The diner was loud, full of screaming kids and parents who would rather be drunk at the bar across the street than babysitting wailing, messy gremlins. The jukebox was doing its level best to try and combat the noise in the place, but the speakers in it never worked right, so all that came out was a 1980s rock anthem that warbled out of the left speaker bank; but it had a sort of old world charm I could dig. The stools were uncomfortably stiff and the booths were old with none of the cushion left. And there was this lingering smell of grease everywhere you went, no matter where you went (yes, even the bathrooms. I checked). Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if arteries started to sweat just from walking into the place. Yet I couldn't help but love the old grease pit. It had this level of authenticity you just couldn't find anywhere else in the city.
When you walk in and the sound of sizzling bacon sings to your ears, the scent of actual meat digs its hooks into your nose, it's hard not to start drooling. Their fries are to die for; all natural potatoes that they source from outside of the city. And if anyone in the city tells you that they can find a better butterscotch shake elsewhere, I wiIl show you liar. I don't know how they do it, what connections they have or what eldritch contract they've signed, but this is the only place in the city you could get an organic burger. And it was paradise on earth.
If I really wanted to, I could have done enough digging and hacking and threatening to find out where they sourced their goods, but honestly? My curiosity isn't piqued enough to warrant that kind of dig. I like the people who run this slice of old americana and they like me. If it means that I get an orgasmic meal every so often? Fine, you keep your deals with the old gods of fast food to yourself. Just keep the shakes coming.
But I didn't pick this place to meet my contact just because the food was so good. I mean, it was a major factor in it, don't get me wrong; but I chose it because people like me stick out like a sore thumb when we want to. It's hard work to hide the cyberware a hardcore decker can be packing and I work damn hard to make sure to look as inconspicuous as possible, but there are still tells. Seams on joints, glowing bits, joints clicking into place; there are a multitude of things that could give away a cyberware replacement from the genuine article. That's why a lot of people don't try. Better to be open about the hostility than to hide the intent.
So, when I saw two people dressed head to toe in black and trying to pull off the the whole 'government spook' deal, I knew my mark was close. I watched them for a moment, smiling to myself as they looked around the busy diner for me. I wasn't a hard squirrel to find, what with the big bushy tail and the glowing eyes, but in a crowded place like this? Real easy to lose track of someone, even if you are looking for them.
"Those the two you were waiting for?" growled a voice in my ear. I took a sip of my shake and grabbed a fry out of a nearby basket.
"Nah, those are just the muscle. Trying way too hard to be intimidating, but doing it really poorly." Popping the fry into my mouth, I felt someone tug on my tail and peeked over my shoulder at the child who tugged on it.
"You look like a pretty lady," said the tiny rabbit child. I wanted to smile, I really did, but I could only focus on the jammy mess that was holding on to my pristine tail and the uproarious laughter blowing up my earpiece.
"Thank you, but could you let go of my tail now? I'm a little busy at the moment" I asked gently, trying to get my tail back from the little girl.
"But it's so soft! Mommy, I want a tail like this one!" whined the rabbit to her mom, who looked downright frazzled and would much rather be drinking than sitting with what looked like six other kids.
"Lacey, what did I tell you about bothering other people?" said the tired hare as she took a drag from a flask. Yeesh, it wasn't even five yet. "I'm sorry ma'am, she means well, she's just a little too nosy for her own good."
Over the sound of cutlery being bounced around by someone's hand smacking their table in my ear, I was straining to keep my calm. "It's okay. We were all that age at one time or another." Reaching into my jeans, I took out a credit chit and reached over before placing it on the table. "Consider your meal my treat, ma'am. And please, take a vacation on me. You look like you desperately need one."
She stared at me for a moment, dumbfounded, before I motioned to the chit on the table. When she picked it up, her eyes went wide and she just stared at me as if I had just smacked her upside the head. To be fair, that kind of money doesn't land in your lap every day, so I can understand the reaction.
"This... this is too much. I can't accept this."
