Hell-demon
12-07-07, 17:57
After over year since my last story an exciting story in the Jake Hard saga is here.
**********************
The room was cold and illuminated only by a neon green bulb. The room smelt of damp and blood, where those who were foolish enough to cross Maxwell Fenton, the owner of the room and some of Neocron’s seedier sights, were tortured, mutilated and killed. Sometimes not in that order. Maxwell sat at his desk surrounded by his suited cronies as an eerie silence drifted over the dank little room. Jake Hard, private eye, sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair with an anxious look on his face. Maxwell removed his sleek black shades from his face, put his hand through his whitish hair and uttered a single phrase that ended the silence.
“Ass to mouth.”
“What?” replied Jake.
“You ever seen that shit? I mean my girls don’t do that stuff – they’re clean girls. But I hear some of those hookers that work with Black Dragon are into that stuff. Can you believe it?”
“It’s a weird world. I’m guessin’ that you asked me to come here to discuss more than sex acts and to actually do some form of business.”
Maxwell adjusted his tie and reclined back in his black leather chair with ease. He pulled a data cube from inside his jacket and threw it at Jake who clumsily caught it.
“This is a manifesto of the cargo that will be put on board the Elektra, a sturdy hover carrier that I use for smuggling. As you can see I’ve got a nice stockpile of high grade drugs, the finest the Tsunami Syndicate has to offer.”
“It also says here you’re exporting a large herd of droms. I thought I was the only one into that sort of thing.” said Jake with a gleeful smile.
“Err…actually they are a decoy should the authorities search the carrier for contraband. Should you get cornered by NCPD you can simply explain you are delivering droms to deprived farmers in the wastelands. Hopefully this wont happen and you will deliver the drugs to the Dome of York where my associates will procure them off you. It’s hard to find good help these days. You have a reputation for getting a job done.”
“Wait, you want me, a man of the law, to smuggle drugs to Dome of York! No way. Drugs cause addiction, and addiction causes slavery.”
“You will be paid a hefty sum of money for your services.”
“Actually having said that some of my good friends are addicts.”
“Also I will let my girls service you. These girls are fine attractive women. They are unbelievably sexually frustrated, like a librarian that just got out of prison.”
“Deal!” shouted Jake.
“Excellent. However, I know this is going to be no easy task for you so I’ve assigned some people to help execute your mission. Follow me and I’ll introduce you to your team mates.”
Jake followed Maxwell and his men down winding abysmal halls till they reached a rather rustic hangar. There the Elektra was being loaded with shipments of drugs and droms, a strange a combination to be sure. Maxwell took Jake to a trio of scruffy looking characters.
“Jake”, announced Maxwell, “These are the people who will be offering a helping hand on this mission.”
Jake eyed them up and down. He especially eyed the young bookish girl with glasses and a ragged lab coat.
“This plucky young lady is Vix Hulson, a scientist and the creator of some of the drugs created here.” said Maxwell smiling.
“Pleasure to meet you”, said Vix donning a cute grin.
“This guy is Tenrec, he’s Elektra’s surly mechanic and general middle aged grouch.”
“Hey, don’t even think about using the toilet on Elektra. Thing’s backed up.”, said Tenrec. He spat on the floor, which was the only solid to pass his lips that morning.
“And lastly the token black guy who says mother fucker a lot and will more than likely die towards the end saving everyone else. His name is Malcolm.”
“Yo, motherfucker.”
“Now that I’ve introduced you to everyone I’d like to remind you to be here tomorrow morning when the Elektra is finally prepped. Try not to be late.”
Jake did a bit of small talk with the trio and soon departed from Maxwell’s underground hangar. Jake felt uneasy about this mission, he’d never really smuggled anything and he usually foiled criminals rather than help them. On the other hand Jake was finding it hard to get work and money was nearly nonexistent. Jake was facing tough times, which would get tougher when he reached the Protopharma clinic for an urgent appointment.
Jake entered the medical white doctor’s office, adorned with diagrams and equipment with a feeling of dread. The doctor occupying this room was a short, balding, spectacled man with a moustache. He spoke in a very nasally voice when he greeted Jake.
“Ah, Mr….Hard is it? Please sit down.”
Jake sat in a very soft white chair and clasped his sweaty hands together.
“Well, I have some good news and some bad news, Mr. Hard.”
“Okay, Doc. Gimme the bad first.”
“You test results from last week came through…they’re not good. We’ve discovered a brain tumour, a deadly one at that. You only have a few days to live I’m afraid.”
“Oh shit! What about the good news?”
“You know that beautiful big titted receptionist you saw outside my office?”
“Yes…”
“I’m screwing her.”
“Good for you! Now on to more pressing issues such as me dieing and being a bloated corpse!”
“You wont become a bloated corpse. First your head will swell and you’ll suffer a slow agonising death and…”
“SHUT UP! I want to know what can be done!”
“The technology we have can remove the tumour with a 100% success rate. However, you don’t have any medical insurance and so you are going to have to pay for the operation. Although that will be costly. Something to the tune of 100,000 credits.”
“Oh…”
Jake still had a flicker of hope left in him. He had only but a few days left to live, but he would be embarking on a well paid smuggling mission that could pay for the operation. But the mission was dangerous and he knew it would take a few days to complete. Precious days. Jake was now facing the most difficult mission he had ever taken.
“I’m sorry but before you go could you sign this form stating that in the event of your death that we can harvest your organs for mutant children.”
The doctor reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a rectal thermometer and handed it to Jake.
“Hey, this isn’t a pen! It’s a rectal thermometer!” exclaimed Jake.
