Delivery
by Lena (language corrections by Phaedra7veils)
Chapter 6
The bar guests, just like the ones in every other bar they visited before, welcomed them with a few hungry glances cast behind them. There were also a few appreciative murmurs and a few quiet whistles, but no one said anything aloud or directly to them and generally they were quickly left alone.
They sat at the bar and ordered their meals, then Raoul went with his usual interrogation. The barman, just like all the barmen before, denied having any connections with the Crimelord. Yes, he'd heard about the guy – who hadn't in this area? – but no, he didn't know how to contact him; nor did he know anyone who could know that, nor anyone who could know someone who could know... etcetera, etcetera, and just give him a break, he is just a barkeeper in the middle of the desert, how is he supposed to know anything? There was nothing in the guy's demeanor to indicate that he was lying. He acted perfectly natural and soon the conversation was over.
They finished eating and rented a room. To the barman's casual question about the length of their stay, Katze half-heartedly answered that up to a few days.
"Up to a few days?" Raoul asked as they were climbing up the narrow staircase to their room. "Shouldn't we continue our hunt?"
The dealer shrugged. "We're already close to Nyccos. The Citadel is on our side of the city. There's only four or five motels like this one in this area. We have the same chance of coming across something in this one as in any other. Might as well stay put."
"Still, if we visit more places..." Raoul stopped in mid-step. He turned and gave Katze a scrutinizing look. "Do you have an idea or something?"
"Just a hunch, nothing more. Maybe just the instincts of someone who spent a few years in this business. But if I'm right, I'd rather stay here and make us easy to find, than force them to trace us to other places."
For a moment Raoul seriously examined Katze's face.
"Let's hope you're right then," he murmured finally and moved on.
The room was almost identical to the one they stayed in the night before. Same dirty walls and dim lighting that kept any possible differences out of view. Or maybe Guy was just becoming indifferent, blind to such insignificant things like their rooms' furnishings. At the tail-end of one's life other things became important.
They sat at the same sort of table, in the same dusty yellow light of the lamp hanging above them, smoking another pack of the same cigarettes. There was nothing to mark this night as any different from the previous one – nothing like the day, which Guy remembered dimly, still plunged in his thoughts and visions Daryl's story brought. There was too much to think about to notice the routine of the day.
Tonight Daryl continued his tale.
"I was so proud of him," he said wistfully. "He turned Eos upside down. I laughed my head off – in secret, of course – when I saw those elites puffing with indignation every time he did something they considered outrageous. It was pure bliss. He made me believe that we, mongrels, hadn't lost our spirits after all."
This suddenly made Guy angry.
"How can you say that? How can you look up to him like that? I mean, even if he was... unruly, like you're saying, he was still a pet. He was licking those guys' boots, he was..."
In a split second Daryl was over him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him up so abruptly that Guy's chair was knocked from under him. The edge of the table top bit into his hipbones painfully as the dealer yanked him closer. Daryl's face flashed before him, eyes furious like the devil's.
"Can't you hear what I'm saying? Riki never licked anybody's boots! Got it? Never sucked up to anyone. I can't see what gives you the right to judge him. You weren't even there."
Guy trembled a little, seeing the evil expression on the furniture's face. What had caused such an outburst? So Daryl admired Riki, fine, it was his right, but why was he denying the truth?
"Maybe I wasn't there, but I do know that," he sneered bitterly at his guardian. "He told me that. Personally. He told me that he licked Iason's boots for three years."
The grip on his chest eased a little. Daryl pulled back, brows furrowed, eyes still full of anger, but not furious anymore.
"He told you something like that?"
"Yeah. His exact words."
The dealer released him with a slight push, blinking a few times. "That poor bastard. He signed his own death warrant," he murmured with a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Shit!" He slumped back into his chair.
"What do you mean?" Guy gaped at him. "Are you telling me he didn't lick the Blondie's boots? That he didn't kiss up to him?"
"Yeah, that's exactly what I've been telling you all the time, moron." Daryl suddenly looked tired. "Well, sit down. I won't jump at you anymore."
