Morgenstern’s got pull. Yeah she’s hot, but the sort of risky shit you’re offering would just make her hotter. Since it would end with the authorities on our asses anyway, your worries are kind of moot.”
“It’s not the hunt afterward that I’m concerned about, it’s the possibility of authorities interfering during the mission. Especially if you exhibit the same sort of head-on tactics that you did during your assault on the courthouse. Three-hundred thousand is the highest I can reasonably go, here.”
“Yeah, funny thing ’bout that,” Martin said. “You want it hit before it leaves the outskirts, and you say there ain’t no confirmed metahuman presence, but this is Icon City. Shit like this, you’re gonna get heroes. So we’re gonna go up against heroes, and next to that, who the fuck cares about the authorities? So we already got one guaranteed super-fight on our hands with this. You know it, I know it, and Dire here? She knew it before she walked in the damn door. Supergenius, man. You ain’t just getting a suit of power armor that can wreck a tank in a fistfight, you’re getting a brain makes Einstein holler in his grave.”
The suit actually didn’t have the strength to punch out a tank, but instinct told me that now was not the time to correct Martin.
The businessman folded his arms, considered us for a minute, then nodded. “Three-hundred and fifty-thousand. Take it or leave it.”
Martin looked to me, I looked to him, and nodded. “Dire finds that acceptable for the task requested.”
The businessman nodded. “Very well, then.” He reached up under his hood, and withdrew a memory stick. “You’ll find the details of the convoy and the cargo here, along with contact numbers for myself and also for the rest of your teammates. Also included is the account number and access code for your down payment. With your negotiation, the down payment will be... roughly seven percent. A bit less. Give me an hour and I’ll notify your teammates of your name, advertised capabilities, and contact number. I assume you have one?”
I recited the number for one of my burner phones. He recited it back, and offered the stick. “Thank you, Doctor. I wish you luck with this venture.”
I took it and handed it to Martin without looking. “And she wishes you luck with yours, whatever they may be.”
He turned and left without another word, and I took that as my cue to do the same. As I opened the door, we were met again by the waiter, who offered the metal tray in one hand. “Your masks, please?”
I waited until the other door shut behind me and the businessman was gone, before removing mine and placing it on the tray. Martin did the same, and the man covered them, smiled, and set the lid on the tray with a ‘clink’. “Thank you for your patronage,” he said, bowing and gesturing towards the door.
I offered a tight smile, before following the unspoken request to depart. Martin lagged behind, and shot me a look before we hit the door. “Uh, about what we discussed...”
“Still want her to bring the car around?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“All right. Wait here.”
Night had fallen over Barside when I departed, and the crowds were mainly indoors, getting merrily inebriated and tucking into dinner. My stomach rumbled as it reminded me that I hadn’t eaten, and I gritted my teeth and ignored it. I’d gone hungry for days while I was on the run, recovering from my ordeal in the WEB base and trying to lose myself in the chaos that followed the aftermath of Y2K. This was a minor setback compared to the troubles that I’d already fought through.
Every day I survived and was free, was another day that I grew stronger. Every day that I won and achieved small goals, was a step toward my larger goal. I had time and I had patience, and I was smart enough to use both of these advantages to their full potential.
And now I had somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty grand awaiting me, with fourteen
“It’s not the hunt afterward that I’m concerned about, it’s the possibility of authorities interfering during the mission. Especially if you exhibit the same sort of head-on tactics that you did during your assault on the courthouse. Three-hundred thousand is the highest I can reasonably go, here.”
“Yeah, funny thing ’bout that,” Martin said. “You want it hit before it leaves the outskirts, and you say there ain’t no confirmed metahuman presence, but this is Icon City. Shit like this, you’re gonna get heroes. So we’re gonna go up against heroes, and next to that, who the fuck cares about the authorities? So we already got one guaranteed super-fight on our hands with this. You know it, I know it, and Dire here? She knew it before she walked in the damn door. Supergenius, man. You ain’t just getting a suit of power armor that can wreck a tank in a fistfight, you’re getting a brain makes Einstein holler in his grave.”
The suit actually didn’t have the strength to punch out a tank, but instinct told me that now was not the time to correct Martin.
The businessman folded his arms, considered us for a minute, then nodded. “Three-hundred and fifty-thousand. Take it or leave it.”
Martin looked to me, I looked to him, and nodded. “Dire finds that acceptable for the task requested.”
The businessman nodded. “Very well, then.” He reached up under his hood, and withdrew a memory stick. “You’ll find the details of the convoy and the cargo here, along with contact numbers for myself and also for the rest of your teammates. Also included is the account number and access code for your down payment. With your negotiation, the down payment will be... roughly seven percent. A bit less. Give me an hour and I’ll notify your teammates of your name, advertised capabilities, and contact number. I assume you have one?”
I recited the number for one of my burner phones. He recited it back, and offered the stick. “Thank you, Doctor. I wish you luck with this venture.”
I took it and handed it to Martin without looking. “And she wishes you luck with yours, whatever they may be.”
He turned and left without another word, and I took that as my cue to do the same. As I opened the door, we were met again by the waiter, who offered the metal tray in one hand. “Your masks, please?”
I waited until the other door shut behind me and the businessman was gone, before removing mine and placing it on the tray. Martin did the same, and the man covered them, smiled, and set the lid on the tray with a ‘clink’. “Thank you for your patronage,” he said, bowing and gesturing towards the door.
I offered a tight smile, before following the unspoken request to depart. Martin lagged behind, and shot me a look before we hit the door. “Uh, about what we discussed...”
“Still want her to bring the car around?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“All right. Wait here.”
Night had fallen over Barside when I departed, and the crowds were mainly indoors, getting merrily inebriated and tucking into dinner. My stomach rumbled as it reminded me that I hadn’t eaten, and I gritted my teeth and ignored it. I’d gone hungry for days while I was on the run, recovering from my ordeal in the WEB base and trying to lose myself in the chaos that followed the aftermath of Y2K. This was a minor setback compared to the troubles that I’d already fought through.
Every day I survived and was free, was another day that I grew stronger. Every day that I won and achieved small goals, was a step toward my larger goal. I had time and I had patience, and I was smart enough to use both of these advantages to their full potential.
And now I had somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty grand awaiting me, with fourteen
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