28 – Outward Appearance – Late Septembris

Arbitrator-Patrolman Sark Diamin watched the exchange carefully, an ever-dwindling stub of lho stick the only clue to his shadowed presence from the dealer's side of the street. The buyer started talking again, a little angry.

"Yeah, just the fuckin' 'slaught Kaljar, nothin' fancy." Garnas heaved with anger, and his dealer winced at the idea of what 'slaught would do to the hulking monster of a man. He wasn't tall, but his broad shoulders rippled with power and his eyes spoke of indescribable fury.

"Of course, Garnas. You want 'slaught, you get 'slaught. Just thought you might want something to help wind down after the job, relax a little."

The thug smiled, revealing a rack of uneven yellow teeth. "I don't need to relax after a job, Kal." His eyes twinkled, and Kaljar could see blood and violence in them. "Just takin' care of another Calef legbreaker or five'll let me sleep easy tonight."

The dealer swallowed heavily, even as he exchanged 'slaught for cold credits, and Garnas turned to leave.

"House Calef, what'd they do?"

Garnas stopped, and his breathing began to accelerate as he thought of the job ahead. "They pissed somebody off, Kal, and that means I get a reason to be pissed off." The fierce teeth appeared again. "And I'll take it as long as it comes with creds."

"Alright, well if you feel like slidin' later, you let me know, eh Garn?" Kaljar smiled weakly at the departing thug, then pocketed his creds and made for the next stop. His vox appeared in hand, and the last Diamin heard before the dealer disappeared into the night was a name.

Pelsius.

"You're not fooling everyone." Sark turned abruptly, eyes wide with anger and surprise, hand at the stubpistol on his belt. Arbitrator-Detective Idiam Thar stepped into view from deeper within the alley. "And I know you heard me coming."

Sark turned away, then spoke in a voice equal parts gravel and glass. "What makes you think I heard ya comin' Detective? I'm just keepin' an eye on our streets is all."

"Then I'll bring you in myself for dereliction of duty. You saw that deal happen."

Sark smiled now, blue eyes twinkling oddly. "Suffer the rat to catch the grox, Detective Thar. Bravo." His voice had changed; the words were now crisp and the tone modulated. "How did you pick me out?"

Idiam smiled, the thin line of his mouth just crooking up at the ends. "You don't smoke. You just let the lho sit there and burn away."

Doug smiled, revealing stained teeth under thick prosthetic lips. "I do detest narcotics, Detective."

"Then use a toothpick." Idiam pulled a container from his own coat and a small, clean toothpick appeared. Doug stubbed out the lho stick on his pistol, adding to its worn appearance, then pocketed the remaining paper jumble. He pulled a single toothpick and slid it between his lips, where it began to dart to and fro.

"Thank you, Detective. As for the transaction you saw, I assure you it's all part of Officio business."

Thar shook his head. "We're doing the autopsy on that cut-up mutant you left in the lower hive."

"Ah, Klotch. Yes, colorful fellow. King of Tetra and all that. I hope he wasn't too decomposed when you found him?"

"Verispex Jek found some... strange things during his examination."

"That is to be expected among scavvies and mutants."

Thar shook his head again. "Not strange like that. He's clean, too clean. Too healthy." The detective turned to look directly at Doug. "That sound right to you?"

"No, I suppose not." A hand came to Doug's chin, his eyes glittering with interest. "Perhaps I could be of some assistance in that regard, Arbitrator."

A half-hour later, two street Arbitrators bristled in the gray paper suits mandated to enter the Verispex lab. On the table sat a disgusting form, thick with growths and scars. Its massive stomach lay half-open, cut from the navel up and long-drained of its contents. Various more precise cuts and incisions had been made, the flesh and muscle pulled back to expose a strangely empty body.

A small tag on the biggest intact toe labeled the subject as 'Klotch', and detailed his location as 'Section K2, Underhive Border Area'. His head had been severed, and pulled slightly away from the rest of the corpse, its own covering of skin, muscle and fat pulled back to reveal a lopsided rictus. A small man in a paper suit moved about comfortably, speaking loudly for the audio record's benefit.

"There is significant crushing of the pelvic girdle, and chafing of the... ah, groin region." Verispex Jek coughed and continued with the summary, his movements neat and precise. The man seemed completely oblivious to the terrible stench of the body on his table; the sick quiver of its removed organs and growths, many uncategorizable; or the horrifically clean cut that had done half his job for him, splitting the underking in two from the navel up. "It seems our subject was quite active in that regard."

Doug, still disguised as Sark Diamin, coughed uncomfortably, the toothpick working between his rubbery lips. "Fuck, even'a damn scavvie's gettin' more tail than me." Corroded teeth, matching his voice perfectly, made their appearance now, directed first at the Verispex–who smiled politely–then at Idiam, who did nothing. "Ah, I'll get ya one o' these days, Thar. You'll see."

An annoyed cough preempted further conversation. "But, as can be seen here..." Jek peeled back the rubbery flesh of Klotch's ruined face, pointing out clean white ligament, smooth reams of muscle. Even the tumors and growths seemed somehow orderly, flush with blood vessels and nutrient action. "Despite any outward appearance, the subject is remarkably healthy on the inside. I'd say he hasn't taken any chems in several months." Scraggly, but thick hair was pulled back, revealing a dirty, but hale scalp.