Guy pulled his chair up and somewhat fearfully took a sit again.
"Let me tell you something, Guy," Daryl said. "Yes, maybe sometimes... oftentimes he did things he hated to do. Maybe he followed Iason's orders when forced by pain from the pet ring, and begged for mercy when terrified. Maybe, literally, he even licked his boots once or twice if you must know the details. Sure, he was humiliated and probably deep inside he felt broken. And yes, he did change during those three years with Iason. But I'm telling you, all this time he was... extremely tough. I've never seen such a tough and stubborn person. He gave me every reason to admire him. But of course, he wasn't unbreakable.
After those three years, he began to lose his spirit. The change in him became particularly visible. He became silent and gloomy. When he resisted Iason, it was with so little force. It hurt me to look at it. It hurt me to the bone. That's why I released him."
Guy raised his gaze on him, startled. "You did what?"
The furniture smiled. "Yes, you heard correctly. I didn't want to see him like this. I couldn't stand the thought that my, well, my hero would turn into a docile little sexdoll. So I hacked into Eos security system and gave Riki access to open the doors. Of course he still had the pet ring on, but if he left the city, he wouldn't be tracked. Or maybe I just wanted to find out if he still had the spirit to use the chance. It was against all the rules, of course. I disobeyed Iason. If I was found – and I was pretty sure I would be – I knew I would be punished. Hard. But I didn't care. Riki discovered the change almost at once, and yes, he had the spirit to use the chance. The very first thing he did was break loose. He literally started to run. It was stupid, of course, they caught him before he even made it out of the tower, but it also showed how extremely frustrated he was. And it put a new life into him.
Next thing they discovered was my part in it. Iason called me and asked why I did it. For some reason, maybe continuing my little rebellion, I decided to tell him the truth. I was surprised when I saw understanding in his eyes. When he said I was going to be punished, I expected the worst. You know what he did? He dismissed me ahead of time and didn't give his references. But he still granted me citizen rights. It was no punishment at all, he actually set me free. Without his recommendation I had no chance of finding a job in Midas, but there was always Katze and of course that's where I went in the first place. I figure Iason counted on that too. And so I started working in the black market. Soon I found out that Iason set Riki free just a day or two after he released me. As I heard from Katze, it was to 'give Riki a breath of fresh air'. So, I guess, he considered my words and agreed with them. At least I like to think so. Remember when I told you that he freed both of us at the same time? That would be the reason."
"You see, Guy," he continued, "even if Iason broke Riki, it was no less than Riki broke Iason. I think they were both beginning to feel for each other at that point and both refused to accept it. But in fact I don't think Iason really wanted to break Riki. Maybe at first he reckoned it would be fun, but then that was what he came to love and value about Riki the most. His defiance, his spirit. Riki was the only person so low on the social ladder, who didn't go all googly-eyed or mush-brained just at seeing him. I guess he was making Iason feel... human. If Iason wanted to break him, why would he release him the moment his training finally started to have an effect? Why would he take a mongrel pet in the first place if this mongrel's crudeness and attitude didn't turn him on?"
Guy sighed deeply. He didn't have the answers to those questions. No answers that could disprove what Daryl was telling him.
"So you really think they loved each other?" he asked with a sinking feeling.
"And why do you think Riki would die for Iason?" Daryl went on with his questions.
"Because..." Guy hesitated. "I thought it was because he was so incapacitated. I don't know. Katze once told me it was love. I didn't believe him... or didn't want to believe."
"Yeah, well, you'd better believe it."
Guy hung his head with resignation. Somehow he lacked the strength to deny it any longer. Not after the revelations he'd just heard. Somehow he wasn't even very surprised. Riki did love Iason. And Iason did love Riki. Whatever abusive, fucked-up kind of love it was. He was feeling dizzy. And there was something else going on deep inside of him. Something he couldn't quite specify or name yet. But it was there and it... brought relief.
