“This city has teeth, teeth of cold steel that saw through flesh and bone. It’ll cough you up and spit you out; your mangled corpse unrecognizable to the police, to your mother and father. You won’t make friends, you won’t fall in love, and you sure as hell won’t be happy. But what you do get, well, that’s why you gentlemen are here tonight right?” The gloomy lounge is filled with the laughter of the men in the dense shadow. The filtered bump of music breaches the walls, the rhythmic pulses of light flashing through the tinted window and shining off our metal. They were finally in it, from the street corners to the corners of this very room. Mal’s room. The upstairs lounge of Chroma Machina, Java City’s most popular nightclub.
“You two have been chosen for your loyalty to me, the work you’ve put in over the years, and my own generosity. I will NOT accept disappointment.” He slams his fist into his desk. His red eyes burn into my processor like two crimson suns. “Remember that I. Am. Those. Teeth. Don’t give me an excuse to use them. You’ve got a job to do, get it the fuck done.”
“Yes sir.” The two boys say in their fear-stricken voices.
The heavy bulletproof door clangs and locks behind us just as we step out onto the catwalk above the dance floor. Everyone down there, dancing without a care in the world to music that is written about the beauty of life. Sparx looks at Retro briefly before heading toward the stairs.
They make their way through the back door out into the back alleyway, the neon glow crawls around the corner phasing into the steam rising from the sewer grates.
“That shit was nuts, holy fuck.” Retro says as he pulls up a crate to sit on. “That was really Mal.” Sparx has his hand on the wall, his face in the other.
“It felt like I was seeing a unicorn or some shit man, I had seen pictures before, but they ain’t shit compared to that.” They both rested for a moment, silence in between the city’s breath. “We don’t have a choice either, do we?” said Sparx, “we have to hit Glitch.” Retro looks up, his eyes dimly glowing after a draining day.
“If we don’t, it won’t be just Glitch they’re looking for. It’s on his bitch ass, he’s the one who went rogue. He could be talking to the police right now, not just about Mal but about us too.”
“You know he ain’t like that man.” Sparx shakes his head, taking his hand off the wall and resting it on his hip. “Glitch ain’t like that.” Retro lets his head down again, his arms resting on his knees with his hands hanging between them. Car horns and AC units fill the gaps in conversation.
“You heard what he said in there, about this city, the fucking teeth n’ shit. We can’t keep friends, that’s not how this shit work. We need to think about our shit first, you and me.” Sparx bends down in front of Retro now,
“You and me are friends.”
Retro stands up and blows him off, “Let’s just get this shit done, all we need to do so that we don’t get our asses shot is to find his dumbass and that’s it. Do you want to get shot X? We might as well end our own shit right here in this alley if you don’t wanna do this.” Retro kicks the crate and paces toward the street. Sparx walks behind and grabs his shoulder.
“Alright man, alright. You’re right. It’s us or him. Us or him.” Retro turns around and grabs his hand. They pull each other shoulder to shoulder with strength. The metallic clang echoes down the alley.
That same handshake they’ve been doing since they were kids, kids in the streets of Java City with nobody looking out for them but themselves. Kids with no parents, no income, and no direction except toward the dirty underbelly that keeps the city’s blood pumping. The drugs, the guns, the corners they worked on while they dreamed about being in those skyscrapers. That was the only opportunity for those who can’t afford to eat in downtown Java, let alone drink champagne at the Chroma and go home to bed in your million-dollar high-rise flat. All that work, all that dreaming, it all came to this moment. They had been called upon by someone who could take them there, into the sky that they always dreamed of.
Retro and Sparx left the alley, crossing toward their van bathing beneath a streetlight.
“You remember where Glitch said his new place was?” said Retro.
“I still have that note he left in his last drop,” Sparx ruffles through his pockets and pulls out a small slip “2488 Macro Ave.” He stares for a minute longer at the slip, it reads
Y’all are some of the realest I’ve met in these streets. We need to get out of this shit before it kills us. Meet me at 2488 Macro if y’all want to make it together. — G
Sparx shoves the note back in his pocket, getting in the passenger side door. The van is a piece of junk, it takes Retro three tries to turn the engine over. She’s all black with a dragon decal on the side that is peeling all over and only one working headlight, but when she works, she drives like a dream. Retro taps the steering wheel, satisfied with his girl’s purr and rumble. He glances back at Chroma, smiling patrons covered in the finest of jewelry and clothing file into the music. Looking up, he sees those same red eyes peering out the window at the top of the building. Retro grabs the wheel and floors it.