"I insist. You and your family deserve to have some time away from the madness of this city." Patting the little girl on the top of her head, I gingerly plucked my tail from her hands and pushed her back down into her seat. "So please, go find a nice plot of land somewhere and enjoy yourself."
"You are way too nice for your own good, Cherri," snickered another voice in my ear. I just smiled and watched as the mother continued to profusely thank me on her out of the booth and out the door, her daughter clamoring for a tail like mine the whole way.
"King, remind me to rip off your arm when we're done here," I grumbled as I settled back down into my seat, my good mood effectively ruined.
"Focus up, you two. One of our VIPs is enroute."
"Yes, mom," we both groaned before we focused on the door. It took me a moment, but I found the two hired muscle from before (not like it was hard). They were sitting at a booth not far from King and a waitress was trying to take their order at the moment.
Given that I frequented this diner more than my own home, I had a good hunch on the sight lines from any given booth on any given day. And I didn't like the one they'd picked. From where they were sitting, they could get a decent sweep of the diner without much effort. Which meant that, if they'd wanted, one of the goons could have easily turned his head and watched the whole of my exchange with the rabbit family.
"Guys, I think we might have been scammed," I murmured into my hand as I looked out the greasy window. Best not to look suspicious in case they thought I was on to them.
"What're you thinking, Cherri?"
"Those goons have line of sight on me; easily could've watched the whole thing. Don't want to think it, but it's definitely a possibility."
A moment of silence ticked by as we chewed that over. If we had been scammed out of that money, it wasn't that big a loss. We could always sell or steal something to make up for it. But it was less the money and more the principal. You don't go into an arms deal and steal extra money from your seller. That's just rude.
"What's the play, Kane?" asked King. I could almost hear the grinding of her teeth from across the restaurant and I had a hunch her fingers were wrapped around the grip of her knife. I had half a mind to tell her to calm down, but I like keeping my blood on the inside of my body, thank you.
"We play this by ear," she said evenly. "The ball is in their court. If they want to steal from us, then they don't know us very well. We'll make the deal, get back to the ship and Cherri will work his magic on the chit he so brazenly gave away."
"Yeah, I knew that one was coming back on me," I murmured with a frown.
"Then you shouldn't have given money away without talking to the rest of us, but what's done is done. I'm taking it out of your cut, end of discussion."
"That's... fair."
"Good. Now, eyes front everyone. Our dealer just walked through the door."
Everyone went quiet as the door jingled open (did I mention the place had an actual bell? I told you, authentic) and the man we'd been expecting stepped in. He was smaller than I remembered, but looks could be deceiving. Flanked on either side by two more goons wearing all black, he was a frightening display of color in a floral print shirt that barely fit his portly frame and khakis.
Flipping up his sunglasses, his beady black eyes zeroed in on me in an instant and he shot me a toothy grin that made my skin crawl. I'd forgotten how much I hated that smile of his. "Cherri, baby, it's been too long!"
"Remember, we're here to deal," murmured Kane as he walked over and squeezed into the seat across from me. "But you're good at buttering people up."
"Hawthorne, I haven't seen you in years!" I replied with all the charm I could muster. "What's it been? Five, six since the Ducati job?"
"It's been ten, you little minx!" said the bear as he reached over and tapped a pudgy finger on my nose, knowing it would irritate me. "Ah, but time flies in our line of work, doesn't it?"
I wrinkled my nose and laughed gently, suppressing the urge to scratch my nose because I knew it would get a giggle out of him. "Yes, yes it does. I hear you're running with a new crew these days?"
"The rumor mill of the underworld travels fast, I see." Tugging a few napkins from the dispenser, he patted down his brow and flagged down a waitress. "But let's discuss that after I get one of those famous burgers in my belly. I've been looking forward to this all day!"
"Sir, the doctor said-" started one of the goons who had sat in the booth behind us, only to be interrupted by Hawthorne slamming his fist on the table.
"Oh posh on what that worry wart said!" snarled the bear. "He doesn't know what he's talking about!"