Raoul wiped his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He still couldn't shake off the sense of surprise every time he saw it. But then, lately he was constantly surprised, whenever his gaze fell upon anything glassy enough to pick up his reflection. Even more surprising was the fact that he was beginning to like this new image of himself.
He hung up the towel and examined his shirt from today. He winced with distaste. Maybe it didn't look as bad as the one that suffered through the car repair, but he didn't want to put this one on either without a thorough washing.
He slung the unfortunate piece of clothing over his shoulder and left the bathroom clad only in his denims.
Katze was sitting in an armchair, tapping on his laptop. Raoul noticed the furtive glance the redhead shot his way as he walked over to his luggage. He threw the dirty shirt into the separate pocket and started digging through the rest of his clothes for a fresh one. Some strange feeling told him that Katze was still staring. At first he didn't know where this feeling came from, then he realized that the tapping stopped. He was just about to turn and catch the mongrel red-handed, when the said mongrel spoke.
"You know what? I think you've lost weight lately."
Was it only Raoul or was this voice different than usual – softer, more... husky? The Blondie turned slowly.
"Have I? I haven't noticed."
"Well..." Katze's gaze licked him head to toe. "You definitely look much... fitter."
Raoul frowned, examining the redhead. Katze looked straight back, his lips twisting in a small smile. A hot tingle ran instantly through the Blondie's body. Could it be that Katze... no, impossible. And besides, it was only afternoon, it wouldn't be appropriate to— On the other hand, it was not like they had much to do for the rest of the day. There was no actual reason why he should contain himself.
"Come here, Katze," he commanded simply.
Without a word of protest the dealer put the laptop on the table, got up and came over to him. For a short while they stood in front of each other, gazes locked. Then Raoul said:
"Undress."
The little smile never left Katze's lips. "Why don't you undress me?"
Raoul tilted his head.
"Are you flirting with me, Katze?"
Katze shrugged lightly and remained silent. Raoul unbuttoned his shirt and hastily ripped it off the redhead, then opened his jeans and pushed them down along with the underwear. Katze obediently stepped out of them, closing the little space between them. Raoul's arms came around him, pulling him even closer. The Blondie leaned over his shoulder and started kissing it. After a moment he heard Katze's voice in his ear.
"Can I now... take off... your pants... master?" The voice was teasingly ragged.
"Oh, I'd like that. They are pinching me."
"How come? I've just observed you've lost weight." Katze began kissing Raoul's shoulder in return.
"Not in that part of my body."
Katze smirked, his hands fumbling with Raoul's fly. It was almost enough to send the Blondie over the edge. He gasped and kissed the mongrel's neck. The denims were pushed down.
"What is it that turns you on so much lately, Katze?" he whispered, no longer teasing. "Is it the new image?"
"Maybe..."
"Maybe I should have thought about changing it earlier, then."
"Maybe..."
Their lips finally met and they kissed furiously. The floor escaped from under Raoul's feet and he felt a soft mattress underneath. And then... he just let things happen.
After leaving the bath, Daryl took one of the blankets from the bed and spread it on the floor. Guy, who was already in bed and cuffed neatly, lifted himself on his elbow and looked at him with surprise.
"There's no need for you to sleep on the floor, you know."
Daryl glanced at him skeptically. "Be my guest, really, I'm not heartless. Wouldn't make a prisoner spend a night on the floor." Wait, was that the light tone he just used? Wasn't he becoming too comfortable with his charge? "Besides," he tried to make his voice a bit harder, "what would I cuff you to down here?"
"What I mean is that we can both use the..." suddenly Guy paused with an air of embarrassment. Daryl froze. He stopped smoothing the blanket and gave the mongrel a glare. "Hey, all I'm saying is that there's enough space here, right? It's a double bed."
Daryl's face clouded over. Yeah, right, double bed. The typical motel room ridiculous situation. Because, as their landlord happily informed them, there weren't any spare rooms with separate beds in the inn.
He folded his arms on his chest, still fixing Guy with a stare.
"You're suggesting I should put myself within your reach and fall asleep, yes? You think I'm stupid or something? What will stop you from slicing my throat or breaking my neck while I sleep?"
