downpour, holding the tablet as Moyra fiddled with the lock, her delicate fingers moving carefully. After several soggy minutes, she stood and opened the door. I hurried inside.
Weak light filtered through high, rain streaked windows from the street and yard lights, casting thin beams of light through the area. It was mostly empty, the exception being some pallets stacked along the wall and several of the thick shipping mats. The rain drummed loudly on the roof, occasionally drowned out by peals of thunder. The air was cold inside, but it was dry. We searched through the storage room for anything that might be useful. I found a few old space heaters and a spool of packing twine. Only one of the heaters worked, but it was better than nothing.
"I hate being wet," Moyra grumbled "it makes my fur impossible to deal with."
"Look on the bright side. At least now no one could tell if you had pissed your pants."
I could practically see steam rising from her face. Guess it would have been the worst thing that could happen to her. I thought about that.
I ran the twine around two of the concrete pillars in the middle of the room, looping it several times around the first cord to strengthen it. The space heater was plugged in near it and pointed up.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm cold and wet, and my clothes are cold and wet. Didn't exactly pack a change in the mad dash for our lives earlier. So they need to dry. So do yours. Which means you need to take them off. And I just realized how incredibly wrong that just sounded. I'm sorry."
"Eh, compared with the rest of the night, a bit of nudity is the least of my concerns right now. Also, could you see if there's a first aid box somewhere nearby, please?"
I nodded, tossed my trench on the line, and went back towards the storage closet. One hung on the wall just inside. Finally, something easy. I approached the spot we were setting up camp and noticed the clothes hanging on the line. Zipper hoody, T-shirt, black bra, skinny jeans, black panties with a bow on the front, socks. My mind catalogued it without really processing what it saw. If it had processed, I might have been a little more prepared. Moyra was dragging a few of the shipping mats overs, the thickness of the padding adding weight. Her butt was high in the air as she did, wiggling from side to side as she shuffled back. I stared longer than I should have, the wiggle and swishing tail keeping my eyes locked. I hated myself for it.
"Like what you see?" she asked, dipping her head between her legs to look at me.
I looked away, finally, and couldn't find the words to answer. I did like what I saw. I didn't like that I liked it.
"Fine, don't answer. I guess I'll just have to be a good girl and wait and see."
Oh fuck my life.
The first aid kit disappeared from my hand, but I hardly noticed. I was too busy forcing a budding erection down. I shivered and resigned myself to my fate, pulling my sodden shirt over my head and wringing it out before setting it on the line. My pants followed. I had my back turned to Moyra and hesitated before finally pulling my underwear and socks off. I could feel my cheeks burning. This was not going to end well. There was no way it could end well.
I sat down on the edge of the mat, my back still turned to the amethyst cat. I heard the door open and turned quickly, panic rising and subsiding just as quickly. Moyra had opened it and stuck her head out, looking up.
"What was that for?" I inquired when she returned.
"Have you ever tried to swallow aspirin without anything to drink? Not as easy as it sounds, and the taste is the worst. Second worst thing I've tasted in my life."
"The first being?"
She grew silent at that and looked away, her ears and tail drooping noticeably. I regretted asking, though it seemed an innocent enough of a question. I decided to try and change the subject.
"So, you know how to get lots of money, pick locks, steal cars and hack into any system you want. That's an impressive skill set for someone so young. Gotta be a good story as to why you know all of that."
"Revenge," she finally answered after several minutes of thick silence.
"Revenge for what?"
"It doesn't matter. Look, it's late, I'm cold and wet and tired. Let's just go to sleep."
Seemed like a good idea to me. I picked up the top mat and began to pull it off to the side, but was stopped by a sudden extra weight.
"That's our blanket, genius. It's freaking cold, and we only have the one heater, which is drying our clothes. So we have to sleep together."
Thanks for that, Moyra. Nice word choice.
"Cuddling would be the best, since it allows us to stay warmer."
Any hint of her earlier jovial mood had disappeared. I knew it was my fault. I pulled the mat back over and shimmied under it, lifting it so that Moyra could do the same. The mats were bulky, scratchy and uncomfortable, but it beat sleeping on the floor. Moyra pressed her body against mine. Unbidden, the erection returned. It touched her before I could scoot back. She stiffened.
"I'm sorry... I just..." I stammered, feeling worse now.
"It's fine. You can't control it," her voice trailed off.
We lay in silence, the only sound the constant drumming of the rail and echoing explosions of thunder masking the soft hum of the space heater. I was beginning to feel the embrace of sleep, beckoning to me across the gulf of the universe. Exhaustion aided the embrace, black tendrils wrapping themselves around the corners of my consciousness and pulling it slowly apart.
"Talthanir?"
The voice was quiet, soft, and nearly drowned out by the rain. It registered at the furthest galactic edge of my mind, but quickly sent its signal to the core of my brain. My eyes flicked open.
"What?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For everything. For getting you roped into this mess, making you my accomplice in crime. I'm sorry for teasing you, for snapping at you..."
The information was slow processing through my brain. She was sorry. Sorry that I had been the one who saved her several times now, because she felt bad about it. Here was a girl who was scared out of her mind that she might die tomorrow, or hell in the next five minutes, with a complete stranger seeming to be her only hope of surviving. It hurt.
"You have nothing to be sorry about. I could have decided to stay on my balcony. I could have decided to hand you over to the thug in the street. I could have called the police on you myself. I made my choices. You're not to blame for my decisions," I murmured after a moment.
I pulled her closer to me and held her tightly. She shuddered, and it took my tired brain far too long to realize she was crying.
"Doesn't excuse me being a bitch to you."
"You weren't."
"Sure as hell felt like it."
She fell silent, her sobs unheard and unknown except for the slight jerk of her shoulders. I had no idea what to do, so I continued to do nothing. The minutes ticked by slowly. Or maybe they didn't. I had no way of knowing.
