X
Xaiken
Guest
Original poster
PROLOGUE
Paileyra leaned against a wall in the town square, smoking a cigarette. She inhaled deeply and exhaled a large plume of smoke. She was wearing a black trench coat, with its hood pulled over her head. The only other clothing visible was the pair of ugly boots that were on her feet. She was never one to get into fashion. Blending in well, no one seemed to pay her any attention, which was just the way she liked it. Pai took drag, after drag, until her cigarette was down to the filter and she flicked it into the street with her middle finger. Her eyes were fixated on the building across the street, and a grin came to her face when a tall, fat man walked out.
“Norman Baker. Right on time buddy.” She said in a whisper aloud.
When the man, Norman, started walking down the sidewalk, she too began to walk in the same direction. She was following him and he was none the wiser. Paileyra crossed the busy intersection, and was on his trail for what seemed like forever before he finally stopped, and went inside of another building. This was apparently where he lived, as there were only apartments inside. After following him in, she watched as he entered room ‘1 C’ on the first floor. Her right hand went to her waistband, and she withdrew an ancient Glock 19 semi-automatic pistol. Then, she knocked. Instead of asking who was at the door, Norman simply opened it halfway.
“How’s it going, Norman?” she said with an obviously fake smile.
“Do I know you?” He asked wearily.
Paileyra lifted the gun and pointed it directly at his face, only an inch away.
“Sure ya’ do. Why don’t you invite me in?”
“P-please miss, I don’t h-have any money.” Norman said, already showing his true colors while complying with the demands and opening the door.
As Paileyra walked forward, he walked back. His place was pretty small, evident by only a few steps being taken and they were already in the living room. There were pictures on the walls, the furniture was half decent, with a holographic T.V on in the background. Paileyra barely noticed any of those things though, being only concerned with what she came here for.
“Sit down, Norman.”
“Take whatever you want and go! Just don’t shoot me, please!” he begged as he sat down on a black, leather love seat.
‘Tch. Fuckin’ coward.’ She thought.
“Tell me what I want to know, and you might just survive this little situation we have on our hands. Understand…?”
“But I don’t know anything! I’m a bank teller for Christ sake!” he replied.
Paileyra cocked back her pistol with her left hand, pressing it against his right kneecap soon after.
“How about this, for every lie you tell me, you get a bullet wherever I choose. I don’t have time for your games, Mister Black. That is what you prefer to be called, right?” she questioned.
“I don’t know who M----“before Norman could finish his sentence, he heard a sharp bang. It echoed throughout the room, and even caused a ringing sensation in his ears. Then followed the immense pain coursing throughout his leg, and a scream. His scream. Norman had just been shot in the knee-cap, like she promised.
“Shut the fuck up, or the next one is in your head.” Said Paileyra, raising the gun and now pressing it in between his eyes.
Normans screams turned into muffled cries, accompanied by tears.
“A... select few of my clients know me by that name.” He admitted.
“And I assume you have a list of these clients?”
“……….”
Paileyra moved the gun from his head, to Mister Blacks other leg.
“A-Alright! Yes…it’s…. on my phone.” He said.
“Give it to me. Now.”
Mister Black reluctantly dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, handing it to her after.
“That has everything…names, appointments, known addresses. Everything you could possibly want to know is in there. Now please, I need to go to a hospital!”
“Unfortunately, Mister Black, you’ll be going straight to the morgue.”
“No, please! I answered your questions, and gave you everything you wanted! You sa---!”
“I said maybe.”
Paileyra lifted her gun to his head one last time, and before he could swat it away, she pulled the trigger, sending the bastard into the next life with a bang. Literally. Mister Black was dead. She knew the police would be arriving any second due to all the commotion, and gunshots, so she didn’t waste any time getting the hell out of that apartment. She was walking down the sidewalk when they finally arrived, peering down into her hand, at the dead man’s mobile device.