Surprisingly, Guy looked hurt. "You think it would be so easy for me to cut somebody's throat, huh? Dammit, regardless of what you might think of me, I don't go around and murder people on everyday basis. Never killed anyone... with my own hands I mean. Never killed anyone before Dana Bahn. Or after. Besides, I don't want to kill you."
"It's not a question of want and we both know it."
"Oh c'mon," Guy rolled his eyes. "I don't even have anything I could use to kill you. Breaking your neck with one hand wouldn't be too easy either. And even if I did it, what then? I'm stuck here – cuffed to the bed, with a corpse at my side. A perfect situation. Be logical, Daryl."
Unexpectedly, a picture the mongrel described stood in Daryl's mind with crystal clarity and was so ridiculous that almost made him smirk. He managed to stifle the sound in the last moment. Okay, so he had to admit that Guy was right. In his position it wouldn't be so reasonable to kill him. There was of course a slight possibility that the brat had some ace in the hole, some trick he would perform to free himself, but Daryl doubted it. They'd made a deal after all. Plus, there was something in Guy's gray eyes that indicated that he was being honest... and something in Daryl's guts that made the bed suddenly look tempting. And it wasn't the prospect of morning ache in the back.
Dammit. Not one of these again. He shook his head, shutting the feeling off, instantly. And then he took the blanket from the floor and walked over to the bed.
"Alright, move over." The mongrel shifted, making space for him. Daryl laid down on the quilt and spread the blanket over himself. He drew an invisible border between them with his hand. "Your half, my half. Cross that line, and you'll regret it. Remember, I'm a very light sleeper."
"Alright, alright," Guy grumbled. He slumped back down and turned his back to Daryl as if to demonstrate that crossing the line was the last of his intentions. "Goodnight."
Daryl muttered a reluctant response and used a remote control to turn off the light. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but somehow it was hard. For some reason he was feeling like an idiot.
Going to sleep that night Guy felt like he hadn't felt for... he didn't know how long, it must have been times before Riki left him. He felt as though a terrible burden had been taken off his shoulders. One persistent thought rattled in his mind again and again. Riki didn't lick his boots. Riki didn't lick his boots...
He turned in the darkness and looked at the dark figure lying just inches away from him. He wondered if Daryl was already asleep.
"Hey, Daryl?"
"What?" came the still quite awake question.
"Thanks."
A quiet grumble. But then, with more interest. "What for this time?"
"For giving me back the Riki I knew. For giving me back my faith in him." Only after saying that, did Guy actually think about his answer. Yes, that was exactly what he was thanking for, wasn't it?
"You're welcome."
They fell silent. For a long time, the only sounds in the room were their slow breaths and, occasionally, some cat meowing outside the window. Guy was sure Daryl was deep in slumber, when the other man unexpectedly spoke again.
"You didn't know about it, did you? ...No, how could you know?"
"About what?"
"About Riki. About his struggle."
"No, I didn't."
"You really thought that he let Iason destroy him."
"Yes," Guy admitted.
All he could see in this darkness was the shadowy shape of Daryl's body and only some hint of his features. Still, he could swear that he saw those shapely ex-furniture lips twist and form a little smile straight at him. No, he shook this thought away. Impossible. Daryl hated him.
"Sleep," he heard the dealer's soft voice.
Who would have thought that their trip would turn into the longest stay in bed in the history of their relationship? Who would have thought that it would suddenly stir up all this passion? Since they didn't have to go anywhere, they stayed under the crumpled sheets for the rest of the day, cuddled to each other. They had sex a few times and every time seemed better than the previous one.
Katze was still at awe at what came out of him during the last twenty four hours. If someone had tried to point that out to him just a few days ago, he would have laughed out loud. Aroused? Excited? By sex with Raoul? Oh no. Maybe somewhat endeared, but certainly not aroused. He wasn't capable of arousal in the first place, was he? And yet, here he was, lying in the Blondie's arms, still a little heated after recent sex and feeling good about it.