"When I was six," she said softly, "I was walking home from school. It was just around the corner, no more than five minutes, so my dad never thought anything of it. I was walking home, dreaming whatever innocent dream I had that day. Probably something involving princesses and dragons." She giggled softly, despite her tears.
"A car pulled up next to me and a wolf asked if I could help him find his dog that had escaped. I didn't think anything of it, I was young and stupid. So I got in the car with him. I don't know when it started to dawn on me that we weren't going to find his dog. I think around the time we got to his house. It was on the other side of town from my home and school....from my whole universe."
She paused and drew a shaky breath. "We went inside. He said he had some lemonade and after that, we'd go looking for his dog. I was thirsty, so I followed him inside. Once the door was closed, everything changed. It was like he had become a different person from the nice wolf in the car. Now I was scared. He carried me down to his basement. There was a cage in the corner of the room. Iron bars, looked like a jail cell. He shoved me in, saying if I started screaming, he'd kill my family."
The tears were flowing heavily now. He could hear it in her voice.
"I cried. I cried for hours, terrified and alone. He came back down that night. There...there was a computer sitting next to the cage. He turned it on, and pointed a webcam at me. 'Say your name for me'. He got angry when I didn't and told me he would have to start hurting people if I didn't listen and do what I was told. So I obeyed.
"He told me to take off my clothes...and I did. He asked all sorts of questions about me while having me spin slowly, or show him my pussy or my ass. And then he left."
Moyra fell silent for a moment, taking slow deep breaths to steady her voice before continuing.
"At first I thought that maybe he would let me go and I could go home. He came back an hour later with some food and left again. I didn't see him for the rest of the night and most of the next day. When he returned that evening, he was naked. He unlocked the cage...and told me to lay down on the mattress. And I just got to lay there crying when he raped me. And the whole time, the damn webcam was staring at me. I remember thinking 'what will daddy think if he saw this?' When he came, he didn't pull out. It hurt. Hurt worse than him shoving it in me.
"He kept me trapped down there for three years, forcing me to perform all sorts of sexual acts with him. If he wanted a blowjob, I had to swallow. He shoved all sorts of things into my ass." Her hand drifted back, rubbing her butt. "Shave the fur off here and I'm certain I still have the scar, right across my ass cheek. Slut, because that's what I was. I was a little slut. And I could never leave now because no one loved a slut. He carved it in several times, just to make sure it scarred.
"When I was nine, I managed to sneak a few bobby pins from one of the times he dressed me up. I remember thinking of keeping them since they kinda looked like a key. It took three months of trying for hours a day, but I learned how to pick the lock to my cage. I certainly wasted no time in getting out of there, throwing on some random dress up outfit. Just something so I wouldn't have to be naked anymore. I wanted to kill him, as he had threatened me so many times. I wanted to cut his dick off and make him eat it. I wanted to throw myself off a bridge and die too. But I ran. Just simply ran. Police picked me up half-way across town. I could tell them what he looked like, but it wasn't much to go on. I didn't know where he lived, just in a house with a basement. I didn't remember what car he drove, and he never mentioned his name. I thought that at least the worst was over and everything would get better. That's how it's supposed to work right?"
She rolled over, facing me now. Her watery eyes reflected the dim light.
"It's always supposed to get better then. But it didn't. Come to find out, I was now an orphan as well as a rape victim. Dad had killed himself a year before I escaped. Mom had left when I was really young, so I don't remember her at all. I was put into an orphanage. That led to all sorts of problems. Here you have a physically and mentally abused and scarred girl who has been isolated for the last three years, and suddenly there are other kids around. Needless to say, I didn't quite fit in. It's when I got involved in computers. They were safe. They weren't mean to me, they didn't punch me or hurt me or take my stuff. When I was ten, I discovered a site that started me down the hacking path. It was complicated, but I had lots of time to practice. Slowly, I got better, until the site could teach me no more. So I went searching for more knowledge, for harder challenges. I could go through the web filters the orphanage had in seconds with a few strings of code. And then an idea came to me.
"Everything runs on computers now. I created a Trojan that dug through the internet, trying to match the description I had of that bastard. Hit paydirt a lot sooner than I ever expected. I now had a name. And names have all kinds of power. I spent a month gathering everything I could on him. And I found it all. He was a bookkeeper for pretty big law firm, responsible for huge sums of money. I started routing some through his account and made donations to businesses under surveillance for links to terrorist cells. A computer 'glitch' wiped out his retirement, savings, and stock. I hacked into his computer and uploaded one of the videos of our...sessions onto the internet. It ended hours after that. He destroyed me, destroyed my life and took everything from me. So I returned the favor."
"FBI raided his house. It was a Saturday, so I knew he'd be there. I watched through his webcam as he ran downstairs and tried to hide, the FBI moving quickly behind him. They weren't gentle in arresting him. As a little treat, I had one of the videos playing on the computer.
"Thanks to me routing the money, there was no trial. He was given a one-way ticket to Gitmo. From what I've read about the place, it doesn't sound like they take very good care of their inmates."
She fell silent for several minutes before laughing softly.
"An eye for an eye, a life for a life. And the entire time, I managed to do it without anything be traced back to me. It had been easy. And I got hooked. So, I kept hacking. Started to gain recognition. Second hand, of course. So I felt I should be known by something. Damocles."
"You're Damocles?"
"Yep. I felt it was rather fitting. I'm the doom hanging above those with power. It's why I decided to take on the Kinzingo. But I got sloppy. All the things I'd done and no one could ever backtrace it. Until the twenty million. I didn't correctly reconfigure the DNS properly on my exit and left traces. And got tracked down. Which I guess leads us up to this point."
It probably spoke of some deep character flaw that the only thing that was really surprising was that she was Damocles. Not the fact she was held prisoner for three years and raped repeatedly, not the fact she spoke of the things she did in revenge with the pride of a kid winning first place. Just that she was a world-renowned and hunted hacker. I pushed the thought from my mind.
