Angels wept as Ryan walked the soaked streets of San Antonio.
His eyes flicked to them as he strode, the odd statues that had been
built during the Aztlan war, part protest, part memorial, part
fortification. The older folks swore that, in times of need, the Angels
would strike to defend their turf, or some rot like that. But for now,
rain gathered in their wings and flowed down their faces, like tears
from a forgotten time. The scene was only slightly ruined by street
vendors who shouted, for all to hear, about how their tamales were
better than anything you could get on the other side of town.
Ryan took a seat at one such cart, balancing precariously on the
rickety stool as a Tejana Ork woman, her deaths mask exquisitely
painted, swayed over to him to take his order. “The regular, gringo?”
He grinned. “Double, if you’d be so kind, Marta. I won’t be alone for long.”
The eyes narrowed, crinkling the paint around her eyes. “You know I
don’t like you doing business here. This is a clean establishment.”
“So Pablo over there assures me,” Ryan said with a touch of sarcasm,
giving a nod to a cat that sprawled just within the shelter of the
cart’s canopy, gorging itself on a freshly caught rat.
Marta tsked through her tusks, a sound Ryan found fascinating. “From
the Sewers, of course. Pablo does well with vermin. Like you.”
“Peace, Senora. No haggling or rough talk, I promise. Just a little food before heading elsewhere.”
Marta considered this, then the E-pesos Ryan offered her, which she finally took. “Fine, but if your bendejo friend makes a move on my Maria like the last guy…”
Guys were always making moves on Maria. Her bright eyes and sweet
laugh caught attention, her grace held it, and her goblinoid heritage
had taken the latina tradition of curves to a whole new level of
enticing. Ryan chuckled. “She can handle herself, Marta…”
“That will be Senora Diaz to you, and any bendejo
you bring by here, so long as you are on the job. It’s passed time you
gave up running shadows, anyway. We mourn enough dead boys as it is.”
Ryan simply sighed and waited as Marta started rolling the burritos,
smiling a bit as she stuffed a little extra into his. Brusque though she
could be, she had always complained that he was too skinny, elf or no.
There was a scraping noise as the stool next to him was pulled up,
and he glanced over with a bit of a grin as a Stetson was placed on the
Countertop, still dripping rain. “Nash,” he said in greeting.
“Ryan,” came the reply, heavy with classic Texan drawl. “Sorry I’m late. Took forever to find a dry place to tie up Annie.”
“It happens,” Ryan answered. “I already ordered. Hope you like
burritos. And if you don’t, keep it to yourself, because Marta’s in a
special mood.”
“Mierda.” Marta swore as she approached. “You never said who was coming.”
“Miss me, Marta?” Nash drawled, knuckling his forehead. “It’s been awhile.”
“I should kick you both out now,” Marta said as she put the plates in
front of them. “Two elves at a Ork cart. People will talk, and it will
make trouble. You two can just disappear, but Maria’s a good girl, deep
down, and…”
“And yet, people talk anyway. Easy, mama. Nash. Ryan.” Ryan turned on
his stool to see Maria swaying towards them, her usual skirts traded
for faux-leather jeans and and a subtly armored jacket. “Don’t eat too
much, now. You know it makes you sleepy.”
“Pura Mierda,” Marta retorted. “They’re both of them too skinny. How they do what they do without any more meat is…”
“A trade secret, ma'am,” Nash said, putting his stetson on as he stood. “We’d better roll, don’t you think?”
Ryan sighed, swallowed down a few bites of the burrito (they really
were among the best in town, and that was saying something) and then
stood with a resigned nod. The three turned as one and walked back into
the rain, ignoring Marta’s muttering as it faded into the noise of the
droplets all around them.
They made quite a scene, the three of them. Maria, graceful as a
flamenco dancer with just enough deadly to keep people from staring too
long. Nash, his boots, belt buckle, duster and stetson making him look
like something of the Tri-D, and Ryan himself, looking just like he had
when he got off the train from Seattle, complete with piercings,
tattoos, and hair that stayed spiked despite the best efforts of the
rain.
As odd a group as any Ryan had ever run with, but after three years
of successful(ish) running, practically family, including the
overbearing, mildly abusive aunt.
“So what is it tonight?” Maria asked as they turned a corner.
“Hovercar, refitted aerial drone, or are you finally gonna let me take
Annie for a ride?”
“Never,” Nash said, simply, and then blinked as his eyes went out of
focus. Ryan hated that. Most riggers closed their eyes, but this… even
though it mattered not at all to how Nash worked, it sure looked creepy.
“Annie’s mine. Today we go old school.” Even as he spoke, a rickety old
van pulled up alongside them, tires splashing water from the street in
every direction. Ryan climbed right in, but Maria sighed.
“Just once,” she complained as she followed, “I’d like to go to a job with some style…”
——
The red and blue lights sparkled in the rain droplets that clung
stubbornly to the van’s rearview window. Maria snapped the gum in her
mouth as she rolled down her window, flashing a smile at the Troll who
shined a light into the van’s interior. “What seems to be the problem,
officer?”
The Troll frowned, and opened its mouth hesitantly. “Vehicle not… not
authorized. Old plates. No… wireless? Identification.” The words were
slow and plodded, even for a Troll. Not an English speaker then… a
recent recruit, from the capitol by his accent. Maria grinned at him.
“What? Oh, sweetie, I been driving this heap for years now. I’m sure it
can’t be a problem.”