He suddenly remembered the thought he'd had just as they were leaving Tanagura. What fun could we possibly find in the middle of nowhere? He smirked inwardly as he realized the irony of it. It turned out they could, and what fun it was! He felt... he knew that it was the trip that became the catalyst for unleashing their hidden emotions. In the changed environment, under different conditions, everything changed. Raoul changed. Katze changed. And their relationship shifted. After what happened, it would never be the same again.
Behind him, Raoul started to plant kisses on his shoulder and the hand on his side erotically slid up his thigh. Ah, the Blondie was ready again. Katze felt his lips quirk. He didn't mind. He didn't mind at all.
Without breaking the kiss, Katze rolled them over, gaining the upper hand. He pressed Raoul down, covering him with his own body and the Blondie instinctively opened his legs to give him room between them. The dealer's lips pressed tighter. His whole body thrust down squeezing Raoul deeper into the sheets. Then thrust again. Then tensed. Slowly, Katze lifted himself on his elbows and looked into Raoul's eyes.
For a long moment they stared at each other in silent understanding.
"I'd give it to you, if you only could," Raoul whispered and raised his hand to stroke the mongrel's cheek.
"If I only could, I'd take it," Katze whispered back.
"We can still do it the other way..."
Katze's face fell. "Yes, we can."
"But we don't have to if you don't want to."
"I want." However there was indistinct sadness in his voice.
Raoul turned them again and looked into the redhead's face.
"I'm sorry," he said, locked his lips with Katze's and entered him.
He woke up with a blissful feeling of freshness and lightness. He stretched with delight, turning on his back and took a long moment to relish that. Only then the realization hit him. He was going to die in about three days.
This knocked the air out of his lungs and he slumped back onto the mattress. Why was this thought so devastating all of a sudden? It wasn't so before. Dispirited, he rolled his head over to see the still sleeping man next to him. Daryl looked so peacefully while he slept, so young and innocent, almost like a child. He was... unbearably beautiful. Guy suddenly yearned to reach out and brush this chestnut hair to reveal more of his face. No, he reminded himself, he could not do it. It would be very wrong.
But he took the liberty of gorging himself on the sight. He sat up – adjusting into a more comfortable position with his cuffed wrist – and stared down at the other man. This was the man who had freed Riki, he suddenly remembered. Quite possibly it was his very attempt that won Riki his year of freedom, no matter how wasted it was. He had dared to oppose Iason, the Blondie, no less than Riki himself. And just to think that Guy had been nursing his contempt towards furniture all that time. In fact he should be grateful to Daryl. And proud of him as perhaps he should be proud of Riki. He should...
He wasn't aware how his hand reached out after all and touched Daryl's hair, until after it happened. He reveled the smoothness of this hair, brushing it out of the way and enjoying the sight of the clean lines of Daryl's face. It lasted just a blink, because an instant later a strong hand grabbed his wrist and the furniture was momentarily fully awake, sitting up and giving him a deadly glare, no longer looking like a child at all. The hand on Guy's wrist was clenched so painfully and twisted it in such a strange direction that the mongrel moaned.
"What do you think you were doing?" Daryl hissed.
"Shhh, nothing! Let go of me."
"What. Were. You. Doing."
"I told you, nothing! I was just..." Guy suddenly felt like a complete idiot. Here was a guy who probably suspected that he tried to kill him or do some other nasty thing, while he was just... ridiculous indeed. "I was just touching."
Daryl blinked, suddenly taken aback. "You were what?"
"I was... Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I wasn't thinking."
The grip on his wrist disappeared. Daryl was out of the bed in one moment and looked at him from the greater distance with a mix of disbelief and something that seemed like disgust.
"Why would you do that?" he asked.
Guy shrugged and slid his legs to the floor, turning away from his guardian.
"It was an impulse. I guess I was grateful. For everything you told me. I thought about you freeing Riki and it just, sort of, happened. Sorry."
A slightly resigned sigh came from behind him. "Yeah, well, I'll believe you this time. But don't you ever dare touch me like that again. Is that clear?"
