Neon Dust [Progression Cyberpunk]

32 – Call-out

"Huh," Tony said, leaning back in his seat as he contemplated Addie's story. He knew Beef had a soft spot for her, but apparently, she wasn't the only one. Who would have guessed?

"Huh? That's what you've got to say?"

Tony looked at her, recognizing from her tone that he was close to falling into hot water. Her brows were angled down, her blue eyes sparking with hidden fireworks, as she inhaled, about to say something else. He cut her off, "Easy! I'm just thinking. You know I want to help him."

That took the steam out of her as she relaxed, huffing out her breath. "I'm sorry, but I really hated seeing him like that. He was so…defeated."

"So he really cares that much about the folks he, uh, extorts?"

"It's not like he wants to shake them down! It's the nature of the Blast—as much as I hate it. I talked to him for a little while more, and he explained… Well, the short version is that I guess he's worked pretty hard over the last few years to get the people he cares about on his collection route. Sometimes he makes payments for them! I had no idea that was going on all this time!"

Tony slowly nodded, considering. In his old life, he'd have made some comment to the effect of, "That's a shame," and then he would've gone on with his life. He didn't like that version of himself, though, and he knew that wasn't even remotely an option if he wanted to stay in Addie's good graces. Besides, he thought it was pretty damn admirable that Beef had maintained a sort of hidden core of decency despite all the shit he'd been through. So, as the van pulled into the lot outside the Ninety-Nine, he looked over at Addie and gently squeezed her shoulder. "We'll figure a way out for him."

Addie unbuckled and crawled around the center console to grab hold of his jacket, leaning over to kiss him gently. She trailed a few more kisses along his cheek as she squeezed him in a hug. "You're a good guy, Tony Baloney," she whispered huskily.

He sat there, savoring the warm softness of her for a few seconds, forcing himself to stay in the moment and to keep his mind from racing down disastrous avenues. He managed it longer than usual, and even turned into her, nuzzling her neck a little before a rising sense of panic and urgency drove him to push her off gently. "Let's go see what's up with Torque."

Flushed and smiling, Addie sat down on her seat, still facing him, and asked, "If we're going to help Beef, do we want to take another job?"

Tony thought about it briefly, rubbing his chin; he needed a shave. "We're gonna want Glitch's help. She's already working on something for us. Do you think a few days will matter to Beef?"

Addie shook her head. "No, I doubt it. I was thinking I should probably reach out to him and ask for more information on the Helldogs. I wonder how many of the shot callers are hassling him. It might just be one and his, um, lieutenants. I don't know what they call the guys under shot callers."

"Beef's an enforcer?"

"Yeah, but a high-ranking one. He's got like ten guys under him."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, I've met a bunch of 'em." He thumped the steering wheel, thinking again. "All right, you do that. Ask him for as much info on the Hell Dogs as he's willing to share. Tell him it's just for us; we won't go to a rival gang or anything crazy like that."

Addie giggled. "He already asked me not to start a banger war over him."

"Well, honestly, that would solve the problem if we could get enough of 'em to kill each other, but the collateral damage…" He shook his head, imagining Addie's old neighborhood getting shot up. "Nah, it's not worth it."

"Agreed." She opened her door. "Okay, so we'll talk to Torque, but no jobs that are going to take more than a few days."

"Roger, boss." Tony winked, and Addie giggled again as she slid out of the van. He followed suit, and they walked together toward the awning with its violet neon underglow. The bouncer, a tall, wiry, chrome-armed woman, nodded as they approached. Her visor pulsed with a soft red glow as she waved them through. She'd spoken to them a few times on previous visits and undoubtedly had a database with their faces in it.

Addie led the way through the bar, toward the stairs to the upper level, but before they cleared the last booth, someone put a hand on Tony's shoulder. He knew who it was; he'd seen the guy leaning on a table near the center of the bar, watching him and Addie as they entered. It was Mint, the cocky operator who'd hit on Addie their first time in the club. A couple of impulses warred with each other in Tony's mind. One was to roll his mechanical arm around the guy's wrist and…break something. Luckily, his more rational impulse won out.

He turned, sighing, and tilted his head as he looked the guy in the eyes. "You shouldn't do that."

