Session 9

~JET~

Isn't there some brainiac line about doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? Well, for some inane reason I was doing it. Hours ago—no, uncountable matches ago, I had brought out my shogi board. And it didn't matter what I tried, the damn kid beat me every single game, most of them without even looking. He'd been enthralled with the screen where a series of crime dramas had played out to their inevitable ends. When I announced his turn, he half-ass glanced at the board, snapped a piece to its new location, and whipped his head back to watch the movie.

His instincts … that had to be what he was playing by, no one could strategize that swiftly … were incredible and savage. It reminded me of watching him misdirect while playing pool. It didn't matter what ended up on the table—he just handled it. And on the shogi board it was with the same brutal efficiency.

A scream broke out from the movie. Spike leaned over the edge of the couch as the bad guy held a gun to a hostage's head, hiding behind her. The cop sweated bullets, staring down the sight of his gun. I had to admit they played it well for tension. The music, the snap pans, the tight focus on the eyes, it was all there. In a deft shot the cop pulled the trigger and pegged the thug right between the eyes. He went down like a pile of bricks. The dame ran into the cops arms, crying onto his shoulder.

"Whoa! That was a crazy-ass shot."

I went back to examining the board for any logical move that wouldn't screw me over. The more I looked, the more I noticed how trapped the kid had me. Fuck. "Yeah, well, it's all part of the flick's script and special effects. Real police work isn't quite like that." Of course, that's not how they play it up when you're in training. Everyone wants to be out of the uniform and running plain-clothes. It was a miracle I'd been given this chance so soon.

"Still, guns can do that."

"Do what?" Damn it, there has to be a move somewhere.

"Blow someone's brains out."

I sat up straighter and hooded my eyes. "Not exactly."

Cross-legged on the couch, with his shoes off, he planted his hands on his knees and leaned forward over the board, mischief in those young eyes. "Hell yeah—exactly. I've seen it before."

"Spike, it's not something that you should be crowing about."

He cocked his head. "Hey, was that a jib at me?"

I caught myself too late. Groaning, I rubbed my forehead. "No, it's just a turn of phrase."

"Man, if I had a gun … "

"Absolutely no!"

Instead of backing up, he only leaned closer, lighting a cigarette. "Aww, come on, I can handle it."

"You're just a kid. It's a tool of life and death. You shouldn't want to handle something like that."

"A tool that can even the odds? Be serious. You've seen the streets in this dump. They're deadly as hell. Why wouldn't I? Shit, if I had one of those I could … "

My fist slammed down on the board launching the pieces into the air, they spilled onto the carpet. "I said no! You got that?"

Muttering something under his breath, he turned and faced the screen, folding his arms across his chest. For half of another fabricated cop-flick we sat there is silence. I wanted to lean down and pick up the pieces, but every motion earned me a half hidden glance from him.

What did he expect? He's a damn kid. As it was he shouldn't be smoking, and yet there he was, like the exhaust of a monoracer!

Hold on a second. He'd only had a precious few cigarettes left in his pack when I'd emptied his pockets. By now he had easily smoked twice that amount. Nowhere to keep them … had he picked someone's pockets?

Fuck!

I must have been staring overlong. He snubbed out the cigarette and padded to the bathroom, closing the door. A few minutes later he ambled out, changed into my undershirt I had lent him for sleeping in. Without a word, he crawled into bed, back to me.

Quietly I picked up my mess of discarded shogi tiles off the floor and from between the cushions reuniting the pieces with game board. Maybe an early night was a good thing. I had an appointment with Petunia. Then perhaps I'd be permitted to get out of this hellhole.

~JET~

I tucked my gun in the concealed holster, my badge already in a hidden pocket. If everything went right I would not be flashing either of those. The goal was to stay under the radar, to chase the trail. Grabbing my jacket I swung it on, eyeing the young boy leaning beside the door, his shoes already tied. He'd been up before me.

"Spike. I want you to stay here today."

There was a moment's surprise before he banished it with the gesture of lighting up and inhaling the smoke. The moment I had my hand on the doorknob he eyed me. "You sure?"

I met his challenge with a cold glare. "Yeah. Stay in the hotel room. This won't take long. I'll be back in time for lunch."

Opening the door I expected him to say something, to move into the way, step out after me. To my shock, I was able to close and lock the door behind me. Well, at least that worked. Lighting up a cigarette myself, I descended the stairs with a confident grin.

