After he parked elsewhere Locke led Brillian through streets with the air filled dull thumps of kicks and bass mixed with the hubbub of crowd chatter. Cracked pavements, uneven from dead tree roots that hadn't been extracted for twenty years tripped up a tourist who was then marked by a group of thieves. Locke made a stop by them and looked the dickheads up and down to discourage the action before he moved on, but they gave a start that broke into a laugh when Brillian tried to copy him.
They managed to get a flow through the chatty shopper crowd with a yabbler that bellowed about the same CEB aggregates for sale for people to self repair their homes. But hardly anyone bought, and a scrap broke out near the shouting man. TPSB glanced in their direction and didn't bother, Locke pointed a finger to them. Brillian knocked them both out with Reignpainted orange rocks to the head. Grabbed the wankers up with 'Painted hands and dropped them in a heap in front of the TPSB who nodded respect and took 'em into the van.
Bradford Street around the corner to a sprawl of analogue street markets constructed from cheap materials slightly more resistant. The streets were still even at this time of night packed due to overpopulation and immigration issues that were allowed to continue by the corps who held too much power. People sold sinks (synthetics), food, medicine, drugs, clothes all sweatshopped up and dirt cheap. Past the markets up the concrete and under the bright holo lights advertising everything from cosmetic surgery of your whole body to renting overpriced ground vehicles with a coffin room to sleep in.
They came to the place Locke was looking for, British Japana, the shop for information so long as the owner approves of your existence. He pushed the door open, a bell rang, waiters and waitresses greeted him with smiles that seemed almost genuine but he assumed were peremptory. Onto the synthetic wood floor, broken glass aggregate windows. Under bright fluorescent lights by the window models of ancient weapons from spears to crossbow bolts were on display. He marched over to the bar and leaned on the side when Jaim Pel's fat figure cruised around and winked.
"Locke, the man who walks with his own shadow spooking him!" he slammed a wooden mug on the bar and filled it with orange juice with a hint of vodka. "And for the kid?"
Locke sat down on a stool and took his mask off.
"Apple juice, please." she said with perfect manners. It was almost adorable.
He took a deep breath of the mild scents of oak alcohols mixed with faint tobacco, the rustic flair still held strong. He hoped he died well before Big Jaim so he could come drink here after every mission at a guarantee.
He gently placed a thinner but taller mug in front of Brillian and poured apple juice for the kid.
"There y'are young lady."
"Thank you, sir." she smiled and took up the cup and headed toward the bathroom.
"You ain't worried about her?"
"She'll kill anyone who tries her." Locke took a swig of the vodka and juice, "Reignpainter."
"Ah, ye?"
"Yeah." Locke muttered, "I need info, Aea Fukuroudani, Ghost of Christmas Past, anyone that would know anything about a..." he watched Brillian go, a faint glow of sunlight that he couldn't tell was real. Maybe his eyes played tricks, a few other people in the crowd seemed to notice but averted their eyes.
"You gone senile at twenty eight old soldier?" Jaim looked about then fanned for him to come closer, "We don't discuss them lot here, mate."
"What have you heard about her?" He pointed to the ladies' toilet.
He shook his head, "Some Euros came around talkin' about Sol, Saulé and other names for their sun gods, and it seems Euros have an aptitude for seein' her rays."
"Anything else?" Locke underhanded ten Jays.
"Can offer you authentic tequila, intel on Kiisiner's movements regarding a hunt for certain people who committed a certain murder." Jaim turned to the side.
"You gonna call me a Jake next?" Locke sipped his drink.
Brillian returned to her seat and folded her hands. "It was nice, thank you."
Jaim tilted his hat in her direction, "Someone would like to speak to you two."
A lanky man sat down beside Locke in a white hoodie decorated with feathers, thorns and a gold sun on the shoulder. Kiisiner.
"Locke, my boss said you were good."
"You are?" Locke arched an eyebrow.
"Kelton Huenan Topal. Huenan." He stretched a tattooed hand out, "We provide a shine on Tequila."
Locke shook the dark skinned man's hands and checked the roots of his dreads to find they were intricately woven with patterns in some kind of language. He wore a hoodie lined with odd sets of pockets and baggy cargo jeans that concealed a folded SBS and handgun. "You need names, location, everything we can get on these Rebirthers. Yes. Rebirthers. I have had words with Irine, she puts you to the task."
"And in return?"
Locke finished the mug of orange and vod, "I'll let you know 'bout anythin' I find and send scans."
Huenan smirked, "Jakes drinking on the job?"
