Crimson Rain (5 page)

“
And your name was?
”
she said, smiling innocently as a blushing virgin who had seen the man she l
usted after
naked
for the first time.

“
How rude of me. I must have never introduced myself properly to a woman of your caliber
, as well as
a potential client.
”
He didn
’
t know it
,
but he had already made several vital mistakes in his answer.
“
But the name is Brian Nash.
”

“
Good meeting you, Brian,
”
she said, turning toward the hallway that would lead her out of his office.
“
I hope to be doing a good amount of business with you in the future.
”
She then sauntered down the hallway with a feline
’
s grace.
As she exited the office building and hit the streets, she cocked her head and spat, followed by a mutter.
“
God damn pig!
”

She continued down the concrete sidewalk back toward her house on the west end of town; she would have to pass by the central slums to reach her home. She had more business to attend to today
. The road to completing her vendetta would be long and bloodied.

I may as well continue to pursue my
ruse
since I am stuck walking
, she thought to herself. She activated her Link System Communications Device and asked it to call Brian Nash. There were three rings; he undoubtedly had caller identification and knew it was her. Her final dealings with him must have had him confused; it
’
s what she had intended anyway.

“
Hello?
”
he asked
,
puzzled.

“
Brian, I know I only just left your office, but I wanted to throw this out there. I do have half a mind to retract any thought of wanting to purchase your services by the fact that you didn
’
t give me your all from the very beginning as you should have.
”

“
You
’
re right, I didn
’
t. It was presumptuous of me to do so. I see so many people come in looking at our product and they never make the commitment. I judged you to be like them and I really wasn
’
t trying to impress with my best of knowledge and expertise. I am really surprised you noticed. You are quite the savvy woman.
May I ask
,
though? Why are you calling? You aren
’
t retracting your request to be a customer, are you? As you know, we require a fifty thousand credit applicant fee that is non-refundable. Also, may I add, our services could be of much benefit to you in your line of work,
M
iss Crimson.
”
He was a salesman, all right. She could hear his cockiness coming back in his tone of voice.

“
You are correct, and I am a woman of reason. I hadn
’
t thought anything as crazy as wasting fifty thousand. Additionally, please never pander me as to how useful the company
’
s services
—
Barometrics
’
services, not your own
—
could be to me lest I forget my line of work.
The reason I called was to offer you a chance to redeem yourself. Prove you aren
’
t as insolent and useless as I perceive. I know that you make a commission and I can request a new sales representative at any time. So how
‘
bout it? Up for proving you aren
’
t as useless as you seem?
”
Her questioning tone was subtly seductive, like a dominatrix calling a slave.

Brian
’
s voice had a tone of confusion
.
“
Well, what exactly did you have in mind?
”

“
Tomorrow, you take me to dinner. We meet at the Blue Nami on the east end of the city. If you don
’
t know it, look it up. You
’
re paying. I figure you can afford it after the commission of my applicant fee. If you can
’
t stimulate me with an intelligent conversation then take me home. Even a girl like me needs to get plowed every once and awhile. Your body is good enough to do the job. If it isn
’
t, I
’
ve got some boosts that will help,
”
she said forwardly.

It was a risky strategy. If this guy had any common sense, he would feel a trap coming. If he was
an ordinary man, he would let his male member do the thinking for him. Either way, she needed to use him
like a
chess piece and hoped he would take the bait.

“
Well,
M
iss Rose… I don
’
t know what to say. Under normal circumstances, I would be offended by your outright demands, but seeing as these are anything but normal circumstances…I accept. I will see you tomorrow at the Blue Nami. What time works for you?
”
he questioned. She could tell he was already envisioning himself panting over her sweaty body.

“
Eight,
”
she said, then disconnected.

Men are such easy marks. All you have to do is offer sex and they will do
about anything. If that doesn
’
t work,
cry.
She had been so wrapped up in her conversation that she hadn
’
t realized she was already in the slums. As she looked around for a landmark she could identify, she saw a bald-headed, grey-skinned man stumbling her way.

He was either intoxicated or had obviously undergone recent nanobot modifications, and he had the appearance of a Screamer. As he stumbled closer, she made eye contact with him. He looked at her with a strange, inquisitive expression. She was known to turn many heads with her beauty, but his countenance wasn
’
t lustful. It was…
a
s if he had seen something familiar to him.

“
Excuse me, sir, but is there a clinic around here? My head hurts something awful and I could really use a doctor
’
s attention,
”
she said to him in an almost Southern belle accent.

