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35. Naifu – Fly in a Web

Sometimes you wake up from a dream. Sometimes you wake up in a dream. And sometimes you wake up in a nightmare.

Naifu opened her eyes with effort. They felt swollen and gritty. So did her mouth. Her left cheek was on fire and ... yes, breathing provoked the grinding pain of cracked ribs. She didn't move for a minute, feigning unconsciousness a while longer so she could feel out injuries and try to establish where she was, how long had passed, and what the hell was going on.

She half expected to see the metal walls of a packing crate and hear the wash of ocean waves. This whole waking-up-after-a-severe-beating thing was getting to be a bad habit, like eating cheesy pizza before bed or leaving the toilet seat up.

Her arms were tied above her head. She was vertical. She had to lift her chin off her chest to breathe properly. Dried blood caked the insides of her nostrils. Each piece of the puzzle came together to make a disjointed whole. She vaguely remembered someone getting a hit in with his elbow which had broken some of her ribs. She also remembered cleaving off three of the guy's fingers with one of her knives. He had screamed like a stuck pig – right before one of the others who had attacked them she and Eber kicked her in the kidneys. She would be peeing blood after a strike like that –

Wait-a-cotton-picking-second – Eber! The guys who had attacked them had smashed his face against a wall. She remembered turning to see it happen. Was he okay?

Naifu let her eyes adjust to the poor light and looked around. Eber's blond head and lank body were noticeably absent. So were any windows. This place was big, like some sort of warehouse or storage facility, all white surfaces and sharp angles with halogen strip-lights. The walls were damp and it was cold, with that funny smell you got when a building had been in disuse for a while after a lifetime of bustle. When she finally twitched her arms and legs, unwilling to draw attention to herself, her wrists and ankles stayed locked together. The rattle of chains told her she was in deep doo-doo – as if she hadn't already worked that out.

"So you're awake."

A figure detached itself from the gloom. Tall and rangy, he moved with the kind of grace she had seen in people who grew up on the streets, where looking over your shoulder was a requirement if you wanted to make your fifth birthday. He drew closer. She could see his hair was brown, but not dirty or mousy. His eyes were an even darker shade; they appeared almost black in this light and glittered at her.

"For a while there I thought I'd hit you too hard. You sleep like the dead. Probably got a concussion."

"You sound really concerned," she shot back, twitching her arms. They were numb. She needed them in working order if she was going to construct a doable escape plan. Where were her weapons? She wondered how long she'd been hanging like this and where Eber was. Had their attackers left him behind when they took her? Why, and for what purpose? She forced herself to calm down before her thoughts could spiral into panic like some civilian who didn't know any better.

"What is this, a really weird way to pick up dates? Or were you missing a shop mannequin and recruited me to fill in? I'll tell you right now, I look crappy in a skirt. My legs are too short and I can't wear heels to make them look longer. I fall on my ass. A lot."

He laughed. "You've got a sense of humour! I like that."

"I'm so glad you approve."

"It stands to reason. There's no way he'd leave for anyone who couldn't keep up with him."

"What? He? Which he?"

"Rodriguez." The man's eyes glittered even more intensely.

"Rodriguez? You mean Rod?" Her brain clicked like a keyboard under the fingers of an inept typist spelling out: Oh crap. "Are you the famous Alejandro himself, or just another one of his goons?"

"He mentioned me!" That laugh again. It was actually a nice laugh, warm and rich like a mug of really expensive hot chocolate. The juxtaposition with his expression was startling, and not in a good way. His face turned what should have been a pleasant sound into something creepy. Alejandro kept his eyes wide open when he laughed. On most people the skin at the corners crinkled up, but he stared like he was trying to pop his eyeballs right out of his head.

Naifu tried to struggle without appearing to. "He mentioned that you put a contract on his head."

"We have unfinished business." Alejandro twinkled his fingers. "You, for instance."

She knew she should concentrate on freeing herself and getting out of here, possibly with some butt-kicking on the side, but his words brought her up short. "Me?"

"I wondered for ages why he'd ever leave the gang. The Rage Riders were his life. He built us outta nothing, took each of us in and made us worth something. He poured his heart and soul into making us the best. He was devoted to us." Alejandro's voice climbed a few notches and his fists clenched. He shook out his fingers like he had cramp. "So I knew he wouldn't have left just because he got bored. It had to be something else. Then I saw the two of you out together, like two peas in a well-paid pod in your snazzy suits. As soon as I saw you together, it all clicked in my head. The way you acted around him; how you talked back and he didn't put you in your place; how he protected you when you were in danger. He never would have tolerated that from someone he wasn't fucking."

