Free Deus Ex: Black Light by James Swallow Page B

return, I get my place and I stay out of your way.”
    Cali shook his head, running a hand over his goatee beard and grinning. “Nah, nah. See, Snakey, you too
useful
, is what it is. Mag, he the boss and he got other jobs you can do.”
    “I’m not interested.” Pritchard shook his head.
    “Ain’t about what yo’ skinny white ass want, geek,” snarled one of the other gangers. “Do what yo’ told. Maybe you and your ladies here get to keep breathin’.”
    Cali gave a shrug and cocked his head. “So, that’s how it is. See, Mag’s real busy right now with a big deal, but he’s gonna come around here when he’s done—”
    Jensen decided that things had gone on long enough. He stepped forward. “Maybe you don’t hear so well with that aug after all.” He put himself between Cali and Pritchard. “Frank doesn’t want to play ball. So why don’t you be on your way?”
    Cali fingered his beard again and giggled. “Well, look at this slick son-of-a-bitch! What are you, his manager?”
    The thug who had shot his mouth off pulled a snub-nose Copperhead .40 revolver from his belt and let it dangle at the end of his arm. Cali saw and smirked.
    “Just a work colleague,” Jensen corrected. He flexed his arms, feeling the mechanisms within shift under the impulses from his nerves. With the inhibitor cuff long gone, he was free to deploy his augmentations at full offensive capability. There was a sudden snap-click of spinning micro-gears, and a pair of meter-long blades extended out of hidden slots in Jensen’s wrists. Black alloy with fractal monomolecular edges, the weapons were capable of slicing through most materials like butter. The smirk on Cali’s face froze and his eyes widened to saucers as Jensen put one of the blades right under his chin. “Careful there,” he told the gangbanger. “Don’t make any sudden moves, unless you want a real close shave.”
    The thug with the revolver hesitated, and Stacks took the opportunity to take a menacing step forward, bringing up his heavy duty arms. He opened his dual-thumbed claw hands wide and let them rotate slowly around his wrist joints. “Uh-uh, Youngblood,” he told the other ganger. “Take a muh-moment there.”
    Cali swallowed – slowly and very carefully – then raised a hand to wave off his comrade. “Hey, be cool. Just giving Snakey a message, right?” He backed away from the blade edge and Jensen let him go. “Mag, he be coming around, is all.” Cali retreated toward the car, trying to gather up a little of his earlier bravado. “You better be ready to put in some work. And make your boys here be civil.”
    The thug with the pistol finally holstered it and, pausing to spit on the ground, he joined the others in the car. Jensen retracted the nanoblades as the vehicle revved and drove away.
    When the car was out of sight, Pritchard rounded on him. “Same old Jensen! You have to interfere with everything!” He prodded him in the chest. “I was going to handle that!”
    “Oh yeah?” Stacks stifled a cough and raised his eyebrow. “How so?”
    “I live here now,” Pritchard went on. “That means there are certain realities I have to accept. I don’t need you upsetting the status quo any more than you already have!”
    “You’re welcome,” Jensen retorted.
    Pritchard gave an exasperated snort and went to the Rialto’s rear entrance, punching a code into a hidden keypad. A heavy metal fire door clunked open and he went inside, not waiting to see if the others followed him.
    * * *
    Jensen and Stacks entered warily, and their footsteps echoed in the space within. The Rialto’s interior was a magnificent ruin, the decaying art deco designs of the walls, the suspended gallery above and crumbling rows of seats like a snapshot of a decomposing sculpture. Musty, rain-soaked panels hung on the verge of collapse from the high ceiling overhead, and entire sections of the floor had given way into a darkened basement below.
    Pritchard picked a