It was too early. Trig scowled at the morning sun that filtered through the toxic neon orange haze as he waited for his breakfast sandwich.

  The old timer who ran the street meat cart wasn’t in a hurry and kept trying to draw Trig into conversation.

  He nodded across the street to where a man in a sleep gray suit walked alongside a shorter woman in a bright pink mini dress that definitely was too pricey for this area. Despite obviously having money, neither were entirely out of place on the street. No, Trig figured pretty quickly, it was the tell-tale glint of wires embedded in the man’s bald head and his milk white ghost-eye that had the vendor grumbling.

  “Fucking Droidos,” the old man rasped. “No better than the AI we fought the war and for what? We lost half the planet to nuclear bombing and got the bastards walking the streets with us.”

  Trig didn’t have any issues with the people who had tech implanted in their heads. How he saw it, it wasn’t any different than the tech in his own muscles or the nano meds and surgery that gave him his body. He wasn’t about to say that now though and risk the vendor spitting in his food.

  “Worse than the muties from the wastes,” the old man went on, referring to the mutated humans who had the bad luck to not get to shelter during the nuclear fallout. “Those we can kick out and no one calls you a bigot for rightly hating them. These freaks,” he nodded in the direction the Droido went, “we gotta pretend to be ok with.”

  Pretending was something Trig knew a lot about. It was something he spent most of his life doing. Even now, eleven thousand kilometers from where he grew up. He didn’t have to pretend anymore for survival but still found himself wearing a mask of a man who had zero fucks to give. Trig shrugged, paid the twenty cred for his sandwich and got in his car.

  “Good morning Mercy! That last set was by the new synth-artist, Leela G. Coming up we have Joy Ride and the Terra Formers but first, a little word from our sponsors at Sol-Ice! It's a cool 40 C in the shade today so check those solar coolers. Sol-Ice-”

  Trig slapped the radio off and pulled into the alley between Harry’s shop and accompanying warehouse. He didn’t bother locking his car down when he got out. Anyone that bothered shit at Harry’s was either new to the Zone or stupid. Either way, they ended up dead quick.

  Locking up would suggest he didn’t trust Harry’s security at best. At worst, it looked like he was trying to hide something from Harry. It was better to check his impulse for safety and let things be.

  The shop was cool and quiet. Guns in back, equipment in front, and everything else behind the counter where Harry sat like a king on his squeaky stool. The king of Mercy himself was there wearing a digital visor and looking through a holo screen at some metal junk in his hand.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Trig, my boy! So glad you could take time out of your schedule to see me. I heard you were doing great things over at Sanguine. Real Mercy-side rockstar. The ladies won’t shut up about you.”

  All of this was said without looking up from his work. Why the biggest boss in the city still got his hands dirty with this garbage, Trig would never understand. Already the older man had black grease streaks on his hands and arms.

  Harry might call Trig a pretty boy, with good reason - Trig paid good money to look like he did - but this overt display made the older man look less like the biggest crime lord in the south and more like a pawn shop boss.

  “You flatter me, Harry.”

  On the counter sat a chroma plate with a pent side. Trig checked his reflection in it and smirked. East Asian good looks with oil slick hair, one strand perfectly out of place on his forehead. He had the appearance and charm of a celebrity. It helped with his work both on stage singing and in the streets with his other, better paying, gigs.

  “Speaking of a lady’s man, you see Pax?” Harry’s ice blue eyes flicked up from his work and met Trig’s. It was a tiny gesture but not one that Trig missed. Whatever Harry wanted him here for, it was related to Pax.

  Trig’s mind stretched back to what he knew of the guy. Street gangster. Out of signed for a few weeks after a turf war. He and his people won but the cost was severe according to chatter.

  “Yea, he was at Sanguine the other night with his guys. Showing off new gear. An arm and half a torso from what I heard.”

  “What else you hear?” Harry asked, reaching for a tiny set of tools to work on wiring.

  Trig grimaced. He’d been too busy that night with some ladies from Neo Paloma to pay any attention to what Pax had going on. Now, he wished he’d taken the time. “Heard he got the gear from that new tech dealer, Bekker - fresh from Neo Paloma. Someone said he only paid five k for the work. Clean, too”

  “Is that so?”

  Harry’s tone was nonchalant and because of that Trig paid close attention. “Yea. That’s crazy though.”

  Despite Harry still working on whatever junk he had, the man’s eyes and ears were on Trig. It was clear the older man wanted Trig to keep talking.

  “I don’t see how Bekker can make money with tech that low.”

  That was when Harry put his work down and gave Trig his full attention. “That’s the twenty k question, isn’t it?”

  “Twenty k?”

  “As in you get twenty k when you figure out Bekker’s deal. How he’s making cred hand over fist undercutting every tech dealer in the region and over the wall.”

  Trig considered this. “That's clean cred.” Unspoken was the knowledge that Bekker rolled into Mercy with a small army. Everyone had seen his guys decked out with military grade tech. It wouldn’t be the first time Trig had to face that sort but in the past he had help.

  “Don’t worry. I got the gig laid out clean. No noise.” Harry assured as he removed the visor, slid on his jacket, and put on his deck-watch. He pushed a button on the side of it then looked up. “All you need to do is get my associate into the warehouse and back in one piece. Xe can handle everything else.”

  “Xe?”