A fist struck him in the stomach so hard that he nearly vomited. He doubled over, gasping before being slammed against the wall again and slapped upside the head. He winced when ears rang, disturbing his balance. The Panama hat tumbled off, crushed by Vigil's boot. Freddy Flava's eyes widened in outrage despite the pain.
"What the hell you 'bout, nucka? Rough me up, but leave the threads alone. That fez ain't cheap, feel me?"
The answer was a bone-crunching punch to the chest. "You feel that?" Vigil thrust his head inches away from Freddy's face, visor pulsing red with every grated word. "You're the one that likes to pimp out little girls."
"What? Not no more, man. Word out you's closing shop on the young fillies. Flava Freddy ain't trying to be a grease stain on the evening news, knawmean? I work strictly in the eighteen-plus range. Got to show a pimp ID if you wants to trick with me, ya dig?"
Vigil reached out and snatched Freddy Flava's silk scarf from his neck.
Freddy Flava sucked in a panicked breath. "Hey now — ain't no need for that, playa. Why don't we—"
Vigil's fist glowed red. The scarf disintegrated in his hand, burned to fluttering ash that drifted away in the hot breeze.
Freddy Flava's eyes bulged. "Da hell is wrong witchoo?"
Vigil snatched him by the collar. "I'm five seconds from doing the same to your perm if you don't start talking."
Freddy Flava ran a nervous hand through his gleaming hair. "'Kay — just chill, bull. We can work dis out. A pimp ain't never been 'fraid to gab if a brotha give him a pass."
"Tell me how the kids were being transported."
"I told you, I ain't into no—"
"But you know people. You know the business. Start talking, and you walk out of here. Keep stalling, and you'll be drinking your meals out of a straw for the next few months."
Freddy Flava swallowed. "Now dat you mention, ya boi might've heard a word or two."
"Keep talking."
"Look, I can get killed on these streets for squealing."
"You can get killed on these streets for breathing. So what?"
Freddy Flava winced. "Okay. All I know is the place to lasso some young fillies is a joint called Moneta."
The grip loosened on his collar when Vigil cocked his head as if in recognition. "Moneta."
Freddy Flava nodded enthusiastically. "Right, dun. Nightclub in the Breaks."
"Krazy Eights territory."
"Yeah. Shouldn't be a problem for a killa like you, though."
Vigil's visor pulsed. "I didn't ask."
"Just showing some support, playboy. Freddy Flava gots no prob with you, so howzabout you let a pimp live?"
"Your girl around the corner. Strawberry Dish."
"What about her?"
"She's gone."
"What?"
"I told her to find a new career. Just like I'm telling you right now. Better tell the rest of your girls the same. You're out of business, Freddy. I catch you again; I won't be as nice."
Freddy Flava's face heated. "You just gonna interfere with a pimp's bizness? Freddy Flava don't care who you is, you gots to learn some manners."
Reaching in his pocket, he pulled the pistol. Vigil's hand shot forward, seized Freddy Flava's wrist, twisted hard. The sound of bones snapping seemed extraordinarily loud. Freddy screamed as the pain flared up his entire arm.
Vigil disassembled the gun and tossed it on the ground. "That was stupid."
Freddy Flava squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. "Not my heater. That baby cost me two-thou to customize."
"You overpaid." Vigil released Freddy, who slumped to the ground, clutching his broken wrist. He glared up at Vigil with red-rimmed eyes.
"Whatchoo gonna do, man — shakedown every pimp in the city? We providing a highly appreciated service to the public. Supply and demand. It's how the system works, nucka."
"Not in my city." Vigil towered over him, visor flaring with crimson light. "Not anymore."
Time seemed to slow. Freddy Flava stared in paralyzed fascination as Vigil's boot grew larger and larger until it slammed into his face. The darkness that followed was more than welcome.
Chapter 5: Heretic
Vigil reached the rooftop and uncloaked the Stingray. The sleek vehicle materialized in front of him, gleaming in the dim light. He tapped his earpiece.
"Moneta. Dolos mentioned the name. Maybe I shouldn't have destroyed that phone."
Incognito's voice buzzed over the com. "Caution is never a bad thing, Vigil. For all we know, this could be a setup. You might be walking right into an ambush."
"Only one way to find out."
The top of the cockpit slid backward, and Vigil leaped into the pilot seat and hit the thrusters for takeoff. The roof slid back into place, sealing him inside as the vehicle glided forward, diving between the massive buildings. A short flight later, he arrived at the Breaks neighborhood where the nightclub was located. Sentry cameras and at least two guards were on the roof. He cloaked the Stingray and carefully landed on a rooftop across the street. Exiting the vehicle, he tapped the g-span on his forearm and selected the sweepers. Two tiny devices fired from his gauntlets and hovered in the air. He chose the Moneta nightclub as the target, and they sailed over to infiltrate and map out the building, sending the information back to his op system.
When he looked up, he knew something was wrong.
"The guards haven't moved."
"Could be androids," Incognito said.
"I'm checking it out."
He used his boot thrusters to launch from the roof. Sailing across unsuspecting vehicles and people strolling below, he landed on the ledge of the Moneta building, directly in front of one of the guards. The man didn't move.
Because he was propped up by a stake in his back.
Vigil stepped for a closer look. The rod was thin but strong, stabbed into the guard's spine with the other end sunk into the rooftop surface. The man's face was frozen in shock, his chest a crimson mess from the blood that had poured from his slit throat. A quick glance at the other guard revealed the same treatment.
"This can't be good."
"Looks like someone beat you to the punch," Incognito said. "Abort the mission before you get blamed for this."
Vigil glanced at the stairwell doorway, which had been ripped from its hinges. "Negative. I'm going in."
Incognito sighed. "How did I know you were going to say that?"
Vigil pulled his neothermic handgun and entered the stairwell, glancing at the readout from his g-span. "Sweepers indicate a private lift to my left."
"You'll need access. Place your hand on the palm reader."
Vigil put his hand against the screen. "What next?"
"I'm hacking the system remotely through the sensors in your gloves. Should gain access right about… now."
The panel turned green, and the elevator door opened. Vigil stepped inside, studying the diagram on his g-span. "Looks like an unmarked section under the building. Gotta be where the illegal business takes place. I'm reading a lot of thermal energy down there."
He hit the unmarked button on the lift panel, feeling the temporary dropping sensation as the elevator descended. The walls rattled from the pulse of a booming beat from the dancefloor. After several minutes, the chime dinged, and the doors slid open.
Everything was blood and chaos.
Screams echoed off the walls, and people ran in panicked circles, looking for an escape. Women, teen girls and boys, most in ultra-tight, near-transparent latex catsuits covered in sensors. They were all shaved bald, with more sensors attached to their scalps. Seeing him, they screamed louder. He walked in the chamber, fanning the room with his handgun, trying to see past the shuffling bodies. Several men lay on the floor, guards bleeding out from gruesome wounds. Along the wall, a line of women and girls were secured to Immersion chairs, shackled by their wrists and ankles. Seeing him, they shrank back with horrified shrieks. He gave them what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.