shooting.
CHAPTER 9
I was in
Deadsouth laying low.
Well, not too
low since I was walking around the streets barefoot with an autocannon on my
back. I wasn’t sure if the corporation would be unhappy I destroyed their APC.
I wasn’t even sure I destroyed it. But I didn’t want to take chances.
My eye and toe hurt
and I had a general throb along my whole body from the hundred or so bullets
that had nailed me.
Deadsouth was
still Deadsouth despite the changes Belvaille had gone through. Belvaille used
to have street names based on numbers and letters but after we became
independent, every little boss and corporation wanted their own blocks. Even I
got my own. But no one bothered to rename Deadsouth. I was on 84 th and V Block.
The inhabitants
and area looked the same. The lowest of the low. The addicts and alcoholics and
mental cases and those who just stopped caring.
“Damn, boy!
Well ain’t you just a meat-fed so-and-so!”
A tall,
youngish, handsome man with blonde hair stood next to me. He had a beatific
smile that went from ear-to-ear and probably tied with a ribbon at the back of
his head.
“You look like
you could lift a pulsar and stop it pulsing.” He said it like it was the most fantastically
important thing in his life. He felt my bicep and recoiled in shock. “Goldor’s
crooked teeth, what are you made of, iron?”
“No,” I stated.
I looked around to see if this was a set-up, but I couldn’t figure out what the
punch line could be.
“What’s your
name, son?” He put out his hand.
“Hank.” I
shook.
“Hank. Just
Hank?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what I
like about this part of the Confederation. All straight talk. Yes, sir. No
ma’am. Corned beef and ham. Don’t break my hand! Woo! My name is Bronze Badel
Bardel. Say that three times fast and you get a prize. Up to a three credit
value,” he said, holding his hand up by his mouth conspiratorially. “Yeah, my
parents had a sense of humor. How long you been around here? I’m new myself.”
“You mean in
Deadsouth or Belvaille?” I asked. Bronze was a jovial person. He just oozed it.
I found myself grinning just listening to him and I had very recently been
worked over by a bunch of heavy machine guns.
“Whatever you
want to tell me,” he responded. He put his hands in his pants pockets then
quickly took them out. As if he couldn’t stand still that long.
“I’ve been on
Belvaille maybe 140 years or—” I started.
“Wow!” He said,
and pretended to keep his hat from blowing off his head from that information,
but he wasn’t wearing a hat. “Hey, I need you to show me around. This place is
so confusing. One minute you’re on 22 nd Street then you take three
steps and it’s Jagnope’s Nosesocket Avenue. I feel like I’ve been walking in
circles but they say that’s impossible because the city is a square. Figures
I’d even screw that up.”
“I need to
clean up a bit and I have to stick around here a while.” I didn’t want to tell
too much to this stranger and he got that.
“Sure! Sure! I
don’t mean to pry. If you want, you can step into my pad right over there and
you can do what you need. I got a few credits to my name and I’ll buy you a
drink.”
I had been
planning on basically breaking into one of the many abandoned apartments in
this area and using the facilities. But I might as well have some company.
“That sounds
great Bronze, uh,” I had forgotten all his name. He spoke so fast.
“Just call me
Bronze. Or Badel. Or Bardel. Whatever it is, I’ve been called worse.”
We walked a few
blocks. People literally were lying on the sidewalks and in the street. No
vehicles drove around here. There was no reason. The people here probably
didn’t know Belvaille had changed at all.
We went into a
building and headed up the stairs. Bronze took them three at a time, but I was
not a fast stair-climber. I was even slower carrying an autocannon and tired
from my ordeals.
At the first
landing,
CHAPTER 9
I was in
Deadsouth laying low.
Well, not too
low since I was walking around the streets barefoot with an autocannon on my
back. I wasn’t sure if the corporation would be unhappy I destroyed their APC.
I wasn’t even sure I destroyed it. But I didn’t want to take chances.
My eye and toe hurt
and I had a general throb along my whole body from the hundred or so bullets
that had nailed me.
Deadsouth was
still Deadsouth despite the changes Belvaille had gone through. Belvaille used
to have street names based on numbers and letters but after we became
independent, every little boss and corporation wanted their own blocks. Even I
got my own. But no one bothered to rename Deadsouth. I was on 84 th and V Block.
The inhabitants
and area looked the same. The lowest of the low. The addicts and alcoholics and
mental cases and those who just stopped caring.
“Damn, boy!
Well ain’t you just a meat-fed so-and-so!”
A tall,
youngish, handsome man with blonde hair stood next to me. He had a beatific
smile that went from ear-to-ear and probably tied with a ribbon at the back of
his head.
“You look like
you could lift a pulsar and stop it pulsing.” He said it like it was the most fantastically
important thing in his life. He felt my bicep and recoiled in shock. “Goldor’s
crooked teeth, what are you made of, iron?”
“No,” I stated.
I looked around to see if this was a set-up, but I couldn’t figure out what the
punch line could be.
“What’s your
name, son?” He put out his hand.
“Hank.” I
shook.
“Hank. Just
Hank?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what I
like about this part of the Confederation. All straight talk. Yes, sir. No
ma’am. Corned beef and ham. Don’t break my hand! Woo! My name is Bronze Badel
Bardel. Say that three times fast and you get a prize. Up to a three credit
value,” he said, holding his hand up by his mouth conspiratorially. “Yeah, my
parents had a sense of humor. How long you been around here? I’m new myself.”
“You mean in
Deadsouth or Belvaille?” I asked. Bronze was a jovial person. He just oozed it.
I found myself grinning just listening to him and I had very recently been
worked over by a bunch of heavy machine guns.
“Whatever you
want to tell me,” he responded. He put his hands in his pants pockets then
quickly took them out. As if he couldn’t stand still that long.
“I’ve been on
Belvaille maybe 140 years or—” I started.
“Wow!” He said,
and pretended to keep his hat from blowing off his head from that information,
but he wasn’t wearing a hat. “Hey, I need you to show me around. This place is
so confusing. One minute you’re on 22 nd Street then you take three
steps and it’s Jagnope’s Nosesocket Avenue. I feel like I’ve been walking in
circles but they say that’s impossible because the city is a square. Figures
I’d even screw that up.”
“I need to
clean up a bit and I have to stick around here a while.” I didn’t want to tell
too much to this stranger and he got that.
“Sure! Sure! I
don’t mean to pry. If you want, you can step into my pad right over there and
you can do what you need. I got a few credits to my name and I’ll buy you a
drink.”
I had been
planning on basically breaking into one of the many abandoned apartments in
this area and using the facilities. But I might as well have some company.
“That sounds
great Bronze, uh,” I had forgotten all his name. He spoke so fast.
“Just call me
Bronze. Or Badel. Or Bardel. Whatever it is, I’ve been called worse.”
We walked a few
blocks. People literally were lying on the sidewalks and in the street. No
vehicles drove around here. There was no reason. The people here probably
didn’t know Belvaille had changed at all.
We went into a
building and headed up the stairs. Bronze took them three at a time, but I was
not a fast stair-climber. I was even slower carrying an autocannon and tired
from my ordeals.
At the first
landing,
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