Naifu flinched, which was ridiculous. Words were just words. If she could endure her injuries without reacting, she should be able to take Alejandro's accusation. Unfortunately, the jigsaw pieces just kept slotting together in her head, and they were making an increasingly unpleasant image.

Crap on toast.

"Do you have any idea what him leaving did to us?" Alejandro went on. "Of course not. You didn't care. You got what you wanted, and screw everyone else, right? Only now you gotta pay the piper, bitch, and I can carry a merry tune." He twinkled his fingers again, this time in imitation of playing a flute. He pursed his lips and pretended to blow into a mouthpiece. He had a sensual mouth, with well-proportioned features above to strengthen his charm without making the lines of his face seem harsh. He was what a lot of people would have called a 'pretty boy'.

He was also very disturbed. It was clear in his voice and body language: Alejandro and sanity were not on close terms. The trick now was to figure out whether they were merely casual acquaintances or totally estranged. One would be bad, but trussed up like this, unable to fight back or run away, Naifu knew the second would be worse.

Old fear woke inside her. She felt like she was in one of her nightmares. She smelled hessian and tasted her own tears, even though she wasn't crying. She shook off the memory and focussed on the present. If she broke down now it was all over.

"Look, I hate to burst your bubble – except, actually, I don't – but Rod and I are so not what you think."

"Ah-ah-ah." Alejandro wagged his index finger. "Can't fool me, babycakes."

"I'm not trying to."

"I saw you. You were hanging off him like skin off a leper."

"A truly revolting mental image, but it doesn't change anything. You've got the wrong idea. We're colleagues, not lovers. We work together and got assigned to each other. He didn't pick me and I didn't pick him, we just ended up working the same beat. What I can tell you is that you'd better let me down from here, or things will go badly for you when the rest of my colleagues get here."

The Turks would come. She remembered now: right before she passed out she had seen Alejandro pin a note to Eber's chest. Asking Shinra for a ransom seemed pretty ludicrous, but his glassy stare made ludicrous a possibility. You couldn't predict what a diseased mind would consider reasonable behaviour. She had given up trying a long time ago, when her work as a Turk brought her into contact with the biggest, raggiest, baggiest ragbag of nutzoids outside a nuthouse. She hated trying to predict crazy people. Mostly reacting to them was the best you could do, which was difficult when you couldn't move your arms or legs and your own chin was trying to compress your chest so you couldn't breathe.

Rod had never mentioned his second in command being crazy. To hear Rod tell it, Alejandro was a good guy, competent and together, but not Turk material. She couldn't see that description in the man staring at her. To her, Alejandro looked ominous as a dust cloud on the horizon when you know there is a herd of wild horses in the area and you're on foot. A shiver went down her spine.

Keep it together, she ordered herself. You've faced worse than this. You've survived nastier situations. Another shiver raced down her spine. Yeah, and remember what happened then.

Her feet had some kind of weights attached, stretching and immobilising her since she was too short to reach the floor. Her shoulders ached and inhaling a proper lungful of air meant tensing her arms to drag the trunk of her body into a better position. She couldn't keep that kind of tension going for long, plus it made her broken ribs scream. Maybe the plan was to let her slowly suffocate.

Well, nuts to that. She was already frantically thinking of ways out of this mess. Nothing had struck her with blinding, this-must-be-done-now inspiration, but she had a few ideas. If only Alejandro would come close enough for her to head-butt him. Or if she could fold her midriff enough to get up some momentum on the foot-weights maybe she could swing them into his gut –

Alejandro tilted his head to one side. "Nope, I still don't get it."

"Huh?"

"What does he see in you that could make him betray us? You're built like a little boy. No chest. No hips. You even got your hair cut all short." His eyes narrowed. He was blinking a lot, as if he constantly had dust in his eyes. "Maybe that was the attraction. Chick in a suit and men's shoes. That'd make more sense." All at once his expression became savage. He glared at Naifu with such disgust that he looked like a completely different person. "He could've come to me if that's what he wanted. He didn't have to leave." Then his face cleared and he swept his wavy brown hair back with one hand, heaving a deep sigh. He looked like a model on a shampoo commercial. "But that's easily fixed with some explanations. I must not have made myself clear enough to him. Never mind. As soon as you're outta the way, he'll start to see things my way. He'll look my way without you blocking the view."