Mint smoothed Tony's jacket, patted it, and lowered his arm. "What's that, Shep?"

"Touch people. Uninvited." Tony spoke flatly, and his face didn't betray any emotion.

"Didn't want to have to chase after you. I saw you guys passing through and wondered, what's the big hurry? You going to a meeting upstairs? Why don't you handle it? Give Ember a break. I can buy her a drink."

A little spark of anger ignited in his chest, and Tony contemplated various ways to respond, but before he could settle on one, he felt soft hands around his left biceps, and then Addie was leaning her cheek against his shoulder, looking up at the other operator. "Oh, hey, Mint."

Mint shifted his shiny golden eyes toward Addie, taking in the affectionate way she leaned into Tony. He blinked and narrowed his eyes. "Hey there, cutie."

Tony snorted as he looked down at Addie. "This guy wants to buy you a drink. You want me to handle the meeting?"

Addie squeezed his arm, looking away from Mint and smiling up at Tony. "I'd rather you bought me a drink after the meeting."

Tony shrugged. "Sorry, bud. Looks like she's not interested."

Mint clenched his jaw, clearly irritated by Addie's sudden show of affection. "Thought you two were just partners."

"All right, well, see you around." Tony shifted, putting his arm over Addie's shoulders as he turned his back on the guy. He doubted Mint had the stones to try to kill him inside the Ninety-Nine, but he wasn't an idiot; he could see the guy reflected in the mirror behind the top-shelf liquor, and he watched him closely as Addie and he started walking. He wasn't surprised when the guy didn't pull a gun or knife, but he was surprised when he called out a challenge.

"Yo, I heard you think you're something of a fighter, Shep. How about we dance, or do you only fight dumbass bangers at low-rent gyms?"

Tony sighed, looking down at Addie. "Is this guy for real?"

Addie wasn't laughing. She slid out from under his arm and turned to glare at the golden-eyed operator. "What's that going to prove? I'm not interested in you. If you won, I still wouldn't be. Just go… I don't know, go drink by yourself!"

Tony turned, groaning inwardly when he realized Mint's little call-out had drawn an audience. As he reached out to take Addie's wrist, afraid she'd do something stupid, Mint said, "I'm over you, doll. I'm more interested in that guy and his BS rep. People are talking about you all over the district, Shep, but nobody's seen you fight, not since that rigged match at Golden's."

Addie growled, "Don't call me—"

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"Don't," Tony cut in, stepping between them. "Don't call her that, Minty."

"Yo, Mint," said a dark-skinned man at the bar. He wore a skin-tight, leopard-print bodysuit, and one of his eyes was jacked up with a black plasteel housing and a telescoping lens implant. The mutters died down as the crowd turned to listen—apparently, the guy had some rep. "You got a death wish? That dude took the Grinder down."

"So they say," Mint sneered. "Looked like a dive to me. Word is the Jades were rigging those fights anyway."

"Watch your mouth, kid!" a rough-looking, grizzled muscle-type said, thumping a heavy, oversized metal hand on a table. The mutters grew louder and several people moved toward the exit, like shit was about to go down. Even the music seemed to dip as the air got thick, waiting for Mint's response.

Mint held up his hand placatingly. "It's none of my business. I just want a clean shot at this guy."

"I don't have time for this shit," Tony sighed. Mint opened his mouth, no doubt to taunt him, but Tony cut him off: "I don't fight for free. If you wanna go, put some scratch on it." Part of him was hoping the guy would back down, but part of him was serious; if he was going to waste his time fighting some random in the club, he wanted to get paid for it.

"Shepherd…" Addie whispered. He glanced at her, tried to look reassuring—but he was too irritated, and it probably didn't land.

"Scratch? How's a thousand bits?"

More mutters broke out. Tony saw people's eyes flicker with light as they accessed apps—vaults, comms, vid feeds, and who knew what else.

"A thousand? Really?" Tony scoffed, shaking his head. "Let's make it interesting: ten K. You want fists or blades?"

The leopard print man stood up, and his voice cut through the room like a knife. "If you're fighting here, then no weapons. Get on the dance floor, and if you break anything, you're paying!"

