Spike Speeder nearly coughed up the flavored kibble he had been eating in the grease pit diner he frequented, along with what seemed like hundreds of Sprawl denizens, all of whom had gathered together for a quick, absolutely no frills fix of nutrient laced sludge soaked in artificial flavoring. Fortunately, he managed to restrain his gag reflex, and narrowly avoid splattering his contact with his lunch. Unfortunately, Spike found himself staring straight into the dark, angry eyes of the hit team leader. The assassin's malice were almost tangible things as they stared back into Spike's ever widening eyes.
"Listen to me twinky," the over paid thug began, his voice heavy with rage, "I don't know why I came into the office today to find out that I had a dozen complaints logged in by the police, recommendations for me to see a head shrinker, suggestions that I be watched as a possible saboteur, and with a bad performance review for the past three years, but I've got a pretty good idea of who did it."
"Surely you don't think I would do something so foolish as to mess with your records over the Net? Shouldn't you have some, you know, proof before you do anything hasty?" Spike blurted out nervously. Although he didn't take his eyes away from the corporate thug's ever darkening eyes, he could feel the weight of the entire diner's eyes falling upon the situation Spike now found himself in.
"I don't need anymore proof than the fact that you're the only mark I've been sent after that could pull that trick off the way it was done. And let me assure you that there'll be hell to pay," the hit man growled.
"Feh," Spike said with a wicked grin, "You've already trying gunning me down, running me off the highway, and no matter how hard you try, you still can't off me, Morris. Or should I call just call you by your street handle?"
"You're one weird freak, you know that Spike?" Morris said, somewhat bewildered, although Spike couldn't tell exactly what it was that he said to confuse Morris for a split second, "But you know what? The rules have changed. Me and my team are going to murder you within the next twenty four hours with everything we've got. Now I can't take you out in front of all these people, but soon enough, you'll be dead."
"I remain unimpressed," Spike said cooly, for staying cool was the cardinal rule for being considered a professional, although his expression betrayed his sudden fear, "Like I said, every last attempt you and your goons made on my life has failed. You're like an old cartoon, no matter how good you think your whacky scheme is, they just don't work. Try as you might, I'm just too fast and smart for you."
"Laugh it up while you can Speeder," Morris growled as he lowered Spike back to the ground as harshly as he could without actually hurting the man, "but now, you're as good as dead. Hope ya have a fat policy on your life, 'cause your next of kin is gonna have Christmas come early."
And with that, Morris stomped out of the diner, laughing a cruel, sickening laugh. Spike growled as he started catching his breath, watching Morris's back with a baleful stare. Slowly, the diner returned to normal, save for Spike, who continued to watch the diner's door as though Morris might reappear at any time.
"Well Morris," he whispered to himself, "You've thrown down the gauntlet, but no corporate hit team on the planet can geek the hottest edge runner in the entire Sprawl."
"Listen to me twinky," the over paid thug began, his voice heavy with rage, "I don't know why I came into the office today to find out that I had a dozen complaints logged in by the police, recommendations for me to see a head shrinker, suggestions that I be watched as a possible saboteur, and with a bad performance review for the past three years, but I've got a pretty good idea of who did it."
"Surely you don't think I would do something so foolish as to mess with your records over the Net? Shouldn't you have some, you know, proof before you do anything hasty?" Spike blurted out nervously. Although he didn't take his eyes away from the corporate thug's ever darkening eyes, he could feel the weight of the entire diner's eyes falling upon the situation Spike now found himself in.
"I don't need anymore proof than the fact that you're the only mark I've been sent after that could pull that trick off the way it was done. And let me assure you that there'll be hell to pay," the hit man growled.
"Feh," Spike said with a wicked grin, "You've already trying gunning me down, running me off the highway, and no matter how hard you try, you still can't off me, Morris. Or should I call just call you by your street handle?"
"You're one weird freak, you know that Spike?" Morris said, somewhat bewildered, although Spike couldn't tell exactly what it was that he said to confuse Morris for a split second, "But you know what? The rules have changed. Me and my team are going to murder you within the next twenty four hours with everything we've got. Now I can't take you out in front of all these people, but soon enough, you'll be dead."
"I remain unimpressed," Spike said cooly, for staying cool was the cardinal rule for being considered a professional, although his expression betrayed his sudden fear, "Like I said, every last attempt you and your goons made on my life has failed. You're like an old cartoon, no matter how good you think your whacky scheme is, they just don't work. Try as you might, I'm just too fast and smart for you."
"Laugh it up while you can Speeder," Morris growled as he lowered Spike back to the ground as harshly as he could without actually hurting the man, "but now, you're as good as dead. Hope ya have a fat policy on your life, 'cause your next of kin is gonna have Christmas come early."
And with that, Morris stomped out of the diner, laughing a cruel, sickening laugh. Spike growled as he started catching his breath, watching Morris's back with a baleful stare. Slowly, the diner returned to normal, save for Spike, who continued to watch the diner's door as though Morris might reappear at any time.
"Well Morris," he whispered to himself, "You've thrown down the gauntlet, but no corporate hit team on the planet can geek the hottest edge runner in the entire Sprawl."