His sleeve fell back, allowing Naifu to see the track marks on his arm. A lot more things made sense – even fewer good ones than before.

Lucid, she thought, real panic prickling her belly. She couldn't keep the feeling at bay this time. Sour fear sprang to life at the back of her throat. Crazy was bad enough, but being at the mercy of someone who was crazy, using drugs and currently high was like finding a big list called Very Bad Things and checking every single box.

She tried to swallow again, but the sides of her throat stuck together. "Alejandro," she said, opting for a reasonable tone instead of the insults she wanted to hurl. "Look, this is stupid. I already told you that Rod and I aren't an item. We're just colleagues." She decided not to reveal they were also friends. "He became a Turk for his own reasons and I became a Turk for my own reasons. Neither of us joined because of the other." Let me down, you son of a bitch. "If you let me loose, we can go find him, you two can talk and sort out your differences, and –"

"Talk? Talk?" Alejandro laughed. "He had his chance to talk. He walked instead. Walked to you Turk freaks and left us behind. Do you understand how difficult it is to stay independent in Midgar? The Rage Riders were a small outfit. We couldn't hold up without him. He knew that, but he still left. He left me in charge. Like I was supposed to be grateful or something! He left me responsible for everything and everyone! I took up the slack, but I could only do so much to protect our boys. I could only put myself in the line of fire so much." He laughed again, but all humour was gone. "Lucky for us there are so many sick fucks in the world." His eyes glittered with more than Naifu had first thought, but the bitterness behind their chemical intensity was genuine. Alejandro's feelings about Rod were complicated and wrapped up with whatever had happened to him and the Rage Riders after Rod left. Despite the fact he hadn't been there, Alejandro blamed Rod.

Naifu recalled what she knew about Lucid. Amongst other things, it messed with the body's nerve endings, specifically targeting and confusing pain and pleasure receptors so their signals became mixed up in the brain. In theory, you could hurt yourself but feel intense pleasure if you got the dosage of Lucid right. It was popular as a sexual stimulant for those who knew how to strike the right balance and not overdose or underdose themselves. It was especially popular amongst the sadomasochistic crowd, since it allowed people to be rough with reluctant first-time partners without the experience being unpleasant for either. For that very reason its use was also on the increase in sexual assaults.

Rod had said he was surprised that Alejandro would allow the Rage Riders to be absorbed into a bigger gang without a fight. Smaller gangs were often humiliated for sport by those who took them over, with violence only a heartbeat behind the humiliation. Yet maybe Alejandro had fought to protect his gang when it became clear it was either join a bigger gang or end up dead in a gutter. Gang life was merciless. A strong leader was essential, but strength came in many forms. You didn't have to pull a knife or fire a gun to fight, and you didn't have to get stabbed or take a bullet to protect.

Suddenly Carlito's last words came back to Naifu. Her stomach lurched.

"You did it. You ruined him. What they been doing to him. S'all your fault."

She stared at Alejandro. "You've been taking their beatings, haven't you? The ones meant for the rest of the Rage Riders. You've been using Lucid to make it more bearable and you've let your new gang beat you up instead of them. It would mean more to them, wouldn't it – pounding on the leader? Humiliating you means more than hurting your boys."

His stare turned flinty, his voice as dry and flat as hot asphalt. "Smart bitch, ain't you? You got half the story right." He tipped his head back, staring down his nose at her. "It's like dinner theatre. Soon as they get the urge for some entertainment, they bring in one of the Rage Riders. They like boys, y'see. They can go to whorehouses all they want, but it loses its shine after a while. That's when they look at the Rage Riders, and the Riders stop being gangmates and start being playthings. They know I'll step in. They know I'll beg to take his place. They know what I'll do, and what they can do." He gave a short laugh. "And yeah, Lucid makes it good."

Oh my god … Despite her own position, a surge of pity swept through her. It was quickly replaced with fear. If Alejandro blamed Rod – and by corollary herself – for what he and the other Rage Riders had been through, and he wasn't thinking sanely with chemicals in his bloodstream, then she was in deep, deep trouble.

