Free Wild Cards [05] Down and Dirty by George R.R. Martin

know me, even though you wouldn't recognize me in this incarnation. I'm Croyd Crenson. We've met in passing, here and there, and I always wanted just to sit and talk a spell, but somehow our paths never crossed long enough at the right time."
    "That's an interesting line," she said, running a finger across her damp brow, "naming the one ace nobody's certain about. I bet a lot of groupies get picked up that way."
    "True," Croyd replied, smiling, as he opened his arms wide. "But I can prove it if you'll wait about half a minute."
    "Why? What are you doing?"
    "Filling the air with neg-ions for you," he said,
    "for that delightfully stimulating before-the-storm feeling. Just a hint at the great time I could show-"
    "Cut it out!" She began backing away. "It sometimes triggers-"
    Croyd's hands were wet, his face was wet, his hair collapsed and leaked onto his forehead.
    "I'm sorry," she said.
    "What the hell," he said "let's make it a thunderstorm," and lightning danced among his fingertips. He began laughing. Other diners glanced in their direction.
    "Stop," she said. "Please."
    "Sit down for a minute and I will."
    "Okay."
    She took the seat opposite him. He dried his face and hands on his napkin.
    "I'm sorry," he said. "My fault. I should be careful with storm effects around someone they call Water Lily."
    She smiled.
    "Your glasses are all wet," she said, suddenly reaching forward and plucking them from his face. "I'll clean-"
    "Two hundred sixteen views of moist loveliness," he stated as she stared. "The virus has, as usual, overendowed me in several respects."
    "You really see that many of me?"
    He nodded. "These joker aspects sometimes crop up in my changes. Hope I haven't turned you off."
    "They're rather-magnificent," she said. "You're very kind. Now give back the glasses."
    "A moment."
    She wiped the lenses on the corner of the tablecloth, then passed them to him.
    "Thanks." He donned them again. "Buy you a drink? Dinner? A water spaniel?"
    "I'm on duty," she said. "Thanks. Sorry. Maybe another time."
    "Well, I'm working now myself. But if you're serious, I'll give you a couple of phone numbers and an address. I may not be at any of them. But I get messages."
    "Give them to me," she said, and he scribbled quickly in a notepad, tore out the page, and passed it to her. "What kind of work?" she asked.
    "Subtle investigation," he said. "It involves a gang war."
    "Really? I've heard people say you're kind of honest, as well as kind of crazy."
    "They're half-right," he said. "So give me a call or stop by. I'll rent scuba gear and show you a good time."
    She smiled and began to rise. "Maybe I will."
    He withdrew an envelope from his pocket, opened it, pushed aside a wad of bills, and removed a slip of paper with some writing on it.
    "Uh, before you go--does the name James Spector mean anything to you?"
    She froze and grew pale. Croyd found himself wet once again.
    "What did I say?" he asked.
    "You're not kidding? You really don't know?"
    "Nope. Not kidding."
    "You know the aces jingle."
    "Parts of it."
    "'Golden Boy ain't got no joy,"' she recited. "'if it's Demise, don't look in his eyes. . .'-that's him: James Spector is Demise's real name."
    "I never knew that," he said. Then, "I never heard any verses about me."
    "I don't remember any either."
    "Come on. I always wondered."
    "Sleeper waking, meals taking." she said slowly. "'Sleeper speeding, people bleeding.'" P> "Oh."
    "If I call you and you're that far along. . ."
    "If I'm that far along, I don't return calls."
    "I'll get you a couple of dry napkins," she offered. "Sorry about the storms."
    "Don't be. Did anyone ever tell you you're lovely when you exude moisture?"
    She stared at him. Then, "I'll get you a dry fish too," she said.
    Croyd raised his hand to blow her a kiss and gave himself a shock.

    Breakdown
    by Leanne C. Harper
    The pair of bodyguards left Giovanni's first. Behind their dark glasses they immediately began scanning the street, looking for trouble. At a