"It only ever takes one small mistake to destroy a life. Trusting the wrong person. Not double checking your work. One simple thing you might overlook, and next thing you know you're dead."
I nodded, though I think she felt more than saw the gesture.
"I don't even know why I'm telling you this. All you would have to do is make a deal. 'I know who Damocles is, so how about I tell you and we can forget everything else', ya know?"
She had a point. I probably could run and save myself. I tossed the thought around in my head for a moment, but felt sick doing so. There was a time when I would have, without a second thought. How long ago had that been? A year? An hour? I couldn't remember.
"I couldn't," I finally said. "At one time, yeah. But the idea gives me a bad taste in my mouth."
"Somehow, I figured that. It feels right to trust you. Which is weird, because I don't like trusting people. Too many people die based on trust. Like Ceaser."
Makes sense. Kidnapped, raped, and being wanted, I could imagine trust being a luxury. I couldn't give her an answer for why she could trust me. I couldn't give myself an answer why she should. If the situation were reversed, I doubt I would feel like she did. Instead of trying, I sat up and lit cigarettes for us.
"It couldn't have been easy telling me that. Doesn't sound like something you bring up often."
"My therapist tried to get me to talk about it when I was in the orphanage. Never did. She didn't seem nearly as nice as she wanted everyone to think she was."
"Is the orphanage your home now?"
"Fuck no. I have a room at an extended stay hotel. Sure, it's not the fanciest thing I could do with basically unlimited funds, but it's the best option. I'm sure by now it's been raided by Kinzingo or the government. Which probably means in a few months they'll know who I am and start a bigger hunt."
"Or not. Always possible. Can't you access your system from that?"
"Sure. I need WiFi though. No networks around here, and I never got around to cracking cellular networks to piggyback off them."
We finished smoking in silence, the rain now a gentle patter, the thunder rolling away into the night. In the watery orange light, the smoke curled between us in drifting phantasms of half-formed shapes barely remembered, the plumes entwining when the air was stirred by movement or an errant draft. I stared into them, wondering if it was coincidence or some deeper symbolism of fate. I laughed at myself, but didn't answer the questioning gaze. The cigarettes finished, we resolved to try and sleep. She snuggled close to me again, but this time when her butt touched my crotch, she just snuggled in closer, wiggling her butt. I couldn't decide if I should be scared or amused.
*****
Weak sunlight greeted me when my eyes decided to open, though the light was grey. I figured the sky was still cloudy. The second thing my tired brain was able to discern was an odd sensation. I lay there for a moment pondering what it was, the gears of my mind turning as though they were coated with a thousand years of rust. Which after last night, they very well might have been.
The rust came away.
As quickly as I dared, I scooted away from Moyra and stood, grabbing my thankfully dry underwear and pulling them on. Moyra appeared to still be sleeping peacefully, a slight smile peeking out of the corner of her lips. If luck was with me, she wasn't just pretending. I hoped she wasn't pretending. I finished dressing and went to the small bathroom on the back wall of the warehouse. When I came out several minutes later, Moyra was up and stretching, already half-dressed.
"Morning, Talthanir," she said cheerily upon seeing me.
"Morning. Sleep well?"
"Finally, yes. Thank you."
"For what?"
"For listening to me and I guess for just being a good person. I'd be dead if not for you."
"Don't thank me yet. We still could end up dead by the end of the day. Or in prison."
"That's not likely. I coded a trojan last night that's designed to block access to anything related to our info. Fingerprints, pictures, your address, and so on. Any Kinzingo on the police payroll are gonna get stymied. At least for a while. Hopefully long enough."
"To do what, exactly? Do we have a plan here other than run and stay alive?" I asked.
She was silent as she finished getting dressed. I lit two cigarettes and we smoked in further silence. I couldn't think of anything we could do, going up against the biggest mob in the city. They were hunting us, and we really had no place to go. The only thing I could think of doing would be to take them down. And we weren't exactly an army.
"We have to either fight, or disappear. And I don't think fighting is a very safe plan for our continued existence. So really we need to disappear."
"And you think that'll actually work? When I accessed the server I did, I glanced briefly at a payroll manifest. The people working for them in shell companies spread across the country. Which means they have business dealings across the country. Which means muscle."
"Wait, server with payroll... I wonder, how far did you dig into them?"
"Not very, why?"
"Think you could get back in?"
"Probably, why?"
"Simple. There's always something internal that links a shell company to its owners. They tend to be used to launder money or transport their goods around. Find that proof, publish it, let the police take it from there."
"I suppose it could work, in theory. But Tal?"
"What?"
"You watch too many movies."
"Shut up."
We left the warehouse minutes later, emerging from our hiding place into a grey morning. The clouds still hung thick in the air, small wisps of mist floating close to the ground and a steady misting of moisture falling. I looked around quickly before exiting the building, seeing no one. We had the rough idea of a plan, but really no way to truly execute it. But dammit, we were getting somewhere.
First things first, though, I was hungry. There wouldn't be anything in the area, so we had to venture back into the city. I also needed money. My wallet was back at my apartment, sitting on the coffee table. Well, probably not anymore. I voiced my concern.
"Get me close to an ATM and I should be able to get some."
Luck or coincidence had a gas station a few blocks from where we had holed up for the night. The ATM was nestled in the back of the store in a little alcove. Moyra slid next to the wall, squeezing in to get access to the back while I pretended to be having problems with my PIN. After a few minutes, it dispensed a stack of twenties.
"Nothing to it. These things are easy to crack, once you know how. Not easy to learn that first one, though. Took me almost a year."
"You will never cease to amaze me, of that I'm pretty sure," I remarked.
"Well, I also accessed the store security tapes and erased us being here, as well as the next fifteen minutes, because I'm hungry and there's food."
I didn't argue. We grabbed a few things, paid for it in stolen money, and left.
