MAD

chvpter 1

I shake my head, craning my neck to watch as they leave. "Nah, nah," I murmur, "They're moving for real." 

We collect our gear, approaching Orient Road. 

The cluster of men migrate as the leader, a man named Crippy, works to get his shitty phone to function. Down the road, the other gang-men pause around a fire barrel, like vultures dancing around a carcass. Dangerous men. 

"Nah, it's fucked man," we overhear. They drift further away, trying for better reception closer to Denisons Tower. They don't know that Wolf is screwing with their electronics. Giving us a window.

We hide on Carson Alley, which is Ghoul side of Orient Road, but across Orient Road is the Yakuza territory line. The guards face the Yakuza border, leaving guard dogs to ward us off.

They're only expecting an attack from the Yakuza because my father kept this deal secret.

"Oi, yous. Wait here." One man instructs. 

"He don' seem happy," Scorpius's eyes spark, "Him a Ghoul?"

I squint, trying to discern if he's one of my father's men. "That one is," I watch the two men they left behind to guard the Tent, their backs to us, "Who's Drop is it?" All I know is my father's men are buying a shit tonne of merchandise... but from who? It's easy to recognise the Lake Darling fashion that adorns the Ghoul, but the other man is dressed in city gear— well tailored, high-tech fabric that'd double as a decent defence against a knife, but still edged with the rough fashion that characterises a RED-ZONE. Black fur lines his collar, and I can see the tattoos coating the back of his neck.

"What in the hell is a Holders Bay gang doing here?" I murmur.

"Don' know. But, check, they left them three unpacked," Scorpius gestures his chin at three huge duffels, grinning. 

"What you think is in 'em?" My eSight is trying mighty hard to pull a read, but it fails to narrow in on the signal coming from the bags. There might be tech in there.

His lip quirks, "You ready to find out?" He curls his fingers around the gasoline canisters, giving the handles a testing shrug. 

"Oi!" A man shouts and we halt.

"Oh fuck, that was Crip," I murmur, goose-necking to get a look. 

Just like that a dispute breaks out, and the Ghoul looks between the Yakuza territory and his men down the road, "Yo, watch this shit yeah?" He bolts, preparing to join what could be a growing fight. The Holders Bay man looks around urgently, realising his guys are outnumbered, but with his back to us he doesn't notice. 

Scorpius's grin widens, curling his fist and wrinkling his nose as he prays that the stupid asshole will pull a dumb move. But, to his disappointment, the last guard decides to stay put, the commotion down the road dissipating.

The eSight contact in my eye blinks a read on an electric trip wire strung through the back entrance of the Tent.

"Damn, guess we's gon' have to pop the poor fuck." Scorpius hisses. 

I pull my gang mask up, adjusting it over my nose, "Yeah, well if this goes bad I dibs Crip. I wan' see him burn for screwing me over this morning." I scoff, and on queue, he snickers. I was casing the Stall one last time, and he screwed me over on a trade. Dickhead.