"Maybe that piece who broke his crank had something to do with it." Sark smiled again, snapped out a harsh laugh, sallow teeth flashing. "How old you think those busted hips are?"

The Verispex frowned, eyes ticking back and forth in thought. "I suppose they..." He uncovered the contused groin once more, drawing a throaty, wheezing cough from Patrolman Diamin and a brief grunt from Thar. Jek brought the scalpel out again, then more clamps.

Both sides of the pelvis were neatly cut open, then peeled back and clamped down to reveal yet more healthy tissue. The revealed bones were white and strong, but bore signs of abrasion and long-healed fracturing. A small scanner came next, and a three dimensional representation of the offending matter was on the room's holodisplay shortly thereafter. "Yes, I'd have to conclude that the healing and the... increased activity started at around the same time."

Sark smiled and nodded to Thar, who returned the gesture. "But why do you think they would-" Jek turned to find Patrolman Sark gone. "Where did he go?"

"To work." Thar nodded to the examiner, then took his own leave.

An hour later Kaljar waited; he'd been waiting forever. Fuckin' skaters. Kal didn't like Foras, the new runner. My new runner. The kid was too young, too obviously on the stuff to be dependable. But that's what Pelsius wants, and what Pelsius wants, Pelsius gets.

Kaljar really had no room to complain. Pelsius' recent rise to power was the only reason he made his bones and got up off of street level work. Still, even a whole hab block ain't much better than street level. Never gonna get anywhere if I gotta worry about my own runners taking off with mySlide.

Finally the kid appeared, looking side to side, scrawny body wrapped in a far too large coat overstuffed with packages.

Goddamnit, may as well be walking around with a holo up that says 'Hey, Arbites! I'm a fuckin' dealer!' Kaljur had little room to talk, himself. He'd been busted on his first day months ago, and there too it was Pelsius who'd saved him. Still none of this occurred to him as he scratched his arm, wanting to scratch another itch entirely. Get the fuck over here, kid.

"Kal, Kal!" Foras almost tumbled to a stop in front of his boss. "I got-" He continued to breathe, "I got- I got the-"

Kaljar grabbed Foras and pulled him roughly into the alley. "Shut the fuck up, kid. Now, you got my cash and my Slide? I can't afford to keep you on the roll if you pull the shit you pulled last week."

Foras nodded hastily, then opened the coat. Inside were bags and bags of credits; one small, solitary bag of Slide quickly slid out. He was no idiot, he knew Kaljar had the itch. He's got it bad.

So Foras passed his boss the last bit of Slide he had, well knowing he himself could make it through the night without it. The coat came off, it being easier to trade coats than to open and transfer the contents of each pocket. The process revealed a gangly frame and noodle arms, a boy past his sophomore year who still hadn't hit his growth spurt.

Slide ain't helpin' that any. Kaljar thought while he prodded the boy to go faster, complete the swap so he could find a corner and get his fix. His own coat, empty, went onto Foras' shoulders and Kaljar began to reflexively pat the credits, each position well-memorized. He found a pocket, one pocket, that seemed light.

Foras made to leave, but heard the click of a stub pistol and turned back, eyes wide. "You tryin' to short me, Foras?" The kid calling himself Foras stopped, fear plastered across his face.

"I- I didn't short you Kaljar, I just used a little of the Slide is all. Honest." Kaljar's expression didn't waver, and Foras' face screwed with concentration suddenly, as if summoning reserves of some inner power.

The stubpistol roared, the small sound amplified by the confines of the alley, and the rawboned kid dropped dead in the alley, blood pooling around his back. Fuckin' dumbass. Kaljar took the time to search the kid, finding a paper with some math on it, far beyond Kaljar's limited understanding of the subject. A girl's name, Callie, was circled near the bottom, but he didn't care. Time to leave.

"No, no Doug! You can't!" It was Ev's turn to hold someone back now as he kept Doug in place. Even with his phenomenal strength it wasn't easy. He's pissed. Ev looked back to Violet, herself watching Callie take off down the street. None of us wanted to see him die. Callie was quick and silent, as usual, while she tailed Kaljar. Despite the indoctrination she was having trouble reining in her emotions after what she'd seen.

"Callidus. Follow, don't kill." Vin's instructions were clear and explicit over the radio; he assumed the mantle of leadership reflexively.

"Affirmed." Callie chafed at the orders, even with Vin giving them. She'd heard Doug's reaction over the comms and felt the sting in her own chest. She knew it was an inherent risk of becoming so close to someone, but she still felt righteous anger. The situation had changed so suddenly she could barely control herself. He didn't need to... Callie shook off the thought: the indoctrination allowed that she would be comforting Doug later, so she threw herself into her job with all due efficiency, vengeance on her mind. Finish the mission, kill this bastard.

