[RANCHO CORONADO – LOCUST STREET]

  Tuesday| 29 JUN 2077 | 15:52

  [NCPD: BODIES FOUND BENEATH NORTH OAKS SIGN. POLICE INVESTIGATING]

  An Animals pack had converted an old paint factory at the edge of the sub-districts Arroyo and Rancho Coronado into a huge gym and fight club. Santo Domingo was primarily under the ‘protection’ of the Sixth Street gang, an organization that had been founded by the Veterans of the 4th Corpo War to combat the high levels of crime that had risen in Night City. In 2077, the Sixth Streeters were just as likely to be responsible for the crime as they were to deter it. There were fewer 6th Street gang tags around the gym. Probably because this little corner of Rancho Coronado was Animals turf. Will had absolutely no cred with them.

  The guys pulling security at the Ebunike for the Twins were the exception, not the rule. They were a rare, disciplined breed of the massive predators. Degenerate psychos were the norm. Even so, Animals were in high demand. Most Night City clubs had at least two or three of them on payroll.

  Will would need to tread carefully. Too cocky and he’d get himself zeroed by a roid-monster, too passive and he’d be seen as weak, potential prey. He needed information, not a fight. After psyching himself up he put on a casual facial expression and stepped out of the cargo van into the mist. His biomon told him that his pulse was steady at fifty beats per minute as he walked up to the front entrance. Two mountains in gym clothes blocked his path. One huge bald black guy with neon-blue EMP threading peaking up his neck from beneath his Biotechnica logoed gym shirt. The other Animal was shirtless. His massive bronze upper body had no visible chrome, except for his right hand, which was augmented with titanium-plated knuckles. He wore large, heavy steel chains around his neck that drooped down to pecs that looked like they had been chiseled from stone.

  “You look like you want to get flatlined, runt,” said the bronzed Animal.

  “I do? That’s not good at all,” Will said, attempting to sound mildly concerned. “I assure you that I do not want that at all.”

  The bronzed one looked annoyed, but the black man just laughed in an unnaturally deep tone. “Okay, choom, what are you here for?”

  “I need to speak to Super Loco. Is he around?”

  The two giants shared a conspiratorial glance.

  “Who exactly is looking for Loco?” asked the bald one.

  Will turned slightly as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small metal case. He had gotten business cards printed, partly as a joke, but partly as evidence that he was at least taking his role in the dummy company seriously. The bald one took it with his massive hand and a weird look on his face, like he’d never expected to be given a tiny piece of paper. He read it slowly.

  “Will Scrap. Sales Director. Eclipse Freight Solutions. Are you some kinda corpo?” he asked, confused.

  “More of a contractor. What do I call you?”

  The bald one just shrugged, “Jamal. Uh, bouncer, Tripple Xtreme Gym.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jamal, and uh, how about you?”

  “Don’t call me anything, runt.”

  Will stared at the bronzed Animal for a second. It was obvious that he was pissed off. That was a problem. Will didn’t need any enemies. He needed to make a good impression, and so far, he was on track for a boot to the back of the skull. In his experience Animals tended to care about two things above all. Violence and respect. Time for the direct route, Will thought.

  “You have a problem with me?”

  “Yeah, I do. You’re lucky I haven’t ripped out your spine already. Don’t test my patience.”

  Will just nodded, “Okay, fair enough. What did I do to piss you off?”

  The bronzed Animal was looking agitated. Jamal just leaned back against the wall, enjoying the drama. There was a good chance this conflict would end with blood, and he was ready for the show. Will, however, had no intention of letting this devolve into a street-fight. For one, he was pretty sure he’d lose and lose badly. Secondly, he couldn’t afford to appear weak.

  “You come onto our turf, and you disrespect me? You think I should let that slide?”

  There it was. Respect. A perceived insult, worse, one in front of a peer. The pack hierarchy was no joke among Animals. Will’s initial instinct was to argue, to appeal to reason, but this was not a debate. Honor often transcended logic and facts. The smart play was to make amends in the most masculine display of bravado he could think of. Controlled violence.

  “No, you shouldn’t let that slide.”

  Jamal’s eyes went wide at that response, “Little man, are you challenging Rico Handsome to a fight? Tell me I’m imagining this.”

  “Not a fight. I was in the wrong. Retribution is due,” Will said, removing his armored jacket. He then slowly removed his shoulder holster and laid it on top of the jacket, and took a deep breath. “I didn’t come here to show disrespect, Rico. I also know that you’d cave my skull in if we fought. We’re not really in the same league. Here’s my offer. Slug me in the gut. Ten percent of your normal force. The hand without the titanium knuckles. We call it even.”

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  “Ten percent?” Rico asked. He was thinking it over. Jamal looked intrigued at the turn of events.

  “From the looks of it, you bench about eight hundred pounds. I’d like to keep my internal organs solid. Deal?”

  Rico looked like he hadn’t expected this. “You got balls, I’ll give you that,” he couldn’t figure out the scam. “If this is some kind of trick, I will kill you. You know that, don’t you?”

  Will nodded and braced for impact. ‘Ten percent’ force struck fast. Will’s subdermal weave and his muscle and bone lace held it together, but it hurt so bad that Will saw stars for a few seconds. Will was still standing, but he knew the microscopic nanonsurgeons were already at work repairing broken blood vessels.

  “Damn,” Jamal said.

  Rico looked satisfied and maybe just a little impressed that Will hadn’t dropped to the ground in the fetal position. When Will regained his composure, he offered his hand to shake. The giant accepted, “You’re a weird guy, Will. I like that.”