Locke slammed the mug on the table, "Fuck you Jaim."
The three men laughed, Brillian looked at them with mild amusement in her eyes. Jaim poured him another orange and vodka in the mug.
"You stop that." He pushed the mug away.
Huenan snatched it up and chugged it, "Greenthorne."
Locke stopped laughing.
"Yeah." Huenan looked at Jaim.
Jaim frowned and poured himself a whisky, "Yeah..."
"Can't touch him." Locke said. "When he can be touched..." Locke took a coin from Jaim's stack and passed it to Huenan. "If you get to him before she or I do."
Brillian cracked her knuckles.
Huenan flicked the coin to Jaim who snatched it and placed it under a statue of Scathach, "Loads of people crossin' the border these days. Watch your shadows, boys."
Huenan spat in his palm and offered a shake.
Locke copied the man.
They shook. "Gentlemen." Locke gave them both a nod before he turned and left with Brillian in tow. He clipped his mask back on, one of the waitresses pushed the door open for him, curtsied and waved goodbye.
Out with the Gibmen smoke low to a few feet above head height they stayed closed and wove through the thinning crowd. Took out his phone to have the AI do research for murders in the area when they passed the local precinct.
A few goons made themselves known to other goons and squared up, fighting posture, g ang signs then two stepped forward with microphones and shook hands. He'd have to catch up on the street beatbox crews seeing them more active with new and obvious foreigners in the scene they had fun with. He led Brillian across the street over to the parking building. Took the lift to the rooftop and entered the AV.
Brillian immediately fell asleep when she landed herself on the back seats.
He started the engine, set a course for home and left it on auto. Took out his rifle and started to clean it.
When he looked over at Brillian again she stared outside so pointedly it gave him an itch. She was aware of the weapon.
His phone buzzed with the TPSB logo, he opened the report to find casefiles of Timberwolfe. He was confirmed to work on the side as a gigolo to protect his brother and improve his life, his will donated all his cash to the kid in hopes he'd make something of himself. Too many times these stories led to a gun purchase and death by gangers who underestimated the vengeful kid until he shot one of their own. He managed to get out from under his pimp when the last of the middle eastern gangs were driven out by the Yaks, but continued the double shifts indie.
He glanced over at Brillian who fidgeted in her seat, "You can put on some music." he said and returned his eyes to the report. The pimp and his gang were removed notably in the end by a male Shikari with a big red question mark placed over the summary. Male Shikari didn't appear anywhere for no reason and elimination of a sex trafficking gang who dealt with regular humans and the occasional Reignpainter was not significant enough for their kind but somehow they still hit the nadir of the term 'fuckup.' He lit a cigarette, thoughts went up with the smoke sucked into the air scrubber. Through the filter to clean and output loop to produce ozone brand oxygen. Brillian put on some kind of hip-hop and started to do her own little rap, is was cute. He'd have to arrange a makeover for her with one of the girls from Lady Abigails to come pretty her up in the morning.
The AV landed on the pad back in Woodlocke in Cedarbrand. He forgot to take off his mask before as he'd been too busy reading reports. Brillian looked outside while she tapped her finger and foot to the beat. He shut off the music player and opened the door.
"Let's go, we're home."
She fell in beside him.
He handed her a cheap off brand pistol, she folded her arms.
"Keep your Reignpainter status a secret from those who don't know and just shoot them." he said, "Use it if shooting doesn't work."
"Yes, I understand."
He tapped the button on the rooftop door, it flashed blue. He breathed into the multibiometric lock, scanned his Iris, fingerprint and took out his submaster key to open the door, he stepped inside and gestured for her to follow.
"I live in Cedarbrand because the designer had a tree fetish, works out in our bloody faovur."
Locke slipped his shoes off while Brillian kicked off her miniature military boots and neatly placed them at the bottom of the rack. The door sealed shut behind them and micromachines whirred till it locked. The smell of fresh cotton emanated from the conditioner implanted into the walls.
He walked over to the kitchen to find Yama hunched over a plate of prawn fried rice with chopsticks in one hand and she typed with her free hand.
"Is this where I get to joke about the dokkaebi emerging from her cave?" he walked by her and Brillian eyed the woman's food.
"That's Korean, you idiot." she said and froze when she saw Brillian, "Well looks like the old man gave up and got himself a Reignpainter."
"He didn't have a say." Brillian said. "How do you... do your eyelids like that?"
Yama stuck the pair of chopsticks out at her, "You don't know how to do makeup?"
