To Get Out Alive - Part Two (a Guns For Hire fanfic)

[churbooseanon]

Today we introduce new faces, both familiar and not. Starting with someone we should boo.

 

To Get Out Alive [Part Two] - (A Guns for Hire Fanfic)

    Errera had a reputation of having not the best, but the very best of the very best of everything. Their DJs were always at the pinnacle of popularity and skill. The dancers they paid to entertain on the raised platforms of dance floor two were all masters of the craft, students of local dance schools from what David understood. The cooks that did the limited food service to the private rooms were award winning in one realm or another. And the supplies of alcohol and the concoctions that came from them were all impressive in their range of selection and their quality. Their bottom rung drinks were all done with a minimum of what most places would consider middle shelf liquors, and David took pride in the selection when he was inventory or shelving duties before opening.

    None of that compared to Room Five. Now that David stood behind the black glass bar and looked at his supplies, he actually had to capitalize the place. Turned out that the stock he’d brought up last week was only the ‘cheap’ stuff. Granted it was all top-shelf alcohols, every last one that he’d put in place. But when he’d run the keycard and his employee ID through the card readers under the bar to unlock the displays he’d found the shelves he’d stocked to be… well, the casual selection for the room. He had actually gaped as the plas-steel shelves had split in the middle, spread open, and lights had turned on to bathe the other selection in the previously hidden shelves in a sparkling, if icy blue, tone. David couldn’t help himself, awe making him hold his breath as he reached up and out to stroke the label of a bottle of fifty year old Richese Scotch. David had heard stories about the stuff, not from anyone he worked with, but rather from his father. The old man had been an ‘aficionado’ as he put it, and whenever he was with new people he was trying to impress, he would talk about the time he’d tasted the illusive creation. And here, right where David could actually look at it, touch it, was that very thing. Beautiful.

    If only he cared for scotch at all.

    “Impressive, is it not?”

    The voice, smooth as a good scotch and sharp as a whip in the way it cut through his thoughts, made David’s hand flinch away from the bottle. Somewhere else he might have just ignored the interruption and acted like he was checking the inventory. But the only way someone would have access to this room would be with a keycard, or if they were permitted entrance by the individual renting it. So rather than pretend he was doing what he was supposed to, David turned to the customer and put on his most charming smile.

    “I was thinking such myself, sir,” he greeted his employer for the evening. The man was an older gentleman than David was used to seeing around Errera, but he tried not to think that much of it, especially given the fact that he had a deceptively simple looking suit that was impeccably tailored to his form in a tasteful charcoal gray and a collarless black shirt. It was a style David had seen in vids of wealthy businessmen these days, some movement away from the stiff-formality of ties, or maybe men on adaptive hated trying to find ties that were both interesting and matched their helmets. But the color combination almost perfectly matched the black hair peppered with a darker gray that the man wore swept back, and it was almost enough to hide the grayer hairs in his carefully managed goatee and mustache. The result of it all was a rather composed looking man who didn’t seem to belong in this sort of world in the slightest. But, David supposed, if you were going to drop the kind of money that was needed to have access to Room Five, then fuck, you might as well look the part, right?

    “Then clearly you have an appreciation for the finer things in life,” the man noted, moving to the bar where David was waiting attentively. “I shall take two fingers of it.”

    David tilted his head in a minor acknowledgement, and realizing that someone from Adaptive might not read it the same way, smiled after. “Coming right up, sir.”

    The man nodded his approval and as David turned his attention to his work, he could hear the man walking away. In a way he was disappointed. Here he’d hoped there would be something interesting going on tonight, and instead he just had a business man who wanted to do… well, whatever. Perhaps he was meeting here with a mistress, intent on cheating on his wife in comfort and privacy. After all, there were no cameras in the back halls of the club, or in this room itself. Or so David presumed. Maybe there were hidden ones, here to keep employees in line to keep them from stealing or making use of the room on their own. Either way the man had a somber air around him that said this was going to be slow. Swallowing back a sigh David made the drink and moved to offer it to the man who had seated himself in one of the sinfully comfortable looking armchairs.

    “Thank you,” the man noted, but his voice was a bit dismissive, so David didn’t respond, just headed back to his post. “I suppose I need not tell you that anything you see or hear here is to be repeated to any parties.”

    “No, sir,” David agreed as he reached the counter and started to wipe it down.

    “Good. You are here to neither be seen nor heard unless you are needed.”

    Wow, way to make him feel good about himself. David gripped his towel tightly, trying not to let his lack of patience escape him. The last thing he needed was to roll his eyes at this fucking asshole and get himself…

    The door slid open so silently that David only realized that they had been joined by another person when he heard the footsteps. These were heavier, moved like they still carried the beat of the music downstairs in them. Well, at least someone here wasn’t uptight. David looked up to look over the newcomer and froze so utterly that he was pretty sure he wasn’t breathing. In fact, he wasn’t. Didn’t know it until his lungs ached in protest and the rich asshole standing up broke the moment. Immediately David returned his eyes to the counter and tried, desperately hard, not to look at the person who had come in.

