The prostitute flattened herself against a door, with her arms spread out across it to stop us. I looked at Marine to see what her plan was for bypassing a wall of hooker and it was actually a surprisingly simple one. She punched the hooker wall right in the gut. The large heels wobbled and the woman’s ankle twisted as she went down, clutching her stomach. My first concern was that I would be blamed. Surely there were cameras though. I could probably prove my innocence. Concerns abated, I followed Marine into the room where entirely new concerns arose.
Across the room from us sat a fat man, tanned to the point of it likely being a psychological disorder with a thick head of silver hair over a thick beard. He wore a white kimono which shifted to pink toward the bottom where the design sported large cherry blossom petals. He was shining, covered in more oil than a person should be and was being pawed at by no less than three women, one of whom I recognized from the signs outside. Around the room were a dozen obvious henchmen, each attended by their very own prostitute.
I won’t say I don’t understand the appeal, I’m just not exactly sure how either side gets signed up for this whole deal. Like, where do you go to join? Did he put up fliers? How do you start a gang? Do you have to know people?
The man I assumed was Graver raised his head. “Little chinky girl back in my den. Looks like you finally came to your senses and decided to put those holes to use.”
“I’d expect a greasy bag of old trash like you to know better than that. Or maybe your old cock’s so desperate for a real set of tits you’ve finally lost it.”
“Ha! Bad enough you brought those itty bits in here, but now you’re bringing sausage to the party. What’s the little twink got to say for himself? Why you in my den, boy?”
I get it. I see what’s going on here. A little bit of the back and forth, eh? “Well clearly I’m not here for the food or I’d have come about fifty pounds too late.”
Graver roared up from his seat. “What the fuck?!”
I heard a dozen guns come out and get pointed in my direction. That’s not the best way for this whole thing to start. But the joke’s on doughboy. I’ve got a secret weapon.
I turned to the side and leveled my hand at him, pointing my finger. Graver’s eyes narrowed and he turned his head, just the slightest bit, expectant.
“Hnnnn.” I closed my eyes and strained every muscle I could manage. Nothing. “Hnnnnnn.” I tried it again, apparently not even remotely close to activating the iris or the laser behind it.
Graver boomed a laugh and I opened my eyes.
“Marine, you feisty little bitch. You bring an ugly, skinny little halfman in here and he tries to kill me.” He laughed again. “I love it.” He sat back down slapping the arm of his chair. “Put yer goddamn guns away, boys. Jesus.”
I put my hand down, not really sure how I managed that outcome, but happy that’s what it was.
“Now. Really. Why the fuck are you here? I’m busy.” He plunged his pinky into his nose and began digging around.
Marine breathed out heavy in relief. “I need something. A tool.”
“And I’d guess it’s an expensive one, especially if you’re headed back to Vircore.”
“It is. And I am. And I know you have one.”
He pulled his finger from his nose and wiped it on the kimono before cupping the breast of one of his doting attendants with the same hand. “Well, nothing’s free in this world, girl. You want tools, fine. But you don’t eat if you don’t work.”
Chapter
THIRTEEN
Graver stood up and it turns out the guy is massive. Not so much fat, entirely, as massive in every other sense of the word. He was well over six feet tall and I could see muscles ripple in his legs and chest. He was still an impressively rotund guy. I wanted to make a sumo joke but I felt like the gun thing might recur and I just couldn’t really go for that. Boxer shorts and an open kimono wouldn’t have really inspired much respect on most other people, but here they were surprisingly effective.
His hooker retinue seemed pretty bummed out when he walked away from his deep red, wooden throne— it’s a throne, cut me a break, it’s not just a big chair— to lead Marine and I to a side door. Once we were in the hall, he let out a deep breath and hunched a bit.
“Good god, that’s exhausting.” He turned, clapping a massive hand onto my shoulder. “Hope I didn’t scare you, kid.” He gave a short belly laugh. “Gotta keep up appearances, right? The boys love that sort of shit.” He turned his attention to Marine. “And you. Bringing this kid here. You’re smarter than that. And that hand’s new.” He shook his head, disapproving. “Tsk, tsk. And going after Vircore.” He gave a shrug and leaned against the wall of the hallway. “At least tell me you’re eating properly.”
Marine rolled her eyes. “Graver, come on.”
“Hey, no. Nobody else bothers, so you tell me whether you’re eating right or not. I don’t have to give you the work, you know?”
“I’m eating fine, Graver.”
“Yeah, bullshit you are. When’s the last time you ate? And what was it?”
“I don’t know, a hamburger. Yesterday.”
“Yesterday?!” He looked around in disbelief. “Marine, you need to eat better. And a hamburger? Fries, too?”
She had a childish annoyance at the whole thing. “Yeah, fries too. A whole basket full. And I’m going to have some more later. Jesus, how is this any of your business?”
“The sarcasm isn’t impressive. And maybe it’s not my business, but you could show a little appreciation.” He