"Yeah, right. 'Cause I'm acid and my touch will burn you up," Guy muttered wryly.
He heard steps rounding the bed and the next moment Daryl hovered over him, unlocking the cuff.
"I just wanted you to know that I... I guess I'm glad I met you."
Daryl pulled back and looked down at him, putting the cuffs away, absently. The irritation on his face was gone, replaced by curiosity.
"Why are you like this? I mean, I follow your line of thinking, but I'm taking you to your death after all. How can you be glad to have met me?"
Guy gave a slight shrug. "If not you, someone else would do it. That's not so important. But I'm glad that it's you. You're the only person in the whole world who could've told me all those things and now I know how badly I needed to hear them. It almost seems like destiny that we've met. I'm glad I'll die with my mind a bit more peaceful."
Unexpectedly, Daryl sat down next to him.
"Are you really so unconcerned with your own death, Guy?" he asked. Surprising, how his voice changed. Now it was almost soft.
Guy stared at the dirty carpet between his feet. "I made a terrible mistake. I'm doomed anyway, in my mind. Life has been torture to me since Dana Bahn. I was torn between regret and rage, none of them leaving any space for peace in my mind. What you told me helps a lot, to relieve the anger." The moment he said that, he realized what it was he had suddenly felt yesterday, and was still feeling now. His anger was gone. It vanished, burnt out, replaced by peace he lacked so much. "At least now I know that Riki remained Riki, that he was not destroyed by some Blondie's whims, but chose his own fate. That he... found love after all. I'm... really happy because of that. If I only could, I would undo what I did. And believe me, only now can I honestly say that. I would undo it and happily watch them be together. I am not unconcerned with my death, quite the opposite, now that the conflict in me is gone I suddenly felt the burden of it. The thing is, only now I am also fully aware what a terrible thing I've done. So I guess I simply have to accept my future, because I know I deserved it."
Daryl stared at Guy for a long time, astounded by those words. Not so much by their meaning, as by the conclusion they brought. The man he'd considered the most lousy bastard was happy for Riki dying happy, was now ready to die for his buddies, had been ready to die for Riki back then with Iason, hadn't Katze said so? He didn't give a damn about himself, only about the others. The man he'd considered the most lousy bastard turned out to be simply... unaware, confused, misled. Daryl lowered his head and suddenly felt truly sorry for the long-haired mongrel sitting next to him.
The phone rang so unexpectedly that he jumped. He fumbled for it nervously, not even remembering where he'd put it. No wonder though, it had been completely silent for a few long days. Who was going to call him anyway? He had vanished from his old life without a trace, and all his friends from this new life were in that bastard's hands. Except for them, he had no one; no one who would make any regular calls, anyway.
Which brought a thought... He finally produced the phone from the pocket of his backpack and looked at the number, alarmed. He'd never seen it before. Daryl was staring curiously from his place and nodded minutely, giving his permission. Guy pressed the button.
"Yeah?"
"Guy, remember me?" That voice... so relaxed. Guy tensed, his hand clenching into a fist. "I'm glad you still have your cell phone."
"What do you want?" he hissed.
"Can we speak freely?"
Guy glanced at Daryl. Daryl was of course watching him.
"Yeah, sure, he went out somewhere." He didn't know if this sounded believable, but it would have to do.
"So, to answer your question. This is a reminder. From what you said, I'm guessing you haven't gotten off your leash yet, have you?"
"You gave me a week, bastard! I still have two days!"
"Relax, I'm aware of the time. Did I say that I hurt your friends or something?" The Crimelord's voice sounded amused. "They are safe and sound. For now. But I am getting impatient. A week is the deadline. I'll gladly meet you sooner."
"The guy isn't giving me a chance! Listen, you're lucky he is having some other business in Nyccos, otherwise I'd have been long gone. I'd never be able to do anything. Right now I'm wracking my brains how the hell to get away before we leave, so quit chasing me! I'm doing my best!"
"Apparently you're not. He left? Why don't you escape now? He locked you up? Is that a problem for such a smart fellow like you? He even left you your phone. Why don't you call for help?"