Callie was perfectly disguised. Her clothing had been padded and altered, and there were lifts in her shoes. The clothing changed her form, made her less noticeable. She was wearing cheek inserts for the first time in a while, and her face was rounder, fuller. The makeup gave her skin a chalky, drawn look, and the falsehood took the luster out of her hair while changing the color to dishwater brown.

Kaljar had no idea he was being followed right now, but even the most inconspicuous tail would draw attention after more than a few minutes down here. So, as he rounded the corner of Cherren and Quinter, Callie continued in a straight line, not trying to hide her presence in the slightest.

Kaljar breathed easy as the crone he thought was following him disappeared to the west. Need to get that Slide in me, just think I'm seeing things. He felt a sudden fear, an apprehension that disappeared as quickly as it came, and quickened his pace. Damnit, keep it together Kaljar. You iced that kid because you had to.

Chucho darted along the rooftops above, always in the shadows, always with an eye on Kaljar. Although he showed it less than the others, he too was furious with the dealer. With the taking of life. He followed Kaljar as the man continued north. They'd had trouble finding House Edict and this was a last ploy, the last method available without risking Officio-grade gear and information. So he followed Kaljar, waiting for his chance.

Kaljar stumbled again, the tinge of fear returning, and Chucho felt some small satisfaction as the next switch point came up. "Eversor."

"Affirmed, Culexus." Ev waited, dressed in a sleeveless shirt and baggy pants. He'd already made contact with Kaljar several times in the past week, and had even bought a couple hits of 'slaught from the man earlier. So, when Ev turned onto the sidewalk a half-block ahead of Kaljar, swaggering and tossing a lho butt to the street, the dealer thought nothing of it.

Ev was a killer, he was made for it, trained for it even more than the others. He didn't feel the death as much as they did. But he was aware of a rising eagerness to kill the man, beyond what was normally created by the indoctrination. So Ev let it into his stride, let the anger and enthusiasm show themselves in his blustering gait. By making himself so conspicuous, so obviously determined, Ev knew he'd shoot right over Kaljar's radar, a threat to someone else entirely.

Kaljar continued in a straight line. He saw Garnas ahead, and although the two weren't friends, Garnas was a loyal customer nonetheless. He looks pissed. Kaljar wasn't worried. Garnas always took 'slaught before a job, and Kal hadn't done anything to piss off anybody who could afford to hire the thug. So he went, straight ahead, not trying to hide himself or duck through alleys.

By the time Kaljar was ready to turn the corner, Vin had already set himself up on an old-fashioned fire escape high above. An expertly placed tracker bullet slapped the ground behind Kaljar. Not ideal, but it will do. Kaljar jerked, looked around, but only saw a couple of alleyscamps down the street throwing rocks for fun.

He was completely unaware of the tracking dust on his boot. While Kaljar brandished his gun at the alleyscamps and raved, Doug and Callie had met up with Violet at the staging point, and they were waiting for Chucho and the others.

"There's nothing more we could've done. We tried to keep him away." Violet spoke aloud, but was trying to convince herself as much as the others. "It couldn't be helped."

"I know, Violet." Ev slipped around the corner. They all pulled on their hoods, then slowly began putting on gear as Chucho showed up. "But that doesn't mean the fucker's not paying for it anyway." Ev stripped off the disguise and rolled on his plaskin shirt, then begin clipping on holsters and sheaths. Soon they were all geared up, pistols, rifles and knives ready. The thermvisors had been exchanged for standard nightvision, and each had a pair of standard smoke grenades.

Never use the same trick twice in a row. Doug remembered the last time he'd said that to Janus, a few hours ago, before they'd started the mission. With the initial preparation done they waited, none in the mood to talk.

"Losing signal." Vin's voice rang through clearly and this seemed to rouse them. They pulled on their thermal hoods, sliding neatly over the synskin to conceal their thermal profiles. The last round of equipment checks and interpersonal inspections came after.

"Moving." Vin broke radio silence once more, finally spurring them into action.

"Affirmed, Vindicare. Let's move." Doug, Callie, Violet, Ev and Chucho moved out, fully geared as they had been during the scavvie strike, every piece of equipment untraceable. Vin was catching up to them quickly, remaining close enough to pick up the diminished signal on his portable tracker. "We'll rendezvous a block from the building once the target location's confirmed.

They had a good idea where Kaljar was going. The issue wasn't that they couldn't find where House Edict's operations were likely to be centralized, but that there were too many possible locations. Even with the tremendous amount of information provided by the infocytes this block of the hive was too dilapidated and overrun by crime to pin down a central site by heuristics alone.

Instead of manually checking each of a few dozen sites, they'd taken a broader approach: Ev scouted the area as new muscle, finding several dealers and talking to them; Janus would scan their thoughts, where they'd been, where they thought was important; from this they compiled a likely site and they were following Kaljar to the building now.

Doug shook Janus from his thoughts, banished everything but the mission, the strike. Go in high, cut the power, Vin darts the leader and autorifles take care of the rest. According to their information and estimates, there were likely less than twenty gangers present at the distribution site at any one time. It was only half what they'd encountered at the scavvie nest. But they'll be better armed, likely wearing body armor. They waited in silence for Vin to confirm the location, Janus' absence weighing on them all.