Tony tilted his head at the guy, arching an eyebrow. Was he the owner of the club? Some kind of manager? Why hadn't he noticed him before? Before he could wonder further, Mint nodded, stepping forward, holding out a hand. "Ten K, then."

Tony ignored the hand. "This ain't friendly. You insult me? Fine. You insult Ember?" He stepped forward, eyes hard. "That's a beatdown." With that, he turned toward the dark, empty dance floor, shrugging out of his coat. Addie caught up, and he handed her the coat as he tugged his holster out of his waistband.

She looked around at the crowd following them and whispered, "He's too confident! What if he has augs?"

Tony chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure he does."

As they stepped onto the dance floor, the dark crystal-glass came to life, pulsing with pools of colored light beneath Tony's feet. The crowd pressed in around the perimeter, blotting out the bar's soft violet lighting. Tony handed Addie his gun, then leaned close, whispering, "Sorry about this, but rep's important." Before she could respond, he left her there and walked out to the center.

Mint stepped onto the crystal-glass, and it pulsed with red stars under his steps. Tony watched the way he moved as he came to meet him. Mint held himself like a fighter and seemed confident, but Tony wasn't sure the guy knew what he was doing. Still, if he had some decent augs—a wire-job or a chem boost—he could be a problem. Tony hadn't been lying to Addie, though; rep was a big deal in a district like the Blast. If they wanted to keep getting better and better jobs, he couldn't back down from call-outs like this, especially when insults were out there for everyone to hear.

Mint clenched his fists and took a fighting position, and Tony had to wonder what was going through the guy's head. He'd obviously been a little miffed about Addie not being into him, but this went deeper than that. Had he lost some work because of Tony? Was he one of Torque's regulars? Maybe it was something even dumber. Maybe his buddies had told him to lay off because they'd seen vids of Tony fighting—just a pride thing.

Suddenly, the leopard-print guy shouted from the floor's edge, "Two fighters! Two men, ready to settle some chapped asses! Here in the Ninety-Nine, when things are slow, we'll accommodate, yes?" The crowd responded, cheering, stomping, and generally echoing the sentiment. The man continued, "No blades. No weapons, period. And, if you get a man down, lay off! We're not looking to call a corpse wagon if we don't have to! Agreed?"

Mint nodded, eyes locked on Tony. "Yeah."

Tony rolled his neck, getting loose, then clenched his fists. His plasteel knuckles clicked together, and his flesh-and-blood ones popped. "Agreed."

"Okay, boys, there's a pile of bits on the line, and that means you need to put up or shut up. My port's open. I'll hold the purse."

"Tony," Nora said, "I'm receiving a payment request from someone named Vector Fang for ten thousand Sol-bits."

"Pay him," Tony subvocalized, still watching Mint.

The leopard-print guy—Vector—announced, "Well, that was quick! I've got the funds in hand. I suppose that means they're ready, folks!" As the crowd got louder, stomping feet and shouting encouragement, Tony let his gaze drift toward Addie, and when his eyes locked onto hers, he felt something strange, like a mixture of pride and shame. It made sense, he guessed. He was proud just having her there with him, but he felt guilty seeing the genuine worry in her eyes.

Vector wasn't planning to let Tony stand around examining his feelings. He held up one big, ring-bedecked fist and shouted, "Fight!"

Mint moved. He definitely had some kind of aug for speed because he was a blur as he stepped toward Tony's left flank, away from his mechanical arm, and hooked a lightning-fast fist at his kidney. Tony couldn't track him easily, not without his own boost, but he saw which way he was going, and he knew what he would have done in the same position, so he swiped his left arm down and out, neatly blocking the blow.

He didn't stop there, though; in the same motion, he hammered his plasteel fist in a vicious overhead smash, aiming for where he thought Mint would be standing. Again, his instincts were good, and the blow connected, crunching into the other man's shoulder.

"Ah!" Mint cried, but he didn't go down. He moved again, dipping and sliding to the left, keeping low. Again, Tony had to guess what the guy was doing, but it wasn't all that hard—he'd damaged Mint's left shoulder, and the guy was bracing on his right hand, so that left his feet. He'd gone low, which made Tony suspect he'd try to sweep his legs. Tony had been in a lot of fights. He could picture the move, almost see the guy's leg sliding around in an arc, aiming for his knees.