Norman Baker, or Mister Black rather, was no ordinary bank teller like he wanted Paileyra to initially believe. He was, in fact, one of the most popular and successful connects for the modern day slave trade. She had been tracking him for months, but every time she nearly had him he would change locations. Sometimes he would leave the planet entirely, going to one of mankind’s many colonies in the vastness of space. Pai had been planning on killing him from the very beginning. His cowardly behavior only made it easier. With him dead, she very well may have just saved many lives, or at the least bought them more time before they were shipped off, never to be seen again.
Pai had her suspicions that there was something greater going on here, but she didn’t exactly know what. This had all started after her little sister, Sasha, was kidnapped two years ago. Her family paid the ransom against the advisement of police, but Sasha was murdered shortly after they received the money. The kidnappers videotaped the entire ordeal, and sent it to her parent’s home as if laughing at their pain. The only lead Paileyra had in finding out just who these murderers were, was their opening statement on the murder tape. “We are ‘The Black Hand.”
‘Maybe I should’ve gotten the fucking passcode before I killed that son of a bitch.’ Thought Paileyra.
Try as she might, Pai didn’t know the passcode for the phone, and she couldn’t risk getting locked out permanently. Or worse, the data being wiped. Luckily she knew just who could hack the security software in no time. Eight-bit. He was a hacker of immense skill, and the one she went to whenever she needed things done that were too technical or advanced for her technology wise. She stuffed the mobile into one of her pockets, walking back the several blocks she had come. There was a Banshee XL7 motorcycle leaning against the side of an abandoned building, or her ‘baby’ as she so often called it. She hopped on, threw on her helmet, and screeched off onto the streets of New Brooklyn.
Paileyra swerved in and out of traffic, violating damn near every law of the road known to man. Drivers honked and yelled, but she paid them no mind. She wasn’t the most considerate person in the world, after all.
“Cori, dial Eight-Bit.” She said out loud into her Bluetooth, wireless headset.
“Dialing Eight-Bit…” replied a male, clearly synthetic voice.
The phone rang, rang, and then rang again before someone answered.
“Yo Pai...!” Greeted a raspy, adolescent sounding voice.
“Hey, Eight-Bit.”
“Haven’t heard from you in a few weeks. You alright?” He asked.
“Yea’, no need to worry about me. I need a favor.” She replied.
“Sure. What d’ ya need?”
“A few things. I’d rather talk in person. Are you still in Old Jersey...?”
“Yup, I am indeed. You know the spot.”
“Gotcha. I’ll see you soon.”
“Alright, see ya then Pai.”
The two never said anything too revealing, only vague terms that wouldn’t be specific enough for the government, or anyone else that may be listening in to their conversations to use against them. They also used code words and phrases to mix things up even more. For instance, ‘A few weeks’ meant a few hours.
She picked up even more speed when she reached the suburbs and country side of Old Jersey. It took her about an hour and a half to arrive at her destination, which would’ve taken an average person over three hours’ travel. Taking off her helmet she placed it on the seat of the motorcycle, and gazed upon a two story house. It was located in the center of an upper-middle class neighborhood, and had two cars in the driveway that looked brand new. One red, the other silver. Pai didn’t care too much to admire the architecture any longer, and thus made her way up the winding concrete and to the door. Before she even knocked it flung open, a young man with a wide smile standing behind it.
He had unkempt, dirty blonde hair, big brown eyes, and was very skinny. Scrawny even. He was wearing a shirt that said ‘NERD’ in bold red, with black and white striped pajamas. Eight-Bit.
“Pai! C’mon in.” he said immediately.
Paileyra smiled and followed him in, Eight-Bit shutting and locking the door after she entered.
“When I didn’t hear from after you were in New Brooklyn for so long, I thought something may have gone wrong.” He said as they walked up a tall set of stairs.
“Nah, the mother-fucker must’ve taken some overtime at the bank. I was waiting for him to come outside.” She replied.
“Oh, well that’s good then. I’ve been stalking channel five, and they reported that Norman Banks, a senior bank teller, is no longer in the world of the living. Cause: Bullet to the head.”
“Leaving him alive after seeing me would’ve been a major mistake. Besides, scum like him deserve just what he received.
I was able to get his phone, which I’m certain has everything we need in regards to his contacts and stash houses.”
