From: gdg019@cch.coventry.ac.uk (Ridley McIntyre)
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Subject: STORY: BOY [revised] (4 of 4)
Keywords: Rat 1.4
Date: 24 Jan 93 15:32:05 GMT
Organization: Fifth Column, Coventry, UK


                  	BOY - by Ridley McIntyre

			4. Times Square.

"Kreskin says he'll met you outside the old Slammer Cyberena at noon."

 "Times Square."

 That's where he is now. The north side, across from the entrance to the
Cyberena. He sits in the uncomfortable seat of a magnesium alloy rickshaw that
belongs to a young Irish-American kid called Bobby, who wears a white BIG
PIERROT SAYS WATCH YOUR BACK t-shirt and a conical straw hat to keep the
blazing sun off him. Kitty's next to him, watching the windows behind the dead
neon signs. She's not happy about this choice of venue at all. It's out of
Shitamachi. Out of the protection of the Asahi Tag Team. It's the lower end
of the Tangerine Tag Team's kill zone and it's totally open.

 Dex figures the poor security of the area will work to the advantage of
everyone, but he knows that Kitty doesn't get nervous without good reason. So
when Kreskin's red rickshaw arrives and Kitty hands him a HK pistol, he doesn't
give it back. Dex hates guns. He snaps a magazine in and loads a round, letting
the hammer down softly. Before climbing out, he stuffs the thing down the back
of his baggy red jeans.

 Kreskin climbs out wearing a cheap business suit, hiding his eyes behind a
pair of Mitsubishi anti-laser glare glasses. He keeps two of his joker
muscleboys close to him, watching the area while playing toyfully with their
HK uzi copies. The tallest one looks like one of the cartoon robots from a 
Disney 7 series. 

 For a moment it almost looks like Kreskin doesn't recognise Dex as he strides 
across the street. But soon he's there and the smile creeps onto the Russian's 
chubby face. The huge arms extend and the two old friends hug each other with 
subtle reservation.

 There's a swift conversation that seems to arrange another meeting time, and
Dex hands over the data cube. Dex is secretly full of himself as they talk. He's
given Kreskin what he wanted, made enough money for Kreskin to sort him and
Kitty out with new ID's so they can go to Tokyo when the heat is on. He has
his future in his hands at last. A chance to create his own destiny.

 There's a stifled thump and a cry and a woman's urgent shout behind him.

 "Dex!"

 He spins to see the scene, pulls the HK from his jeans.

 Bobby lies in a growing pool of blood, his life evaporating under the heat of
the sun. Turk has Kitty by the throat, using her as human body armour; the
cliched hostage position, with a thick chrome revolver pressed into her temple.

 "Hi there, Eastman!" Turk breaks into his dumb grin showing bright white
teeth and a piece of strawberry gum. "Think Ah'd leave heah without takin'
you wi' me? Ah think not."

 Dex levels the automatic at Turk's head. Behind him, he can feel the presence
of Kreskin and his boys, the sights of HK uzi copies sending shivers along
his neck. Sweat tickles his chin before dripping off him.

 "Let her go, Turk. This is you and me here."

 Turk whistles and makes a face. "You been watchin' too much Big Pierrot,
Eastman. Come up wi' an ole cliche like that. You put away your piece an'
maybe, jus' maybe, Ah might let your li'l lady go."

 Dex shakes his head. His guts wrenching with the feeling of betrayal, like
nothing has happened but he's lost everything he has. "Come on, man. I throw
this away and I'm giving you the edge."

 Turk flicks back the hammer on the revolver, Kitty sucks in a breath. "What
edge, fool. Don't try an' pull that mental shit on me, Eastman. Ah know you
ain't gonna shoot me."

 "Did it once before, Turk, remember? Nothing can happen without you dying
at the end of it. You run and I'll shoot. You shoot me and I'll shoot you. You
point the gun at me and I'll shoot you. You kill her and I'll shoot you. They
shoot me and I'll shoot you. No win situation."

 Dex cocks an eyebrow at Turk's expression. The smile falling from the fat
Dixie City man's face, turning to a sneer.

 "What's up, Turk? Running out of choices? Then call Kreskin's men off."

 Turk licks salt from his lips.

