Queen Violence

Chapter Eleven - Brooklin Woes

We were in luck. The office I wanted to visit was in Brookline, which was just to the west of Fenway. Sure, we were in the eastern end of Fenway, but the office was equally in the eastern end of Brookline, so all we had to do was cross the district and walk for twenty minutes.

Brookline was the primest, most proper part of Boston Two. The buildings here were old, turn-of-the-previous century. Often restored and kept in their original state.

There were the usual mega buildings and skyscrapers interspersed around these, of course, but a lot of Brookline was built into the Brookline Skyway, a complex set of bridges and connecting buildings above the old suburbs.

We were on the street level, though, and entirely out of place.

Brookline was clean. Almost unnaturally so. Street sweeping machines were humming by almost constantly, often followed by BPD armoured cruisers there to keep law and order. The people of Brookline, the natives, were well-dressed men and women in suits and with fedoras or with summer dresses and wide-brimmed hats.

We crossed more than one digital poster screaming about the virtues of the HOA, the local gang that ruled over this part of the city and which likely wanted to rule over the rest.

"This place always makes me feel dirty," Sharp said.

"That's not too unusual, I think. Keep in mind that the cleanliness here is mostly surface-deep. You won't find more people willing to kill their neighbours anywhere else in this city."

I'd gotten my share of contracts from this area. Not to say that it was dangerous. To the common person who kept their head down and made some effort to fit in, this was probably one of the safest places in all of Boston Two, which was saying something when this city was otherwise so dangerous.

Still, if you failed to conform, that illusion of safety was quick to disappear.

Fortunately, we were tourists here, just passing through in a hurry with a clear destination in mind. As long as we didn't cause trouble or loiter, we should be fine.

"Hey!" A man in Hugo Boss-esque uniform with a truncheon and a badge on his lapel that read HOA called out. He was pointing that stick of his right at Sharp... no, right at me. "Do you have a permit for that cat?"

"Run."

We gave him the slip three alleys and a detour later by entering a parking garage and coming out on the other side. I had Sharp turn into another alley and discard her old jacket. It was a ratty thing, and we could pick up better in the lost and found at the bar. The coat had changed her silhouette and was more noticeable than the rest of her. We just had to hope that the incident didn't merit the HOA looking into their electronic surveillance for us.

Eventually we made it to the office we'd come all this way to get to.

It shared a building with a few others, one of those ground-level red brick buildings in the middle of a street so old that it wasn't able to handle street-side parking. A few signs hung next to the door, for the various offices within, but it was one in particular that caught my eye. Malcolm and Weiss - Intracity Couriers.

Sharp pressed a buzzer next to the door, and I could faintly make out a ringing inside. A small shutter, with a faux-wood cover, moved aside and a camera stared down at us for a moment before the shutter closed.

The door clicked and unlocked.

"I guess this is it," Sharp said. She tugged her blouse straighter, then worried at a stain on the front of it for a moment before giving up. "How's my hair?"

"Still blonde," I said.

We'd have to do something about that. It was too obvious. Dye? It was a cheap option. Tech hair would be better in some ways, though it was also subtly worse in others. Oh well.

The inner office was little more than a corridor with several doors leading into the various spaces rented within. The office we were looking for was up a flight of stairs and around a corner. The door was all glass, with the company's logo, a motorcycle with a large package on the back, all done up in bright blues and pinks.

Sharp knocked.

There was movement behind the frosted glass, then a man opened the door and eyed her up and down. I noticed that half of him was out of sight and reaching for something off to the side. "Carter sent you?" he asked.

"Uh," Sharp replied smartly.

"Tell him that yes, Jacline sent you," I said.

"Yup! Jacline sent me," she said as she perked up.

He eyed her for a moment, then stepped back. "Come on in. I'm Mark."

Mark was a tall enough man, broad shoulders in a plain unmarked T-shirt. He moved deeper into the office, then pulled out a seat behind a desk. I checked to the side, where a large plastic plant was indeed hiding a shotgun on a hook next to the door.

"Sit," Mark said as he indicated the chair across from him.

Sharp rushed over and sat, then she fidgeted in her seat.

Mark rubbed at his chin, where he had a short, well-trimmed beard. Mark had always striked me as a consummate professional, but he looked a little worse for wear at the moment. Dark bags under his eyes, a five-o'-clock shadow... it added up to the look of someone not at their prime. "So, the mysterious lady herself let me know that she needed a favour. I don't have time for this kind of thing, and yet I find myself disinclined to refuse something like that."

"Ah, okay?" Sharp tried.

"You ever done courier work before?" he asked.

"A little," Sharp said. "I've done deliveries in South Boson. Ten of them in all." She very carefully didn't mention that they'd all been on the same day and for the same client.

"Have a car?"

Sharp shook her head.

"Bike? Any transport? No... damn. Cyberware to move across the city quickly? Magic of any sort? No, well, that's fine. No parkour experience, right?"

"Uh, no," Sharp said instead of shaking her head yet again.

Mark eyed me for a moment, then returned his gaze onto her. "Good. I lost too many new couriers to that shit. Kids think they're hot shit because they can jump a rail or do a flip, and next thing you know I need to retrieve their lost package from the alley where they splattered themselves. It's a liability."

"I'll try not to learn that, then!" Sharp said.

Mark chuckled. "Fair enough. Look, I'll lay it straight here, kid. You're not an appealing prospect. You look... underfed. I'm sure that'll let you get by in South Boston without raising a fuss, but we deliver across the city here."

"Oh," Sharp said, sounding suddenly quite depressed. Then she sat up. "Let me prove myself," she said. "I can be sneaky, and fast. Challenges only make me stronger, I promise."

Mark leaned onto one elbow, his head resting on a closed fist as he eyed Sharp. "Alright. One job. I'll pay you the full rate, but it'll be your hide if you lose the package."

"Okay," Sharp said. "What's the... ah?"

Mark was shaking his head already. "We never ask that. Details about the weight and size are fine. Never the contents. Just where to pick it up, and where to deliver it. You'll have to wear one of our surplus coats... what time are you free?"

"Right now?" Sharp said. "And I guess every evening? I have a job at the Bloody Bat during the afternoon."

"Do you now," he said and I cursed Sharp's flapping tongue. "Well, well. I'll keep that in mind. Come back here tomorrow, as soon as you can manage it. I'll have something lined up for you."

Sharp grinned, wide and innocent and definitely stupid. "Thank you!" she said.

Mark nodded, then waved us off. So Sharp stood and scampered out of the otherwise empty office.

She regrouped herself right out of the door, then made a little dance that involved a lot of hopping around and almost throwing me off. That ended when I deployed my claws. Purely to hold on, of course. "Ow ow ow ow!" She hissed as she tried to free me from her arm.

"If you don't want the claws, stop bouncing around like a maniac. You know he probably has cams in this corridor, right?"

"Oh, oops," Sharp said. "But we got the job!"

"We might have gotten the job. We'll see tomorrow. But if we did, this is a big step up. Courier work pays well in this city. It's a hard gig to get too. You're lucky to have me."

"Yes I am. Uh-huh, yes I am!" she said... in baby-talk while rubbing at my chin.

I smacked her hand back... even if it did feel a little nice.

***