"So where do we need to go?"
"Library. Quiet, public, and has internet. Easier to hide among a few hundred other connections. Just not the one on Jackson, I used it a few months ago and hate repeating connections."
We set off, hailing a cab to take us there. The cabbie droned on about the depressing state of the world the entire trip, but it became a dull background noise as the city slid by. We passed through downtown, the sidewalks a sea of black coats and umbrellas, even on a weekend. Thousands of people going about their lives oblivious to the manhunt going on around them. There was probably a deep social commentary buried in there somewhere. We arrived, paid the cabbie with a decent tip ("Thank you kindly. I'll throw this last piece of advice out here for ya, just cuz you're nice. Don't trust the government. They've been lying to get their way from the beginning.") and ventured in the building.
The smell of old paper and binding was thick in the air, mixing with the scent of strong black coffee and sugar to create a cloying odor distinct to libraries. Newspapers rustled, people talked in hushed tones or clustered around tables reading, doing homework, or playing on laptops. We headed to the back and went into one of the reading rooms, closing the door behind us.
"Alright, time to work the magic. You might want to get a book, this is going to take a while," Moyra announced, her tiny fingers already flying across the on-screen keyboard.
I left the room and wandered into the stacks, not really looking for anything.
What the hell was I doing?
I suppose it's a little late for doubt to show up. It was probably too late from the time I jumped off my balcony the first time last night. A rogue super hacker on the run from the mob for stealing $20 million. Seemed like the plot to a dimestore novel. And here I was, the useless background character in novel that kinda gets taken along for the ride. It never ends well for them.
So what should I do, then? Keep on the present course and hope for the best? Go to the police with what I knew and pray they believed me? Just cut and run? I didn't know. Moyra's face surfaced in front of my eyes, smiling wide. What of her? Could I really bring myself to abandon her? What kind of person would that make me if the answer was yes?
I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I was scared. I hated being scared. Made me feel like a kid. I was supposed to be the adult here. And adults always knew what to do. Who let me be an adult? I couldn't adult right. I laugh in spite of myself. I grabbed a book off the shelf and started heading back. Not So Simple. Oh, the irony.
The ironic little coincidences like that were just further proof the universe had a sense of humor. Or maybe some mystical higher power just liked fucking with us mortals. I don't know which one I preferred right then. I returned to our room and started reading.
An hour passed in relative silence, Moyra occasionally muttering instructions to herself, fingers a blur. The book ended up being rather interesting. It followed a sniper trying to survive in a post-apocalyptic world once dominated by Humans. It struck me as odd a human-fandom book had been published. I could definitely relate to the lead character, struggling to get through a world gone mad.
Another hour ticked by, still with nothing happening. It almost seemed like a normal day, the adrenaline surges from last night seeming as foreign as the world in the book. Which was fine by me. If everything was resolved today and went back to normal, I certainly wouldn't be complaining.
It was well into the third hour before anything changed.
"Well, they beefed up security. A lot. Several virtual pitfalls and a few new alarms. Almost caught me a few times. Whoever redid their systems is good. But not good enough. I'm back in. Company called 'Vellu Shipping'. I'm running a search algorithm for anything weird or out of the ordinary. Should have the results in just a few minutes. Good book?"
"A little strange, but yes," I answered, laying it to the side. "Think we'll get anything major?"
"Hopefully. I'm also cross-checking employees with criminal records and known or suspected Kinzingo connections. If there is anything there, I'll find it. They can't be that good at hiding stuff on the inside. So it should... Wait a minute."
She started typing again. I leaned over and watched, everything flashing across the screen looking like Greek.
"Houston, we have a problem. Someone is hacking me. They're good. I don't think I can stop it, but I should be able to isolate systems and reverse hack their system by... Yep, got it."
"Why not just disconnect?"
"Data download. As soon as it's done, we're gone. Just need a minute."
A face popped up on the screen. A mouse, I guessed, based on the large ears and beady black eyes. Looked to be pretty young too. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on their nose.
"A minute you don't have, my dear. It was stupid breaking back into the same place. Like a burglar returning to the scene of the crime. Did you really think someone wouldn't catch you the second time? Especially after you were so sloppy the first time through? The great Damocles, terror of the internet, just a stupid little girl."
Moyra said nothing, her brows furrowed as she typed and messed with screens.
"Nothing to say for yourself and your failures? That's fine. You can explain it to the police when they get there. I backtraced you the minute you went back into the Vellu systems. They should be there any minute. Enjoy prison, kids. And maybe next time, leave the hacking to the professionals."
The video disappeared. Moyra cursed.
"Bastard got away before I could finish. Left a backdoor and some viruses running though. He pops up again, he's mine."
I could hear sirens. Faint, but growing closer.
"We need to move. Now," I said, standing and grabbing her arm.
We slipped back into the main room of the library. Front door was a bust, so we had to use one of the emergency exits. I grabbed a backpack sitting on the floor by an unoccupied table, stuffed Moyra's tablet in among some school books, much to her displeasure, and pulled a fire alarm. We ran to the side door, pushed it open and emerged in an alley. Some others followed us, most electing to go out the front of the building. I jogged down to the other end of the alley, Moyra hot on my heels, turned and continued down the busy street. Several police cars and a S.W.A.T. truck raced past towards the library. Got out in the nick of time.
That bugged me.
We hopped the first bus we could. I handed the tablet back to the cat, who grabbed it eagerly.
"Well, there's enough information here to at least shut down Vellu for mob connections, but I don't think it'll quite do the damage we need. Not sure what kind of damage we need to do, but this isn't good enough," she announced. "As for the other hacker, I think I recognize him. Goes by the name CheezWiz for some unholy reason or another. There's a listing for a CW Security, paid last week in cash in the data I pulled. Which explains why he got involved. Seriously, CheezWiz and CW Security? Was he even trying?"
I didn't have an answer.
"What do we do with what we have?"