By the time she finished her sentence the two were in what she knew was Eight-Bits bedroom. It was a decent sized room, with a king sized bed, multiple computers/T.Vs, and a variety of nerd propaganda from superheroes to comic-book posters.
“I agree completely. Now, what exactly did you need my help with?” Eight-Bit sitting at his small desk, while Paileyra sat on the edge of his bed.
“His phone, it’s locked with some high-tech encryption software. If I had stayed and tried to get the passcode out of ‘em, I’d either be dead or in cuffs right now.”
“Yeah, fuck that. Give it here.” Replied Eight-Bit.
Paileyra removed the phone from her pants pocket, and put it in the hand of her friend. Eight-Bit took the phone, spun around in his chair to face the desk and immediately began tinkering with it. After a few minutes he finally spoke up.
“This is some high level stuff, military grade. Luckily my skills are at just as high of a level.” A small beeping noise was heard shortly after.
“We’re in. I’m going to connect it to my CPU, that’ll disable any tracking, and it’ll download everything to make going through this a lot easier.”
“Do what you do best, Bit. I want it all.” Said Paileyra.
Eight-Bit did just as he said, Paileyra still wondering how in the world he moved his fingers so fast on that keyboard.
“First, I want the name or alias’ of his connections. Buyers, and sellers.” She added.
“Alright. Here we go.” He replied, and began clicking/typing away.
Suddenly numerous pictures appeared on his large, pre-historic monitor. Beside them were names. The first one had a picture of a man that looked to be of Indian decent, with a beard, sunglasses, and a blue turban atop his head. The words ‘Ishmael’ displayed in bright green letters. There was a problem.
“Shit. I guess I couldn’t expect him to make things too easy…” Sighed Paileyra.
There were names, and numbers, but other than guilt by association Paileyra had no other way of knowing if or how the people listed were connected in the grand scheme of things.
“Run the first image through every known database you can think of.” She said.
“On it, if he so much as ran a red light, we’ll know about it soon enough.”
Pictures of different men flashed rapidly on the screen, the words ‘F.B.I’ database at the top of it. Then it stopped, and sure enough this ‘Ishmael’ character was highlighted red. Only instead of Ishmael, it read:
Paileyra leaned against a wall in the town square, smoking a cigarette. She inhaled deeply and exhaled a large plume of smoke. She was wearing a black trench coat, with its hood pulled over her head. The only other clothing visible was the pair of ugly boots that were on her feet. She was never one to get into fashion. Blending in well, no one seemed to pay her any attention, which was just the way she liked it. Pai took drag, after drag, until her cigarette was down to the filter and she flicked it into the street with her middle finger. Her eyes were fixated on the building across the street, and a grin came to her face when a tall, fat man walked out.
“Norman Baker. Right on time buddy.” She said in a whisper aloud.
When the man, Norman, started walking down the sidewalk, she too began to walk in the same direction. She was following him and he was none the wiser. Paileyra crossed the busy intersection, and was on his trail for what seemed like forever before he finally stopped, and went inside of another building. This was apparently where he lived, as there were only apartments inside. After following him in, she watched as he entered room ‘1 C’ on the first floor. Her right hand went to her waistband, and she withdrew an ancient Glock 19 semi-automatic pistol. Then, she knocked. Instead of asking who was at the door, Norman simply opened it halfway.
“How’s it going, Norman?” she said with an obviously fake smile.
“Do I know you?” He asked wearily.
Paileyra lifted the gun and pointed it directly at his face, only an inch away.
“Sure ya’ do. Why don’t you invite me in?”
“P-please miss, I don’t h-have any money.” Norman said, already showing his true colors while complying with the demands and opening the door.
As Paileyra walked forward, he walked back. His place was pretty small, evident by only a few steps being taken and they were already in the living room. There were pictures on the walls, the furniture was half decent, with a holographic T.V on in the background. Paileyra barely noticed any of those things though, being only concerned with what she came here for.
“Sit down, Norman.”
“Take whatever you want and go! Just don’t shoot me, please!” he begged as he sat down on a black, leather love seat.
‘Tch. Fuckin’ coward.’ She thought.
“Tell me what I want to know, and you might just survive this little situation we have on our hands. Understand…?”
