Chapter Eleven – Playing with Gomorrah’s Franny

Chapter Eleven – Playing with Gomorrah’s Franny​

“With the proper augmentations, even the least hospitable environment can become a comfortable paradise!”

-Exos ad, 2049

***

Franny’s rant about the injustice of things and the authorities not doing anything hit close to home.

At least, it did for the first couple of minutes.

As she went on and on though, I found myself getting a little bored with the whole thing. Yes, life sucked. Yeah, corruption was everywhere, and people were assholes who didn’t help those in worse situations than them. The corporations and whatever passed for a government around here were shit.

At least Rac was making the best of it, shovelling food down hand over fist while occasionally nodding at whatever Franny was spouting.

“Okay,” I said, a hand raised. I was surprised that I was the one interrupting Franny. Gomorrah didn’t seem like the kind of girl who would sit down and take a rant like that.

Then again… she was just staring at the redhead—staring and not saying anything.

I held back a grin. I couldn’t jump to conclusions, but I really wanted to. Maybe my teasing wasn’t so far off the mark after all. “Okay, so these Sewer Dragons, where are they?”

“Why? So you can tell the police and watch them not do anything?” Franny asked.

“What? No, I’ve never called the police in my life and I’m not about to start now. I want to know where they’re at so I can poke holes into them.”

Gomorrah sighed. “I knew it would come to this,” she said. “I am curious as to why the Sewer Dragons are acting up now though. What they’re doing is being brushed off as losses to the incursion, but they could have done this at any time before now too.”

Franny looked confused for a moment before snapping out of it. “I don’t think this is new. I think they’ve been stepping up their game. Used to be they only grabbed hobos and sometimes maintenance people who were sent down to the sewers. Now they’re going all out.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make sense. Kidnap a dozen nobodies a year and no one will care, but… do you have a list of the people that went missing?”

“I do, here,” Franny said.

I received a ping from her, with an unencrypted file at the end. I supposed a list of names and addresses wasn’t anything worth keeping safe. “Myalis, can you check on these people’s whereabouts?”

Certainly. Of the one hundred and seventeen, twelve recently made purchases or were seen in locations throughout the city. Three are outside of New Montreal. The other one hundred and two have no clear electronic trail that I am able to detect. However, my resources and access are limited at this time.

“One hundred and two of those people are still MIA. Yeah, no, that’s too damned many.” I started to shift to the side to get up. “Rac, you done eating?”

Raccoon was currently lying back in the seat, her mouth half-open and her stomach distended from all the grub she’d shovelled down. “Huh? Oh, are we going?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You can stay in the car while Gomorrah and I go say hi to those sewer people.”

“I’m coming too,” Franny said.

“There’s no way you’re coming,” Gomorrah said. “It’s dangerous.”

Franny scoffed. “Delilah, I’m the one always saving you from danger; it’s not like I’m unfamiliar with getting into a fight.”

“It’s not the same,” Gomorrah said.

Franny’s jaw set. “What, just because you’re a samurai now? Because you’re a saint?” She pointed at Gomorrah. “Under all that fancy gear, you’re still the girl I had to keep safe for all those years.”

“Franny,” Gomorrah said. There was a lot of subtext in that one word, but it was way too early for me to even start trying to figure it out.

I stood up. “If you two are done arguing, we should get going. We don’t know how active they are at night, but I bet those Sewer Dragons aren’t sitting around picking their noses while we wait around here. If we’re going to save people, we should get to it sooner rather than later.”

Franny nodded and stood up. She picked up her bat and leaned it against her shoulder. “I know a few of the places where they have their bases.”

“More than one?” I asked.

“They’re only technically a gang. It’s more like… I don’t know, a sort of country that lives in the sewers. They have their own councils and towns, basically. Most gangs, when they’re done doing their dirty work for the day, go back home. Even if that means some dirty apartment somewhere. The Sewer Dragons’ territory is their home.”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“I guess that makes sense,” I said. “So, other than kidnapping folk, do they sell stuff?”

“Smuggling, mostly,” Franny said. “None of the corps dare go into the sewers, none of the cops will follow them in either. Half the gases in there are lethal. They control the ventilation systems, and can redirect water from different plants to different areas.”