Chapter 1
The city of Miami itself easily had 40 years of dilapidation, skyscrapers were in ruin or broken in half by some massive force, some had just collapsed. I would suspect earth quake, but who knows. Sometimes I was sickened how things had gone to 'rack and ruin'. As I walked into the city, there were not a lot of car or vehicles nowadays, most people got around by horseback. For me it was almost like going back to the American Civil War era, okay there was virtually no pollution; almost no people too. Cities were lucky to hold 10 of their previous populations. Off I went into the city proper.
People were everywhere and none were dressed in a particular fashion, most clothes were in need of a few stitches here or there, were certainly well worn, and in dire need of a wash like the owners. It reminded me of the good ol' wild west, and was expecting to see cowboys sometime soon, although judging by the people they were all armed in one way or another. I saw a nearby bar; where else is someone going to find something to eat and some gossip? This was one of the buildings that had good upkeep and kept relatively smart, and I was getting some very strange looks but standing in camouflage in a town has a tendency to do that. It was a bit like walking onto a street full of down and outs in Gucci loafers, and Armani trousers and shirt. I stuck out like a proverbial sore thumb, but many travellers tended to dress in similar manner.
"Excuse me, do you serve food here?" I asked the local barman. He was wearing a white cotton shirt, and some black trousers and was of average height, slightly rotund, and had heavy set of whiskers on him, at least he didn't smell like the other folk in here. The venue was about twenty feet wide and long, the bar itself was wood and about ten feet long with about a dozen tables and two or three chairs per table.
"Yeh, whatya want"
"What would the house special be?" At this point I noticed that several things, one I was downwind of two really smelly men who were walking my way; two they also smelt of whisky, although not heavily; three their intention was to create a situation and most likely a brawl, four they were both very heavy footed; oh and five the guy to my right favoured his left leg. Why am I a constant shit magnet? I turned around to examine the would be predators. They were both around two hundred pounds and a lot of it muscle, probably brothers as they looked very similar and around 6 foot tall. They both had blue uniforms on, with 9mm pistols on their right hip, and a large knife on their left, "Can I help you gents?" I asked as neutrally as possible.
"Yeh we wanna know who you work for?" I've developed what some would call a 'thousand yard stare', others would call it 'dead eyes' on account of having seen too much death.
I enhanced my stare by using Quickening, usually reserved for the bad guys & tends to sends them running home and screaming for their mommy's. Remember I said that the one that was formerly on my right, now on my left with the bad foot. He backed up a whole step and started to reach for his firearm; his 'brother' paled considerably as I stared them both directly in the eyes.
"Why don't you go bother someone else?" I said in a very low voice so as not to attract attention from the other six or seven other clientele and turned back around to the barman, "anyway, the 'house special', what do I get?"
"We're talking to you" bad leg said, while I gestured at the barman to answer my question.
"You get a steak, fresh peas, potatoes and gravy" said the barman gesturing at the twins malevolent.
"That'd be great thanks", as I slowly turned around to the brothers "I work for me, no one else"
"You speak funny. Where are you from?" What a question to ask an Immortal whose walked the world.
"I get around"
"Don't get funny with me cos I'll shoot you dead" said bad leg.
"Which city" stammered his brother
"I used to live in St Louis" which was actually true, about eighty years ago.
"If that's the case then you should know Big Marv then, he runs things down there?" Not only did I know him, past tense, I'd cut his throat open one month ago. Bad intel is dangerous thing. "Yeh I know him". Several things could happen, one; they ask me to describe him; two leave it alone; or three they knew something. I was hoping for option one, but considering my luck of late and the first question they asked I knew it would be three. Fingers crossed eh?
"We heard you killed him and we gonna…". At this point I made sure both hands were on the bar, and pushed off very fast still leaning forward and did a back kick in bad leg's chin. Both of his feet left the ground, and his hand dropped from his gun and he hit the deck unconscious. I turned on the other 'brother' before he even hit the floor and kicked the quadriceps, on the right leg. He fell to the floor and turned a very unnatural shade of green before passing out. The kick is actually designed to shear the muscle off bone and render your attacker helpless.
"Food's on the house" said the barman, "been waiting to see someone do that to them in years"
"Thanks"
"What canni get you to drink? Food be about twenty minutes for your steak or sooner depending on how you want it cooking" said the barman.
"Chefs preference" I shouted back as the barman made his way into the kitchen. I could hear voices in the kitchen, faint but nothing sinister, the barman was retelling the events. I saw a small attractive woman stick her head out the door, and look at the 'brothers'. I was hoping that after a good meal and a bath I could organise boat transport to the UK. I was supposed to meet my contact at the port, and only knew that it was a woman. Southern Command had asked that I deliver a letter to Midlands Command as the radio was not secure enough.