From: jgoodric@dante.nmsu.edu (GOODRICH)
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Subject: Carnivore 2/3
Date: 16 Oct 92 19:06:21 GMT
Organization: New Mexico State University, Las Cruces, NM


 
             Carnivore 2/3
      Copyright 1992 by John Goodrich
    Characters portrayed in this story may
       or may not live down your street.

	Kiv boarded the subway.  The few passengers sat 
separated, avoiding the heat spilling from other bodies, 
sweltering in the close air.  A great blond lug attempted to 
dash through the doors as they closed.  Glass panes struck 
the middle Greek letter of the tee-shirt and rebounded.  
Grinning broadly, the blonde monolith stepped into the train 
and swung its head around, looking for a seat.  It slouched 
into a seat across from Kiv and stretched long, meaty legs 
across the aisle, resting shiny-white sneakers on the seat 
next to Kiv.     
	Ice-gray eyes flicked from the sneakers to the 
stupid face across the aisle, and back to the sneakers.  The 
feet failed to move.     
	Then the monolith opened its mouth.     
	"Pretty good, huh?  I mean getting on the subway.  
Musta been fifteen meters away when the doors started to 
close."  It had a strong, throaty voice that carried clearly 
through the car.  Either it liked its own voice or it was 
deaf.  Or both.  "Just goes to show being a quarterback has 
its advantages, eh?  You," Kiv was prodded with a gleaming 
white sneaker, "you probably couldn't run a full field 
without sucking wind.  Jesus, you know, people like you just 
sit around living half-lives.  You oughta get healthy, 
skinny-boy, you'll live longer.  Pump some weight, get some 
muscle in those thighs."     
	Kiv's face remained bland, his smoky eyes hooded and 
dangerous.  "I don't know what your problem is, chum, but 
this isn't the place to air it.  Leave it now."      
	The car tinny clank of the car rattling down the 
tracks was the only sound.  The other passengers had fallen 
silent, their own conversations much less interesting.     
	It wasn't fazed.  "Come on boy, you're so ashamed of 
your legs you're wearing long pants in this heat.  C'mon 
down to the gym, getcher blood pumping; work up a decent 
sweat, put meat on you.  I bet we could make a real man of 
you yet.  Bulk you up, get you women, you'll thank me when . 
. . "     
	Half a second later, the blonde's skull went crack 
against the window as Kiv's fingers jerked the jaw up and 
stuck a thin, sharp knife under the left ear.  The brown 
sheep's eyes filled with Kiv leaning over, feet planted on 
each side of the thick chest.  Kiv thrust his face within 
centimeters of the boy's, grinning like the Angel of Death.     
	"I've haven't killed anyone just because I didn't 
like them yet," Kiv said to the terrified face.  He drew the 
knife across the skin, just slitting the top layer of flesh.  
The brown eyes widened at the pain, and the breathing became 
shallower as the translucent flesh around the cut darkened 
with a trickle of blood.     
	"Next time I see you, I'll cut your throat and spit 
down it. Got it?"  
	Without waiting for an answer, Kiv backed off, 
stepping to the aisle floor, then resettling in his seat.  
His target, holding its hand to the slit skin, blood just 
trickling through his fingers, retreated to the furthest 
corner of the car.     
	 Nobody reacted.  Kiv caught a few secret smiles, 
but nothing was said as he wiped off his knife and returned 
it to the small sheath in the small of his back.  Kiv leaned 
back and smiled, savoring the memory of frightened eyes and 
sweating fear.  He was enjoying himself so much he almost 
missed his stop.     
	Two hours later, after discreet inquiries at bars, 
brothels, and several less definable establishments, Kiv 
traced Firedancer to a large arcade.  The video games were 
alive in the twilight, despite the oppressive heat.  Bleeps, 
blips, gunfire, detonations, afterburners and computer 
speech mixed into an atmosphere that literally hummed in the 
collected body swelter.  Multicolored lights reflected off 
rings, pendants, and earrings, each a tiny star in the muted 
light.  Kiv passed two Robotech booths ("totally 
interactive!" they blared, sensing motion), the X-rated 
version of Custer's Last Stand, a battered but still 
functioning Asteroids, and the newest Mega-Destroyer, until 
he came to the heart of the noise.  
