Chapter 14: Still A Piece Of Shit

Rock only heard one series of knocks on the door, but he suspected there had been many more before he woke up. He groaned and tried to shake off the hangover, reluctantly peeling the blanket off of his body and throwing on his clothes. The knocking came again, faster this time.

"I'm coming!" he called, agitated. "Just hold on." He hopped out through the bedroom door on one foot, slipping his shoe onto the other as he did so. When he was composed, he opened the door of his apartment and saw Mister Chang standing there. He was alone.

"Jesus," the Triad's leader said with some surprise. "You look like shit."

"Hello to you, too."

"I hope whoever gave you those bruises skipped town and changed their name." Rock didn't even bother forcing a laugh at that.

"What can I do for you, Mister Chang?" he asked, his lack of patience as clear as day. The hangover wasn't helping his mood, either.

"Straight to the point, then. Mind if I come in? I'd like to talk to you about something, pick your brain." Rock was internally rolling his eyes, but he knew that if he turned the Triad's leader away, he would only end up pissing him off. Knowing Chang, the enigmatic crime lord would probably get his way in the end regardless.

Rock ushered him in and they headed to the bedroom, Rock taking a seat by the window and Chang remaining on his feet near the doorway. He glanced around at the mess and his nose tightened up. There were several empty pizza boxes stacked under the bed, accompanied by soda and beer cans that were also empty. Some of Rock's clothes were scattered around on the floor, too, and there was a Hawaiian shirt peeking out from the wardrobe. Chang removed a box of cigarettes from inside his jacket and opened it.

"You mind?" he asked. Rock shook his head. He suspected the Chinese man had little want to smoke and more of a desire to cover up the smell. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here." Rock rested his head on one hand and looked out the window as he spoke.

"No," he answered simply. "As a matter of fact, I know exactly what brought you to me."

"You do, huh?"

"Yeah, I do. You find yourself in a difficult situation and you want me to get you out of it, because if I don't you stand to lose a whole lot more than you ever have in the past."

Chang was quiet after he heard that, thinking about how to proceed. His relationship with Rock had not always been amicable. Memories of when the Grey Fox team had come to Roanapur, in particular, came back to Rock at this moment. It had been a battle of wits and strategy, where they both tried to one-up each other. While they had never clashed since then in any way, Rock did often wonder if the time would come again when they would be at odds with one another. How delectable that Chang now came to him seeking his help.

"I suppose it's no secret we have a Task Force in our midst," Chang replied. "They made quite the entrance at the Yellowflag a few nights back and my people tell me they've been spotted outside my office."

"And you want my help," Rock deducted, forcing Chang to cut to the chase. "Is that it?"

"Cut the bullshit, Rock," Chang advised him. "We both know what this means. They were sent by Interpol, no doubt about it. And what's worse is that they've enlisted the help of Chief Watsup at the station. I don't have to tell you how difficult that makes my position."

"I'm not denying that," Rock told him. "But you had to know something like this was coming sooner or later."

Chang took a drag of his cigarette and kept his eyes on the Japanese man, who couldn't have seemed less interested in the conversation if he tried. It was obvious he wasn't quite sure how to play this, but Chang was a man who excelled at keeping his cool even when his emotions were coming to the boil underneath that calm exterior. Rock, however, also knew that he was one of a handful of people, if even, that could see through that, changing the playing field. The Triad's leader did not hold as much power as he liked to think. Chang pointed to his cheek with two fingers.

"You never did say what happened to your face," he said. That did catch Rock off guard, but only for a moment.

"It's nothing," he answered, turning more towards the window in an attempt to keep the bruises out of sight. "Just some thugs outside the Yellowflag. Not exactly noteworthy for this city."

"Then, this benefits us both," Chang proposed. "You stand to gain from this too, you know."

"You still haven't said what it is you want." Chang opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He popped the cigarette between his lips instead and took a drag.

"Like I said before, Rock," Chang began, taking the cigarette back in his hand and blowing smoke into the centre of the room, "cut the bullshit. You know about the 216, as does everyone else by now, I'm sure. Word travels fast in Roanapur, right? And if their being here isn't bad enough, they've been officially sanctioned by Interpol, as I said. Now, that is a big old mess we don't need to get ourselves into and I shouldn't have to explain why."

"I understand," Rock answered simply. "Looks like the precarious balance that has stood the test of time is starting to slip. If you thought you had it bad with Lucille, you're in for a rude awakening."

"Which is why I'm here," Chang said through gritted teeth. He knew Rock was dancing around his words, waiting for Chang to come out and ask for help as if that gave him some fetishistic satisfaction. "How about it, Rock? You're usually full of ideas." Rock almost laughed.

"This isn't my fight, Chang," he told the Triad's leader. "The Task Force will have no interest in me."

"But they will turn their attention on the rest of us. Sooner or later, the whole city will be crawling with more of Interpol's agents. By then, you're looking at martial law. You thought work was scarce after the Dead Men came to town? You ain't seen nothing yet, kid."

Chang was right, but Rock wasn't much interested in what happened to the city and its rulers. The Triad's leader knew that he was no longer the scheming Japanese man they had come to know, but this was a new low for him.

