Chapter Six - Queen Takes Pawn

Chapter Six - Queen Takes Pawn

Chapter Six - Queen Takes Pawn

Name: George Orbad

Alias: King, The King of the Kings

Wanted for the minor crimes of: Racketeering, Assault, Smuggling of Contraband, Homicide.

Wanted for the major crimes of: Corporate Defamation, Pirating of Private Data, Corporate Espionage.

Suspect is presumed armed and dangerous.

Reward: 1,750,000Cr

--King of Kings bounty posting, 2057

***

The Underground Kings had their hideout in the same ring of buildings as we were in. The factory they occupied was an old cotton-candy machine factory, of all things. Some of the signs on the outside were still bright and cheerful under the layer of grime that covered everything.

Of course, theyd covered it all with graffiti, mostly crude images of men with crowns on, sometimes just crowns, sometimes giant dicks with crowns on them. Very imaginative stuff. Some of the best bathroom-stall type art Id ever seen.

Raccoon, our guide, paused on one of the catwalks about a hundred metres away from the factory. Thats it, she said. The Kings King stays there sometimes.

Sometimes? Gomorrah asked.

He doesnt live here, Raccoon said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. No one that makes a bunch of credits stays underground.

Makes sense, I said. Other than robbing little girls, do these idiots do anything special?

Raccoon shrugged. They make drugs to sell to the people above. Its called syrup. You can smell it when they make it. Its nice.

Syrup? I asked. Id heard of that. It was a sort of goopy liquid, golden and clear, and apparently really sweet. It was actually a bit of a classier street drug, the sort middle-class guys would buy for a party or something. I didnt think theyd make that shit here.

They have to make everything somewhere, Gomorrah said. I imagine real estate down here isnt too pricey.

I shrugged. Didnt matter to me. I didnt come down here to rid the world of some party drugs. Maybe the stink down here is the special ingredient, I muttered.

Raccoon giggled. So, thats it. You guys are going to go ask them for stuff?

Just going to ask them about Gomorrahs girlfriend.

Franny isnt my girlfriend, Gomorrah said, voice flatter than usual.

We were met just inside by a big guy in a ratty suit, a tube tucked under his jacket where it ran down from his breathing mask. He had a little rook pin on his shoulder. We were climbing up the ranks, it seemed. You two, follow me, he said.

I glanced at Gomorrah, but she didnt seem to have anything to say about how polite our hosts were being.

We didnt go very deep into the factory. The entrance was a grimy place, with a locker room filled with hazmat suits and masks to one side, and what looked like an office on the other side. We were led past those and into a lounge where a wide window overlooked the hole leading to the ground below, with the occasional flash of light as a car hovered through the maze of catwalks.

Two people were waiting for us.

Well, two people and a few guards that faded into the background.

One was wearing a black suit, the other a white one. Actual nice suits too, the sort Id expect to see in an ad for some insurance agency or something. The small rebreather masks they wore didnt quite fit, but safety first and all that.

Greetings, dear samurai, the guy in the white said. Its not every day that we receive such distinguished guests, so please pardon our lack of preparedness.

Uh, yo, I said. Its fine. Are you the people in charge here?

No, no, the black-suited one said. We are merely the King of the Kings right- and left-hand men. Im Bishop Black, and thats Bishop White.

They were both pastier than anything, but I chose not to insult our new info-broker buddies. Alright, cool. Were not actually here for anything related to the Kings. Were looking for someone. I sent them the image of Franny again. And maybe were looking for some information about this gang called the Sewer Dragons.

Im certain we can assist, Bishop Black said. I saw him blinking as he took in the image I sent him. I think we know about this girl.

What do you know? Gomorrah said.

Oh, this and that. Id need to pull things up. It might take a little while. We dont store things digitally, for obvious reasons, he said. Its time-consuming and expensive, but worth it.

Uh-huh, I said. Got a price?

Everything does! White Bishop joined in. We will make sure to provide you with a discount, of course, on account of the good work you samurai put in to improve our lives.

I snorted, and was about to ask him something else when Myalis interrupted.

Catherine. I thought you might wish to know this. The girl, Raccoon, is currently being physically assaulted just outside the factory.

It took me a second to register that, then I was out of the room and walking back out. Gomorrah kept up with me, and so did the two Bishops and some of their guards.

I arrived outside to see Pawn G kicking at a familiar bundle of cloth on the ground.

For just a moment I saw red. Then reason caught up with me and I realized I had a perfect solution. I tugged out my Trench Maker and shot the Pawn in the back. Then I shot the other, who was laughing, for good measure.

What are you doing? Bishop White yelled.

I slammed my gun back into its holster and stomped over to Raccoon. Gomorrah, can you keep an eye on them for a minute? I asked. I had more important things to take care of.

***