Tony lifted his left foot and put the sole of his boot in the likely path of the incoming sweep. Mint's shin crashed into Tony's boot sole, and Tony used the impact to leap back and watch as Mint gasped in pain, clutching his shin as his speed boost cut off and he flopped onto the crystal-glass. Tony stepped forward, the killer in him ready to press the advantage, but Mint fired his boost again and rolled away, coming up, limping, near the edge of the dance floor.

The crowd had gotten quiet, straining to understand the flurry of movement, but they were starting to react—hushed exclamations, and louder boos as Mint continued to circle, avoiding Tony as he advanced. Tony could see it was over, even before he landed another punch. Mint's left arm was slumped; something in his shoulder was broken. Worse, the guy's golden eyes were vibrating in their sockets; he'd overused whatever low-tier boost he'd been using.

As he tried to step beyond the dance floor's perimeter, someone shoved him forward, and then Tony was on him. He darted out a left jab, popping the guy in the nose. Mint lifted his arms to block just a second too slow, and then Tony's right arm came in for the kill, crunching into the other man's ribs with a visceral crackle of bones. Mint coughed as his wind escaped his lungs in a massive rush, and then he was down, arms flapping, mouth gasping soundlessly like a fish out of water, as he writhed in the fetal position.

Tony stood where he was, watching the man squirm, then looked toward the colorful club owner. Manager? Whatever his role, Vector was laughing, doing a moonwalk out onto the dancefloor as the club's music picked up and the crowd lifted their arms, cheering. Suddenly, Addie was there, slamming into Tony, squeezing him around the waist. And half a dozen other people were crowding close, clapping him on the shoulders.

"I told him not to mess with you, Shep!" Vector crowed as he finally emerged from his impromptu dance routine and held up a palm for a high-five. Tony smiled and slapped it with his left hand. "Sending you the purse, minus my five-percent venue fee."

Tony laughed, shaking his head. "Fair enough."

"Who are you?" Addie asked.

"Who me? I'm Vector Fang! One-fourth owner of this fine establishment. It's quite a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ember; I've heard good things." To Tony's amusement and Addie's apparent delight, he took her fingers, bowed low, and kissed the air above her hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me, fine folks, we must get this poor dummy to a doc. I believe he'll be needing some serious rib reconstruction."

Tony took Addie's hand, smiling and nodding to the many people who still wanted to congratulate him, and worked his way off the dance floor towards the stairs. He didn't have to wonder if Torque was still waiting to meet them; the fixer was climbing the steps, heading back up the staircase. Apparently, even he had been drawn out of his private room to watch the fight.

When they cleared the crowd, Addie tugged on Tony's fingers, halting him. It was noisy; the music was still cranked, and the crowd had gotten rowdy, so he leaned close to hear her better as she asked, "How do you fight like that? I couldn't even see what happened. Do you ever lose?"

Tony was an experienced operator. He wasn't a kid, either. Still, he'd be a liar if his ego didn't enjoy being stroked like that. He felt his smile getting away from him, and words started slipping out of his mouth before he could apply some proper edits. "Are you kidding me? I can't lose if I've got the sweetest, prettiest girl in the district cheering for me."

Addie's eyes lit up, and her cheeks flushed, but she surprised him by matching his bullshit, "Really? Where is she?" She grinned, turning to look back at the crowd, but Tony wasn't having it. He grabbed her chin, turning her back toward him, and kissed her right there, at the foot of the stairs. "Smartass," he whispered, as they separated.

She punched him in the chest, pushing his pistol and jacket toward him. "You're the smartass! You better not keep getting in fights like that, by the way."

"That was the idea, Ads." He nodded toward the crowd on the dance floor, where a few club employees were strapping Mint to a stretcher. "Hopefully, this will be a deterrent." Addie followed his gaze, nodding slowly as she realized what he meant. He tucked his holster into his waistband and slung his jacket over his shoulder. "Come on. Let's go see what Torque's got for us."