"I'm still sorting it, looking for good leads to follow, but I think we're going to have to find the big boss if we want to do anything."
"What, like the CEO or something?" I asked.
"Sure, the CEO of Kinzingo."
Why can't things ever be easy?
The rest of the trip was made in silence. I stiffened every time I heard a siren behind us, expecting the bus to get pulled over and boarded, but it never did. The backpack was emptied, the contents left sitting on the seat. Sorry, random person, for stealing your books. We got off the bus and merged back into the crowd, and ducked down into another alley. They were beginning to seem more like home. I tried to think of a plan.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the movement. My brain reacted before I was even aware of what was happening. I jumped forward and grabbed Moyra, pushing her behind a dumpster and into the wall as a quiet cough emanated from the alley mouth.
"Shooter," I whispered.
I dropped to the ground and looked under the dumpster. Several shards of glass littered the ground, beyond which a pair of expensive-looking shoes moved slowly, cautiously closer. I pulled my coat over my hand and grabbed the largest of the glass shards.
"Alright, come on out from there. Give up the girl, and you might just live."
Why do they always want to take people alive?
I put my hands behind my head, hiding the glass share, and stepped out. I braced for the bullet to tear into my body, but it didn't come. The look of fear plastered on my face was only half-faked. The owner of the shoes and gun was yet another doberman. Was that all that their thugs were? Or maybe this was the one I had thought I killed. I couldn't tell. With one hand, the other still holding the gun, he began to search my coat for weapons.
"You're making a wise choice here," he said, almost sounding friendly.
"I'm not so sure about that," I muttered.
My hand came plunging down, shard out. I slammed it deep into the side of his neck and ripped it back. Blood sprayed from the wound instantly. I punched it forward into his throat and left it there, severing his trachea and preventing any screams. The gun clattered to the ground as his hands went to the shard, pulling frantically as more blood sprayed into the air, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for breath. I took a step back, my hands shaking.
That was two.
The body dropped to the ground, spasming as the brain began to die. I snatched up the silenced gun and stuffed it in my coat pocket. A quick search of the body rewarded with me two extra clips. I prayed I never had to use it, but at least now I had a weapon in case we got caught again. I also pulled a cell phone from his pocket and passed it to Moyra, who stood staring at the body.
"Not many guys can say they have literally killed for a girl," I said, trying to make a joke out of the morbid scene.
She smiled thinly, eyes not leaving the growing pool of blood. We were gone a minute later. I was rather surprised that trick had worked a second time. I doubt it would a third.
"Got something. Texts. He was following us since the library. Last one was when he saw us enter the alley. Reply was to meet someone at a Chinese restaurant on 5th. 'Usual entrance', so I'm guessing it's another front. Which means lead. Which means I might be able to get something out of them."
Oh, joy. March straight into a stronghold of the enemy. Nothing could possibly go wrong with that. I said as much, but was ignored. We set out again.
*****
The restaurant looked normal enough. Gaudy fake sculptures covered the outside in a night mix of reds and gold. The words DRAGON STAR hung above the door in the typical font of cheap Chinese food. A neon sign in the window cheerily informed anyone who cared to look that they were open.
I watched from a coffee shop across the street, watching for...something. I wasn't quite sure what I was looking for. I doubted someone would be standing out front waving a sign saying "Kinzingo Hideout, parking around back, use side door!" or something stupid like that. Just made me feel like I was actually doing something to help. If I was a genius hacker working on a custom built tablet, I probably could have helped. But I wasn't. I was just a simple wolf.
With the blood of two people staining my hands. How many more people would die by me before this was all over?
I could feel my tail drop at the thought of more bloodshed. Especially bloodshed caused by me. I'm not a killer. Or at least, I wasn't. The two dead bodies I'd left behind would probably argue with that.
"No good, can't get anything from here. I need a local connection inside, since nothing is kept on a public server. Clever bastards."
"And you have a plan to do that?" I asked.
"Not really. We've done well enough at winging it so far."
Wing it. Oh joy. One of these times winging it wasn't going to work, and I had a bad feeling it would end with us in body bags. Or worse. Not really sure what was worse than being dead right now, but I'm sure something was. I stood up from our table.
"Where are you going?"
"Winging it."
I exited the little coffee shop and crossed the street quickly, entering the alley and heading towards the back door. I paused and listened, my ear pressed against the cool metal. No sound emanated from within. I pulled the door.
It swung open quietly.
That I hadn't expected. Wasn't it supposed to be locked or something? Any random person could accidentally stumble on some illegal operation or something due to an unlocked door. Granted, that didn't make a whole lot of sense. Random people didn't go opening doors in alleys. I looked inside.
The hallway was just plain concrete. There was a bulletin board hanging outside a pair of double doors which, judging from the sounds, led to the kitchen. A few other doors lined the sides, with one on the far end leading into a room with a few filing cabinets tucked inside. If there was an office, I ventured a guess that was it. I slipped in the door and ran down the hall as quiet as I could, stopping short of the door and edging around. Empty. I motioned for Moyra to move forward. She slipped in and dropped down in front of the computer, attaching a USB cable between it and her tablet. Where she got it, I wasn't exactly sure.
The fur on my neck began to tingle.
"Hurry up please. I have a bad feeling about this."
"Working as fast as I can."
This had been too easy. Door being unlocked, no one in the hall, no one in the office...it was too coincidental. I was beginning to hate coincidences. To try and ease my mind, I examined the office. Typical looking office, though I couldn't begin to figure out why they needed so many filing cabinets. Didn't know a Chinese restaurant had so many invoices.
"Oh yeah, this is a gold mine. Copying now."
My eyes drifted over the walls. Bulletin board covered in Chinese papers, a few posters in more Chinese. An assault rifle hanging from a peg. That caught my attention. How many people would just leave an assault rifle lying around? How many people would even have an assault rifle.
The fur on the back of my neck tingled again. Stronger this time.
