The Kingmaker

27 - Surprises

A seedy looking motel on the outskirts of what the locals called the Slum Belt became Zero's temporary den. He would be moving to a different one in three days and paying for cash there as well, but this one was tempting enough to make him consider staying longer as he stared out the window from the second floor.

For one, it wasn't grimy or infested with bedbugs, which spoke to the motel keeper's neurotic cleaning practices. Secondly, it was just far enough out of the way that it wasn't bustling with people, but not deserted enough to make him stick out. And lastly, the vantage point was perfect: ground floor lodgings were risky and too easy to attack, and the second floor was low enough to drop down from the railings without breaking his legs, in the event that he needed to make a quick exit.

...A possibility that was becoming more and more probable with each passing hour. He heard a door being broken down somewhere, the sounds of multiple voices raised in a violent argument. He even heard a gunshot, but all he had done was draw his sidearm and wait in case the intruders disturbed him, too.

They hadn't.

After the tumult had died down, Zero returned to the sheets of copy paper he had secured to the wall with a pack of thumbtacks. They were covered in his scribbled shorthand, long and short strokes that he had learned on the field and used now in order to deduce what was happening to the city. The surge in gang violence and turf skirmishes could have been a coincidence, and the subsequent uptick in the demand for h****n and crystal meth just a natural consequence, but of course it wasn't.

Because every time Zero had stepped out onto the streets and sought out his pot dealer, or rather his unwitting informant, he learned conditions were spiraling more and more drastically and showing nos signs of stopping. The explosions that had taken place on campus some time ago hadn't been repeated (as far as authorities knew), but there was no telling when things would escalate from gunfights to grenades.

If the rumors were right, then the apparent surge in the cost of crystal was direct result of the attack on the university. He wasn't a new hand to these things, and when he had gone to survey the lay of the land himself, he'd identified loitering addicts who looked like they were waiting hopelessly in the alleyways for something. He hadn't stuck around long enough to confirm it, but street deals taking place right outside a populated center made little sense unless the source of the supply was that close by and safe to distribute from.

A university campus being used as a manufacture site was efficient, if risky. It meant protection since even the most reckless of criminals would hesitate to attack such a nationally visible and highly respected school. No one wanted to call down federal wrath by involving students - and there were those who had come from abroad, too, from wealthy families with ties to Alexandria that were better left unprovoked.

But then again, someone had burned down the chemistry building not too long ago.

The mark had had something to do with all of this; Zero was sure of it. There was no benefit to sabotaging the university and crippling the crystal supply; no one profited - not really. The h****n suppliers would see an increase in demand by desperate junkies chasing substitute highs, but there was far more deadly competition in that corner of the market. Blood in the water and they swarmed each other like starving sharks, and when that happened, everyone lost. That sounded like something a woman hell-bent on revenge, not profit, would do.

Or maybe he was missing something?

He uncapped a sharpie with his mouth, and then circled the name of the Salini's enforcer at the top of his paper-web on the wall. It had to end there, he thought. That man would have been the one ultimately responsible for the hit on the Ingram family, whether that meant he had been there in person when the murders occurred, had been personally involved, or had simply approved it from afar.

Alessandro Salini, some cousin multiple times removed. When the mark moved into her endgame, she would make sure she handled him personally along with the Head of the family.

So he knew the destination, but what was the route she would take?

He had little to go on but the local news, the gossip on the street between stoned pot smokers, and his hunches. None of those were infallible, but they were all he had - and he was going to have to make sure it was enough. He braced himself against the wall with both hands, sharpie balanced between his teeth once more, eyes fixed on the names that he had jotted along with the scant intel he had gathered on them.

This wasn't enough. He could guess that there had been a drug ring of some sort operating out of the university, and he could also guess that the mark had disrupted it to sow chaos, but there had to be something more.