“But I don’t know anything! I’m a bank teller for Christ sake!” he replied.
Paileyra cocked back her pistol with her left hand, pressing it against his right kneecap soon after.
“How about this, for every lie you tell me, you get a bullet wherever I choose. I don’t have time for your games, Mister Black. That is what you prefer to be called, right?” she questioned.
“I don’t know who M----“before Norman could finish his sentence, he heard a sharp bang. It echoed throughout the room, and even caused a ringing sensation in his ears. Then followed the immense pain coursing throughout his leg, and a scream. His scream. Norman had just been shot in the knee-cap, like she promised.
“Shut the fuck up, or the next one is in your head.” Said Paileyra, raising the gun and now pressing it in between his eyes.
Normans screams turned into muffled cries, accompanied by tears.
“A... select few of my clients know me by that name.” He admitted.
“And I assume you have a list of these clients?”
“……….”
Paileyra moved the gun from his head, to Mister Blacks other leg.
“A-Alright! Yes…it’s…. on my phone.” He said.
“Give it to me. Now.”
Mister Black reluctantly dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, handing it to her after.
“That has everything…names, appointments, known addresses. Everything you could possibly want to know is in there. Now please, I need to go to a hospital!”
“Unfortunately, Mister Black, you’ll be going straight to the morgue.”
“No, please! I answered your questions, and gave you everything you wanted! You sa---!”
“I said maybe.”
Paileyra lifted her gun to his head one last time, and before he could swat it away, she pulled the trigger, sending the bastard into the next life with a bang. Literally. Mister Black was dead. She knew the police would be arriving any second due to all the commotion, and gunshots, so she didn’t waste any time getting the hell out of that apartment. She was walking down the sidewalk when they finally arrived, peering down into her hand, at the dead man’s mobile device.
Norman Baker, or Mister Black rather, was no ordinary bank teller like he wanted Paileyra to initially believe. He was, in fact, one of the most popular and successful connects for the modern day slave trade. She had been tracking him for months, but every time she nearly had him he would change locations. Sometimes he would leave the planet entirely, going to one of mankind’s many colonies in the vastness of space. Pai had been planning on killing him from the very beginning. His cowardly behavior only made it easier. With him dead, she very well may have just saved many lives, or at the least bought them more time before they were shipped off, never to be seen again.
Pai had her suspicions that there was something greater going on here, but she didn’t exactly know what. This had all started after her little sister, Sasha, was kidnapped two years ago. Her family paid the ransom against the advisement of police, but Sasha was murdered shortly after they received the money. The kidnappers videotaped the entire ordeal, and sent it to her parent’s home as if laughing at their pain. The only lead Paileyra had in finding out just who these murderers were, was their opening statement on the murder tape. “We are ‘The Black Hand.”
‘Maybe I should’ve gotten the fucking passcode before I killed that son of a bitch.’ Thought Paileyra.
Try as she might, Pai didn’t know the passcode for the phone, and she couldn’t risk getting locked out permanently. Or worse, the data being wiped. Luckily she knew just who could hack the security software in no time. Eight-bit. He was a hacker of immense skill, and the one she went to whenever she needed things done that were too technical or advanced for her technology wise. She stuffed the mobile into one of her pockets, walking back the several blocks she had come. There was a Banshee XL7 motorcycle leaning against the side of an abandoned building, or her ‘baby’ as she so often called it. She hopped on, threw on her helmet, and screeched off onto the streets of New Brooklyn.
Paileyra swerved in and out of traffic, violating damn near every law of the road known to man. Drivers honked and yelled, but she paid them no mind. She wasn’t the most considerate person in the world, after all.
“Cori, dial Eight-Bit.” She said out loud into her Bluetooth, wireless headset.
“Dialing Eight-Bit…” replied a male, clearly synthetic voice.
The phone rang, rang, and then rang again before someone answered.
“Yo Pai...!” Greeted a raspy, adolescent sounding voice.
“Hey, Eight-Bit.”
“Haven’t heard from you in a few weeks. You alright?” He asked.
“Yea’, no need to worry about me. I need a favor.” She replied.
“Sure. What d’ ya need?”