“Problem…” the Troll retorted, likely in way of disagreement. He pulled up a retinal scanner. “Will need SIN, and…”
Suddenly the lights on the patrol car went dark, and the sudden
change gave the brief appearance of near perfect blackness inside the
van before normal eyes could recover. The Troll barely had a moment to
look to his vehicle before he froze at the sensation of a shotgun stuck
in his back.
“You’re new, huh? Well here’s the deal, tusky…”
“Watch your mouth…” Maria called from the passenger seat, but Ryan
refused to be distracted. “You can live a good long life in your line of
work, or in this town, but never both, you got me? Or should I have the
girl inside translate for you?”
The Troll glanced back to the van, where Maria had an SMG aimed up
into his nostril. “I’ll make sure he does.” She said sweetly, before a
stream of Spanish talked the Troll gently through the process of
climbing into the back of the Van with his hands behind his back.
Seeing she had the situation under control, Ryan rushed over to the
squad car, where Nash was sitting, apparently all blank, in the front
seat. “Any response?”
“His personal comms are run through the car. Our Sergeant… Martinez…
has just reported some drugged out hippies, and run their data. They’ll
report back SINless and he’ll be ordered to bring them in.”
“How long?”
“Ten minutes. The bottleneck on the info line to the computers at the
Capitol makes their response time trash out here. You’d almost think
Aztlan wasn’t planning on staying.”
“I wish,” Ryan muttered, receiving an answering nod from Nash as he
went to collect Maria. Ten minutes bought them time, widened the window a
fraction. Popping open the van’s rear doors, he awkwardly started
changing into an Aztlan military uniform.
—-
“Ten seconds and counting.”
Ryan rushed down the hallway, ignoring the shouts coming from behind
him, all of them in the clipped Spanish of the Aztlani Capitol. The
occupation government sent in more of them every day, it seemed, and yet
San Antonio remained beautifully, gloriously, Tejano. Remembering the
cultural mongrel that was the Seattle Metroplex, Ryan could only count
that a victory, so long as he could keep breathing.
“Five seconds.” his earpiece chirped. Ryan grimaced. He didn’t need
the countdown, but wasted no breath informing Maria of that. No word
from Nash, either, but Ryan didn’t let that bother him. The car was
either there, or not. Outside, he heard the squeal of tires on wet
pavement, and grinned.
The doors burst open as Ryan hurled himself through them, gun already
out and firing at the Van that tore away from the building. “Vamanos!” He shouted at the gate guards, who were staring at both him and the van, startled. “Saboteador!”
From one of the windows of the van, a startled troll looked at him,
then roared, firing with a sidearm. Ryan winced as one shot ricocheted
dangerously near to him, then dove to a nearby military car, which
picked him up and took of after the van, in hot pursuit.
Nash sat at the wheel, staring blankly ahead as Maria grinned at him
from her hiding place in the back. Her lips mouthed the words, “dos… uno…”
And an explosion ripped the checkpoint apart behind them.
The radio burst to life, howling for all units to pursue the
saboteur. Ryan took some shots from his open window, causing the Troll
to duck his head again.
“Can I look, yet?” Maria asked from the backseat. Ryan growled.
“We’ve still got our friends all around us. Nash, how long?”
“Now. Hold on, Maria.”
The squib went off, and the car spun out as the other pursuit
vehicles carefully wheeled around it, not even bothering to look back as
they traded shots with the enraged Troll in the backseat. Ryan took a
moment before moving… with the explosion, response to a single blown car
would be slow.
Maria finally looked up and laughed at the pillar of fire and smoke
that now rose in a bright pillar over southern San Antonio. Already, the
Aztlan military was arriving, being informed of the situation by the
cars now in high speed pursuit. Suddenly Nash blinked, then glanced over
at him. They all got out of the car as one, easing their way down into
the floodway that would lead them all the way back to the barrio.
“How’d it go inside?” Nash asked. Ryan just smiled, then held up the heavy cartridge. It would be a payday, after all.
—-
The talking head blinked through the rain that fell through her tri-d
image as she gave the report, her lips oddly out of sync due to the
automated translation.
“Aztlani authorities have blamed the explosion on faulty gas lines
running through the city, while local utilities workers have claimed no
knowledge of any such faults. Investigations go apace, but given the
usual reticence of the Occupation force to give details on such issues,
it is possible that…”
Marta brought over three plates of tacos to place on the counter. “I
heard two cops say that it was sabotage. Some rogue Troll, based on the
reports over the band.”
Maria shrugged, taking one of the tacos and eating it voraciously.
Nash shrugged as he shot his tequila back. “I heard that the troll was a
captured occupation soldier himself, claims to have been kidnapped by
an elf and a ork.”
“I’ve heard…” Ryan said, mouth full of taco, “that one of the cars in
pursuit got taken out in the chase. The car was found, but with no sign
of the two elves inside it. They might be insiders, but no one knows.
All in car video feeds looped old footage… of the troll.”
“You are all too clever by half…” Marta said through her glower. “Eventually, those imbecil will learn who has been jerking them around, and when they do…”
Ryan sighed, and keyed up a credstick, which he slotted at the
counter. The tip indicator gave a little ring, and Marta gasped as quite
a lot of e-pesos flooded into her account.
“For the service, senora,” Ryan said as he took his leave. “Hasta la vista.”
gardenvarietydegenerate