| The rain fell steadily into the alleyway where Johnson and Samson waited. Johnson had always liked the rain, especially at night. He didn’t even mind how it made his dark suit wet and heavy. It quieted the world. The street was empty of traffic and people. A fine mist swept across the ground. There was a flicker of light as Samson lit up a match and placed it to a cigarette he held in his mouth. The acrid scent of smoke wafted through the air. The things were disgusting. “You shouldn’t be smoking those. Cause cancer.” Johnson said in his low, even voice. Samson snorted a half-laugh as he blew out a stream of smoke. “No, I suppose not. They grew me a nice set of lungs, I shouldn’t be wasting them like this.” He took another drag from the cigarette. “You were born off-world, then?” He shifted his shoulders beneath his suit jacket and took a step across the alleyway to avoid the direct flow of smoke. “If you can call it ‘birth,’ yeah.” Samson gave another half-laugh. “I’m a modern-day Frankenstein’s Monster. They grew all the parts in a lab and then stitched me up in one of their Incubators.” Samson flicked his cigarette to clean the end of it. Johnson nodded. It wasn’t unusual for off-worlder agents to be ‘grown’ rather than born. More reliable that way. “You were born here on the Front Lines, then, huh?” “Yes.” He adjusted the grip of his hands on his briefcase. A lone car sloshed down the street, its headlights momentarily blinding them. “So when did you join the Union, then?” Samson continued. “Were you a prole in your oldlife?” “The correct term,” Johnson rumbled, “is ‘Unenlightened.’ Yes, I grew up in the inner city. There wasn’t much work, but we did the best we could. No ‘modern conveniences’ for us. It wasn’t easy. You had to grow up tough.” Now it was Samson’s turn to nod. He’d probably ‘grown up’ in a stainless-steel construct, if not inside one of the Incubators. He would have had every convenience the Union had to offer from the moment of his creation. Never had to bolt the door twice, just in case. Never had to use his fists when the other boys were using knives. Never had to sit and decide if you were going to choose heat or electricity while his daughter shivered on the couch and his wife cried on the threadbare mattress. Samson took another drag of his cigarette. “When did you make the jump then, become a full member? You leave your parents?” “I was married. Had my own place. Rented it off of this old hag of a landlady who never fixed the plumbing and always wanted her money on time. I had a little girl. She was twelve the last time I saw her.” “You left your daughter?” Samson looked at him incredulously. As though he even knew what it was like to have flesh-and-blood, let alone to leave them. Johnson reached up and rubbed his eyes; they were itching now. “Deviants came… Big hulking beasts with fur and claws. I didn’t know what to do, I just stood there, dumbly. Just stood there. I don’t even remember what happened. Agents came in, saved me and my girl some how, but my wife…” He rubbed his throat, which was suddenly sore. “My daughter went and lived with her aunt. I joined the Union.” Samson flicked his cigarette into the gutter. He didn’t meet Johnson’s eyes. A moment passed. Another car sped by along the street, its left headlight out. The rain fell harder, and Samson lit another cigarette as Johnson moved farther back into the alley-way to stand under an overhanging ledge. Samson blew out his match. “So, why are we here?” “There’s a colleague, Doctor Einsbeck. He has information about Deviant activity in the neighborhood. It’s notable because Headquarters hasn’t heard of anything in the area, but Einsbeck claims there’s a whole den of them, maybe two. My branch sent me to get the information from the ‘good doctor’ for processing.” “So why did they send me here with you? There supposed to be trouble?” “No. I requested you myself. Well, not you – any other agent. For backup. If there is Deviant activity around here that Headquarters has missed, there’s no telling what it might be.” “So I’m here to watch out for Spooks then, huh?” “Yeah, but not just that. I don’t have a good feeling about this Einsbeck guy. I want there to be someone at my back if things turn for the worst. He doesn’t know that, though. Just follow my lead, and if you smell trouble, tell me.” Samson nodded understanding, blowing another stream of smoke into the storm. “Those things will kill you.” Johnson repeated flatly. “Yeah, I know.” |
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