Read Brigends (The Final War Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Russell Krone
Brigends (The Final War Series Book 1)
BRIGENDS
Copyright © 2015 Russell Krone
All rights reserved.
A Fly on the Hat Book
Cover Designed by Russell Krone
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
for my wife, my kids, and myself
Chapter 2 The harbinger — Emil
Chapter 5 An unexpected encounter
Chapter 9 Playing with the devil
Chapter 12 The princess in the tower
Chapter 15 Bringing down the house
Chapter 17 Mending broken ties
Chapter 18 Escaping the hunters
Chapter 23 Making a deal with the devil
“The last thing in this miserable world I want to be is a hero. Heroes don't get paid.”
Being from the Lo-5 meant you only had two choices: suffer in obscene poverty, or risk what little you had for the golden ticket upstairs. Sometimes you’d luck out, while other times, risk-taking was the key ingredient to an epic muck-up. This was why Max Zander found himself standing on the corner of Union not far from the Carroll slums.
He’d been there for what seemed hours, waiting for the Vega brothers. They were to meet him around midnight. Of course, true to their reputations, time was not a factor to them. He looked at his wrist chrono. It was a quarter to two already.
He tightened his jaw.
Mucking muckers
.
As if on cue, a cloudburst made the moment a tad more irritating. Caught in the open, he dashed to a nearby overhang for cover. There were a couple of working girls huddled inside a doorway to a trick house, sharing a single cigarette with guarded suspicions. The second he got close, they displayed the goods and vied for his consideration. Never one to pass on quality feminine wares, he looked at their ragged displays and gestured an easy no. There was no telling what contagions were festering beneath their scrawny, pale corpses. Returning to the cigarette, they chose to ignore his rejection.
He felt sorry for them. They were pitiful examples of what the Lo-5 could do to a person. They were no different from him... no different from Angelita.
He thought about her.
Will she turn out like one of these girls
?
To get his mind off Angie, he tickled the exterior of his tel-link earpiece, hoping his buddy would provide the mental distraction he needed. There was a connection. “Hey, Dinx. You there?”
A few seconds ticked by. The voice of an upset teenager answered, “Leave me alone.”
“What? You can’t still be mad at me?”
“Yes, I am. Leave me out of whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Don’t be such a spaz, Dinx. I need you in case these two crap-heads muck things up. That is, if they ever get here.”
“It’ll be a good thing if they don’t.”
“What’s wrong with you? This is a lot of money here... for the both of us.”
“Ha. You mean for you.”
“For both of us. It’s you and me, buddy, like always.”
“No, it’s never you and anyone else. It’s only you.”
The comeback hurt.
“Not fair, Dinx.”
“Not fair? You almost got me killed!”
“Really? You sound pretty alive for a dead guy.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I don’t know why you’re pissed. I’m the one Cho hates right now.”
“I told you going after that fruit shipment was dumb. But, did you listen? No.”
Dinx was right, as usual. Attempting to hijack Boss Jax’s property had to be the worst mistake he ever made.
“Hey, the plan was solid. It’s not my fault those guys weren’t mucking around. They wanted to kill me.”
That part wasn’t an exaggeration. When Boss Jax’s men shot at him, they did so with all the testosterone in their veins. Max had to make a choice between not killing and thus screwing the heist, or kill and successfully pull off the job. The later demanded he cross the blackest of lines, which is why he chose the former.
“You’re lucky Cho didn’t skin you this time.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“How did he find out it was you, anyhow?”
Max didn’t want to say it. “Angie ratted.”
Pause. “That’s mucked up.”
The dumbest mistake had been trusting Angelita. If there was anything he had learned from his experiences on the street, it was to never trust a female when money was involved.
“It’s okay. You know Angie — it wasn’t personal. Besides, this job will set things right with her.”
“Forget about Angie; what about Cho? He’s the one you gotta fix things with.”
“If I pull this off, I won’t have to. With your help, I can —“
“I ain’t helping you again! Leave — me — alone!”
