From Your Wires to Your Core

Contact With Contacts

The difference between his contacts was like night and day. The first held a low rank in a small-time gang and spent most of his days running drugs. He was a tall, dark-skinned guy wearing a black bandana and baggy clothes. A light jacket hid the gang tattoos scrawled up and down his arms, though he was unable to hide the ones across his knuckles without gloves. To make up for it, he kept his hands shoved in his pockets. They met in a small park on the edge of his gang's territory. That meeting had been quite short and very subtle. Reed had sat on the opposite end of a park bench. Both of them had scanned the area carefully as they spoke in hushed tones.

It wasn't safe for most gang members to hang around, even in neutral territory. They also risked him being found out if any of his own men saw him where he wasn't supposed to be. They each acted as if they were minding their own business. Reed pretended to be on his phone while his contact acted like he was talking through his earphones. It was a pretty fresh day, but sunny, so a lot of people were milling about. School kids included. It was lunchtime at the local high school about five minutes up the street.

It didn't take long to figure out he wasn't going to get anything useful. The small gang owned one of the warehouses, but they hadn't figured out who'd dumped on their turf. There wasn't even a whisper of unusual activity in the area, on his level at least. He also hadn't heard anything about androids going missing, but they weren't actively looking for it. It wasn't part of their business. He said he'd let him know if he turned up anything on the case. That was all he could do. It was also as much as Reed would ask him to do, considering his position. He didn't want to get anyone killed.

The second man, who currently sat across from him in the upmarket coffee shop, was far more refined. He'd risen through the ranks over the years, and was still feeding information to the police occasionally. Mostly to narcotics. He was clean cut. He wore a neat suit, complete with silver cufflinks, like a simple businessman. He fluffed his silky brunette locks, stroking loose strands away from his dark eyes. He was in a bigger gang, more like a mafia really. All the ranking members dressed to the nines, and the lower ranks were always neatly dressed in cheaper suits.

"We did notice that one of our warehouses had been used as a dumping ground for that, yes. It wasn't us, and we don't know who. We assumed it was just a hate crime. A one off." His voice was thick with an Italian accent that had only gotten stronger over the years. Reed knew for a fact he'd never been to Italy, but from what he understood, his family and the people he worked for spoke the language daily. The gangster handed back the small pile of photos he'd been looking through. He kept an eye on the window, wary of being seen. It was always hard to slip under the radar with a higher rank. His bodyguards would get impatient if he didn't return to his car soon.

"Believe me, until case number three, I thought the same thing," Reed admitted as he sat back and sipped his coffee. It was good coffee. Expensive. It was a plus that he wasn't paying. The large mug of frothy coffee had already been sitting at the table as he'd arrived. "Any gangs you know of that would pull shit like this? Maybe someone trying to draw attention to you?" he added thoughtfully, but the gangster simply shook his head. It wasn't rare for gangs to fight or to set each other up for various crimes, but this seemed a little different. It was too sporadic. It gave the police too many targets.

"Not like this. It's too spread out. Too messy...It isn't a familiar pattern either. No calling card." It was common knowledge that most gangs would leave a sign to let others know who was really responsible. They wanted their enemies to get the message, loud and clear. Reed nodded his agreement. The scenes had been fairly clean of evidence. As far as he could tell, the warehouses were just convenient dumping grounds for the bodies. "This is also an area we rarely use. I don't know if it's a coincidence, but I don't think the people dumping these bodies were looking for our attention," the gangster added as his brown eyes met Reed's across the table. His expression became warm as he watched him thinking. He was especially pleased to notice Reed's cheeks heat a little as he realised he was being watched.

"The phck are you looking at?" Reed almost huffed as he folded his arms defensively. The gangster leaned his chin almost elegantly on one hand, tilting his head in a familiar and flirtatious way. It was almost too familiar. Reed frowned a little more. It was a look the gangster always wore when he was trying to look seductive, and fuck if it didn't always work.

"You are beautiful when you're working." He enjoyed the way Reed huffed and stammered in annoyance at his purring tone. It had been quite a long time since he'd last seen it. It was difficult to meet up these days. Reed didn't work much with narcotics anymore, so it was often other officers who called him. Other officers who didn't give him the same benefits. "I'll ask around a little, though I can't promise anything," he added as he got to his feet. Reed joined him with a nod. That was as much as he could ask for.

"Anything you can do to help," he said in a gruff tone as they prepared to part ways. The gangster looked over Reed's shoulder in sudden dread as the door chimed.

"Shit!" Reed had no time to react before the gangster dragged him into his arms and sealed his lips, resting a hand on the back of his neck to hold him in place. Reed had little choice but to grip the taller man's shoulders as he pulled their bodies flush together. It was a familiar feeling, one that wasn't entirely unwanted. Reed couldn't bite back a small moan as a hand squeezed his ass possessively. The gangster's tongue swept into his mouth at the first opportunity. The hand on his neck fisted in his hair as he continued to devour Reed's lips, lavishing him with strokes of tongue and gentle nips. He was dazed as the gangster finally drew back. A hand stroked his dazed cheek affectionately. His chocolate eyes were soft as he took in the dazed look on Reed's face and the flush of his skin. "My ride is here," was his final farewell, leaving Reed breathless and confused beside the table. Oh, phck you Anton! Reed watched the two bodyguards leading Anton over to a sleek black Mercedes. He prayed to god he wasn't blushing as Anton looked back and waved before he climbed in the backseat.