“A few things. I’d rather talk in person. Are you still in Old Jersey...?”
“Yup, I am indeed. You know the spot.”
“Gotcha. I’ll see you soon.”
“Alright, see ya then Pai.”
The two never said anything too revealing, only vague terms that wouldn’t be specific enough for the government, or anyone else that may be listening in to their conversations to use against them. They also used code words and phrases to mix things up even more. For instance, ‘A few weeks’ meant a few hours.
She picked up even more speed when she reached the suburbs and country side of Old Jersey. It took her about an hour and a half to arrive at her destination, which would’ve taken an average person over three hours’ travel. Taking off her helmet she placed it on the seat of the motorcycle, and gazed upon a two story house. It was located in the center of an upper-middle class neighborhood, and had two cars in the driveway that looked brand new. One red, the other silver. Pai didn’t care too much to admire the architecture any longer, and thus made her way up the winding concrete and to the door. Before she even knocked it flung open, a young man with a wide smile standing behind it.
He had unkempt, dirty blonde hair, big brown eyes, and was very skinny. Scrawny even. He was wearing a shirt that said ‘NERD’ in bold red, with black and white striped pajamas. Eight-Bit.
“Pai! C’mon in.” he said immediately.
Paileyra smiled and followed him in, Eight-Bit shutting and locking the door after she entered.
“When I didn’t hear from after you were in New Brooklyn for so long, I thought something may have gone wrong.” He said as they walked up a tall set of stairs.
“Nah, the mother-fucker must’ve taken some overtime at the bank. I was waiting for him to come outside.” She replied.
“Oh, well that’s good then. I’ve been stalking channel five, and they reported that Norman Banks, a senior bank teller, is no longer in the world of the living. Cause: Bullet to the head.”
“Leaving him alive after seeing me would’ve been a major mistake. Besides, scum like him deserve just what he received.
I was able to get his phone, which I’m certain has everything we need in regards to his contacts and stash houses.”
By the time she finished her sentence the two were in what she knew was Eight-Bits bedroom. It was a decent sized room, with a king sized bed, multiple computers/T.Vs, and a variety of nerd propaganda from superheroes to comic-book posters.
“I agree completely. Now, what exactly did you need my help with?” Eight-Bit sitting at his small desk, while Paileyra sat on the edge of his bed.
“His phone, it’s locked with some high-tech encryption software. If I had stayed and tried to get the passcode out of ‘em, I’d either be dead or in cuffs right now.”
“Yeah, fuck that. Give it here.” Replied Eight-Bit.
Paileyra removed the phone from her pants pocket, and put it in the hand of her friend. Eight-Bit took the phone, spun around in his chair to face the desk and immediately began tinkering with it. After a few minutes he finally spoke up.
“This is some high level stuff, military grade. Luckily my skills are at just as high of a level.” A small beeping noise was heard shortly after.
“We’re in. I’m going to connect it to my CPU, that’ll disable any tracking, and it’ll download everything to make going through this a lot easier.”
“Do what you do best, Bit. I want it all.” Said Paileyra.
Eight-Bit did just as he said, Paileyra still wondering how in the world he moved his fingers so fast on that keyboard.
“First, I want the name or alias’ of his connections. Buyers, and sellers.” She added.
“Alright. Here we go.” He replied, and began clicking/typing away.
Suddenly numerous pictures appeared on his large, pre-historic monitor. Beside them were names. The first one had a picture of a man that looked to be of Indian decent, with a beard, sunglasses, and a blue turban atop his head. The words ‘Ishmael’ displayed in bright green letters. There was a problem.
“Shit. I guess I couldn’t expect him to make things too easy…” Sighed Paileyra.
There were names, and numbers, but other than guilt by association Paileyra had no other way of knowing if or how the people listed were connected in the grand scheme of things.
“Run the first image through every known database you can think of.” She said.
“On it, if he so much as ran a red light, we’ll know about it soon enough.”
Pictures of different men flashed rapidly on the screen, the words ‘F.B.I’ database at the top of it. Then it stopped, and sure enough this ‘Ishmael’ character was highlighted red. Only instead of Ishmael, it read: