Strictly Business

Chapter 13

The helicopter landed in the middle of nowhere with a thud. I had been dragged along by the blue jumpsuit men onto a journey into the middle of freaking nowhere. I doubted that I was even still under the Dome, until I looked up and felt reassured that at least we were still in Neon City. I got out, and took a look at my surroundings. Flattened grass, an assortment of scattered rocks chipped in various places and a hole dug deep into the ground with a staircase carved into its walls descended far below the earth.

Oh, great. So some subterranean nutjobs were taking me on a journey to the center of the Earth. Great stuff. My hands were being forcibly held onto by the two figures who had accompanied me along the flight. They remained silent, letting out a cough every now and then. As we descended deep under the surface, everything grew darker and darker as the light from above was slowly cut off by the rocky crags and overhangs that loomed above the staircase.

I treasured beauty sleep. And I was tired. I had just been on a late-night stakeout at the Nagoshi household, which lay on the Outer Ring of Neon City. It was 2AM, and usually at this time I find myself in a bed. Today was different, apparently, because two figures in jumpsuits felt the need to drag me with them down under the earth.

After descending about what I reckoned must have been thirty stories, I finally came across a change in the otherwise boring surroundings. A large heavy and durable steel pressurized door towered before me. It was bordered in black and yellow tape, with the words 'DO NOT CROSS' titled all over. "Too bad for you, police tape," I muttered to myself under the harsh gasps of my breath, "I'm all for nonconformity."

The door opened with a loud hiss, the sound of pressure escaping and the two halves of the door slid open, allowing us to cross. Despite the warnings of the police tape, we crossed.

"Whose idea was it to put DO NOT CROSS all over a door you plan to cross?" I asked. "Seems pretty redundant."

The figure beside me said nothing. Not answering questions is impolite, but I didn't tell whoever it was next to me that just in case they decided to snap and break my head inwards or something.

Behind the door we had just crossed was a moderately large room, divided into various branching corridors and cubicles. It was lit by neon blue torches that were attached to the walls, and trendy blue spherical lights hung from the ceiling. The floor was tiled in an alternating pattern of grey against black. Machinery whirred away.

"Looks like someone took a lesson in interior designing." I said.

Still no response.

I was dragged along through the corridors, past various doors of interesting names, and then finally into a normally lit office, without all the discomforting blue strobe lights that made my eyes want to bleed. In it sat a shaggy man. He looked like he had just recently shaved, and he wore a blue trenchcoat. Blue shades. Blue scarf. Everything was blue. Blue isn't even in season. Red is. That's why I wear a red scarf. The trends, people.

He looked down at a file on his desk. A collection of papers, documents and clips was scattered amidst the clutter of it. His gaze moved upwards to meet mine.

"Niro Kasushitsu. Grew up in Prairie Side Orphanage. Lives in the Middle Ring. Three-room apartment. Works as a hired gun. Client named Larry Jackstone. Kakei clan member. Tends to get frustrated rather easily. Thinks he is witty."

He continued to read out a list of traits from a piece of paper in his hands, which irritated me. I batted it away. He looked at me and smirked.

"I repeat, tends to get frustrated rather easily."

I looked at him sternly. "Alright, Mr. Psychoanalyst, I think it's great that you stalk me and know all about me, but," and I slammed the desk, "just who the hell do you think you are? You dragged me down a hundred feet under the ground and made my head all screwy with your weird blue lights. Explain."

I could see he was scared. If he knew I as a hired gun, then he knew he had every right to be scared of me.

"I'm sorry," he said, "if I made you feel uncomfortable." He straightened out his trenchcoat and fitted his shades back on probably, which must have fallen off when I hammered the desk. "Let me introduce myself. I am known as Cable." He extended his arms and swayed them around, gesturing at the entire area of the office and the compound. "I run this."

"Just what is this?". My gaze never faltered. There were questions to be asked, and I damn well wanted some answers.

"This," he leaned forward, "is the headquarters of the Blue Screen."

The Blue Screen. A hacking syndicate and sworn enemies of the government and Intelligencia. They have access to information on all kinds of people (just like Byte), and they use it to screw the government over. Which is probably how Cable here knew so much about me.

"And why I am here?"

"Because you," he pointed at me with his right index finger, "killed Larry Jackstone."