    Karim looked good, better than good, in the tight jeans and the heavy, non-descript leather coat. Not that they were really his style at all. David was used to him in brighter, warmer colors. Oranges and reds that were a sunset-spread of beauty against the rich brown of his skin, those were what Karim was made for. Everything he owned was somewhere in that range of colors, just like David preferred to default to grays, blacks, and a hint of gold. But this Karim? This was different. Everything was black with an edge of dark brown, many shades darker than his skin tone, and all with a darker hue. The whole thing made Karim look a bit like a shadow, which, he realized, was the point.

    “You would be the…”

    When the older man seemed to be caught up on what to call Karim, David watched as his ex put on a bored expression, his arms crossed over his chest, and for the life of him he didn’t think he’d ever seen the man cross his eyes before.

    “If you want to be flowery about it, call me a freelance acquisitions agent. But we tend to prefer if you’re up front and call us what we are,” Karim interrupted, his voice as bored and dismissive as his expression. “Mercenary. Merc. Paid gun. Whatever. But I’m not here to quibble about semantics. I want to get the job done and get paid, so can we just get down to business?”

    “Of course. Would you like a drink?” the man asked, and David watched in almost slow-motion horror as the older man gestured with his drink toward where David was standing. No. No, please, don’t let this happen.

    “I don’t drink on the job,” Karim answered, turning his attention as prompted, and David could actually see the exact moment when it all registered to Karim. Not that those perfect brown eyes went wide or anything. In fact, the other man was far more composed than David thought he might be in that situation. There was just a poise that anyone might take as unruffled confidence. David knew better. He knew how still, how controlled Karim was when he was surprised. Maybe this explained it. God… Karim, a mercenary, and looking at him.

    “I suppose I can make an exception though. If it’s non-alcoholic.”

    And then there was Karim, walking toward him. What was David even supposed to do?

    “You know how to make a recovery, kid?” Karim asked, and David tried not to bristle at that. He had two years on his ex, but probably wasn’t fitting for the stranger to know that they knew each other.

    Thing was, David knew Karim. Which, he supposed, was why this worked. He had, after all, created a variation on the popular cocktail that was completely non-alcoholic to cater to his boyfriend’s tastes. Which, clearly, was what he wanted here. Still, there was a significant look given to him as Karim stopped by the bar. Clearly he was trying to block his employer, and there was a pleading look on his face.

    “Why should I care about betraying I know you?” David grumbled under his breath, watching the man frown before he started to gather the necessary parts of the drink, including pulling out the high quality apple brandy that would have been used for the drink for anyone else.

    “Can we just talk about this later?” Karim mumbled. “I’m working right now.”

    “You’re not the only one,” David hissed out.

    With that he turned the full of his attention to the work at hand. Which meant that, in moments, he was offering over the completed drink and then turning the full of his attention to the bar again. His job was to work, not be seen, not be heard. So as Karim walked away with his drink, David pretended that this wasn’t actually happening, wouldn’t happen, would stop happening. Instead he stayed silent through the whole thing. A whole hour they were there, David listening to Karim negotiate price and timeline. Apparently the man wanted him to break into a secure medical facility and acquire some documents and other items labeled very specifically. David tried not to watch as the man slid a piece of paper across to Karim with the information on it.

    After an hour an agreement seemed settled, and Karim leaned across a glass top table to shake the older man’s hand. It was only then that David looked up, only as Karim was standing and looked briefly at him.

    “Good drink,” Karim said, not that he seemed very interested in what he was saying. With that he turned, grabbing his coat, and was gone.

    David waited until the door closed behind his ex to sweep forward and take his empty glass. Then he looked briefly at the other man, the one who had rented the room, and tilted his head curiously.

    “Can I get you something else, sir?”

    The man frowned and shook his head. “No. That will be all. You are free to leave now.”

    “Of course sir. I would warn you, though, that when I depart, Errera will no longer be providing service here unless you summon up another bartender. To do so just touch the pad by the door. We will have someone up straight away.”

    The man nodded and waved a dismissive hand. David just bowed, taking a moment to clean the glasses and shut down the expensive display of alcohol with a swipe of his ID before he slipped out of the room. That done David went back down to the plas-dome bar and smiled to Tracy before he resettled his helmet on his head. Maybe if he focused hard enough on the music and lights, he could forget what he saw.

    As if it could ever be that easy.

    Really, he should have seen the message coming only half an hour later. A single word from a familiar frequency he had feared to see.

    Help.

    “David?” Tracy asked as he stripped his helmet and apron off, tucking them under his arm. “David, where are you going?”

    If only he knew. Without answering, David walked away. Running now would only make things work. It wasn’t until he was in the back halls that he let himself run, bolting full speed to the employee changing room.

    He didn’t think he ever changed quite so fast as he did with that message hanging over his head.