Ambrose, a cyberpunk tale

Ambrose, A Cyberpunk Tale Part 3

They were not given any government equipment, assets, or weapons beyond a promise that, as sanctioned Fixers, there would be no police backlash. It wasn't too surprising to Ambrose, after all. That's why you hired a Fixer: so that you didn't have to worry about those sorts of peripherals. Ambrose and Rusty agreed to meet in two hours to plot out their next move. Mr. Boyd had not provided so much as a location as to where Dr. Fleming might be held at present; after all that's what he had hired Fixers for.

After grabbing his newly purchased needler and buying three magazines for it, Ambrose collected a few other things he would need for the government job. He stashed them in the alley where Rusty had wanted to meet and waited. It wasn't long before the younger man arrived, pulling up in a sleek hoverbike. He powered the vehicle down and strode over, one hand resting on the hilt of each Saber knife.

"I do some dig inna your rap ol'-man, say you haf a score 'o real."

"Thanks Rusty, I am rather proud of that perfect score-"

"But you hear me on dis wan, I need dis job and I seen how you op'rate. Dat ki'na bullwollock not flying wit me ole-man. You jus stay back, you on'y slow mine down, or worse get us louded."

"Listen you spent cells for brains, I d'wan prob which Fix-man, but I've looked at your stats too, and they're not that great. You have some impressive skills and fancy equipment listed, but you haven't done a single job before this. Not one. That's worse even than a 3:5 ratio. So you can forget about calling the shots. Either work with me and listen to what I have to say, or sideline yourself and ride my coattails to your first success." As Ambrose had calculated, it rankled the young Lunar Fixer to be called out on his lack of experience and stung him even more to hear Ambrose suggest that he could get credit for the older Fixer's work. That would be good for Ambrose, considering he really needed Rusty and his equipment for his plan to work.

"Okay 'Brose-man, whatch big plan for fin'ing out where fin' dis man."

"Follow me, and I'll show you." Turning a corner at the back of the alley both Fixers walked while, unseen by them, a tall man with a toothy smile and carefully coiffed synthetic hair watched them from a stealth field. The black hair with brown highlights, vintage detective look of the man's clothes, and deep set eyes were all anyone would have needed to identify the city's number one reporter: Glade Cardile. He had been tipped off to this meeting and, after hearing that a government chief of Research was missing, there was no way he was going to let anyone else get the inside story on what was unfolding.

At the end of the alley were trash bags from a nearby restaurant that bordered a basketball court. Opening the dumpster that was also there, Ambrose pulled out a body. It grunted as it hit the paved ground.

"This is a member of Isentata, one of-"

"I 'ware what das freaking Isentata dis, you freak-mad for catching a mafia-man??" hissed Rusty somewhat hysterically. Ambrose pursed his lips, but soon broke back into his small smile as he secured the mafia man's hands and feet to the chain link fence, spread eagled like an X. He then rolled his sleeves and, humming to himself, began punching the bound man. The mafia man was dressed in designer clothes and looked not much older than Rusty. He didn't even seem to need the gag in his mouth to suppress his moans as he was struck. In fact, he glared defiantly at Ambrose as the blows continued to rain in across his body. Rusty grabbed the man's head and tilted it forward, checking for mental stims or augs. Sure enough, there was a stim port at the back of the man's head.

"Y'fool, him blocking pain with stims! Dis bad idea 'Brose-man." Ambrose continued bobbing and weaving, throwing blow after blow at the bound man.

"Oh, I know. I slept in and didn't get a chance to work out; this is just to stay sharp. The real torture will be psychological, not this." Ambrose finished his set, panting, and both the mafia man and the other Fixer stared at him with disbelief in their faces. Ambrose rummaged around the alley until he found a bucket and spoke as he upended it.