“This is it huh? Glitch is really living in paradise now.” Retro says. They roll up to the abandoned apartment building. The boards on the windows plug the holes of the hollow structure creating a howl when the wind blows through its empty carcass. A wavering light flickers in a window above.
“Looks like a candle up there, this motherfucker must be scared shitless if he won’t even turn on the lights,” says Sparx.
“You really think the power is working in this shithole? Their only tenants are Glitch and rats, that power bill is not getting paid.” They both laugh, trying to forget what they’re about to do. The door creaks as they peer into the room of broken furniture and cobwebs. Footsteps can be heard upstairs.
“You check this room, don’t know if he’s got anybody else with him,” says Retro, “I’ll go upstairs.”
“OK, just keep it down,” says Sparx. He draws a knife from his pocket.
Retro slices through the strings of dust, up rickety stairs to the door when a bright blue glow crawls underneath. Retro goes to wave at Sparx but hesitates. Sparx creeps into a black and white tile kitchen with stairs leading below. Pipes and wires line the walls and guide the eye down into the black abyss. Retro lifts his shirt and slips his hand around the handle of the gun stuffed in his waistband. His fingertip lightly clinks on the trigger. The door opens slowly as he peers through the crack. Sparx edges down the steps as he notices the blue glow from behind.
Glitch is absorbed into the screens wrapping him like a cocoon free of the dust and dirt of the building. The room was boarded and barren elsewhere, a desperate attempt at shelter littered with empty snacks and loose wiring. Retro inches into the room. His foot met the floorboards with silence as he approached the worn leather desk chair. His gun was drawn now, aimed at Glitch, his eyes flickering as he tried to keep the barrel straight.
“G,” Sparx appeared at Retro’s side, he stretched out his hand in patience in front of the muzzle. “You already know why we here, man.” Glitch remained silent; his eyes transfixed on his monitors. “I’m sorry but you knew what was gonna happen when you gave us this address. We gotta think about us. G, -“Sparx grabbed his chair when his eyes were locked on the screens as well. Retro slowly lowered his weapon and stepped to their side when his eyes fell upon that holy Java City scripture. On Glitch’s screens were the blueprints of the Fukashin, the single most secure bank vault on the planet.
Every inch of the vault was laid out, from the hyper-durable alloys lining the walls to the exact makeup of each bolt holding the fortress together. Full profiles on each security guard, banker, and custodian down to their shoe size. A timeline of every single event that transpires on a weekly, monthly, and yearly basis in that room. But most importantly, the window in the middle of the screen displayed the bolded text
“GETTING IN:”.
Retro sheathed the Glock as he put his hand on Glitch’s shoulder.
“Where in the fuck did you find all of this shit? Is this what you’ve been up to since being off the grid?” He pats Glitch hard on his back, snapping his daze. His sullen eyes come back into focus as they begin to dart around. “Good thing Sparx was looking out, I almost overclocked your ass, G.”
“Thanks, Tro. That’s real kind of you, after I went out of my way to bring y’all in on my shit. You stupid bots really almost ruined our way to the top.” Glitch spins around to greet them, smiling over the situation.
“So why you holding on us now then G, what’s with all this? What happened with the JCPD?” said Sparx, he hunches down on the desk caked in Cheeto and grease. He pulls back and rubs it off on his pant leg, still focused on the screen.
“JCPD? Mal told you that shit? I don’t work for fucking pigs man, never. I was still kind of being a rat though…” He scrolled down the lists of personnel, reviewing the limitless information at their disposal.
“What do you mean?” said Sparx.
“All of this data was sent from an IP address I haven’t been able to crack, it’s embarrassing to admit. Whoever is on the other side has been in contact with me for weeks now, offering something of great value to me if I gave him information on Mal. Now all of a sudden, he just dump trucks my inbox with all of this shit,” Glitch rests his arm behind his head and leans back with a light squeak, “He left a cell number in the message, but I haven’t gotten around to tracking it yet because… holy fuck.” Sparx stood with his head resting on his hand in thought,
“So, this couldn’t have been why you left us that message then, right?” Glitch stood up and took a few steps.
“Honestly, I ain’t have a plan. I was working on some way to get us out to somewhere tropical, somewhere where we won’t need to stay tucked.” He looked at the handle poking out from Retro’s shirt for a moment. “I don’t blame you for your situation, I can’t. I was in the same before. We all grew up in this city, the system that forces us into this life. That’s why I want y’all with me when I’m out, I want to know it’s possible for all of us to make it.” He looked back at the computer, “But this, this gives us a chance to not just make it out alive, but to make it out living good.” He held up a flash drive sprayed with gold paint.