"On this, we agree. The burgers here are too good to be passed up. Believe it or not, but all of the food they make here is completely organic."
Hawthorne's eyes went wide and he looked down at the basket of half eaten fries I'd been nibbling on. "Are... are you serious?"
"Hawthorne. Have you ever known me to lie about food? Especially food that I like?"
He licked his lips slowly, clearly wondering if I was indeed lying to him, but I knew I had piqued his interest. The one thing the fat bear loved more than money was food. What better place to have a meeting about illicit weapons than in the one place he was bound to make the most mistakes?
Giving the basket a gentle nudge over to his side of the table, I just propped my chin up in the palm of my hand and smiled. "Go on. Try one. You'll love it. Then we'll get you that burger and talk business."
I didn't even have a chance to pull my hand back before he was wolfing down those fries like they'd been the first scraps of food he'd seen in weeks. Then again, he had always been like that whenever I'd seen him and food together next to each other.
I heard one of the goons grunt in disgust and I couldn't agree more, but we had to deal with the hands we were dealt; even if those hands were covered in spittle, grease, and salt.
"Mmfh oh my yes, that was delicious!" crowed Hawthorne as he sat back and patted his belly. Before I could say anything, our waitress stepped up to the table and I shot her a friendly smile.
I could tell from the way she was standing that she wasn't comfortable in those kinds of clothes, but then again, not a lot made Fang comfortable outside of bare skin and her jumper. She looked us over and glowered pointedly in my general direction before she started to take his order. I knew King was snickering to himself at the way she was dressed, but I couldn't share in his mirth. Business courtesy and all.
"Now then," said the bear as he sipped at his water. "Let's get down to why you really called me here."
"And what might that be?" I asked, choosing to play coy. "Can't I just invite you out for a nice meal at my favorite diner?"
"Cherri, darling, we both know that's a lie, so let's cut to the quick, shall we?" Steepling his pudgy fingers under his chin, he leveled a serious gaze at me. "My client wants what you're selling. He's willing to pay top dollar for it. Can you deliver?"
"That depends on what 'top dollar' means to your client."
"Ten figures," said one of the hired guns, much to the bear's obvious chagrin.
That got an eyebrow raise from me. "Is this true, Hawthorne? Your client willing to sling around ten figures for what we're selling?"
"Yes, though I had wanted to reveal it with a little more flair, Greg," he grumbled, clearly dejected by the sudden and unceremonious reveal. With a sniff, he picked up his glass and fished around for an ice cube from its depths. "My client is very particular in what you've brought to the table and wants it before you potentially give this offer to someone else."
"I won't lie, Hawthorne, I'm flattered your client thinks so highly of our merchandise that they're willing to front this much capital for exclusivity." I was talking him up, mostly. Truthfully, my suspicious meter was going off like crazy. No one comes to a deal over some military grade hardware with ten figures, especially on the first meet. No, they wanted something else and the tech was the smokescreen. But what was on offer that warranted this amount of money?
"Believe me, Cherri, I thought the same thing." Popping an ice cube into his mouth, he smiled at me apologetically. When I leveled a skeptically flat look his way, he shrugged. "Honest to goodness, when I showed my client the specs of the gear on sale, he wanted to pay half the amount he is now. But one night of smooth talking and some even smoother wine won him over."
"Then it's a good thing we've got you as a go between. It certainly sounds like the gentleman doesn't know good merchandise when he sees it." Unfortunately, I couldn't help a little heat slipping into my tone and I could almost feel Kane staring at me from across the restaurant. Leaning back in my seat, I took a moment and eased out a sigh. "I'm sure you impressed upon the buyer that is top shelf equipment, yes?"
"Of course I did, Cherri. I'm not an amateur. Frankly, I'm a little insulted that you would even insinuate that I would try and lowball my favorite friend." Licking the pad of his finger, he ran it though the crumbs and seasoning at the bottom of the basket and popped the digit into his mouth. "What I saw was of the highest grade, that is a fact, but that's not what my client is spending his money on. At least, that's what he told me anyway."
