Free Connor Rix Chronicles 1: Rules of Force by Steve Statham

thick
accent, always telling stories about a restaurant his family ran in one of the
boroughs. Rix always forgot which one. He'd fought on the other side of the
Breakup War, and seemed the very prototype of an ASA citizen.
    But a year after
the conflict had ended, he'd shown up in New San Antonio. Jake had opened a
gym, the kind of gym where MIs worked out. Rix had met him there and the two
developed a friendship based on a mutual enthusiasm for the newest
Modifications, although both men were cagey about admitting too much.
    Rix had asked
Jake one time why he'd ended up immigrating to Texas.
    "Hell, you
ever try to open a business in New York? There's like 47 separate permits you
gotta beg for before you can even open the doors," he'd said, in his quick
New York cadence.   "I mean,
it's always been that way, but since the ASA flags went up it's even worse now.
I move down to New SA, and I've got a gym open and running in three
weeks."
    Jake had purchased
a large, anonymous suburban house in one of the neighborhoods just inside the
loop. It was a completely typical house for the area, but more than once Jake
had bragged to Rix about its size, about how much house he got for the money.
"You Texans got no idea how good you've got it," he had once told
Rix. Then he quickly corrected himself. " Us Texans."
    As Rix pulled
into the driveway of Jake's house, however, it was clear that Jake had stopped
doting on the property. The grass was overgrown, the shrubs untrimmed, small
repairs were obviously needed. As he walked to the porch, he noticed how many
weeds had broken up through the grass.
    Cathy, Jake's
wife, answered the door. She pulled back a half step in surprise.
    "Why,
Connor… How are you?" She stepped onto the porch to hug him. She was a
short woman, starting to fill out a bit. Rix could see bags under her eyes;
clearly she was tired.
    "Fine,
Cathy, fine. How are you?"
    "Oh, you
know, we get by. But you must be here to see Jake. Come in, come in."
    She led him
through the living room. "I'm sorry the lights are so low," Cathy
said as she led him up the stairs. "It's to protect Jake's eyes. They're
so sensitive these days."
    The wall along
the stairway was lined with family photos, Mets baseball paraphernalia and a
framed poster from the family's restaurant; the mementos of a lifetime spent in
New York.  
    Cathy stopped at
a room at the top of the stairs and turned to face Rix. She leaned in to
whisper to him. "You haven't been here for a while. You should prepare
yourself. He's not getting better." She gently tapped on the door with her
fingernail, and then pushed the door open slightly. "Baby? Connor is here
to see you. You awake?"
    Rix followed her
into the darkened room. The only light seeped through the slats of the blinds.
    What was left of
Jake rolled over and lifted his head slightly off the pillow. "Hey,
superhero…   you come to save me or
somethin'? It might be too late."
    "What? They
told me this was a super villain's hideout, and you were holding 17 smokin' hot
babes hostage."
    He smiled
weakly. "I think you got some bad intel, buddy." His head slumped
back down on the pillow.
    Jake was a short
man who, through the years of body-building — and Modification —
had at one time built himself into a compact powerhouse. As he stood looking
down at the shrunken man in the bed, Rix had trouble convincing himself he was
viewing the same person, a man who had been in his prime a couple brief years
ago, shortly after his gym opened. Now, subcutaneous bruising gave Jake an
unnatural pallor. Rix tried not to stare at the biceps that no longer held a
natural shape, as if Jake's muscles had partially liquefied.
    Rix didn't know
all of the Modifications Jake had tried to incorporate — some guys
boasted, but, given the quasi-legal nature of the trade, most found it made
good sense to never admit everything —
but he did know the primary source of Jake's physical breakdown. He had fallen
for the "nanobot" scam.