"Say I do help you," Rock began, reigniting hope within Chang that they may find a way out of this. Though he would never show it, the panic had started to set in. "What's in it for me?"

"I'd be in your debt, for one," Chang began. "As would Balalaika. I don't have to tell you what a favour with the ruling factions is worth around here, and you'd earn several of them for getting us out of this mess." Chang paused in between drags of his cigarette to emphasise what he was about to say, what he had an inkling would matter more to Rock than getting in the good books of the city's leaders. "And you wouldn't have to deal with any more thugs outside the Yellowflag, I'm sure. There used to be a time when that was already the case. But I guess word is getting around that you don't play the game anymore."

"Don't belittle me to get your way," Rock retorted. "It's beneath you."

"I'm not," Chang snapped back, becoming annoyed. "Lord knows there's not a soul in Roanapur that would have risked pissing you off after the shit you pulled with Major Landis. And don't get me started on tricking Hunter. I don't know what happened to your reputation, but you're not untouchable anymore, Rock. And I'm willing to bet that thinking you were is what got you those bruises in the first place. You pushed the wrong guy's buttons thinking he'd be terrified of you, because that's what you're used to. And then he beat the shit out of you."

Rock's silence said more than any retort ever could. Chang knew he had found a sore spot for Rock, which was not common these days. The Japanese man had managed to armour himself in apathy and coldness, making him emotionally and spiritually untouchable, if not physically. But Chang's words had managed to find the chink in that armour.

"The leader is called Jones," Rock said suddenly, surprising Chang. "He's an American man with a southern drawl, I'm guessing Louisiana. And I know exactly how to break him." The cigarette almost fell out of Chang's mouth when he heard that. He had been expecting a continued back and forth between him and Rock, an extended conversation that would devolve into an argument until they ended up right back at square one, Rock content to watch the city burn from the sidelines. But he obviously knew a lot more than he had initially been forthcoming with.

"You've seen him?" Chang asked, hungry for more information.

"I've met him," Rock clarified. "Only yesterday."

Yeah, I met him, alright. I was minding my own business, over on Aspara Street. I was sitting outside that street food place, I can't remember the name…but they've got outdoor seating. I guess Jones thought he blended in but I spotted him before he saw me. He was with one of his friends, I think her name was Clarissa. She's got red hair and three scars across her face. Anyway, they started to watch me, almost like they recognised me from somewhere. I hadn't seen them before, but I'd heard enough. I knew they had to be a part of the Task Force that I'd been hearing about. I just sat there and waited. I knew that they would come to me, sooner or later. And they did. Right when I pretended to get ready to leave, they both took their seats over to my table and asked me to stay. I wasn't really leaving, that was just a ploy to scare them into revealing themselves before I got away.

"Why don't you sit on down?" Jones asked me. It was more of a demand, wrapped up in southern charm and macho delivery. "Talk for a little bit."

"I don't believe we've met," I said to him. The woman, Clarissa, didn't say anything. Instead, she just watched as Jones and I had our conversation. I assume she was supposed to be intimidating.

"No, don't believe we have," he answered. "But I know your face. Yeah, I've seen you around, alright. Name's Jones. Ain't you with that Lagoon Company?"

"Your information is correct," I told him, taking a drink of my green tea. "Wherever you get it."

"Sharp one, too," he said, turning to Clarissa as if to gloat. It was all a show, an act to lull me into a false sense of security but also keep me on edge. Not many interrogators have ever mastered that balance. Most make the prisoner too comfortable so they're not scared of you anymore, or scare them so much that they panic and start to forget what they were supposed to tell you. But Jones knew how to maintain that middleground. If I hadn't seen right through him, it might have worked.

"Nice little crew you got, there. Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't really strike me as the criminal type."

"That's funny," I said. "I could have said the same thing about you." That got his interest, but he also seemed a bit less relaxed after I said that.

"How do you figure that?"

"It's simple. You carry those guns openly like everyone else, but you can never shake off that officiality. It's a dead giveaway, and it follows you around like a bad smell. That's why you stick out in this city more than me. You blend in better than most others who have come here before you, though, so you deserve credit for that."

"Yup. I was told you were the poindexter of the group, alright. Got us all figured out, dontcha?"

"Not necessarily," I answered him. I took another sip of my tea and let him wait for me to elaborate. He could keep his cool, but I could tell he was starting to sweat. He had come over to interrogate me, but he didn't expect me to turn it around on him. "You're the 216, is that right? I heard you made a mess of the Yellowflag when you arrived."

"Me and Clarissa, here, had to lay down the law for those wayfaring little turds," Jones explained. "People lose their temper when they've been drinking, but not like in this city. Gonna be hard to keep a lid on things, I can tell."

"Why bother?" I asked. "It's not like you can do anything about this place, anyway."

"So you believe," he said, smiling. "We've got a job to do, boy, and we're gonna do it well. Roanapur will fall in line or be brought to its knees."

We kept our voices low just in case anyone heard us, but I don't think Jones really cared if he was found out. He was confident that his Task Force were going to finish out their assignment here no matter what. I could tell there was more to it, though.