“It is? Damn, some assholes got my pen.”
**********************
The room was cold and illuminated only by a neon green bulb. The room smelt of damp and blood, where those who were foolish enough to cross Maxwell Fenton, the owner of the room and some of Neocron’s seedier sights, were tortured, mutilated and killed. Sometimes not in that order. Maxwell sat at his desk surrounded by his suited cronies as an eerie silence drifted over the dank little room. Jake Hard, private eye, sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair with an anxious look on his face. Maxwell removed his sleek black shades from his face, put his hand through his whitish hair and uttered a single phrase that ended the silence.
“Ass to mouth.”
“What?” replied Jake.
“You ever seen that shit? I mean my girls don’t do that stuff – they’re clean girls. But I hear some of those hookers that work with Black Dragon are into that stuff. Can you believe it?”
“It’s a weird world. I’m guessin’ that you asked me to come here to discuss more than sex acts and to actually do some form of business.”
Maxwell adjusted his tie and reclined back in his black leather chair with ease. He pulled a data cube from inside his jacket and threw it at Jake who clumsily caught it.
“This is a manifesto of the cargo that will be put on board the Elektra, a sturdy hover carrier that I use for smuggling. As you can see I’ve got a nice stockpile of high grade drugs, the finest the Tsunami Syndicate has to offer.”
“It also says here you’re exporting a large herd of droms. I thought I was the only one into that sort of thing.” said Jake with a gleeful smile.
“Err…actually they are a decoy should the authorities search the carrier for contraband. Should you get cornered by NCPD you can simply explain you are delivering droms to deprived farmers in the wastelands. Hopefully this wont happen and you will deliver the drugs to the Dome of York where my associates will procure them off you. It’s hard to find good help these days. You have a reputation for getting a job done.”
“Wait, you want me, a man of the law, to smuggle drugs to Dome of York! No way. Drugs cause addiction, and addiction causes slavery.”
“You will be paid a hefty sum of money for your services.”
“Actually having said that some of my good friends are addicts.”
“Also I will let my girls service you. These girls are fine attractive women. They are unbelievably sexually frustrated, like a librarian that just got out of prison.”
“Deal!” shouted Jake.
“Excellent. However, I know this is going to be no easy task for you so I’ve assigned some people to help execute your mission. Follow me and I’ll introduce you to your team mates.”
Jake followed Maxwell and his men down winding abysmal halls till they reached a rather rustic hangar. There the Elektra was being loaded with shipments of drugs and droms, a strange a combination to be sure. Maxwell took Jake to a trio of scruffy looking characters.
“Jake”, announced Maxwell, “These are the people who will be offering a helping hand on this mission.”
Jake eyed them up and down. He especially eyed the young bookish girl with glasses and a ragged lab coat.
“This plucky young lady is Vix Hulson, a scientist and the creator of some of the drugs created here.” said Maxwell smiling.
“Pleasure to meet you”, said Vix donning a cute grin.
“This guy is Tenrec, he’s Elektra’s surly mechanic and general middle aged grouch.”
“Hey, don’t even think about using the toilet on Elektra. Thing’s backed up.”, said Tenrec. He spat on the floor, which was the only solid to pass his lips that morning.
“And lastly the token black guy who says mother fucker a lot and will more than likely die towards the end saving everyone else. His name is Malcolm.”
“Yo, motherfucker.”
“Now that I’ve introduced you to everyone I’d like to remind you to be here tomorrow morning when the Elektra is finally prepped. Try not to be late.”
Jake did a bit of small talk with the trio and soon departed from Maxwell’s underground hangar. Jake felt uneasy about this mission, he’d never really smuggled anything and he usually foiled criminals rather than help them. On the other hand Jake was finding it hard to get work and money was nearly nonexistent. Jake was facing tough times, which would get tougher when he reached the Protopharma clinic for an urgent appointment.
Jake entered the medical white doctor’s office, adorned with diagrams and equipment with a feeling of dread. The doctor occupying this room was a short, balding, spectacled man with a moustache. He spoke in a very nasally voice when he greeted Jake.
“Ah, Mr….Hard is it? Please sit down.”
Jake sat in a very soft white chair and clasped his sweaty hands together.
“Well, I have some good news and some bad news, Mr. Hard.”
“Okay, Doc. Gimme the bad first.”
“You test results from last week came through…they’re not good. We’ve discovered a brain tumour, a deadly one at that. You only have a few days to live I’m afraid.”
“Oh shit! What about the good news?”
“You know that beautiful big titted receptionist you saw outside my office?”
“Yes…”
“I’m screwing her.”
“Good for you! Now on to more pressing issues such as me dieing and being a bloated corpse!”
“You wont become a bloated corpse. First your head will swell and you’ll suffer a slow agonising death and…”
“SHUT UP! I want to know what can be done!”
“The technology we have can remove the tumour with a 100% success rate. However, you don’t have any medical insurance and so you are going to have to pay for the operation. Although that will be costly. Something to the tune of 100,000 credits.”
“Oh…”
Jake still had a flicker of hope left in him. He had only but a few days left to live, but he would be embarking on a well paid smuggling mission that could pay for the operation. But the mission was dangerous and he knew it would take a few days to complete. Precious days. Jake was now facing the most difficult mission he had ever taken.
“I’m sorry but before you go could you sign this form stating that in the event of your death that we can harvest your organs for mutant children.”
The doctor reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a rectal thermometer and handed it to Jake.
“Hey, this isn’t a pen! It’s a rectal thermometer!” exclaimed Jake.
“It is? Damn, some assholes got my pen.”