X Element

Dirty Work

Danny sits at his office after a pleasant lunch of blueberry sandwich, a bottle of coke and an apple. Not the most ideal diet you'll see, but he'd be damned if he cared. He slacks back on his chair, his feet on his desk and hands behind his head.

Every now and then his gaze falls on the briefcase and all the memories of the last weekend come flashing back. It stays that way for a few seconds before he builds the resolve to pull his eyes away from it.

Vincent had been calling nonstop. Asking "Have you opened it?", with the eagerness and caution of a man about to play a million dollar gamble but wasn't sure how it'd go. The handsome man wasn't particularly delighted but just wanted to get things over with. Danny on the other hand, shared no such resolve. Oh, he was happy to keep this on a pin for a long as possible.

He jumps to his feet and looks outside his window, at the buzzing landscape that is Dawn city. A modest replica (according to the history books) of the supposed greatest city on the former world, some place called New York. Wonder what ever happened to the old York.

There was a knock.

"it's open"

Carol strolled in with the subconscious confidence of a secretary that had worked for her boss long enough to know he was completely helpless without her.

"You have a call from Jackson on floor five", she said closing the door behind her, " he sounds very upset"

"When is he not?", Danny smiled at himself.

"Regardless, should I patch him through?".

Danny thought for a moment. "No, tell him I'm not available, tell him I'm temporarily indisposed of my attention granting capabilities".

Carol, shook her head in disbelief like it was the worst idea she had ever heard, but expected and then she left. He could hear her sigh.

He couldn't blame her. Dynamite Jackson wasn't exactly a person known for his calm demeanor. Oh, he was a fire house when he was upset. They called him Dynamite Jackson for a reason after all. Danny had been on the receiving end of his volcanic outbursts more than enough times to know that the best course of action when he was in beast mode was to duck for cover and hope there'll be no permanent damage.

He was also Beth's Uncle. So there was that.

He unlocked the box. There was a soft click. He took a deep breath and then opened it. He half expected to find a human head there, but no such (luck?). There were files instead. Large brown files arranged with the meticulous hands of someone who seemed to like their job very very much.

Where to start, he thought. Reluctantly he reached for one on the top left and examined the contents.

There were pictures. He recognized them immediately, or rather, the people in them. These were the clients of his company's back hand deals. Not the sociable type. There were some gangsters, some robbers, some blackmailers, even an underground fighting ring boss who wanted to put up half an ounce as a prize. There was also, he saw, a high school principal. God help us all.

There were date and time stamps on the pictures and files as well as locations. These were scattered all around Dawn city. In alleys, in parks, at the docks. Goddamn!, just how much of this has been going on. He frowned now. And just how much are these bastards making from it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an expensive office door being shoved open. He almost dropped the file as Dynamite Jackson thundered in, brows furrowed, nostrils flared. Showtime.

Jackson Tenner was an intimidating man with an imposing stature. Seven foot, broad shoulders menacing eyes and a knack, as he put it, for putting wiseguys in their place. He was a body builder turned body guard turned muscle-for-hire with affiliations to various inner Dawn city gangs. Some things just never change. In and out of prison more times than Danny had seen the millennia old Earth Alpha classic 'The Godfather' (which was a lot of times). Apparently he got out one day ready to resume business as usual, when he heard his kid brother and the little twerp's wife got killed in a car accident leaving their seventeen year old daughter behind. He cleaned up his act faster than Danny could chug a bottle of good whiskey (which, to be clear, was very very fast) and did the best he could to take care of his niece.

Another surprising fact, so surprising that Danny had actually laughed when Beth first told him, was that this behemoth bruise dispenser of a man had a business degree. Even now, it was funny thinking about it.

But now he couldn't laugh. Jackson was glaring at him with the gaze of a predator wondering how a prey could be so insolent yet survive so long.

"Have you been looking at the numbers lately kid?"

"Yes of course" Danny lied. "We're making profits, more than we have any right to be, as Hugo put it"

"This ain't funny kid", Jackson levelled in his faintly Irish accent. (There it is again about accents). "I'm not talking about the money, I'm talking about our staff, our workers goddamit. We're paying hundreds of thousands in compensations every month, thanks to your generous employment package that let's people quit and still get compensated!"

"Only if they've been with us for long enough. Besides it builds morale"

"Bullshit"

Danny tapped the briefcase absentmindedly "What is it exactly you're all worked up about?"

"Now don't play those games with me kid". He pointed a thick finger "I know there's stuff going on. This ain't usual. And when unusual things begin to happen at a stretch, that's usually about when things begin to go down. Ugly things"

"This isn't the mafia"

Jackson smiled a crooked vaguely amused smile. "You're right. It's something worse. Now I don't care what s**t show you're about to get yourself in....just make sure you bring only yourself and your cohorts down in the process. Am I making myself clear?"