"You're not getting it! It's not so easy!" Guy screamed into the receiver, hoping that his true anger would add realism to his words.
"Remember, you are to be here on Tuesday at the latest," the Crimelord cut him off, his mild tone now gone. "I wait until midnight. Then your friends are dead." With that he disconnected, giving Guy no chance to throw a curse at him.
"Fuck!" the mongrel cursed at the phone instead.
"The Crimelord," Daryl guessed, peering at him from over the laptop lead with almost the same emotionlessness the Crimelord used. "Good thing I shielded your phone. Wouldn't like him to find us ahead of schedule. Nice lie, by the way. What did he want?"
"What do you think he wanted? He wanted to remind me about the deadlines, dammit." Guy shoved his hands into the pockets at the back of his pants and started pacing around the room, restlessly. He stopped by the window and looked out. Of course the views hadn't changed. He turned to the dealer. "Listen, did you talk to Katze lately? What about this plan of his?"
Daryl shook his head. "He hasn't called. I gather we are to wait for him to call us."
"Well, maybe we should call him! At least we'd find out if he's doing any good."
Another shake of head. "If he'd made any progress he'd surely let us know."
Guy's jaw contracted. For a moment he was completely still, frozen by helplessness, staring at Daryl. Then he threw his hands up. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"
"Calm down."
"He's gonna kill 'em, don't ya get it?! He's gonna kill them and I'm sitting here doing nothing!" He started pacing again. "Because some stupid computer-chick thinks she's more important than three human lives! I'm gonna be dead anyway, what does she care who kills me? Look," he turned to Daryl fervently. "You have to help me. Please. You have to let me go."
His guardian was looking up at him, his face adamant.
"No way."
"Please! You have to!"
Finally, the brows furrowed with irritation. "I don't have to anything. Anything that you ask me, got it? Now, calm yourself down. We've got two more days. He hasn't killed them yet and he won't, I told you that."
For a split second Guy thought about overpowering Daryl, but quickly decided it would be the stupidest thing to do. He breathed deeply, bringing his hands to his face and pressing his fingers against his forehead.
"You don't know him. He's a monster." He heard his own voice faltering, creaking. "You haven't heard all those stories about him. I have. You have no idea what it does to my imagination. Shit."
Having nothing better to do, he marched to the window again and kept staring out of it with an overwhelming feeling of despair. It was maybe a minute later, when Daryl asked:
"Where did you hear all those stories, Guy?"
"Told ya, gossips."
"I don't think they are gossiping about such details. You seem to have an inside track on this information. Where from?"
"Ah, it was mostly the Doc telling me. He always knew this kind of stuff."
"Who is the Doc?"
"The guy who took care of my hand. He has an underground lab in Nyccos. He was cheap enough for me, and good enough to make this hand a really nice and functional gadget. I can hardly feel any difference. Why?"
"Remember when you first talked to the Crimelord? You asked him what he wanted from you. He mentioned something about a 'mutual friend' of yours."
Slowly, Guy turned to the furniture. Of course, he could have thought about it. Why hadn't he? He took in his breath as the next thought started to form in his mind.
"The question is," Daryl continued, "why does this mutual acquaintance make you important to the Crimelord."
"I think I might know," he blurted out in a half-whisper. Without any explanation he produced his phone again and tapped in the number, feeling how his hands tremble. He waited. Nothing. When an answering machine turned on, he punched the disconnect button. He turned to Daryl. "May I use your comm unit?"
"What for?"
"What do you think people use comm units for? Trust me."
Daryl's brow rose skeptically, but eventually he got up and Guy took his place. He started with another attempt to reach the Doc. Still no answer. And the signal suggested that the comm on the other side was dead. It was surprising since the Doc never turned his computer off. With a beating heart, hastily, he chose another number. This time he got through quickly.
"Guy," a middle-aged man on the screen greeted him. "Haven't heard from you guys for a while. Where've you been?"
"Around," Guy evaded the answer. "Listen, Jon, I've been trying to contact the Doc, but there's no answer. Do you have any idea what's going on?"