I turned and looked out the door. Out of one of the other doors walked a figure wearing a fine suit. The green eyes turned to the office. I ducked back around the corner. A yelp followed. Not fast enough. I pulled the gun out of my pocket.
"We're going to have company," I announced.
"Got what I need. Let's go."
I peeked around the corner again. A bullet buried itself in the frame. I pulled back. Stuck in a room with one exit and bad guys with guns outside. Oh goody. I leaned around with the gun and fired a few shots, the quiet burp drowned out by the louder report from the other gun. I missed, but luckily so did the fox. A stupid idea formed itself in my brain.
"Toss me that rifle behind you."
Hollywood was full of gun-toting heroes who bravely stand in the open and fire into a room, wasting all of the bad guys with a powerful sustained stream of bullet death, all the while magically avoiding getting shot back. Hollywood is also full of liars and good actors. I stuck the gun around the corner in a one handed grip and pulled the trigger.
One.
The gun jerked in my hand, pushing back against my shoulder, a stream of lead filling the hallway.
Two.
The muzzle rose as the recoil worked against my one-handed grip.
Three.
Nothing else could be heard above the din of the gun firing as it continued its upward arc.
Four.
The gun clicked empty, pointed nearly straight up at the ceiling. It stank of spent gunpowder. I hazarded a glance around the corner, still expecting a bullet to the brain.
Two bodies lay haphazardly in the narrow corridor, both wearing expensive suits. Pools of blood slowly expanded around them. The far wall was pockmarked by bullet holes. The holes stitched their way up, meeting the ceiling and continuing towards our door. My idea had worked. Somehow.
The rifle clattered to the floor and I rose, not waiting for anything else to happen. It seemed like the best chance for escape, and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to take it. Moyra followed as I ran down the corridor, jumping over the expanding blood. The second body was wedged in the alley door, keeping it from shutting all the way. Sirens echoed in. Lovely.
We ran, quickly disappearing into the street and putting as much distance between ourselves and the restaurant as quickly as we could. I could feel the adrenaline from the firefight starting to wear off. By the time we got on a bus, my hands were visibly shaking.
Four. Four bodies from my doing. For not being a killer, I certainly had a lot of blood staining my hands. My palms felt wet and slick, but I knew it was just my mind telling me I was guilty. Or was it? I looked down. The black fur was dry. Still, I couldn't get the feeling to go away. I finally looked up. Moyra's forest eyes were fixed on mine, a look of concern plastered on her purple face.
"Stupid question, but it needs to be asked. Are you alright?" Her voice was soft and full of concern.
"No. I'm not. Not really. But I can't collapse in a broken heap just yet. I would like to, but I don't think it would help any."
It was true. Breaking down wouldn't help her stay alive. It wouldn't help me to feel better about the deaths. It wouldn't help me come to terms with what has been happening. So I fought off the embrace of mental oblivion.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"The warehouse. Seems as good a place as any right now."
"Unless the clerk from the gas station reported the tampering with the ATM to the police."
"No chance of that. We're safe."
If only I could actually believe that.
*****
Four hours passed before we arrived at the warehouse. We made sure to take a different route from before to hopefully avoid suspicion or being followed. The warehouse door was still unlocked, the inside still empty. Small favors.
I collapsed onto a stack of pallets, shuddering. I had been shaking for the past hour and couldn't convince my body to stop. I was shaking so badly I could barely light the cigarette hanging from my lips. The nicotine helped a bit.
"So here we are, home sweet home. What's the plan? I assume you have a plan, don't you?" I asked.
"Find where Kinzingo is using the data I pulled off their server, and kill him. Then after he's dead, route everything to the police and let them destroy the organization."
"Why not just do that second bit and call it good?"
"You really have no idea how this works do you? They have police and lawyers in their pocket. Just release the information, Kinzingo will make sure they get it discredited. Unless he's dead. Then he can't pull strings anymore to make sure shit goes his way. There will be nothing standing in the way of them getting arrested."
It didn't make sense to me, but I didn't pursue the issue. I'm sure there was sense in there somewhere. Maybe the corrupt cops could make sure it never got where it needed to. I didn't know. What I did know, though, was that Moyra was out for blood now. And I had a simple choice. Help her, or abandon her. I wasn't sure which was scarier.
I left her to sift through everything she had pulled in silence and started walking the length of the warehouse, taking slow careful steps to try and stop shaking.
Ghost images swam in front of my eyes as I paced. The pipe, the doberman's surprised look as it cracked into his head, the bullet stitching on the wall, the blood spreading from the neck wound. I wondered if they had families. Someone sitting at home waiting for their return. First expectantly, then slowly worry would work itself in, tearing up their heart and mind before outright fear and despair came.
And it was my fault. I could see the four imaginary wives with imaginary children crying as their got the news from imaginary police officers. I'm sorry, ma'am, but your husband was killed today. We're still investigating the cause of death. More crying, more screaming in anguish. More accusatory stares landing on me. I could almost feel them, burning holes in my chest.
It finally made sense to me. I was going insane. The worst part about it was that I felt completely normal. Maybe that was the most insidious thing about madness. You never realized you were until it was too late and you were standing on a street corner, butt naked, wearing a sign around your body proclaiming that the end was upon us. I laughed in spite of myself. The shaking had stopped.
"You would think their code names would be more imaginative. Vertigo is their drug running operation. School Bell is kidnapping. Drag is the stealing of cars for their chop shops. Ares for gun smuggling. Seriously? Did they have a contest with a bunch of kids to make these things?" Moyra's voice carried easily through the still air. "You wanna know Kinzingo's code name for them?"
"Sure."
"Polly."
"As in the parrot?"
"Yes," she answered, giggling.
"That's pretty funny. 'Fear me for I am Polly!'"
We laughed together for a few minutes, cracking jokes back and forth. I wondered if any of his people made the same jokes.