He stared at her with a complex expression in his eyes. His body was quivering from the bots destructing and reconstructing the nervous system in his brain. His lips were even trembling and when he spoke, his voice was distorted.
“
There is. Keep heading north for about six blocks, east two, and you will see between a café and an abandoned building Dr. Max Hall
’
s office. He can help.
”

“
Thank you, kind sir,
”
she said, still faking
an
overly sweet persona.

She had to play so many roles in life that she
did so naturally. She sometimes didn
’
t even realize it when she wasn
’
t speaking in her own voice. Sometimes she forgot which of the voices she used actually belonged to her. All that she really knew
wa
s she had a purpose and nothing would stop her from fulfilling it.

“
Not a problem,
”
said the awkwardly proportioned stranger.

Before he could say anything else to her, she had beg
u
n a hasty stride in the direction of one Max Hall
’
s office. She was curious as to how he was doing, if he was the same Max she
’
d known so many years ago. She passed by many seedy characters as she made her way to the office.

She was certainly out of place by the looks of her. Her skin tight black and pink combat suit, her flowing red hair, her striking eyes
,
and her angelic skin tone. This was a
destitute part
of town and if it wasn
’
t for the fact that she was moving faster
in her walking pace
than most people jogged, some of these unruly hoodlums would have like
ly
t
ried
to have some fun with her.

She rounded the corner and stood near a green dumpster.
Exactly
as the stranger had described to her, there was the café, Floyd
’
s. Then there was a tacky neon sign half burnt out and flickering. Below it was a black cast iron door with a gauss weaponry resistant glass window that read,
Doctor Max Hall.
On the other side of that was an abandoned building that should have been condemned. There was no doubt a bunch of boost addicts squatting in there.

She flipped open a bangle she always wore on her wrist and revealed a portable Synaptix Corp multiprocessor interface. She pressed a side button and turned it on. She stood staring into space for about fifteen seconds. But by the end of it, she had confirmed this was the Max she had been in school with as a child.

She also confirmed his birth date, home address, blood type, portfolio, specialty of medicine, every test score from youth through his college days, how many women he had been with, as well as any crime he may have been suspect or convicted of. Nothing was sacred.

She closed her portable interface and took in a deep breath. She exhaled it out of her mouth and at the end, let out a girlish giggle. She regained her composure then said aloud,
“
This is going to be fun.
”

In an instant, she bolted off at lightning speed toward the black cast iron door. She knew it was going to make a rumble that would shake the building and those inside the office.

Her speed was unmatched and her strength
in
human; she might even unhinge the door when she came into contact with it. He might have patients in there now that had weak hearts. He might even become startled and wet himself. She knew this, and she hoped these things would all come true.

It would give her a good laugh. Right before impact, she had to wipe the grin she was wearing off her face. She had to be cool, calm, assertive. She had to be in command. She couldn
’
t be this little girl running in the street about to barge through the door hoping to scare someone.

She had to go back to being a woman. She had to go back to playing roles to get what she wanted to fulfill what she needed to do. It was time to get real, time to be serious. But for those few brief seconds that she could be a child, and the memories she would hold of them after? Well
,
damn, they sure did feel good.

Back Alleyways

After paying, he stumbled out of Max
’
s office. He had felt pain before, even worse than this, but never quite like this. The large hollow bore needle into his brachial vein was nothing compared to the migraine associated with the robots de-mylenating the sheaths around his acoustic nerve and portions of his brain then reconstructing them to hear and understand new frequencies.

He was stumbling down the streets of Alexarien looking like a junkie; his balance was off and he felt sick to his stomach. The things he heard around him weren
’
t quite the same and he kept hearing deep rumbles followed by screeching pieces of high frequencies so intense he thought his eyes were going to burst.

The pain made him sick to his stomach and he couldn
’
t remember where the apartment was that he was staying at. The pain was so bad his vision was blurring and he began to sweat like a booster suffering from withdrawals. He had been so smug back at the office. He did know pain of all sorts that most humans could only imagine in nightmares; this was worse.

He had talked to himself in his head, though; he re-established to himself that this was necessary. Even if it wasn
’
t, there was no going back now. He
’
d
signed the papers and once the series of injections was started, it could be detrimental to stop. Everything he read on the net said that the first shot was always the worst.

He shook his head and kept stumbling, and crossed the street. He was trying to go by memory, which was now clouded by flashbacks and pain. He thought he was headed the right direction toward home when he saw her, Sarah.

No, it wasn
’
t her; she was much too old. She would only be about nineteen, and a little bit taller. Her hair would be black.
You can change that,
he thought to himself. Her face, though, had a similar character, something familiar.