"Haven't you heard? The Doc was murdered a few days ago. Rumors are that it's the Crimelord's doing."
A deep frown tugged at Guy's face. "Shit, that bastard!" he muttered. "Do you have any idea why?"
Jon shrugged. "Sorry, man, this case is all cloudy. I couldn't even begin to guess."
"Yup, right. Well, thanks anyway." He broke the connection before the other man could ask any questions.
He sat motionless for an instant, feeling Daryl's cold stare on his back.
"Want to tell me what was that all about?"
He looked down at his artificial forearm that was rested between him and the laptop's keyboard.
"Like I told you, the Doc took care of my arm. He made it – grew some parts, constructed the others. He was kind of a local underground genius. Then he grew the thing into me. That was supposed to be all. You know, a perfect bionic machine that didn't need any special maintenance. Just a new hand. But a few days ago... it'll be some two weeks now, he called me saying that he found a serious error in his construction and had to make some changes. I didn't feel that anything was wrong, the hand always worked perfectly. But he insisted. So I went to him and he tinkered with it. Of course I didn't have a bloody idea what he was doing, I don't know a thing about such stuff. It was just after that when the Crimelord's men started to chase me. My guess is," he turned the hand and looked at the scar that ran down the inside of his forearm "something must be there. Inside. Something they want. The Doc must have put it in during the surgery."
He turned to meet Daryl's eyes. The dealer was staring at the scar, but sensing his gaze, returned it.
"I don't have any anesthetics, only some mild painkillers," he said. "Do you think you can handle a little cutting just on them?"
Guy wrinkled his nose. "Won't be too nice. But I've been through worse things."
Luis Moreno set his mobile on the desk and studied the screen. Tracking gave no results, the phone was shielded. The little bastard was lying, that was quite obvious. To have his watchdog so conveniently out of earshot every time they talked. To be so helpless about his escape while still being on the spot. To be impossible to track... There was only one person who could have shielded the punk's phone – the said watchdog. And why did he shield it, instead of simply taking it away and turning it off? All that suggested an obvious conclusion – the Blondie's gofer knew more than Guy admitted. The question was, how much did he know.
The Crimelord unleashed a florid curse under his breath. He didn't like this turn of events. He hated having things out of control and it was definitely the case. Now all he could do was sit and hope for luck. For the little bastard to come after all and, if not, for the chip to never be found. Too much to hope for. He could try looking for Guy, but with no trace of him it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. In Nyccos alone there were millions of places to disappear and he didn't even know if they were in the city. No, completely pointless.
What calmed him down was the fact that the mongrel's concern for those friends of his seemed sincere. And in that case he might be really desperate to save them. The Crimelord didn't care what game Guy was playing or with whom, as long as he made it to their appointment on time.
The swoosh of the opening door grabbed his attention and he swiveled his chair to face the entrance. Josf shuffled his feet nervously when their gazes met and it comforted the Crimelord a little. His men always got so stressed when they talked to him.
"What is it?" he asked.
"We just got a call from Tico, boss. Some people came to his place asking about you."
"What people? What did they want?"
"Two guys. They said they've got an offer for you."
"An offer, huh?" The Crimelord cocked an eyebrow. Instantly, he decided to be vicious. "And you think I'm talking to every fucker who says they want to do business with me. This could be anyone. There are lots of people out there who'd like to see me dead."
Evan swallowed. "Well, yes, boss, of course. I'm just passing the news. Tico said they looked pretty well-off. They took the most expensive room in his place."
The Crimelord snorted, but seeing the man sweat before him gave him the expected satisfaction. Venting his anger on minions always improved his mood. Plus, if those guys really were loaded...
"Alright. I'll call Tico and find out what's up. Now get outta here."
The man gave him a brief nod and removed his person. The door slid close. Luis Moreno got out of his chair and started to pace the room. Of course, he never talked to strangers personally. Of course, he never asked strangers in. But one way or another he should find out who those two were and what they wanted. If not to talk to them, then to knock them off.