4: The Countdown Begins

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sliver X

(The Spirit)

The Archipelago of Florida- New Miami

8/3/47

“I can ‘ack anything, whether it be a bank or a computer. Doesn’t make a difference.”

“You don’t look like a hacker,” she said, twirling a strand of bright red hair between thin fingers. “Maybe some… examples would persuade me in hiring you,” she smiled, painted lips revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. How long had it been since he’d seen a girl with teeth like that? An eternity.

“Sorry,” he said, standing, dropping a credit on the table that would pay for their drinks, probably. Who was he to care if this girl didn’t trust his skills. “This isn’t an interview. I’m not going to cough up a resume. If you need proof, you don’t need the job.” He kicked his chair so the half rotten wood slammed back into the table. He was half way out the door when those slim fingers wrapped around his wrist and a dark voice whispered in his ear.

“Alright. You’ll do.” And he almost left, until she pressed those red lips to his neck and dragged him back to their table.

“Get it!” someone (rather intoxicated and probably associated with him) shouted across the bar. He smirked crookedly.

What could he have done differently? Nothing, he told himself multiple times. They’d had the place surrounded since the day before. Red-head was just a ploy, something to go upstairs in that seedy bar and not have he or his gang expect a thing out of the ordinary. And there wasn’t, until he opened the door to her ‘apartment’ and was slammed around the waist by a man better dubbed as a gorilla.

  He crashed to the floor and men appeared out of curtains and from the bath tub and one even shimmied out from under the bed, faded FBI stickers on their bullet proof armor. It was funny, because there had been a flare earlier, so they all carried swords instead of maglev-guns. He lay there on the ground, lazing as they handed Red-head a wad of credit and shooed her out the door.

“You are under arrest for crimes against the federal government, armed robbery, organized crime…” he zoned out, placing his hands behind his head so they could cuff him, it wouldn’t matter, he could get out of handcuffs with his feet. That’s why he didn’t wear shoes, it wasn’t because he couldn’t hack them off some poor sod. He could hack a baby out of a mothers cradle as she stood right there if he wanted to, but why would he want a kid?

“You’re getting more creative O’ara,” he still struggled with H’s. Years in New Miami hadn’t helped all that much. “Smarter.”

“You’re getting sloppy,” O’Hara kicked his ribs and he didn’t even flinch, this was standard procedure. Then she pulled a needle from under her tweed jacket and things got messy. His hard earned muscles jumped, pulling him to his feet. Body in motion he snapped his neck back and smashed the jaw of one man, using the momentum to carry him towards, then out the open window. He caught the window ledge with his fingertips, dropping and then catching the next, and then dropping to the ground.

They were waiting for him with blow darts. There was one in his neck, one on his wrist and one in his back before you could curse.

“Using new drugs too,” The alleyway went green, everything taking on alien shapes, “How did you find one I wasn’t immune to?” Then he was down, dead in the dirt you could say, last thing he saw was O’Hara looking down from the windowsill, sad smile on her face.