Danny got up. "I honestly couldn't be more confused here Jackson. You're like family, honestly."

The big man scoffed and turned to leave. He placed his hand on the knob and paused.

"I never liked or trusted you. All you big shot types that come from a line of rich people who got richer by exploiting a fresh start at humanity before it even had time to breathe. Your cocky attitude, disregard for anything that doesn't appear when you look in a mirror or have a hefty price tag on it. I've seen all types of ugly. I know the worst types. That never changed. So in case I wasn't clear, I'll say it clearer. Keep Beth out of this."

Then he was gone. Danny stood there for a few seconds, tapping absently at the mahogany table. They had to synthesize the DNA from other species to grow the exact one that produced his table, but it was worth it. This wasn't the first time Danny heard the speech. And not only from Jackson. And it wasn't the first time Danny tried to explain the fact that that wasn't him, that his parents had sent him off when he kept falling ill as a child and was diagnosed with a rare brain disorder. That he grew up with his aunt and uncle and didn't taste so much as a sliver of his parents excessive wealth. But that didn't make much of a difference to Jackson or the others. He observed that people either strongly admired or strongly disliked his type. Descendants from billionaires of the previous world that came to roost and place dibs on the resources and valuables of the new world as soon as their feet touched it and they smelled the air. Good lands, oil, gold, silver, industrial metals everything. No one technically owned it. Not at first, but no one tends to argue with those who owned and could get the most guns. Seeing as even those were rare at that time.

He'd grown up with just enough....just enough. His parents....good Mr and Mrs Essen, being business people above all else, decided that Danny was too much of a liability.

He sat back down....no, he crashed back down. He didn't want to think of this today.

He opened the briefcase again and began studying the files, forcing the past three minutes out of his mind.

He saw the usual, enough evidence to put his company under a microscope and him behind bars (albeit for a short while seeing as he was not aware of most of the real dealings and tried to discourage the ones he knew of).

At least now he knew this Linday (what kind of name is that anyway) wasn't bluffing. Her people, (he suspected black suit types who used the word 'classified' in every other sentence), really knew their stuff. He was getting bored when he noticed something. A picture, one where he couldn't recognize a single person. Not his people, not the other buyers. Curious, he glanced at the time stamp. It read 08/19....10:33pm.

"The nineteenth", he mumbled to himself. " That was last week".

He recognized the location and with that recognition came an idea. One that sprouted like an eager seedling and brought with it the rush and excitement of a man looking for an excuse to leave work early.

He glanced at the framed picture of Beth Tanner he had on his desk (that wasn't weird at all), and smiled...no smirked to himself. He beeped carol with his smart watch and told her to cancel all his appointments. When the twenty something year old secretary told him he had no appointments, he only grinned bigger and took it as a sign. He picked up his phone and considered calling Vincent, but decided against it. He'll probably be in one of his 'important' city hall meetings discussing vital decisions like where to build the next high school or where to have the next fund raiser or if they should contact the higher ups in the Earth beta federation for more funds allocation. Not like they actually knew what to do with the billions they already had. No, no Vincent today. He grabbed his keys and walked out.

Most times, subconsciously, Danny would study the city. The stretching expanse of sky scrapers and high rise connected by streets, alleyways and the parks and halls that made Dawn city all it was and try to draw differences between it and it's old world counterpart. A place they called the Big Apple. Curious title, considering we all know what they do with apples. There were improvements...he could not disagree. Housing was not a problem anymore. Energy was so stable people actually forgot that it could be cut or develop faults. The perpetuality now rivalled the sun. The roads were also much safer. Almost all the cars were fitted with sensors and scanners that measured velocity of the vehicle and fractioned the probability of impact and the chances of mortality should anything....anything at all go wrong. The street light had access to the road, which could magnetize vehicles at red lights if the driver wasn't particularly the law abiding type. He also read somewhere that pollution seemed to be a major problem in the former world. Now it wasn't. Every building that housed over a hundred residents was mandated to have solar panels line thirty percent of its windows. And even the smaller buildings were strongly advised to do the same. Vehicles were now powered with nitrogen engines and in some older models, electricity. But, for all it's improvement there were some things that didn't change. Littering for instance....that was still a thing in some parts.

He drove for close to fifteen minutes, then pulled over and parked. He switched off the engine and stepped out. The weather was on the positive side today. Clear skies, a sun that smiled but not cruelly, gentle breeze. A perfect day for a walk in the park. Pity that's not where he recognized in the files. He shut the door, it locked automatically behind him.