"Got a location too. There's a villa about ten miles outside the city."
"It's gotta be swarming with guards, especially after today," I said, picturing a fortress in my mind.
"He doesn't like having a lot of them around. Draws too much attention to his house. Internal memo about keeping away. This might actually be easy."
I doubted it. Things were never easy. I kept my concerns to myself, though. No sense spoiling her good mood. I just smiled. Moyra set the tablet next to her on the pallet and stood, looking me squarely in the eye. Her next action surprised me. Not that that seemed to take much anymore.
In one fluid motion she moved forward and wrapped her arms around my body, her grip strong. Her head lay on my chest, turned to the right.
"Thank you, Talthanir. If you hadn't helped me, I'd be dead. Or worse, forced to work for Kinzingo. You put yourself at risk over and over to protect me. Thank you."
It took me a long moment to process what had occurred. My arms wrapped around her small form, hugging her tightly. A strange, warm feeling filled me from ear to tail. I smiled again. Maybe somethings are worth the cost.
*****
Several hours and a taxi ride later, we huddled under a tree as the mist continued to fall. The air was cold, the combination giving rise to a thin fog hugging the ground. I pulled my coat a bit, trying to better shield the glowing tablet from prying eyes and the elements.
"He's there, alright. Camera four. Sitting in what looks like a study. There's two guards that I've seen. I'm willing to bet they're sitting in that small building to the side there. All the security feeds go there. Trusting their cameras to make sure nothing happens. Works for me."
Worked for me as well. Cameras could be led to lie. Security systems disabled. Nothing quite matched good old fashioned eyes and ears. Those, at least, couldn't be hacked.
"All alarms disabled, and because this place is so fancy and expensive, the locks have been disabled. Who the hell has electric locks, anyway?"
"Rich people apparently."
"You ready?"
I sighed. No, I wanted to say. No, I'm not ready. I just want to run away and go hide until this all blows over and I can go back to living a normal life without all this mob danger.
"As I'll ever be," my mouth answered for me.
We set off, climbing over the hill and into view of the manor. It was a fairly impressive building, single floor with ornate plasterwork on the outside. It appeared to have been modeled after a Greek or Roman villa with large stone Collins lining the walkway and terraces reaching for the roof covered in climbing vines. It was dark except for a pool of light radiating from the north.
I sprinted across the open lawn and opened a patio door quickly, sliding it shut after Moyra had scurried in. The kitchen was almost pitch dark, and I bumped into the island painfully. I froze and listened, but no other sound reached my ears. I moved silently around, keeping one hand balanced against the island to guide me. My other hand found the fridge, and I used that as my marker into the hallway.
Hallway down, I opened a door and shuffled inside, Moyra closing it quietly. I clicked on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness assailing my eyes. There was a crawl space running over every room of the house. It allowed for cables and piping to run without worry of anyone tripping over them, or the need for a basement. Seemed like a stupid idea to me, but I wasn't the one who designed the house. In the closet there was a panel that opened into the space. I pried it open and knelt to boost Moyra into it.
"You still sure this is a good idea?" I whispered.
"Not really. I'm afraid of tight spaces. Boost me anyway."
I did, and stood up, looking at the green eyes. I handed my gun up to her. She took it and disappeared into the dark beyond. I replaced the cover, clicked out the light, and exited the closet.
The plan didn't seem like it would work. Too Hollywood-y. She would take the crawl space to above the study and put a bullet into Kinzingo's head. All I had to do was make sure he didn't move. Which was probably a wasted effort; he seemed perfectly content to stay where he was. I crept the rest of the way down the hall, turned and cracked the door to the study.
Kinzingo sat in an oversized armchair made out of red leather. His back was to the door. I never understood the need to have chairs sitting in the middle of the room. A fireplace burned cheerily along the wall to the right, casting long shadows along the floor. A large sliding glass door stood across from us, a hardwood deck glowing in the light beyond. Kinzingo shifted, turning a page.
It would have been a lot simpler to sneak up behind him and shoot him here, instead of trying the crawl space. But it was a little late now.
I stiffened again as the rabbit closed the book and set it on the table, finishing off a glass of brown liquid. He sat silently for what felt like an eternity.
"You're either very brave, or very stupid, to be breaking in here."
He rose from the chair and crossed to the door in an instant, throwing it open and grabbing the front of my shirt. I staggered into the light of the room.
"I can assure you, that'll be your last mistake."
A fragment of memory drifted to the front of my brain. No plan, no matter how well done, ever survives contact with the enemy. And our plan wasn't exactly well done. I spun on my heel to face the mob boss.
He stood a good six inches above me. His brown hair was neatly cut and styled close to his skull, the only interruptions where the two large white ears penetrated. He wore a dark red bathrobe likely tied in front, and pajamas beneath. Hardly the look befitting someone responsible for hundreds of deaths. He pulled his hand out of one of the bathrobe's pockets, grasping a small revolver. The movement to full draw slowed with each second as my tired adrenal system kicked into high gear again.
Fight time.
I moved without thinking, throwing my arm out towards his face. He jumped back out of reach, but my arm twisted around the one holding the gun and jerked. It went out wide. I stepped forward with all my weight, slamming it and the rabbit attached back into the wall. The gun toppled to the floor. One threat nullified for the moment.
With a roar, Kinzingo slammed into me, lifting me up and slamming me into the table next to his chair. Glass shattered under my back as pain blossomed. I rolled to the side and scrambled to my feet as Kinzingo's fists, interlaced together, slammed down where I had been. I punched out quickly, my fist slamming across the bridge of his nose with a satisfying crack. He staggered back. My hand howled in pain, matching my back.
"You little shit," he snarled, blood pouring down from his nose.