	Air-raid sirens screamed as a Soviet Tupolev Tu-16 
bomber cruised over the latest in hologram technology.  
Armageddon, a six meters wide and as high as a kitchen 
table.  State-of-the-art technology brought the excitement 
and beauty of Mutually Assured Destruction to your 
fingertips.  As Kiv and a crowd of spectators watched, Japan 
was engulfed in a series of bright flashes and mushroom 
clouds.  Deep booms thudded through Kiv's chest as 
digitalized detonations resounded in the arcade.     
	Someone near Kiv whispered "He always dusts Japan in 
the fifties.  Cripples the States later on."  But America 
wasn't done for yet.  A pair of retaliatory missiles arced 
into the Ukraine, the most fertile land in the Soviet Union.  
Shockwaves again rolled over the crowd, something that was 
felt more than heard.  The twin mushroom clouds spelled 
disease and famine for millions of electronic citizens.  Kiv 
doubted the world would last to the seventies at this rate.  
He sauntered off out of the crowd and its ambience of heat, 
looking for Firedancer.  
	He found the big Mejicana concentrating in front of 
an aged Space Gun video game, blasting away at mounting 
walls of electronic aliens.     
	Kiv hooked his thumbs into his pockets, and assumed 
a cocky stance.  "Hey Firedancer, I got a pro-po-si-shun for 
you," Kiv announced over the shock wave of another Hydrogen 
bomb detonation.     
	"Blow," she retorted.     
	Rebuffed, Kiv tried another approach; he punched two 
quarters into the video game.  An alien rushed, and Kiv 
pumped electronic bullets into its torso.  Blood fountained 
from the purple body as it fell, but Kiv had already turned 
to another.  A quick burst and this one also went down 
thrashing, its head gone.  A third figure whipped forward 
and three slashes pulsed redly in Kiv's vision.  Angered, he 
retaliated with a grenade, and the lithe form exploded into 
spectacular flames.  The multicolored suicide machines 
gained speed, rushing into the hail of destruction put up by 
the playing pair.  At first, Kiv was careful with his gun's 
heat level, but he soon found he had no time to let it cool.  
Eventually, the gun's heat bar constantly pushed the top of 
tolerance.  Kiv's finger continued to convulse, firing quick 
bursts into the onrushing bodies.  The aliens rushed in 
waves, single minded and monotonous except for their speed, 
each one killed revealing another just behind.  Lesser 
gunmen would have been overwhelmed, but Kiv and Firedancer 
were competent.  They cut like cold steel through the walls 
of aliens, their advance slow and inexorable, like death by 
cancer.  Blood spurted, body parts were blasted off, and the 
occasional desperate grenade blew the creatures back.  
Bloody red and white explosions reflected off the tight 
purse of Firedancer's lips and the hard grin of Kiv, both 
locked in their microcosm of fury and destruction.     
	The game ended; the humans stood victorious.  Kiv 
shot in his initials for second place while 'Dancer claimed 
first.  When this little conceit was done, she turned to 
Kiv.  As she did so, Kiv noticed for the first time that she 
was at least four centimeters taller than him.  Her brown 
leather vest was laced tightly in front, pressing the taut 
breasts to her ribcage.  Baggy camouflage pants were tucked 
into the tops of her combat boots.  Muscled arms reflected a 
myriad of colors off an uneven sheen of sweat and grime.  
More important to Kiv was the respect in her eyes.    
	She jerked a thumb at the blue plastic gun mounted 
on the front of the video game.  "Not bad, Kiv.  Would you 
believe that was the first pistol I ever used?  My parents 
wouldn't let me have toy guns; they thought it might 
encourage me.  Guess they were right, huh?"  She said with a 
half-grin.      
	Kiv returned the grin.  "Can't keep a good gun down.  
Hey 'Dancer, wanna make some easy cash?  I got a job that's 
paying real good."     
	She turned her head and spat on the floor. "I got 
enough to eat for a month.  Why should I go looking for 
trouble?"     