  “If that was ten percent, I don’t even want to imagine a hundred.”

  Jamal and Rico both laughed. The door opened. Jamal spoke softly, “Loco’s in the back corner, torturing the heavy bag. Don’t ask him to hit you at ‘ten percent’. Trust me.”

  Will grabbed his holster and jacket, put them back on, and headed inside. He stopped at the door, “I’m thirsty, you guys want anything from the vending machine?”

  Rico actually laughed at the absurdity of it. “Yeah, gimme a Sain Ruisseau. You’re all right.”

  Winning over the hustle at the door of the Tripple Xtreme Gym might not have seemed like a major victory to most, but Will knew they’d be talking about him for weeks, maybe even months. The pain in his midsection had been worth earning the small amount of respect. It was an almost tangible piece of evidence that he was trustworthy and kept to a code. When Will saw Super Loco smashing his fist into the heavy bag like it owed him money, he didn’t get the impression that it would be as easy to win him over. He would have to change tactics. Straight to business. Emotionally detached.

  ‘Super Loco’ stopped hitting the heavy bag and just stood there looking malevolent. He was waiting. In the Animals world, he was known as an Ogre, a ganger so big he had an internal frame just to support his massive bulk, but here in this gym, he was the Alpha. Word was that in the sport of cage fighting, he was personally responsible for half the in-ring deaths from 2076 to the present. So when he spoke, not like a brute, but in an almost monotone tenor, a chill went down Will’s spine.

  “Will Scrap. What are you doing here?”

  Michael Gutierrez, Loco’s real name, didn’t look at Will when he spoke. He just stood there, body loose, staring at the heavy bag as big droplets of sweat rolled off his fingertips and onto the mat. The look of total, almost euphoric, relaxation didn’t fit the vibe of the brutal gym atmosphere. He looked like he was basking in the sun on a beach somewhere, soaking in the rays, but there was only the stench of sweat and misery and the sound of metal weights clinking. Will pegged him as a sociopath.

  “Mr. Gutierrez, an acquaintance of yours by the alias Big Red, disappeared today, along with a truck full of valuable cargo. I’m trying to figure out what happened to him and the truck.”

  “Am I a murder suspect, cop?” he asked. His posture and voice betrayed no emotion either way.

  “I’m not a cop, and no. There’s no body. No evidence of a murder. Big Red’s currently my primary suspect.”

  “Hm, smart enough to figure that out? I’m surprised.”

  Gutierrez finally turned around. The word HATE tattooed across his face was redundant. The look of absolute disgust on his face told the story far better than the tattoo. He stared down at Will as a lion stares at a baby lamb. A cold stare, with a sense of unquestioned superiority. Will could feel the pressure up against his psyche, but his mind was compartmentalized. The part that could fear was locked safely away. He kept calm and spoke up clearly and slowly, “Mr. Gutierrez, or Super Loco, whichever you prefer. I need your help to find Big Red and possibly his fixer. Have you heard the name Ringer before?”

  “Never heard of him. If he’s a fixer, he’s bottom barrel. You need my help.”

  Gutierrez seemed to be staring through Will as if he weren’t as interesting as the peeling paint on the walls. He was quiet for a heartbeat, then his focus shifted, and he was staring into Will’s eyes.

  “What do you offer in return?”

  There it was. Nothing in Night City was free. One way or another, someone was going to pay. This time it was Will’s turn.

  “I will buy his debt from you.”

  “He owes me more than money, but you can’t buy that. Money first.”

  Will transferred the full debt, eight thousand four hundred eddies, with a few mental flicks. Gutierrez’s eyes lit up for a brief second as the money hit his account. He nodded once, then stalked over to Will. ‘Super Loco’ was close enough that he could hit him with one oversized sledgehammer of a fist, yet Will felt fairly confident that he would walk out of this alive. Even so, he readied his Sandevistan for a mad dash toward the front door. If he could dodge in time, that was.

  “You own Big Red now. He’s not my problem anymore. Check out his storage unit at Megapax Export. As for finding him, he’ll float to the surface, eventually. Call me when he does.”

  The sky released its burden just then. The sound of water beating on the metal roof sounded like a drum chorus, but Gutierrez just turned his back on Will and went back to the heavy bag. Will could take a hint. It was time to leave. So he made his way towards the front. He stopped at the vending machine before he left.

  Rico and Jamal stared down at the bottles of the expensive ‘water’ in disbelief.

  “He was serious,” Jamal said to Rico.

  “I never joke about Sain Ruisseau,” Will said deadpan. “I got what I needed, chooms. Give me a call if you’re ever in Kabuki. My number is on the back of the card.”

  Jamal flipped the card over and looked at it. “You’re a real enigma, Will.” Then, he pulled out an Agent from his back pocket and scanned it. A second later, Will heard a ping from his neuroport. It was a brief greeting from Jamal. He replied with an emoji and could hear Jamal laughing as he walked out into the rain.

  By the time Will slid into the front seat of the cargo van, he was thoroughly soaked. Aside from the ache in his ribs from Rico’s punch, and nearly being devoured by a malevolent force…he thought that it had gone pretty well.

  Ping.

  [INCOMING CALL]

  Caller: Encrypted

  Time: 16:25 | Tuesday, June 29, 2077

  ? ANSWER ? DECLINE ?? SILENCE

  This has been a really fun story arc to write. I hope you enjoy it. Next installment should Drop Friday or Saturday.

  I met another cool person who writes fiction in the Jurassic Park universe. It's very good and a hundred times better than the last few movies. Please consider giving it a read.

  -Bob