"You must have it out for someone here," I suggested, but I didn't really believe that. There was something more to him that I didn't realise just yet. I needed more information to go on, one slip up and I would have him in the palm of my hand. I just needed to keep him talking.

"Says who?" he asked. "Ain't nothing personal about it. Big Brother called in the clean-up crew, and we are sure as hell gonna clean up, you understand?" I clasped my hands together, elbows on the table, and rested my head on them as we spoke. I was almost there.

"Professional, then," I went on. "You don't seem like a warrior of justice or freedom fighter. In fact, you strike me as more of a loose cannon vigilante. A roughneck. But you must believe in the system if you're here. That's an unusual combination, even you must see that." I must have plucked a nerve when I said that, because he became serious and that smile disappeared. Even Clarissa seemed to notice it.

"That's bullshit," he said. "I ain't gotta believe in nothing, you hear? We have our reasons for being here. The hell's got you so damn interested, anyway?" I was starting to understand, now. I could see what was going on in his head, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. He was no simple agent of law and order.

"Did you lose someone?" I asked. I'd spotted the dog tags around his neck while he was speaking.

"Huh?"

"During your military service," I explained. "I take it you lost people." Jones just folded his arms and closed his eyes. Even that wouldn't keep me out. Clarissa finally took her eyes off of me for longer than three seconds. I don't know what she was trying to accomplish, but it wasn't working anyway.

"That's none of your damn business," Jones told me. There was silence again and I continued to drink my tea. I held the power in this conversation, so I decided to let them say the next word. I already had them rattled. "What was it you said your job was?"

"I didn't. And that's none of your business. But I assume you have your own eyes and ears in the city, so you'll probably find out one way or another."

"Damn nosey little shit, I'll give you that," Jones said grumpily.

I finished my tea and stood to leave.

"It's been an enlightening conversation. I finally see it, now, what it is that drives you. You aren't motivated by justice or order, like you would have everyone believe. You're quite the opposite, in fact. Like I said before, you blend in better than most. Maybe 'fit in' is more accurate. You don't care about the system, in an ideal world you would walk among us and call Roanapur your home. And that is why you must destroy it. It reminds you of a life you could have, one that some part of you deep down wishes you did have. And that's the greatest injustice of them all." As Jones balled his hands into fists and prepared to break every bone in my body, I took out my wallet and dropped two dollar bills on the table. Then, I turned around and started to walk away. "Get yourselves some drinks on me. They'll probably be the last ones you have before you get your Task Force killed fighting this losing battle." I must have only just escaped having my head caved in by about five seconds.

"Well, it's a lovely story, Rock," Chang said sarcastically. "But I'm not sure how it helps us, exactly."

"They aren't what you thought they were, Chang," Rock told him. "They belong in this city with the rest of the walking dead. You came here asking for my help. Well, against my better judgement, I've given it to you. Appeal to Jones's sense of resentment towards the authority and lawfulness he serves. Make him see that he could abandon it all and live as an outlaw, having won his freedom. If you put the fear of loss in him-no, the certainty of destruction should he refuse you-he will crumble." Chang actually seemed impressed. Rock had thoroughly evaluated Jones and his people from a single conversation and given Chang the tools to completely destroy any threat to Roanapur's existence. It was borderline genius.

"An excellent idea, Rock," the Triad's leader commended him. "You're sure it will work?"

"Absolutely," Rock answered without a shred of doubt.

"It's nice to see a bit of optimism from you. But there is one glaring issue you haven't addressed. Say we manage to convince Jones of this, and I say 'we' because you most certainly have a part to play, even if you would rather sit this one out. Even if your plan works, Interpol will be wondering why their lovely little Task Force 216 have suddenly gone AWOL. After that, more will be sent to Roanapur to find out what happened and we'll be back to square one." Rock was silent, his head in his hand as he stared out the window like he had been this entire time. He seemed like he was deep in thought, but he knew exactly what to say next.

"Yeah. I kind of had an idea about that, too."

For the next ten minutes or so, he and Chang discussed a plan in detail, one that would completely remove the 216 as a threat and return Roanapur to how it had been before their arrival. The details of said plan would not be relevant just yet, not until much later when the fate of Jones and his Task Force would be decided by Rock himself. When the ins and outs had been decided, Chang opened the door of Rock's room and prepared to leave.

"As I said," he began, lingering in the open doorway as he spoke, "I'm willing to pay any figure you ask, so long as you accompany the rest of Lagoon Company when they pull this off. With any luck, we'll be out of this in no time. You see what you get done when you put that mind of yours to the test?" Rock did not answer, much to Chang's disappointment. "Alright, well…I'll keep you posted. You ought to pay Dutch a visit, Rock. It's not good for you to be cooped up in here all the time, away from the others." Again, no response, but Chang was already in the process of leaving. When he got outside, he immediately reached for his phone and began dialling. He lifted the phone to his ear. The ringing stopped, indicating the call had been answered, but there was no voice on the other side. "I'd like to arrange an emergency meeting. I have some information that might just be of interest to you and your employers."