The alley struck out to him because he remembered it as a place from his childhood. A vivid memory, not exactly pleasant. It came crawling back, but he forced it out. The place was abandoned....no surprise there. Dumpsters on either side in need of emptying, almost exactly the same way it had appeared in the picture. He tapped on his watched, selected an option and set the scanner. He had his watch and phone fitted with sensors that could scan for traces of the elements residual radiation, no matter how minute it was. If it was there, his watch would pick it up. A handy tool. Of course only a hand full of people knew of its existence. Perhaps if he had been more judicious in using it, he could've stopped the mess before it got this big. But that was all past now. The watch beeped and scanned and numbers began popping up. 0.003% saturation.

Danny sucked air through gritted teeth. It was definitely here.

"Hey you!".

He spun on his heels. A man approached with a base ball bat that had been painted black. He wore ripped jeans, a leather jacket and had a cigarette in his mouth. And as if he needed any other accessory to solidify his appearance, he had a piercing in his left ear and right nostril and oh look, he had glow tattoos running down his neck. He drew on his cigarette and blew a blueish plume of smoke from his nose and mouth. "What are you doing here?"

Danny thought for a moment, "sight seeing".

The man...no, a kid, Danny realized. A teenager, couldn't be more than eighteen he laughed, "You think you're funny?"

"You don't?". He was two feet from him now and he wasn't slowing. He swung his bat idly. He must be really proud of that thing.

Danny turned to go, but bat swinger with the tatts had some friends who seemed to share his enthusiasm. Four of them, closing in on him, and he didn't even hear them. He didn't know whether to be impressed with them or disappointed with himself. They surrounded him aptly. No doubt sizing him up, his suit, his watch, they probably even saw the ride he came in with. Probably would've stolen it, if they could manage that.

Their apparent leader had blonde hair, blue eyes and smelt faintly of perfume under all the cigarette smoke.

"Alright mister, here's how it'll work. We'll take your shoes, that jacket, your phone, your watch and.....um"

"Would you like my tie as well?"

Blue eyes punched him in the gut. It was a feeble attempt. Not that Danny was used to punches, but he was used to pain and he could tell that this kid was trying hard....very hard, but just not cutting it. Images began to form in his mind, different scenarios, different circumstances, that was always the first step. Vivid, clear images, clear as day, stable enough to pick out details and tangible enough to force on the minds of others. But he stopped himself. They pulled him up.

"Hey, Blake", one with gold rimmed shades and gritted teeth spoke, "the boss would wanna see this"

"This here is our pick", Blue eyed Blake spat.

"Naw mehn, he looks suspicious, I don't like the way he was just looking around, he could be a fed. We ain't supposed to mess with no fed".

Boss?, damn some dirt bag somewhere's got high school aged kids with criminally disturbed sense of fashion acting as his personal guards and sentries.

Blake turned his attention from Danny for a moment and kicked shades in the shins. The boy howled.

"You shut it, right there". But shades had a point....it was clear the others agreed, they shuffled uneasily.

"Fine", Blake said, " we'll take him to the boss", he turned to Danny "and after that, we continue our little business transaction".

Danny smiled. "Lucky me".

They pushed him down the alley. It seemed that they were going to emerge form the next street when they turned abruptly to a green door. The kind people take extra care to ensure looked inconspicuous, well, they were doing a damn good job of it.

"Knock", Blake ordered.

Shades with the aching shins knocked four times in a particular pattern. Two seconds later the door creaked open. A bald man peered cautiously out.

"Whaddya kids want?" The disgruntled voice said he couldn't care less about their reply.

"Tell Stripes we wanna see him. We got something for him"

Stripes?, what's he a Zebra?

"Get this, kid", the bald man's voice took a dangerous edge, "I don't take orders from you or any of your little boy band. Now the boss is busy....very busy, you sure you wanna make him any madder than he already is?"

There was a second of hesitation. "He could be a fed".

There was laughter....dry, humourless laughter. "Sure kid....sure. Come on. Ha!"

They pushed him through. The bald man eyed him, a smirk on his face. Beyond the door was a large room, much larger than Danny would've guessed. Over at one corner, some other glow tattooed goons were taking shots of some kind of alcohol Danny hadn't seen and immediately wanted to try. Others were watching TV, the news was on. On the other end of the room, others sat in a large round table playing poker and making noisy remarks, slamming their fists on the table and making remarks about each others parentage.

He really wanted to try that wine....or was that whiskey?.

"Move", they shoved him to another door. Brown mahogany. A man with taste.

When Danny saw him, he immediately knew why they called him stripes. He was lean and in his late thirties. He looked tired, anxious and angry all at the same time. He had tattoos running up his arms in the make of zebra stripes. When he looked up at them, Danny realized he had seen him in the picture. He was there, clean shaven and exactly the same.

