I turn to face them when I make it to the top. They approach with caution, eying my KA-blade. It shimmers bluish-white, humming with galvanic energy. I whir it around; the rain sparkles in its wake. The Wildcats probably think the move is for show, but I have something else in mind.
They spread out, trying to circle me. The nearest one levels her gun as she sidesteps, her thin braids swinging with every movement. A look of sheer hatred hardens her face. "Stupid little girl. You have no idea what you've done, do you? The only reason we're not killing you is that Selene wants to take care of you in person."
I back away, keeping them at a distance. "Look, tell Selene it was nothing personal, okay? It was a misunderstanding. We should be able to talk this out."
The other Wildcat laughs. "If Selene wanted to talk, we wouldn't be here. And this is personal. Very personal."
The first one drops to one knee and squeezes the trigger. Nothing happens. At the same time, the other Wildcat's stun batons go dead. My blade twirling had cast a cyber net over the immediate area, transmitting a signal that shut their weapons down.
I take advantage of their surprise and attack. The KA-blade extends with a twist of the pommel, sizzling in the rain as I take the nearest Wildcat down with a vicious strike. The other one drops the stun gun and reaches for the firearm strapped to her leg.
I'm faster. Switching the KA-blade to gun mode, I extend the grip and fire a stun round, dropping the woman like a bag of bricks onto the wet rooftop. The blade retracts, and I slide it into the sheath on my belt. Three down, four more incapacitated in the room. Who knows how many more on the way. Selene probably has an army scouring the streets of New Haven. It's only a matter of time before they box me in. I'm only a visitor, after all.
New Haven is her city. And I have only one way to get out of it.
2
I sat upright, springing from unconsciousness to fully awake so fast that a wave of dizziness crashed over me. I groaned, putting my head in my hands. I was in the back seat of a vehicle that smelled like cigarettes and old leather.
"Ah, awake. Good. I think you'll find no lasting aftereffects, sweet Jinx."
My head snapped up. Sandman's disturbing gaze reflected from the rearview mirror. He rode in the passenger seat of the cab. An antique android drove, a newsboy cap perched on its cylindrical head. Rain sloshed against the windshield so heavily it obscured the view.
Anger scalded my face as I checked my clothes. "Screw you, Sandman. I swear if you even thought about putting your dirty hands on—"
He giggled. "Why Ms. Jinx, why so distrustful? I thought we were friends. Friends don't molest unconscious friends, even if they do look helpless and delicious. But even were I so inclined, my employer wouldn't like that one bit. No, he wouldn't."
I glared at him. "You're not gonna need to worry about Newman if you don't quit playing games. I thought you were taking me to New Haven."
He waved an arm in a grandiose gesture. "Look around you, lovely. Welcome to New Haven."
I stared through the window, breath taken away. I'd been inside quite a few Havens. None are alike. They had personalities. It was in the architecture, the style, even in the type of residents that live there. Haven Core was all opulence and glam, wealth and beauty on display everywhere you look. Syn City was digitized and sterile, populated with more synoids then human beings.
New Haven was like going back in time.
It wasn't a beautiful city, at least not in the sense of the word. The upper sections stretched to infinity, lit up in blazing neon and bright lights, interwoven with airlanes of flying traffic that whizzed by like laser blasts. The lower sections were dark and oppressive, smothered by the mammoth buildings so forcefully that daylight barely registered. Rain fell as if it would never stop, alternating between light drizzles to roaring downpours. The residents ignored it, walking under protective awnings or glowing umbrellas.
The entire city and its inhabitants were retro-styled. Art Deco styled architecture and furnishings, gorgeous streamlined vehicles from an age where World Wars raged, and the Jazz Age was in full swing. Men wore suits and fedoras, women slinky gowns and furs. The mixture of past-era style with cutting-edge tech was unlike anything I'd ever seen. The people went about their lives as if completely unaware of the outside world. Like New Haven was the last place on Earth.
It was a nearly overwhelming experience. Combined with my unconscious transit, induced awakening, and the swiftly arranged meeting with my mysterious host, it was fortunate I could think straight at all. But I had to gather my focus pretty damn quick. Because my meet was with a top-level operator, one known to be powerful, cunning and lethal.
Sandman watched me with a knowing grin on his narrow face. "Let’s make a stop at a boutique shop."
"What the hell for?"
"To make you more presentable, of course. You have to look the part if you're to talk the talk and walk the walk in New Haven."
Thirty minutes later we pulled into the parking lot of The Gaiden, a popular nightclub in the city's Downtown sector. Expensive Asian décor somehow blended with the sounds of soulful jazz and the atmosphere of a criminal underworld. The air was hazed with cigarette smoke, the booths and tables occupied by predatory men and women in their sharpest outfits. A heavyset man led a jazz band on trumpet; a soundtrack for the sexy danger of the place.
For once I was grateful for Sandman's interference. Thanks to our pit stop, I blended right in. Fur on my shoulders, sequined gown tight on my curves. Afro braided back and accessorized with gemstone butterflies. All eyes were on me as Sandman led me to a private room in the back.
His employer turned around to greet us. I felt my insides turn to ice.
"What kind of game is this? You're not Newman."
The stranger gave me a thin smile. "A most astute observation. Newman is too private an individual to deal with this sort of operation. I'm his handler. You can call me Tommy. Tommy Tsunami."
I would have laughed in his face, but he was deadly serious. Tommy Tsunami was a dark man. Dark skin, eyes like chips of flint, suited in black from head to toe. He didn't look at all as outlandish as his street moniker suggested. Tall and slender, he towered in the room like an onyx statue.
"And you're Jinx La Fox, of course. It's a pleasure. Apologies first of all." He gestured to Sandman, who lurked in the corner like a leering shadow. "For the inconvenience of your transport. Entering New Haven isn't a simple matter."
"Yeah. Tell me about it."
He offered me a cigarette from a silver-engraved holder. I turned it down. He shrugged, pausing to light one himself. Smoke funneled from his nostrils, drifting my direction like ghost serpents.
"Now. Let's get down to business."
"That's what I’m here for. The details were scarce in the initial post."
"As they were supposed to be. The pay was supposed to do the talking."
"Yeah, it got my butt from point A to here. But that's as far as things go without an up-front payment."
A smile touched his lips. "Half up front. The remainder when the job is done."
I paused. "Yeah, okay. But I need to know what I'm getting into for me to pull this off."
"Indeed. And time is ticking." He opened his holoband, pulling up a photo file and projecting it in three-dimensional form. The woman in the hologram was blond, slender with cherubic features. Molded cheekbones. Eyes that even in digital format were entrancing, as if laden with arcane knowledge.