"Oh? And what else is he planning on using the money for? You know, just between us."
Leaning forward, the bear smiled and for the first time, I got a good look at his eyes. They weren't as sophisticated as mine (also a Cherri original, not for sale), but they got the job done. Heck, they were good enough to fool me into thinking they were real until I got a good look at them. "He had always intended to buy the merchandise, but the extra three digits on offer are so that he can have a face to face with your dragon."
Oh.
"That being said, that was from his mouth to my ears, and I don't even know what half of your actual stock even is. So whatever this 'dragon' is, it's gotta be something valuable to him." Settling back into his seat, the bear started to look around for our waitress, forgetting me for a moment as his mind was taken up by food.
"You have questions, I am sure." I didn't turn around, but I knew the goon Hawthorne had called out as Greg was one of the two sitting directly behind me. He had been talking in a much deeper voice than this person, to the point that I could hear the vocal mimicry going on, and it was some top notch stuff. I dare say I was almost impressed. But it reeked of playing the shtick of hired muscle too hard. Like he wanted to stand out as much as possible.
This person, on the other hand, I knew their voice all too well. I just didn't want to believe it. "Please, feel free to ask them. I am, after all, buying your merchandise. I will do my best to answer them. Though I do believe I know one question flitting through that simple little head of yours, Charles."
"Would it be too terribly rude to ask the name of our very generous customer?" The words fell out of my mouth automatically. I was in shock. He was dead. I watched him die. I went to his fucking funeral.
"I am sure Eingana could tell you. She is listening to your conversation, after all. Or rather, her host Kane is." A soft chuckle floated between us and I suddenly felt very exposed in the middle of this diner. "Have I spoken out of turn? When you have grown to an age like mine, trading pleasantries with mortals becomes such that you forget that being blunt can be mistaken for rudeness."
How could he be sitting there behind me? How could he not know who I was? What was going on? Was the diner spinning or was that me? No... No, he can't be alive. This is some sick joke. Someone's using his voice against me. Right, yeah that makes sense. A sick sort of sense, but that makes sense.
I could feel sweat beginning to dew on the nape on my neck and I was struggling not to look anywhere near Kane's table as I put a clamp on one of the emotional storms swarming inside of me for the time being. I knew she heard him, she could hear everything I heard. But if he knew she'd be listening in... had this whole thing been a set up just to get her here?
As my mind turned down that road of thought, a flood of panic rushed down after it. Words tumbled through my head in a mishmash as I tried to focus on one thing at a time, but I couldn't. I was scared. I'd been caught unawares and the worst part was that I'd walked gladly into the trap. I'd practically gift-wrapped Kane to whoever or whatever this person was.
"I have to know..." I finally managed to mumble. "Who told you?"
"Hmm, that is a good question. But I think it would actually be easier if I just showed you my face instead of trying to exain myself." I felt his hand touch my chin and he turned me around to face him. "Charles, open your eyes. It will not make the truth any easier to swallow if you do not look me in the eye."
I didn't want to. Despite being able to rationalize his voice away, I couldn't do it. I couldn't look whoever it was in the face. Because if I did and it was someone using his voice, I don't think I could hold myself back. And if it wasn't... I opened my eyes one at a time. And it was like getting shot in the gut all over again.
We were close, our noses almost touching. His eyes looked like a molten sunrise around a reptilian pupil; but even if his eyes were different, I knew the face. I recognized the scar of a knife wound across his left cheek, another scar across the ridge of his right eye; this one from a childhood accident. My fingers had traced them enough times to know where they were even when his face wasn't.
"X-X-Xiying?"
"Yes, I do believe that was the name of the previous owner of this body. But he has been, how you say, indisposed?" His finger caressed the shape of my jaw and up my cheek, a flood of remembered touches trailing after it as he cupped my cheek in the palm of his hand. "My name is Glaurung in your boorish tongue. And I would very much like to speak with my wife now."