URBAN DECAY

PART I: Close Your Eyes (Only)

It was an unusually warm night in Seattle with a clear sky and a bright full moon. Probably not the best night for a clandestine meeting, thought Logan Cale, alias crusading cyber-journalist, Eyes Only. But it couldn't wait.

He stood on the street corner trying to look inconspicuous as he waited for his contact. Hearing a Police Hover Drone approaching, Logan quickly ducked into a nearby alley. After the drones turbines faded away he heard the sound of soft footfalls coming his way. Peering out he saw a girl wearing worn denim jeans and jacket, a faded pink t-shirt and worn out sneakers. Her mousy brown hair was tied back in a loose pony tail. She was clutching a nylon backpack tightly to her chest and looking around nervously. When she was close enough, Logan stepped out and asked gently, "Karen?"

The girl – Karen – jumped and spun around, swallowing a scream.

Seeing she looked ready to bolt, he said reassuringly, "It's okay, I'm Logan. I was a friend of Dorian's."

Karen let out a shaky breath and relaxed – but only a little. She handed over the knapsack saying, "This is all I could find. Is it enough to nail that bastard?"

Logan rifled through the contents. "Oh yes. This is more than enough. You did a good thing, Karen."

Karen wrapped her arms around herself as if to war off a chill. She said in a small voice, "As long as that son of a bitch gets what's coming to him. After what he did to her…"

Logan put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and said gently, "He won't get away with it, Karen. I promise."

Dorian had been a good friend and reliable informant. Despite what she did for a living she genuinely believed things could get better. When she'd been killed and her body turned up on the toxic shores, Logan had no hesitation about finding out who'd done it. Logan suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck and face rise.

"You sure you weren't followed?"

"Yes."

But the feeling of unease wouldn't go away. Taking Karen by her elbow he guided her down the alleyway. As they walked he could hear a second set of footsteps behind him. Quickening his pace, the other footfalls quickened as well. Just as they reached the end of the end of the alley, Logan and Karen were jumped by a second pair of thugs. Karen screamed as two of the thugs grabbed her and began to drag her away. A third thug pinned Logan's arms behind his back leaving him to be worked over by the last thug.

Logan kicked the thug in front of him in the sternum. Because of the exo-skeleton that enabled him to walk, the kick was harder than the hired muscle was expecting, causing him to fly backwards and collide with one of his colleagues holding Karen. The two of them crashed to the ground and Karen continued to grapple with her remaining attacker. The force of the kick pushed Logan and his captor backwards against a nearby building. Winded the thug loosened his grip enough for Logan to shake free. Spinning around Logan kicked the thug in the chest, knocking him out cold.

Meanwhile, Karen was still struggling with her attacker. He'd managed to slip his arm around her throat and proceeded to drag her back down the alley. In desperation, Karen sank her teeth into the soft exposed flesh of his arm. Her captor howled in pain and released her. Karen made a mad dash back out into the open. However the remaining thug quickly recouperated and managed to snatch her jacket sleeve causing her to shriek with terror.

After finishing off his opponent, Logan grabbed Karen and jerked her out of her captors' grip, then decked him with a hard left. Taking her by the hand he yelled, "RUN!"

They eluded their pursuers through the warren that had once been the streets of Seattle, before taking cover behind a trash bin.

"Oh God," Karen whimpered. "Oh God, oh God, oh God."

"Karen," Logan said soothingly, then grabbed her shoulders and said more forcefully, "Karen, listen! If you don't hear from me or Eyes Only in twenty-four hours, I want you to contact a Max Gueverra at Jam Pony Messenger. Do you got that?"

Karen nodded numbly and mumbled, "Yes."

"Good," Logan peered over the dumpster, pulling out his automatic pistol. "When I say run, run. Got it?"

Karen nodded.

Logan heard their pursuers approaching footsteps. He jumped out yelling "RUN," and fired three shots in their general direction. He heard a grunt and a thud as one lucky bullet hit one of their attackers. When he was sure Karen was safely out of harms way (for now) he made his own escape.

During their flight, Logan had kept careful track of where they'd been going, making sure he went around in one big circle ending up back at his car. Turning one last corner he saw it, the grimy grey SUV stood waiting patiently for him. Logan smiled. Just a few more steps and Dorian's death wouldn't be for nothing.

Ivan Stepanovich stood on the rooftop enjoying the clear warm night. It was so clear he didn't even need the infra-red scope on his sniper rifle. Ivan Stepanovich was in a contemplative mood. His target was late so his mind began drifting to other things. Maybe once this job was finished he'd move back to Russia. President Kolpachnikov had been surprisingly successful at rebuilding the Russian War Machine and Ivan Stepanovich wondered if it would be possible for him to get himself reinstated. It would be nice to kill for a cause again instead of just money (not that there was anything wrong with killing for money). Besides this wet temperate climate played havoc with his senses.

Ivan Stepanovich was snapped out of his contemplating by the sound of gunshots. The Russian assassin peered through his scope and found his target. Spiky blonde hair, scruffy beard, pebble glasses – the epitome of the intellectual rebel. Ivan Stepanovich thought he looked a little like Trotsky.

Before Ivan Stepanovich could squeeze off a shot, his target ducked into a nearby vehicle. Cursing in his native tongue, he quickly added a missile to the tip of his rifle. Fortunately, the target's engine was having trouble turning over, so he still had a stationary target. Taking careful aim, Ivan Stepanovich fired and watched with professional satisfaction as the grey SUV erupted into a ball of flames.

To Be Continued…