 "Better do as he says, man. You won't be quite so good-looking with a hole
in your face." Kitty's mind is racing. She doesn't have the advantage that
these boys have. All of them are probably rewired. Dex, she knows, definitely
has been, she's seen how fast he can be. Only a tiny reflex boost, but it's
enough of an edge against an unmodified man. No, she can't outrun them, so she
has to outthink them. Be faster by pre-empting them all.

 "Shut up, bitch!"

 "What's it going to be, Turk, eh?" Dex can feel his wired nervous system,
courtesy of the Texan Army, speeding up. An effect like pins and needles all 
over the body. A slight vertigo and then the neural processor that runs it 
all from the base of his spine kicks in and the world turns slow-mo.

 Frame by frame, a second of violence.

 Everyone is surprised because Kitty moves first. Her elbow lifts up and
back to push Turk's arm away and the revolver slips from his grasp and Kitty
is in the air, diving for the cover of the rickshaw. Turk is a standing target,
but Dex doesn't fire, instead, he jumps at wired speed to the floor and shoots
at the red rickshaw. His eyes shut tight, he empty's half a magazine into 
Kreskin.

 Kreskin's boys are too slow, only now starting to speed up. Their first bursts
of fire are at the place where Dex was, and find only Turk's fat body at the
far side of the street, catching him in the throat and upper torso. Bullets
rip through his spine and out the other side, pulling Turk with them like
puppet strings. The tall Dixie City man slaps against a metal shop front and
slides silent to the ground in a bloody, crumpled heap of flesh.

 The cartoon robot boy manages to follow Dex's trajectory, and when Dex rolls
up onto his knees to fire the other half of the magazine, bullets smash into
his right arm and send him spinning back to the floor.

 Kitty gives the robot boy less than an instant to realise that his boss is dead
before shattering his skull, sending blood and brain matter across the red
rickshaw. The remaining joker is stunned and silent. Kitty stands there
with Turk's revolver in her small hands, trained at his head. The boy drops his
HK uzi copy. Kitty walks over and kicks it away. Then kneecaps the joker with
two well-placed shots to stop him from leaving.

 Dex is screaming in agony. He's been shot before, back in Thames Midland, but 
that was just a flesh wound. He figures a bone's been hit here and it's 
drawing his entire mind to it. By the time Kitty's run over to help him, he's 
passed out from the pain.

				***

Dex climbs lazily out of cot and moves to the window. Looking out, the hot sun
is going down on East 10th Street and some half-Japanese kids are playing
soccer with a ball made from rubber bands. These kids are going to grow up
tough, he thinks to himself. Street Darwinism. But there's no future for them
if they can't think, and the Boy knows that being smart can just beat being 
tough. He knows, cause it's not him lying in the street in Times Square 
waiting for the Tangerine Tag Team to pick him up. That's Turk, and Turk was 
tough; but far too stupid.

 "Well, there go your dreams, kiddo." Kitty stands at the door, the one place
in his room where she feels comfortable.

 "Not really. Turk said I may need an insurance policy. I'm going to keep
the tickets open for that."

 "What about for now?"

 He turns around and sees her there. He smiles. His bandaged arm doesn't hurt
much anymore. Not after Kitty pressed about 320 miligrams of endorphin analog
into the bloody skin. He's as happy as a rat in a hole. But the sudden
realisation in his mind is that he needs Kitty. And he's never needed anyone
like this before.

 Dex shakes his head. "The chipster business is too slow to stay alive here. I
mean..."

 "You want to punch deck again, don't you?" Kitty seems to raise her whole
face, an expression which means to Dex that she knows the answer already.

 "Man Friday said he misses me."

 Kitty's expression turns into a rueful grin. She shakes her head and gives him
a knowing look as she edges out the door.

 Dex Eastman looks back out the window, and for the first time in years,
he feels he's found home.

(c) COPYRIGHT 1993 BY RIDLEY MCINTYRE
-- 
 ____ @     |  | Ridley McIntyre  -  gdg019@cck.cov.ac.uk | EARTH      CALLING |
|         __|  | Piglet 8@) -  On a  Flowery Space  Trip! | ANGELA: "Her black |
|     |  |  |  | "NAPOLEON!!!"    -         "AAAAAIIEE!!" | hair flowing  like |
|     |  |__|  |       - a rather visual Tank Police joke | an   acid   river" |
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