This was a simple job. Go to Golden Deal, use the cash I had received from the local precinct to purchase the drugs and try to get a lead on the mules. I was going early in hopes of crossing paths.

The sun had barely come up. Perfect. Now I just had to … uhh … oh shit. I had a serious problem.

Where was the Golden Deal from here? Was it right or left?

"Forget something?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Spike stood next to me, cigarette hanging from his lips, hands in his pockets. I glanced back and forth. "But I left you … you were behind … the door didn't open … how did you … ?"

He just smiled, lifted his shoulder and turned, striding through the streets at a swift pace.

Racing to follow him, I failed to mark the path. But before I knew it, we were in the alley across the street from the Golden Deal.

Spike leaned against the wall and stared at me through half-lidded eyes, point proven. I needed his help. That cocky little shit.

"Fine, you can come in. But don't you dare steal anything."

He rolled his eyes.

"I mean it! Last time—"

Holding up a hand he walked closer to me. "Listen up old man, you're in a real spot tellin' me to play nice. I mean, you wouldn't even be here this quickly without me." His eyes narrowed as he smirked, "You ever bought drugs before?"

I jerked backward. "I uhhh … well … "

He made a rude noise. "Ha! Wow, it is a good thing I came along."

"Wait, how do you know?"

"You think pool was the only game going down at Uncle Joes? Heh, not even. He dealt out of his backroom, shit he got from pawning to Petunia. And sometimes he sent me to haggle. Sooo … you got this? Or do you want me to do it?"

I groaned.

He held out a hand. "How much of a wad you got?"

"No way! I'm not tellin' you."

"Well stingy, I have to know what we got for resources."

Remember shogi … is this kid playing me? Still, I had no idea how to haggle in this market. Pulling out the wad I spread it out.

His eyes scanned the fan of bills, he shook his head and whistled. "Did they screw you over. Ok, this'll be a trick to get you anything if you're supposed to be a dealer." He shrugged. "Here's what we're gonna do … "

I had to hand it to the kid. He was sharp.

Inside the crowed confines of the Golden Deal we found Petunia cleaning a gun behind the counter. He glanced up as I entered and narrowed his eyes. When Spike wandered in behind me a smile grew. "Ahhh yes, the dealer. Good news. The shipment arrived and it's quite a load. So how much yah takin', big spender?"

At the counter I leaned one elbow on it, trying to maintain most of my height. Stay cool, the kid had told me, appear in control at all times. I took out a cigarette and bought time lighting it before I locked eyes with Petunia. "How much yah got?"

Without batting an eyelash, Petunia stated, "I got a case of a thousand vials. All yours for a low price."

Spike leaned his back against the counter, hands in his pockets, casual as ever. Only I could see his expression, his hair concealing it from Petunia.

Reaching into my jacket I pulled out about a quarter of the wad, pre-split in the alley per his instructions. I slapped them down on the counter.

Petunia slid an insulted glare from the wad to me. "You have got to be shitting me. I thought you were serious."

Damn, Spike'd only been off by a word or two. Maybe he did know this racket … which was extremely sad. I kept my hand on the money just in case. Remember what to say. "How do I know where this came from? Until I get a trial run proving this is the good shit, I'm not shelling out."

At my side the corner of Spike's mouth turned up. I'd nailed it.

"Oh, this is the good stuff. It'll sell for eight times that insult on the counter."

"Bullshit." Spike barked. "He'll be lucky to get twice that fee."

Rising to his feet, Petunia growled, "Not another word from you, cur!"

"What? You just gonna keep lying to him? Just like you."

He was about to come around the counter and belt Spike when I held up a hand. "Kid, shut it. I got this. Fine," I grabbed another wad out of my pocket, now fully half of what I had in deal money. "There. I'm taking a risk with this much."

"Hah!" Petunia folded his arms. "Not even, that's a steal. You're going to make a fortune off this. If you're listening to this kid, he's scamming you. Six times what you put up, easy!"

It didn't escape me that the math didn't add up, he was trying to hustle me. That was part of the plan. I glared, preparing to pick up the money from the counter and go.

Petunia hastily put a hand on mine. "It's well worth twelve times the amount, but I'll tell you what. Double what you have on the counter and we'll call it a deal. Kay?"

Spike's smile intensified.

I grabbed the final wad and plunked it down, hand over the top. "The case."

He vanished for a moment before returning with a large nondescript case and set it on the counter. Opening the lid, he tugged out a vial and held it up. The liquid shimmered purple.

