[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/wUWTS6n.jpg[/img][/center] The sun was beginning to peek down at Valorie as she watched the cab drive off, the silhouette of—[i]My what? Guardian? Mentor? Or..[/i]—disappearing behind a corner. The book he had given her was pressed close against her chest, his card serving as a bookmark for the parts she had already devoured while in the cab. His parting gift, a cigarette, burned slowly in her mouth as she backed up beneath an awning. A quick scan of the streets revealed to her that she was in a safe enough part of town, all things considered. Violent crimes still happened in the nice parts of Santa Somabra, but they always happened quietly behind closed doors and came only after astronomical exchanges of currency. She doubted she’d run into one of the Fifth Street Rats seeking retribution, assuming that masked monster from the night before had let any of them slip away. Somehow she doubted it, but she still felt uncomfortable. Anxious. Watched. She looked at the reddish runes on her right hand. At a quick glance or to the untrained eye they looked like little more than overzealous scribblings of an aspiring art student working part-time as a bouncer who had, once again, failed to catch her fake ID. Valorie knew the markings would fade away, and she wouldn’t say that she was completely upset with having Francis be able to know where she was. Considering how she had almost become another statistic last night, she could even convince herself that it was a good thing. The discomfort came from somewhere else then. She did feel out of place in this part of town. True, she was safe from any wandering Rats, because they knew not to shove their coked-up little noses into these more civilized parts of town—if the cartels and mafias didn’t beat them back into the sewers and slums, then the cops did. She knew she wasn’t safe from them. Valorie had seen her face in the rearview mirror of the cab. She didn’t know what made her uglier: her new busted lip or her bruised cheek that was plum purple. Valorie had ignored the questioning glances the cabbie threw between his two passengers—[i]Who gave a fuck what a cab driver thought?[/i] But, as she slowly smoked her only cigarette, she could only think that the only way to make her stick out more as a Rat to cops and thugs would have been to throw on some Mickey Mouse ears, paint some whiskers around her nose, and stand on the corner of the street while shooting junk into her veins. It was only a matter of time before she would be hassled. The feeling was made worse by the knowledge that she would still end up in a car with a goddamn cop regardless of what happened while she waited. Her phone had gone missing (as well as the rest of her stuff) but she knew it would be insane to try and find him at the station, so she had Francis text Rich to come pick her up in front of this fancy restaurant. And there the devil was, pulling up to the sidewalk in a stylish sports car that was well beyond the paygrade of a typical cop. Valorie walked up to the passenger door of the car. Instead of getting in immediately, she leaned forward as far as she could while resting her elbows on the frame of the rolled-down window. “You seem so used to this,” she said, blowing smoke into the leather interior. “You used to picking up girls off the street corner?” “Just get in,” said Rich, his expression unreadable behind his reflective sunglasses. [i]Ray-bans, of fucking course,[/i] thought Valorie, as she added sunglasses to the increasing list of her personal possessions that were now missing. Maybe Rich would have them in a handy little bag of evidence for her. She straightened up and pulled at the handle. It caught on the lock and did not open. “No smoking.” Sighing, she took one last giant drag and put her hands on her hips, cocking her head as if to ask if he was happy. She watched herself in the reflection of her glasses as the breath she was holding made the rest of her face match her bruise and then exhaled loudly, coughing as a cloud of smoke erupted from her mouth. Say what you will about Rich, but Valorie had to commend him on being able to avoid most of her bullshit. She jumped in the car. It was comfortable, roomy, light years nicer than the POS she had sold when she had first come to this city. After another staring match with her reflection, she buckled her seatbelt. “You know how to suck all the cool out of a Lamborghini,” said Valorie, putting her feet on the dash. “It’s a Ferrari.” “[i]It’s a Ferrari[/i],” she echoed, mockingly. “The point remains. You still suck.” “It’s good to see you too, Valorie.” “Aren’t you going to ask me about my night?” “What is there to ask?” said Rich, casting her a sideways glance as he put the car into drive and pulled out onto the street. “Oh, I don’t fucking know man, maybe ask about how I almost died? Or how my cover is now probably fucking blown because you sent a goddamn cop after me? How about if I’m just okay? I did just see a bunch of my friends die, so yeah, why should we talk about that? Fuck!” While she had friends in the Rats, she didn’t really consider the Fifth Street Rats her friends. Still, she felt saying that drove home her point better. Which was this: “At least apologize to me. This was all your fucking fault!” There was a stretch of silence as they drove, the expensive car tearing loudly through the mostly empty streets. She didn’t know where the hell they were going, but the silence was driving her mad as the car took