	 Kiv thought quickly.  "Insurance.  Maybe buy a new 
gun, or some safety slugs?  Air conditioning?  It's pretty 
easy and the pay is high."     
	She chewed on that as they walked out of the arcade.  
A wind was ineffectually trying to cut its way through the 
thick, sweltering air, but it was better than the simmering 
body heat of the arcade.  "Why me?  We're both loners, Kiv.  
You'd be better off with a team player."  She turned left 
and Kiv had to jog to keep up with her.    
	 "Naw," he said, his New Hampshire accent slipping 
into his voice for a second.  "I figure two loners would do 
better, especially if it goes ugly.  I came to the best."     
She bridled a bit and stopped walking, allowing Kiv to catch 
up with her.  On her face, her disdain of empty flattery 
warred with the desire to accept the compliment.  She 
settled for an amused half-grin.  "You're either real slick, 
or you're dumb enough to think flattery will work."     
	Kiv knew flattery worked on her.  It worked on 
everybody a little.  He dangled another piece of bait, 
"Three thou."     
	She gave him a sour look.  "Total?" she asked.     
	Embarrassed, Kiv coughed.  "Each."  He watched one 
of her eyebrows move toward her hairline.  "Six thou total.  
I just need some help."     
	She thought for a minute.  "So OK, why do you need 
an extra gun?  Multiple targets?  Vehicles?  Invasive hit?  
What's the setup?"     
	Kiv's confidence dropped several notches.  He didn't 
like the way she kept sliding around, impossible for him to 
pin down. He also hated the fact that she kept guessing 
close to the truth.  "There's a bodyguard organization, and 
they're toting the target around in an armored van.  Quit 
fucking around.  D'you want in or not?"    
	 The tall Chicano thought for a few seconds, her 
face unreadable.  "Maybe.  If you want the best, I'm going 
to need more info.  Where'd you get the contract?  Who's the 
target?"     
	Kiv sighed.  He didn't like giving out information 
about business.  "I got the contract in the Prophet's Doom, 
the talker was Japanese."  Kiv pulled a photograph out of 
his pocket and handed it to her.  "This jerk is selling 
industrial secrets to General Dynamics.  They sent Li Chao 
after him, only he screwed up.  So he hired himself a bunch 
of bodyguards.  He needs to stay in town for six more days 
to finish some business."    
	 Firedancer thought about this.  "You know anything 
else about him?"     
	Kiv ground his teeth.  "As if the heat wasn't 
enough, the bitch's got an attitude", he thought.  "Look," 
he snapped, "I'm getting paid to punch his clock, not write 
his fucking biography.  You in or not?  My time's valuable."     
	She made a placating gesture with her hand.  "Chill, 
Kiv I'm in.  Three thousand, fifteen hundred in advance.  
Shake on it?"     
	Sullenly, Kiv stuck out a hand.  "Right.  You better 
be worth it."  They shook hands.     
	The deal settled, 'Dancer was all business.  "Now, 
how do you figure on picking this guy off?  You got a 
reputation as the man with a plan."    
	 Feeling a little better for this slight 
superiority, Kiv laid his plan out for her.  "Three days out 
of four, they use this back-alley route to make sure 
nobody's following them.  There's a stretch that's got some 
abandoned buildings on each side.  They sweep the alley 
about ten minutes before the van pulls through.  They got 
voice-activated mikes, so any shooting's going to alert the 
van.  I need you to take out point-man number two.  When the 
van gets there, you toss a grenade under it, and it's all 
over but the shouting."     
	Firedancer thought about it.  "Most bodyguards check 
in every five minutes.  You've got a ten-minute lag there."     
Kiv's face betrayed more than a hint of pride.  "My coup de 
grace.  I happen to own a wide-band receiver with a 
record/play option."  He grinned broadly, "Isn't technology 
wonderful?  If anything goes wrong, we meet back at, say, 
this arcade after two days.  You don't get the other fifteen 
hundred if it goes sour."     
	'Dancer nodded her approval.  "Sounds fair.  What 
time do we meet?"     
	Kiv thought.  "They go through about two.  Meet you 
here about noon tomorrow?     
	"Done."     
	And that was the end of it.