"Rodriguez will come for his bitch," Alejandro was saying.

"I'm not his." She struggled to keep her voice level. "We just work together. Alejandro, I can help you. I'm a Turk. I can get you papers, safe passage out of Midgar to someplace you can start a new life – a better life for you and your boys."

"I take care of my boys. It's what I do. We're city people. This is our city. But sometimes a man gotta take care of his own needs, too. I tried when Rodriguez was still with us, but he never got it. Of course he didn't. Didn't see the wood for the trees, did he? More interested in chicks with dicks, like you."

This just got worse and worse. Naifu's lungs felt compressed by the weight of so many dire things coming together at once. Her insides curdled as she realised the full extent of Alejandro's anger. The saying was wrong: there was something worse than a scorned woman, and he was staring right at her. She was fully clothed, but she felt as vulnerable as she had years ago when a hessian bag went over her head.

Fear shook her like a ragdoll. It was shameful – she was a Turk – but this was too close to what had happened. Familiarity made her veins cold. Being kissed by Legend had been a hand grenade to her memories, but this was a field of mines. She had no way of making it through them without setting them off.

Legend...

Naifu suddenly wished she had been more receptive to his kiss. She had spent all night thinking about it, unable to sleep as thoughts whirled around her mind like a flock of disturbed chocobos. She had eventually concluded that she would confront him after her mission with Eber today, throw everything in the air and see where the pieces landed. Whatever happened after that had to be better than what she was already feeling.

It had been too long. It was time to end the lies – to herself as much as anyone else, every time she claimed she was fine. She had decided to tell him exactly why she had reacted so badly and see whether he looked at her like a broken doll or a real person after he knew the truth. She was sick of running from her past. She couldn't pretend it hadn't happened, and she no longer wanted it to control her as much as she now realised it did. She had thought she had left it all behind when she became a Turk; that in putting on the powerful symbol of the suit she had regained the power she had lost that day. Now she knew she had given those bastards who had hurt her back then more control than ever by ignoring the consequences of what they had done to her. She had clawed her identity back, step by painful step, but she hadn't gotten past anything. Not really.

Legend could have helped. He was someone she could finally see herself swallowing her pride enough to ask. Not even Veld had made her feel that way. If she didn't make it out of this, she wasn't going to get the chance to do the unthinkable and ask Legend for help. She wouldn't get the chance to share any kind of future with him, as friends or anything else.

She had to fight. No way was she going to just give up and take what some tragic but crazed biker could dish out. Not now; not after everything she had gone through to get to this point with her own sanity intact.

You picked the wrong girl to kidnap, Alejandro. I'm no damsel in distress. Just ask those punks in the Costa del Sol.

Alejandro couldn't see into her thoughts. If he noticed a change in her expression, he gave no sign of it. "We used to come here on food raids," he said conversationally. "It's been closed down a while now. Nobody comes here no more. You could scream for hours and nobody'd know. I got my boys on the doors. They're watching for intruders. One sniff of someone interrupting us and they'll raise the alarm. They're loyal to me now." That flash of disgust and savagery again. "Like Carlito. I owe you for him, bitch. He was only trying to pay Rodriguez back for the wrong he done us. Carlito was headstrong, and yeah, he went off on his own when he shouldn't, but he was a good kid, and you killed him like some worthless dog."

"I'm sorry," Naifu said, meaning it. "But I wasn't going to let anyone shoot my partner."

"You're not sorry, but you will be."

"You don't scare me."

"We'll see."

"I've dealt with worse than you before."

"Probably." He shrugged. He advanced on a metal table covered in a sheet, which he pulled off with a flourish. On it was arranged a set of tools better suited to a butcher's shop – or slaughterhouse.

The hair on the back of Naifu's neck stood up. She took another look at her surroundings. Smooth white walls, the better for cleaning off spatter. Metal floors with drains in the middle, bevelled so liquid could flow into them. 'Closed down a while now' – maybe since Shinra realised it was cheaper to import synthesised muck than to produce real food for people below the Plate. The walls were thick, with no windows, as if someone had gone to a lot of trouble to prevent the neighbours hearing the dying screams of animals …

Naifu struggled in earnest. Alejandro didn't react, except to pick up a cleaver and walk towards her.