Chapter Fifty-Four - Burned/Scarred/Butch, Scary, and Notorious

Chapter Fifty-Four - Burned/Scarred/Butch, Scary, and Notorious

Chapter Fifty-Four - Burned/Scarred/Butch, Scary, and Notorious

"As with most careers, the modern journalist has their own codified look. Journo fashion is usually marked by plate carriers and bulletproof vests, often in bright, faction-neutral colours. Occasionally a journo will be wearing a flak helmet as well, oftentimes with several electronic upgrades attached to it to allow them to capture the world around them in high fidelity.

The modern microphone, with sound dampening, vocal-tuned pick ups, and at-range-listening is another must-have for any fashionable journalist."

--Fashion Careers, 2049

***

"You good?" I muttered once I was right next to Gros Baton.

The kid nodded once, his face set and serious, brows drawn into a scowl. "J'pense que ça va. Mais ces journalistes-là n'arrêtent pas de me harceler." I think I'm alright. These journalists won't stop hounding me, though. He gestured to the journalists who were kind of crowding us in.

I was pretty sure I could beat a path to my bike with no problem. I only saw a few guns in the lot. Plenty more body-armour though. Plate-carriers were the order of the day, and a few of them had army-style helmets repainted with the logo of their stations on the sides. Not all, mind, a lot of them were trying to look friendly and personable, all corpo-smiles and artificially friendly faces.

There were two ways out of here, I figured. That mostly came from the limited experience I had seeing celebrities and samurai dealing with the media, so it was all third or fourth hand experience. Still, I'd seen some meme-able fuckups and knew what not to do.

Don't insult the journos... unless I was really hot, funny, or popular. Don't repeat 'no comment' endlessly, it only pisses them off... unless I was hot about it, or funny, or popular. Don't get too defensive, don't ramble, and don't assume the mic is off. Unless I could be hot or funny with it.

Fuck, being hot, funny, and popular was one hell of a leg up, but I wasn't any of those three so I'd have to be sensible.

So, two solutions. Drag Gros Baton out of here as quick as I could, fast enough not to piss this lot off, or... the other solution. "Alright, you fucks," I said before waving them down. Somehow that actually shut some of them up. "You get one question per network."

They all started at once.

"Oi! Shut the fuck up!" I snapped. Wait, was that insulting? Fuck me I wasn't good at following my own advice, was I? "One per network. I'll know if you're being a dick about it. Don't test me. You! Yeah, you, the gormless guy with the baldspot. Yeah, I can see it, question, now."

Screw it, I was gonna handle this bunch like I would unruly kids and I'd hope for the best.

"Uh, Kai Voss, for Apoca-Lips," he said before pointing a small microphone my way. "Uh, can you let us know about your relationship with the samurai next to you?"

"Gros Baton?" I asked. "He's nice enough." I shrugged with a shoulder. "Next. You, with the blue and yellow hair." Dude had a logo with the same colours on his chest.

Consider it sent... because it is.

Holly seemed happy enough with that judging by her winning smile. "You," I said, pointing to the next guy. We were... maybe halfway though, but I wasn't going to stand around here all day, not when I could see more media-types rushing over.

"Word, Buzz, of Politycon. Are you planning to murder any more politicians?"

"Only if they don't keep to their lane," I said. "You?"

"Penelope Scope, The New Montreal Celebrity Investigators. We've noticed that you have a few cat-like body enhancements and have recently set up a charity-like program offering people low-priced prosthetics. Are cat ears going to become available as well? Maybe tails and claws?"

"I wasn't planning on offering anything like that," I said. "Would people even want that? No, don't... don't answer that. You, with the fancy tech hair." I pointed to a chick with a fro made of green and blue tech hair.

"Wanda Lust of the Globe Travellers News Association, have you considered roaming outside of the New Montreal area?"

"Uh, not really, but I have been making friends in other countries lately, so who knows? Maybe I'll fly over to say hi one of these days? I'm sure shit's worse in some places than it is here and they might need a hand."

I pointed to one last guy. He seemed smartly dressed, more of a classic journo than the rest. He nodded in thanks and adjusted a pair of aug-glasses. "Benjamin Lebeau from CNMN. My... peers here have brought up a number of questions, but I really wanted to know where you stand with regards to improving New Montreal. You shot the mayor, causing a great deal of political turmoil in a time where such is unwelcome, but you've also visibly put a lot of effort into the reconstruction and repair of the New Montreal sewer system."

"Uh, sorry, Ben, but where's the question?" I asked.

"Forgive me. The question is; what are your policies and do you aim to improve the city, if so, how?" he said.

I had to take a moment to unpack that, but no more than a moment. To these kinds of jackals, a long pause would only give them fuel to call me slow-witted and stupid. At least, it would be enough for the kittens.

"Right," I said to fill the air a little. "Look, I'm from New Montreal. Born there... more or less raised there. It's home, and it's never not been shit. The air stinks, the people are cunts and it's a giant festering shithole. I don't think I can change that. I'm just one girl, samurai or no. But I've got some friends, like this little brat here, and others, and we're willing to claw and shoot and fuck shit up to keep the city going. I guess that's my policy. I'll fix what I see as broken enough to bother fixing. Don't expect me to turn the place into a utopia, if you want that you'll need to do your share too."

"Thank you," Benjamin said.

"Yeah. Okay, that's enough, we need to get back to work. Talking to you bunch won't get the aliens any more dead. Yeah yeah, I don't care, move it. Move it! For fuck's sake."

***