“Whatever. Just keep the channel open.”
Max switched the tel-link off almost hard enough to pull it from his ear. He wasn’t happy with his friend’s lack of compassion, in spite of the fact that everything the kid said was sort of true.
The rain stopped, giving him freedom to leave behind the noxious exhales of his shelter companions. His teeth chattered from the uncommon September cold front covering New York. This was not the best way for him to spend his night.
What he would’ve given to spend it with Angelita, instead of standing on the street like some dink. But, that wasn’t going to happen, especially after what she had done. In retrospect, he might have done the same in her shoes, so he was slowly making peace with it. After all, a lady in her line of work had to pay the bills, too. That was the Lo-5 way.
He ran his fingers through his thick wet hair, massaging the scalp at the same time.
I’m too good-looking for this crap
.
His belief wasn’t vanity, just a healthy opinion of his worth. For better or worse, his chiseled features and tall frame had always served as his free pass. Unfortunately, that charm was beginning to lose its luster. Growing up tends to do that to a kid. One day you’re getting away with bloody murder, and then before you know it, you can’t seem to cut any breaks.
A whirling above caught his interest. He glanced up and saw several sleek aircraft levitating to and from the Hi-8. The Hi-risers were getting ready for their World First Celebration. He stared transfixed on the hovering crown that was the
city above a city
, imagining its opulence.
Oh, what it must be like to live as a rich man
.
Everything is yours for the taking and no one tells you no
.
He could easily see himself living that lifestyle. The one obstacle keeping him from achieving his goal was the inescapable truth — he was a Lo-ender. Nothing good ever happens to his kind.
A familiar whiff of gun grease and repugnant body odor slapped his nose, interrupting the woe-fest.
“Finally,” he mumbled.
He turned to see Paz Vega stomping his hard boots as he walked. The thug’s twice as ugly brother, Paco, stayed a step behind.
The other guy in their parade was Cutter, a noob. No first or middle name, just Cutter. He was a few years older than Max, but not nearly as streetwise. The bloke was a perfect fit for this band of nitwits: dumb as a post and twice as smelly. Lashed to his back was a small duffle packed with the team’s data-plates, scopes, restraints, and body bags. Hanging by a flimsy tether was his hand-me-down gun. From the looks of it, it was probably loaned to him by one of the brothers.
Max had to give the guys credit; regardless of their tardiness, they came prepared. Each brother’s loadout consisted of three basic items: ammo, grenades, and stim pills. Outside of their primary weapons, that was all they needed to do a job. They didn’t even have backup pieces.
“You’re late.”
“Na, we’s on tim.”
To his relief, Paz wasn’t speaking Fraglish. That hodgepodge vocabulary of French-Spanish-English was near impossible to understand. Max usually avoided dealing with frag-heads, but this job left him with no other choice.
“Whatever. We gotta get going. Hopefully we didn’t miss them.”
“Yu beter be rite about dis, boy. I aint out heer fur my hell’t.”
“Don’t worry none. I’m right about this. I saw them again yesterday messing around the warehouses at the old wharf. There were three.”
“Yu git a look at dey brigen marks?”
“No, because I don’t have a scanner. But, judging from how they move, they’re probably military trained. That makes them brigends.”
“I dunno about dis. Dey cood be anyone, not jus brigens.”
“Yeah? And what bounty hunter moves like a soldier?”
He had a point, but the brute wasn’t as convinced.
“Oh, come on. You know I’m right. It’s a solid plan. We grab these brigends and collect the reward. What could go wrong?”
Anything as long as it involved partnering with the Vegas. Max hated using them, but he figured he needed more muscle to do a proper snatching. What he didn’t want to dwell on was the fact this would be an unsanctioned arrest. If Cho ever found out, he would have his balls.
Paz showed his rotted teeth and signaled for him to lead the way. Without wasting any more precious time, they headed in the direction of the waterfront.
If fortune was willing and no one screwed up, Max’s luck was about to finally change.