I released the stack of woolongs, and picked up the case.

"Thank you for your business, stranger." Petunia squirreled the cash away.

Outside the door I heaved a sigh. "All of the money."

"And if you showed the full wad from the start you'd have walked out with nothing. Petunia's a shrewd dealer."

I leaned over towards Spike, "Right, well, we're almost done here. Where is the precinct office from here?"

He rolled his eyes and pointed, "That way, can't miss it. One of the tallest buildings."

"Great, go back to the hotel. I'll met you there."

The acidic expression in his eyes just about floored me. "Talk about being ungrateful."

"Remember what you did last time you in the building? I'm not handling that bullshit again. Hotel, now. Just do it!"

"Fine fine. I'm going." He sauntered off, vanishing into the alleys I could never hope to navigate as I turned toward my destination.

Two blocks away an empty can rattled from around a corner followed by two thugs. One with a scar over his left eye, the other with a prosthetic fist. I held the heavy case tight to my chest. With this in my hands I couldn't possibly grab my firearm.

Eye-scar grabbed his gun. "Hehe, looks what we gots here. A new fangled dealer on our turf."

"Shame," the fist pounded into a palm. "you had to try and set up shop. We're just gonna have to shut you down, and take our shit back."

A bead of sweat dripped down my face. If I set the case down, one would take it run. They maneuvered me into a dance, backing me into the alley. I wasn't close enough for help from the precinct. Shit, this wasn't good.

I held the case as a shield before me. Maybe it was bulletproof? It wasn't like I was going to actually sell this. The deal had been done, the lab could trace the origin if I brought only one vial back.

A grating squeal precluded the fire escape grinding downward accompanied by an alarmed cry.

What the hell?

~SPIKE~

I landed in the alley between the two thugs, one of them the fire escape's ladder sent backwards, knocking the gun from his hands. If nothing else it alarmed the fuck out of them. The fools hadn't heard me as I slunk down, not until the last moment!

That old man was lucky I decided to disobey his lame ass orders or he'd be a smear on the brick wall. I didn't know the names of these two, but I'd seen them work before. It was never pretty. However, I did know they didn't think well on their feet. Hell, they didn't think period.

Why wasn't that gawking idiot running? True, the bulkier of the two was blocking the alley. Do I have to do everything?

Shit … while I can get back up the way I came, I doubted he could. And not with the case in his hands.

"Oh, you little fuckface!" Rubbing his head, the scarred one shuffled to his feet.

Great, they'd gotten the chance to recover. This wasn't ideal. I needed a way to even the odds.

The gleam of something metal caught my eyes.

The gun!

I scrambled for it, snatching it out from beneath his grip in a tumble. Coming upright I aimed it dead at center of him, gripping it with two hands just like the movies showed. Words, I needed the tough words. "What? You gonna plug me? You gonna plug me now? I don't think so."

The thugs took a couple hasty steps backward. Clearly not interested in getting shot.

"Taste lead, motherfucker!"

"Spike! No—don't!"

I pulled the trigger, the images from the movie played out in my head! … and it was nothing like reality.

The gun kicked, my elbows failed to lock enough shoving the butt nearly full force into my chest and all of me backward into the brick wall. All the breath driven from me in an instant. Bricks are hard!

Jet's shadow fell over me, he had dropped the case—though I didn't hear it through the ringing in my ears. In his hands now he held his own gun, shouting at the thugs. They became a blur as they vanished, fleeing from the threat of his gun.

He turned to me and knelt down. His voice sounded like it was coming through a series of walls to reach me. "Spike, what were you thinking! Are you ok?"

I took his hand and he helped me to my feet. I nodded, rubbing my ears. The ringing remained. I was a little sore from tumbling backward, but nothing serious.

Jet finished checking me over. "Your hearing is fuzzy, isn't it."

"Yeah." That was weird. My voice sounded muted too.

"That'll go away." He picked up the gun with a handkerchief and held it in front of him. "I figured you know enough physics from pool to know about force transfer. This gun has a terrible kickback and it just launched you. You weren't standing wide enough and you aren't nearly heavy enough to counteract it."

"Clearly." I bowed my head.

"I mean it. Are you ok?"

My pride was slaughtered, there was no bandage for that. The old man had been right about me not being able to used a gun. But physically I was alright, so I nodded.

He ruffled my hair. "Thank you for saving my six, kid. Now, come on, let's get these to the precinct. We have a chance of tagging the supply line with this gun you pinched."