I followed it up with another punch, but his hand intercepted mine and twisted it, throwing me off balance. His meaty paw slammed into my stomach, and my lungs emptied painfully. He shifted and threw me against the wall, the force shaking a painting off to shatter. I slid down, gasping for breath. I didn't stay there long. Once more I was grabbed and hauled up. A fist cracked into my snout. Another. I tried to get my hands up to block, but the fist went around them and landed on my eye. I cried out in pain as the grip disappeared and the ground came up. The rabbit leaned over me, fury burning brightly in its eyes.
"You're gonna regret the day you fucked with me, bitch," he snarled.
Both hands closed around my throat, cutting off my air supply. I fought desperately against the grip, but didn't have the leverage to stop them. My lungs burned and struggled for air that wasn't coming. The edge of my vision began to darken. My attempts to break free grew weaker as my muscles burned for oxygen.
"Hey asshole, get off my friend!"
The grip loosened slightly, allowing a trickle of air past.
Kinzingo turned to face the voice. A vent cover was lying on the ground hallway across the room, a purple shape hanging upside down from it. He laughed.
"When I'm done with him, girly, I'm going to make you regret being born," the rabbit snarled coldly, a smile gracing its lips.
"Bit late for that."
I smiled, finally making out the shape Moyra held. The gun, braced in a two-handed grip. It fired.
One.
The grip went away from my throat completely now.
Two.
A second bang, muffled slightly by the silenced screwed onto the nose of the gun.
Three.
The body over me jerked again as the bullet tore into it. I began scrambling out of the way.
Four.
Silence reigned. I broke it with a coughing fit as my lungs forced air through my burning throat. Kinzingo lay behind me in a heap against the wall, blood welling from four neat holes in his back.
"You looked like you needed some help," Moyra said, her arms dangling below her.
It hurt to laugh. I'm not even sure why that was funny. I helped Moyra down from the hole in the ceiling and we left through the patio door, running quickly into the night. My eye was swelling shut by the time we reached the road. Despite it, the pain in my back and throat, I was exhilarated. I felt alive on the walk back to the city. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I felt truly alive.
*****
Following the death of Kinzingo, Moyra had uploaded everything she had taken to every news agency in the state. The police wasted to time, and by the time the FBI had moved into take over, most of the mob's operations had been taken. Dozens of crooked cops and lawyers were arrested, the evidence clear who they really worked for. A tip line was set up for any information regarding Kinzingo's murder, but judging from the news reports asking for serious tips and not comments praising the killer, I doubt they had much success. I doubt they would.
I stood on my porch, my back to the sun setting slowly, a cigarette hanging from my lips. Inside, I could see the TV playing the news soundlessly. The top story was still the ongoing bust of Kinzingo's operations, this time reporting about one of the shell companies being seized. Three weeks, and it was still all the news was talking about.
My eye still ached occasionally, but was healing nicely. I got lucky that my nose wasn't broken in the fight. Even luckier that none of the glass had penetrated my coat. It still hurt to swallow.
Moyra walked around the side of the house and stepped onto the porch, carrying a few bags.
"This should be the last of it," she announced.
"Good. I'm done with this moving thing," I answered.
"Those things'll kill you," she said, taking the cigarette from my mouth and drawing on it.
"Don't turn into a nagging wife. You're too young to be a nagging wife."
She giggled and smiled, the bags forgotten behind her on the porch. After everything, I had moved. Well, I guess I should say we moved. Moyra came with me. After everything we had been through, it didn't seem fair to abandon her now. So I had posted the suggestion, and she found a place. A small ranch-style house in a small town. A far cry from the big city, where I had always lived. It took two weeks to close, sped along by a bit of hacker magic. We had spent the week moving what we wanted, and buying what we didn't feel like moving. Makes it a lot easier when you have twenty million in your bank account.
I lit another cigarette and turned around, facing the sunset. The other had slipped completely below the horizon now.
"Hey Tal?" Her voice was quiet. "Thank you. I know I've said it close to a hundred times now, but really. Thank you. I wouldn't be alive to enjoy this sunset if it wasn't for you."
She sounded more like a little girl than she had in the two days I had spent getting to know her. I couldn't really believe it had only been two days. From car wreck go killing a mob boss, it just seemed like it should have taken a lot longer.
"I did what I could. We'd have still been running if not for your hacking prowess."
"If not for my hacking prowess, none of that would have happened. If I hadn't made one mistake, I wouldn't be here now."
She snuggled into my side. I could feel her purring through my coat.
"Never would have thought one mistake would have worked out so amazingly. I'm glad it did."
I was too, but elected to remain silent. No sense spoiling the moment by sticking my foot in my mouth with some stupid comment. I set my hand on top of her head and scratched behind her ears absentmindedly.
"What of Damocles?"
"Damocles is done. I've been outed to the hacker community by CheezWiz, and am now too famous since the upload."
"Done hacking?"
"Fuck no, are you kidding? Hacking is amazing! I think I'll take it underground now, though. I'm done fighting crime by hacking."
"Underground?"
"Too hard to explain right now. I'll show you later."
"What's your new handle, then?"
She was silent for a while, just watching the yellows and oranges fade into purples and blue. I looked down, the sunset reflecting in her green eyes.
"I was thinking of 'Gunslinger'. Has a nice ring to it."
I laughed. I couldn't help by laugh.
"What? If not for my gun-slinging prowess, your ass would be dead!"
I laughed harder, drawing more of the cats ire.
"It isn't funny, Tal! I'm serious here! What the hell is wrong with Gunslinger?"
I shook my head and smiled, the laughter finally dying down as darkness swept across the sky. Her glare softened, and a smile crept up on her lips.
"What isn't wrong with it? But that's a thought for another day. I, for one, am hungry, and I can't make important decisions when I'm hungry," I finally said, tossing my spent cigarette on the ground. "I do, however, find myself in need of a dinner guest. Would the lovely lady care to accompany me to the kitchen, where our five star meal of pizza and soda awaits?"
"She would indeed."
We laughed at each other and ourselves as she took my arm and we ventured in.