a left, and then a right, and then another right. It bumped against the curb as Rich steered it into a parking garage, circling the floors until they were on the top level. Valorie looked out through the tinted windows; there were no cars up here at all despite the rest of the garage having been packed from the office crowd. It was eerie. She felt the car rock as Rich put it into park. Then Valorie heard something she hadn’t been expecting: a chuckle. Rich smirked at her from behind his glasses as he turned his body to hers. A small, scared little girl way in over her head stared back at her in the reflection of his glasses. She saw the girl jump as the thunk of the locks sliding into place hammered in her ears. “All my fault?” he said, shaking his head while chuckling even more. “Little girl, do you ever think before you speak, or have the drugs completely rotted away whatever tiny amount of gray matter that was there in the first place?” “You were the one who gave me the drugs,” she said, bitterly. “Of course you forgot our little blood test on day one,” said Rich, a coy smile on his face. “I don’t send straight-edge squares to roll around in needle dens, just like I don’t send tainted gutter trash to be sucked on by the Nyctari or their clientele. It’s my job to put people in their place. And I am I good at my job.” “You’re a—” He pulled a gun on her. “Valorie, I’m sorry, but will you shut your fucking whore mouth for one goddamn second? I can’t stand the fucking sound of your voice,” he said. She did. He smiled. “That’s better. Thank you. It’s so annoying the way you always have to interrupt me.” She saw her reflection in his glasses biting her lip, reopening the small cut. Rich continued: “You broke procedure. You disobeyed my orders. You don’t involve yourself in any activities with the Rats unless you get my permission beforehand, not while it’s happening. And you do not ignore any messages I send you. If you had waited for Cain like I told you to, then you would not have been targeted by that woman, and you would not having almost killed yourself. The only reason you’re alive,” he pointed a finger at her and repeated, “the only goddamn reason you’re alive is because I sent someone to help you. So don’t blame me because you’re an idiot who doesn’t know to do what they are told. If anything, you should apologize to me.” “Go f—” “I told you,” said Rich, clicking off the safety. “Stop interrupting.” “Whatever man,” said Valorie, finding her courage. “You wouldn’t go through all of the trouble of sending someone to protect me if you were just going to kill me.” “You think I wouldn’t enjoy shooting another Rat?” said Rich. “Not at all. I think pigs like you get their rocks off by gunning down stupid needle freaks that nobody will protest about,” she said. “But you wouldn’t have driven such a nice car if you had planned to blow my brains out all over the upholstery.” “I can’t tell if you’re smarter or dumber than you look,” he said, revealing the missing magazine and the empty chamber on the gun. Valorie shrugged. “So was this your attempt at scaring me straight or something?” said Valorie. “Because you blew it.” Rich smiled. “I wasn’t finished.” “And I’m the one who doesn’t know how to shut up,” she muttered under her breath. “You got lucky, Valorie. You don’t really get how good it is that I’m the one handling you. The other guys? They would have dumped your body in the sewers the first time you fucked up, but me, I’m different. I take care of my girls, and I can see that you actually have some potential. I’m not going to let one bump in the road sour our friendship.” The word sounded artificial coming from his mouth. He ignored her eyeroll. “Fortunately there was no evidence that you were involved in that botch job.” So he didn’t have her stuff. Had Sander grabbed it? “Which is good, because my superiors have a need for someone in the Rats for something major they have been planning. Consider this job to be your apology. Do good enough on it and I’ll forget this little screw up ever happened.” “What is it?” asked Valorie. “I’ll let you know soon enough. Until then I need you to lay low. Keep your nose clean,” said Rich. “Seriously. Layoff the drugs. You’ll need a clear mind for this job.” “Easy enough,” said Valorie. Rich shot her a look and then laughed again. She frowned. “If you say so, Valorie. Now get the fuck out of my car,” he said, unlocking the door. “You smell like a meth lab.” She was about to protest that it hadn’t been her fault that she had not been able to shower in several days, but realized that Rich would just turn it around on her again. She stepped out of the car, double checking to make sure that Cain’s book was still securely hidden under her shirt. The engine roared to life, the Ferrari whipping out of its parking spot and circling around the empty rooftop lot before he stopped once again alongside Valorie. She briefly hoped that perhaps he was going to actually drive her to where she needed to go, or at least to the bottom of the damn parking garage. The window rolled down, revealing Rich’s face. He had taken off his sunglasses; an intense stare locked her eyes on his. The hope she had dashed from her skull, streaked across the rooftop, leapt from the ledge, and splattered messily onto the pavement below. “Remember Valorie, I am here to help you. I take care of my girls, okay?” he said, smirking. “So if you fuck up again, I’ll pick you up in a plastic-lined Pinto. Am I clear?” “As day,” she said as the man drove off.