Jubal walked in casually and took a seat on the couch lining the wall of Grant’s office. He wore a black bodyglove that covered him from neck to toes, tight enough to reveal a wiry musculature and an unusual absence of shape or bulges of any kind. His lips were stained purple and his eyes were obscured behind a pair of sunglasses. His emerald green hair was styled in a faux hawk. He carried only a spherical handbag.
“So how does a two-bit bit bodyguard like you end up with an office bigger than most apartments in New New York?” Jubal asked.
Grant forced a smile and leaned on a cane as he made his way over to a tray of crystal decanters.
“Workin’ for Sarkissian ‘as its perks,” Grant explained as he poured himself a glass of blue liquid. He motioned to Jubal with the decanter, but he shook his head.
“Dulls the senses,” Jenkins replied, then licked his lips. “I prefer the world... raw.”
Grant shrugged and replaced the decanter. He limped forward to stand in front of Jubal as he sipped his drink.
“Alright, here’s the deal,” Grant began. “Sarkissian’s got a job for you to do. You pull this off and they’ll be more jobs. Better paying jobs, if you know what I mean.”
“You’re being literal,” Jubal replied, clearly bored. “A child would know what you mean.”
“Just let me finish, alright?” Grant replied, his patience clearly beginning to fray. He proceeded to lay out the plan in painful detail. Jubal’s attention began to wander after the first five minutes. Ten minutes later, he realized he had stopped paying attention altogether for some time, and yet Grant seemed to be moving slowly enough that he still understood exactly where his plan was going.
“And then,” Grant finished dramatically. “Payday.”
“Right,” Jubal answered. “So it all begins with the junk yard in the East end?”
“Yeah, that’s the ticket, govna,” Grant confirmed.
“Fine,” Jubal replied with a sigh. “I’ll handle it.”
He stood up from the couch and began sauntering over to the door, but paused as it slid open in response to his presence.
“Say, is your boss around, by any chance?” he asked casually, his hand slipping inside his handbag.
“Not at the moment,” Grant replied. “Apparently, he had a bit of an accident earlier tonight. He’s elected to get some rest.”
“An accident? Sounds dreadful,” Jubal commented conversationally. “Was he hurt?”
“No, not at all,” Grant answered. “He has some fancy, expensive tech that saved his arse.”
“Thank goodness,” Jubal continued. “I do hope he gets over the shock of the whole experience. I am so looking forward to seeing him in person.”
“Well, he’ll be racing on Tuesday,” Grant said. “Get this job done right, and I’ll get you into our private box. You can shake his hand after he wins again.”
“Perfect,” Jubal smiled. “I’m looking forward to it already.”
Jubal settled himself down in what seemed to have once been a classroom, inside a crumbling building three hundred meters from Crazy Moe’s Discount Scrap. He pulled his GR-67 droid head out of his handbag and put it down next to him, resting it on a fragment of concrete. With a thought, he tested the remote link between his implants and the droid’s terawatt-equivalent eye lasers. The diagnostic came back normal and Jubal nodded in satisfaction.
“Thank goodness,” Jubal continued. “I do hope he gets over the shock of the whole experience. I am so looking forward to seeing him in person.”
“Well, he’ll be racing on Tuesday,” Grant said. “Get this job done right, and I’ll get you into our private box. You can shake his hand after he wins again.”
“Perfect,” Jubal smiled. “I’m looking forward to it already.”
Jubal settled himself down in what seemed to have once been a classroom, inside a crumbling building three hundred meters from Crazy Moe’s Discount Scrap. He pulled his GR-67 droid head out of his handbag and put it down next to him, resting it on a fragment of concrete. With a thought, he tested the remote link between his implants and the droid’s terawatt-equivalent eye lasers. The diagnostic came back normal and Jubal nodded in satisfaction.
Triggering his cybernetic eyes, Jubal began surveying the area. It looked like Moe was closing shop for the night, but he clearly lived in the back room of the same building, so he wasn’t going far.
“This should be easy enough,” Jubal muttered to himself. “Simple blast and grab.”
He lined up the droid’s eye lasers, but before he triggered the command to fire, he noticed another man approaching the site. Jubal took a closer look and couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Edward fucking Wierczyk,” Jubal whispered in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same question,” came a voice from somewhere behind him.
Jubal spun on his heels, crouching into a combat stance. Out of the shadows stepped a lithe, female figure brandishing a carving knife.
“Jane Kelley,” Jubal growled.
She froze at the sound of her name.
“Do I know you, weirdo?” she chuckled.
“No,” he replied, “you definitely don’t know me. But I know you.”
A searing red beam blasted forth from the GR-67 head.
“No,” he replied, “you definitely don’t know me. But I know you.”
A searing red beam blasted forth from the GR-67 head.
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