"No." she shook her head. "And I don't know how to use those."
"I need you to secure a line to Chelaise, once that's done you and Brillian can get girly and do each other's makeup. Order Emma Emmer too, have her bring one of those famous sets." He set the microwave to heat the meal she prepared.
"It's pork marinated red with orange juice and a couple splashes of rum." she already had her fingers in Brillian's hair, "How does it glow?"
Best to leave girls to girl's business. He dropped his keys on the countertop and washed his hands. Splashed and wiped his face clean. "The reports?"
"Downstairs, main screen on my rig." Yama said without looking at him, "We're gonna get along so well with your taste in hip-hop!"
Locke went down to the basement, completed the series of biometrics and codes to open the door to Yama's computer room only for his skin to crawl when it clicked open. His hackles spiked up and he pointed a gun ahead of him.
Chelaise's dark thin figure sat in her chair.
"No need, for that." she said gently in her southern accent, "It ain't your fault you don't know shit 'bout that gal, no hard feelings neither." She pointed a package on the ground, "The makeup set you asked Emma for, I already told here to play nice with your call."
"What do you want, Chelaise?"
"What do *you* wan, Locke?" she asked haughtily, "Walkin' around with sunshine and Reignpainter."
"So she's detectable at range, enough for you to notice as soon as we were on the building. Can anyone else?"
"She wants to fight me?" Chelaise looked up in the direction of the kitchen almost confused.
Locke lit a cigarette, "She's not a fan of witches."
"Or she's just a scrapper." Chelaise lowered her eyes to him, "Heard you guys have a raid coming up."
"Yeah, what of it?"
She flickered and her black tipped fingers outed his cigarette, her nose was inches from his own, "You didn't know." the paper white woman whispered. "I heard the Bodach of Lelana is singing again."
"Oh yeah?" Locke tugged the trigger on his lighter but it didn't budge. "Can the not-knower have a smoke?"
"Not in my presence." Footsteps came from upstairs. "I think she's looking for you."
Chelaise's expression formed into a crooked smile. "Let me have her."
"Fuck off."
She nodded, "I have seen." she said in two voices that were not her own, "Fukuroudani is your best bet for creatures like her. If you fuck this up, she or I will come for you before the TPSB can push paperwork."
"Where can I find her?"
Chelaise stood up and walked around the room. "A warning, Locke. That girl doesn't like to fight, that power of hers will possess her. Walk away from this. Dump her on someone who knows what that kind of power is like."
"I'm not giving her to you." He flicked the dulled cigarette in the bin, "Wiretown's a delicate enough balance."
Chelaise smirked, "Mice, men and Locke with no plan."
The trap door on the other side of the room fell open, Brillian slammed down on the ground boots first, her sunspots for eyes thinned to knives when she found Chelaise in the shadow of a server machine.
"Chelaise." she said, "Leave."
Chelaise shrugged, her vantablack eyes went to Locke then back to Brillian.
Before he blinked she was across the room, she pressed her finger against Brillian's forehead. The girl took a step back and mouthed the word: how. As Chelaise had pierced through her Resonance Field, the girl took another step. Then stumbled onto the floor. "Seek meaning in the void, little sprout."
Locke drew his gun.
"No beef for bringing in sunshine." Chelaise said absently, "But if you pull that trigger..."
He ground his teeth. "Stop that." he said.
She raised her hands with a smirk, "Stop what?"
Something on the floor wriggled, scratched. He looked down to the floor, lumps had formed and crawled toward him with a skittering sound. "Stop, this shit."
Chelaise tilted her head.
Brillian stared at the ceiling in shock.
The carpet swirled into a mass of tar-like liquid, grey scaled tendrils whipped out. Splattered him in the slick substance. He pulled the trigger but the gun had malfunctioned, the end of the barrel had been melted. He dropped it and drew a knife to cut a tendril, the blade shattered. Air ejected from his lungs when a tentacle struck him hard and bashed him against a wall.
Locke panted for breath, gun in his hand, hand over his chest. Chelaise stood their on her tip toes, hand over her mouth with a titter.
His eyes blurred for a moment. She was gone.
Brillian stared at the floor with a vacant set to her pupiless eyes. "She's right." the girl said.
"Right about what?" he took a knee to gather his thoughts.
"There are things Reignpainters can't kill... my power isn't world changing..." she sighed. "I wanna go to sleep."
He lit a cigarette, let the thoughts drift away with the smoke. "Put your boots back on the rack, don't put them on in the house even for a fight."