25. Taurus Crew

25 – Taurus Crew

Orin gestured to the left when they reached the corner. As they turned and kept walking, he gave Hector a sideways glance and asked, “So, what was your meeting about? You mind me asking?”

“Just ID stuff.”

“ID stuff?”

Hector nodded, gesturing to his face. “Why the PKs were on my case.”

“Ah, right. Grando get it sorted?”

Hector nodded. “All good.” Before leaving, he’d told Grando to keep his mouth shut about the Redwick business, and he intended to do the same; the last thing he needed was one of the crime boss’s goons reaching out to Tacitianus to try to score an easy payday.

“Well, listen,” Orin said, gesturing down the street, as if to indicate their eventual destination, “this apartment building Raven’s sister lives in used to be run by a guy who was in pretty deep to Grando—gambling debts. So, anyway, he used to kick up some of the rent he collected, and it was pretty well-known that the building was ours. You follow?”

Hector nodded.

“So, about two months back, the guy kicked it—heart attack or something. Since then, new management moved in, and Grando told us to lay off; the old manager was almost done with his debt, and Grando didn’t think it was worth trying to shake down the new company.”

Hector continued to nod, Orin’s reasons for keeping their current activities quiet crystalizing.

“So, yeah, Taurus Crew moved in, and I don’t think Boss would be happy about me going over there to lay down the law. He’s not really into conflicts with other crews.”

Hector shrugged. “So we just do an anonymous good deed.”

“That’s how I’m looking at it. Shit, man, I thought I’d have to sell you on the idea.”

“Nope.” Hector didn’t bother explaining that he didn’t need an excuse to take out some thugs; gathering potentia and bit-lockers was enough incentive for him at the moment. The more he thought about Redwick Station, the more he realized he’d need to break his current plan about earning a few more levels before buying any aura abilities. If he was going to go up against decent mercs, hired by a connected magistrate, then he’d need something a little more deadly than his fists.

An aura blade should do the trick.

Privy to the rest of his thoughts, Evie knew he was contemplating the situation at Redwick and, uncharacteristically, she decided to give voice to her thoughts:

//You know my welfare is tied to yours, right?//

Yeah.

//Just checking.//

Hector frowned, clenching his hands into a fist. He wanted to hurt someone connected to his betrayal, at least that was how the voice in his head rationalized his smoldering fury. Even so, he figured Evie had a point; he wasn’t just risking himself. That was the role of an aura system AI, though. She was tied to him, and wouldn’t exist—not in her current form—without having lived decades inside his head, riding along for all of his decisions, good and bad.

Trust me.

//I do.//

They rounded a corner, and Orin pointed toward the end of the block. “See that green plasteel building? The one with the round corners and the yellow lights?”

Hector looked where he pointed, then back at him. The bruiser was wearing a heavy overcoat, with his collar pulled up high, covering the sides of his head all the way to his ears. “Yeah.”

“Taurus Crew has a stash in there—well, one of their enforcers does—and there are always three or four guys watching it.”

“That where they bring collections?”

“Yeah, count their take and split it up before taking the underboss his cut.”

“And that’s the crew that’s hitting your girl’s building?”

Orin nodded, earning some points with Hector by not denying his relationship with Raven. He started across the street, aiming for a convenience store on the corner. As he hopped the tracks, the enforcer spoke over his shoulder. “We’ll chill in this shop and watch the building. I want to make sure Ringo’s inside when we hit ’em. He’s the one who expanded their collections operation.”

Hector grunted his understanding and followed Orin across the slush-covered sidewalk to the warm glow of the store’s door. They stepped inside and the small, dark-haired store clerk looked up from a tablet, peering at them through the bullet-proof plastiglass screen he sat behind. “Coffee’s hot.”

Orin turned to peer out the door. “I’ll watch if you want to get a drink or something.”

Hector’s stomach grumbled in response, so he took him up on the offer, walking toward the back of the store where some foil-wrapped food sat under a heat lamp. He poured himself a large coffee, loaded it with creamer, and then scooped up a handful of “breakfast rolls.” After paying with his skull ring—a transaction the clerk didn’t even look up for—he methodically chewed his way through his second breakfast, watching Orin, who, in turn, watched the building across the street.

Throwing his foil wrappers into a trash can, he asked, “You want a coffee or something?”

“Nah, drank about a liter before we left the club.”

Hector grunted and leaned an elbow on the counter, mildly amused by how the clerk completely ignored them both. They watched the street for about an hour, and then took turns using the “Not for Public” restroom—again, without comment from the clerk. An hour after that, Orin pointed out the door, tapping the glass in his excitement.

“There he is!”

Hector straightened up, blinking rapidly. He’d been reading news feeds, trying to get a grip on what had changed in the Sol System in the last two hundred years, and was only beginning to scratch the surface. He’d missed a few wars, none of which had done anything to slow human expansion. Studying a map, he’d seen at least a dozen towns and cities on Mars that he didn’t remember. Despite how interesting all that was, he pushed it aside, focusing on the moment. “Let’s go.”

Orin nodded and pushed his way through the door, letting in a chilly blast of damp air. “He’s already inside. Wasn’t moving slow.”

Hector didn’t care; if it was really a stash house, then he’d prefer to hit them inside, anyway—more loot potential. They waited for a passing train, then hurried across the street. As they approached the stoop, Orin said, “I’ll handle the door.” He climbed the steps, and then his body flared with a pulsating orange glow. His back and shoulders expanded, straining the fabric of his duster, and then he grabbed the plasteel door handle and ripped it open, shattering the locking mechanism and sending pieces of hard polymer clattering to the icy concrete.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Neither man hesitated; they slipped through the door and into the building’s foyer, allowing the door to flop closed behind them. Orin’s glow faded, and he sank in on himself, panting as he struggled to regain his composure. “Like that?” he asked, grinning at Hector.