Zero contemplated going to see for himself by sneaking into the place. It was off-limits to the public of course, but since no one really wanted to enter the blackened, toxic site anyway, there weren't many guards posted in the area. Even the most adventurous, thrill-seeking students who went steam-tunneling around the campus would stay away. No one wanted to go home smelling like formaldehyde or with acid burns chewing through their clothes.

But there had to be something there, a clue, a lead.

He'd go tonight.

He glanced over at the cracked mirror on the opposite wall and gave himself a critical once-over from afar. He was too noticeable to sneak around undetected in his normal gear, 6'3 and built for combat more so than reconnaissance. He needed to go light. He ran the risk of running into trouble -  bullet trouble - but at least he wouldn't attract the attention of every security guard in the area with a fifteen kilogram, none too sleek tactical vest wrapped around his torso. And if he got into trouble? Well, it wouldn't be the first time he had to make do.

...Or he could chance it with the experimental gear, the graphene body armor. His eyes slid over to the bug out bag that he had parked on the nightstand by the bed, and he wrestled between the conflicting urges to play it safe and to try out expensive new toys. He had held out until now for a multitude of reasons - because he didn't want any help from Director Baines, because he didn't trust anything that hadn't already proved its usefulness, because it was just too damn unreasonably expensive. But maybe it was the right time to try it out.

Just for comfort, of course. He didn't intend to try to get shot at even for the sake of field testing. It would just be to feel the weight of it, the flexibility. It couldn't be worse than going with no gear at all, which was the alternative.

A few seconds later, he was shrugging on the sleek vest and securing it over his chest. Leaving now meant that he would reach the campus well after dark, and he would have at least several hours to poke around either on site for clues or around the premises to try to find someone who knew something.

He didn't gamble on the appearance of someone else in search of the same thing.

* * * * *

The man gurgled and wheezed as he scrabbled at Zero's arm, which held fast around his throat. They were on the ground, the former locked in a submission hold on the broken floor of the laboratory remains. In the darkness, Zero waited with impassive patience for the man's struggles to die.

He wouldn't kill him, but he did need him significantly less conscious so that he could then search him in peace. If he needed to die after, then so be it, but Zero needed information wherever he could get it. The man could be more useful alive.

When the man fell limp, he gave him a few more seconds before releasing his grip and letting him slump over to the side. Zero knew he wasn't dead, but he checked for a pulse anyway under the throat and pulled back when he detected it. No time to coddle him. The blood flowing back into his brain would pull him back to consciousness within moments, so Zero inspected his person for weapons, ID, anything of even remote value.

The gun that the man had been wielding was long gone. Zero had knocked it out of his hand the instant he got close enough, and it had clattered to the ground and spun away under some broken furniture by the mangled chalkboard. He didn't feel the need to fetch it; the man would need to not only get past him to retrieve the weapon, but also root around in the debris and dust until he found it.

He stood up and kicked the man in the leg after his search was done. He hadn't stirred yet, and he was taking far too long - Zero needed to leave soon if he didn't want to get caught in here with the sun. In fact, he had been in the middle of leaving when this unknown man had jumped him in the doorway, attempting to pistol whip his face with the advantage of surprise.

Zero had barely flinched, and then proceeded to pummel the s**t out of him. The i***t was alive though, at least, albeit with his face more than a little broken and with a few cracked ribs. He was still more than intact enough to answer some questions, unless he was eager to get put through the wringer again.

"F...uuuck..." the man groaned, and Zero took the opportunity to inspect his appearance once more while he twitched back to consciousness. A buzz cut, impossible to tell what color his hair was in this darkness. A rodent-like face, stringy body and yet corded with some muscle. He must have been strong and able at one point, but continued drug use had eaten away at parts of him. His cheeks looked hollow, and when he groaned and bared his teeth, Zero could see dark, uneven blotches on them even in the low light.

He shoved the man back down to the ground with a booted foot on his chest, and then leaned down to look him in the eye.

"Talk," he said. "Tell me why you're here."