Glitch turned back to the boys and handed them the drive, his right eye cycling colors. His glitch, like biting your tongue while you write or bouncing your knee when you sit, was his namesake. Along with the chromatics was the gleam in his eye, a determination not often seen from the gloomy hacker. He sat back down at his desk, now the screens refracting through his lenses. Retro rested his hand lightly this time on Glitch.
“Maybe when we’re rich, we can finally get your ass to have a good time outside your dungeon.”
Sparx knelt down next to Glitch, resting for a second. He saw on the shelves beneath his desk stacks of coding books coupled with comics and action figures. He smiled and picked up a familiar face. It was The Slash in all his karate-chop action glory, despite the orange fingerprints caked onto his suit. His circuits whirred with a delight he wishes he had felt more as a kid.
“Remember Ms. Alambres’? That salon on 5th with, you know, those loose grates in front of the place?” said Retro, “I’d jump in those real quick when the PD Ants were on my ass, used to keep my Slash down there for when I got bored.” They all watched the action figure for a while. Retro heard faint noises downstairs, splashes. He stood up slowly and made his way to the window.
“Glitch man, this is so cool,” said Sparx, “I’m glad you ain’t leave these behind on your way out here. Mal’s already torched your place.”
“Some dude taking a piss down there?” Retro struggled to get a clear view through the gaps in the boarded-up windows. Glitch looked down at Sparx and chuckled,
“All that shit was garbage anyway; it’s all the past. I’m the motherfucker looking ahead.” He looked back up at the screen, the anticipation in his expression was something no kid from Java City ever showed.
The glimmer in Glitch’s eyes shined bright, just as another color crept onto his face. Retro loosened a screw and the board swung down, revealing the shady figures holding gas cans. They stood in front of a sleek black limousine.
“Oh, oh fuck no,” said Retro. He turned around.
That color, a red dot, wandered about Glitch’s head. It was homing in on the CPU encased beneath his metal exterior skull. Sparx, lost in reminiscence, sees the dot.
“G?”
The speeding intruder was gone as soon as it had arrived, a clean shot straight through Glitch’s right eye. Sparx tried to stand but fell back, pulling himself away from Glitch. Retro shields himself from the skull debris blasted throughout the room. Glitch sat turned in his chair, his face intact but the back of his skull eviscerated. His cooling fan’s whir slowly came to a halt, his internal machinations freezing as he held that same look of inspiration. He stared out that window, that laser shining through the hole in his skull chassis just as his glitch petered out. Sparx clawed backward away from the empty chassis, afraid to breathe too loud. Retro scrambled behind the desk and out of sight of the sniper. In the silence, a door opens with a slow clap.
“What a shot! Just wow, what a shot! I think we heard some chunks clink on the roof didn’t we fellas?” The familiar laughter emanates from out of the car. Retro locks eyes with Sparx, this voice. It was Mal.
“Ah you boys, I really was rooting for you, truly. But my advisors here just didn’t want to take that chance, right fellas? I’m a romantic I suppose, I do love my drama” He pulls out a pack of flashettes and rolls one out between his fingers, striking a match against his sharp black suit. It lights with a dark blue glow as the crystalline fibers burn up in smoke. “Now I could have my elite assassin overclock you two shitheads out, but that isn’t very exciting. So instead I’m gonna have some fun, but I’m not taking any chances.” Mal takes a big puff of the flashette and flicks it into the fluid pooling beneath the building. A red heat and light flood the windows as Retro runs to look out below.
“Fuck Sparx, he set the fucking building on fire,” said Retro. He scrambled out of the room only to be met with the flames creeping through the lobby toward the stairs. “Sparx, get up let’s go!” Sparx held the ground he sat on with his life, his eyes still locked on the corpse of Glitch that had sunk in the chair a bit. The Slash sat close to the window and began to drip. Sparx was ripped up by his collar, “Get your shit right man, we getting out of this shit!”
“There’s no way they get out right?” said Mal, “I mean, if they leave, we shoot them. If they don’t, they melt. Did I miss anything?” The crowded limo all nod and yup in encouragement.
Retro and Sparx stand in the hallway as the flames rise step by step. There is no escape from the top floor, any advance out of the windows would only result in broken legs and a bullet to the head. The walls creaked as the building was further engulfed in the flames. Sparx could see the black and white tiles temporarily outside the flame’s reach.
“The kitchen, downstairs. There was a basement beneath it!” said Sparx.
“That’s our best shot then. See you down there, hope you don’t melt,” said Retro. He dashes in and out of the flames, over the railing of the stairs, and into the heat of the front room. Sparx follows behind him. They both glow red as their parts heat up to a near-melting point. Just as they leap down the rotten wood stairs, the building begins to collapse.
TO BE CONTINUED…