"We caught him snooping around Stripes. Thought we should bring him to you"

Stripes was unimpressed. "Blake, what the hell is this?" He rasped.

"I....I told you he was..."

'So you just brought him in here, so I could do what? Hmmm. Continue the tour that you've given him. Huh." He rose. "Out"

"Boss, I..."

"Out....and tell Nikola to come in here with his gear." That can't be good.

When the room was finally cleared, Stripes sized Danny up with fresh curiosity, fresh hostility, fresh suspicion.

"I know you're not a fed", he took a drag on a cigarette that was nearly burnt out.

"Honestly, I just got lost", Danny gestured innocently.

Stripes nodded "You told Blake there that you were...sight seeing, wasn't it?. And I see your ride and...."He whistled, "a guy that can afford that must surely be able afford to go sight seeing in places worth seeing. Not crummy old gut street"

Danny nodded. "Good point"

"See here's the thing", he took a seat as the door behind Danny opened letting three big brutes in. Strange enough, none of them had any tattoos. "I know you're not a fed Mr...."

Danny didn't reply.

"Whatever", he said dismissively and took another drag as the men, smelling of sweat and cheap cologne pressed closer, surrounding him. "That don't mean nothing. You're not with the feds is what matters, which only makes me wonder who really sent you here. Who was it?, hmmm, Etienne?, Presch?"

Danny began to understand that he was in real danger. He remained calm simply due to the fact that this was a new experience for him, and in the face of new experiences he had learned to be calm....calm but decisive. He cleared his throat. "I don't know what you're talking about"

Stripes slammed a palm on the table. "You think I'm a fool?, huh. I know the word on the streets. Ol Stripe's loosing it, he's getting old, weak. So one of the other punks thinks he can send some suited dupe to spy on me and I'd be dumb enough not to notice what it was?" He began to cough but fought to suppress it. For a moment Danny actually felt sorry for him. Then Stripe's red, unforgiving, somehow insulted gaze fell on him and the moment passed.

"Deal with him!", he spat.

That's it!

Now, the events that occurred in the next few seconds would depend entirely on whose perspective it were viewed and told from.

To everyone in the room excluding Danny. There was a blast of police sirens loud powerful and sudden. It seemed to be coming from everywhere and getting closer, even the screech of their carbon fibre polymer tires were audible. They were here and they weren't messing around. Every drug dealer's worst nightmare, a drug raid. In a moment all about Danny was forgotten like he wasn't even there. Like he wasn't just about to be 'dealt with' by Nikola and his gear. Stripes leapt up with a strength that Danny would have never suspected.

"Get everything out!, get everything out!. Pack it up now!". He was barking orders faster than anyone could comprehend, the commotion within the room gaining the attention of the others outside. Nikola and his gear scrammed faster than Danny would have bet on and less dignified than they would dare to admit later on.

"Useless!", Stripes roared and he too began packing his stuff to be hidden in the secret compartment only he knew about. A drug raid was the last thing he needed, not after his last stint with law enforcement that brought him very, very close to jail time. He couldn't be found here, he wasn't going back.

He began cursing under his breath, wondering incredulously why the cops hadn't busted in yet, and praying to whatever god came to mind that they stay out a little longer.

That's when the noise began to fade to the background, the revs of the patrol cars retreating to the unseen distance bringing some semblance of sanity back. It wasn't a drug raid....at least not here.

Stripes was breathing heavily. Wondering why everybody was still where they were, doing what they were doing paying him no mind except for an occasionary glance. They were used to him acting crazy, sometimes the product did that to you. But he wasn't crazy. Maybe they'd known the cops weren't coming for them, maybe......

His mind snapped back to the present reality, he was alone in his office, soft creak of the fan above his only companion. The punk in the suit was gone.

By the time Stripes had mustered the balls to go around asking why his people hadn't even flinched when the cops drove by, Danny was back in his car. Boy will Stripes look like an i***t. Poor man had no idea what happened.

Danny squeezed the steering wheel and considered calling Vincent immediately. Whatever this Linday was about, one thing was now sure, she definitely wasn't bluffing.

He drove back to the office in silence, he didn't even touch the radio. He kept thinking about the briefcase and what else he'd find there.

******************************************

Diane Farrow was not your regular teenager....well, on the outside she looked like it, but on the inside nothing could be farther from the truth.

Now what made this short-dark haired five foot teenage resident of Dawn city so different?. For one, even though she was seventeen, she had chugged more morpheme, Ibuprofen and any other high grade pain killer earth Beta medicine had to offer than most forty year old construction workers. And even then, the migraines and headaches only seemed to take short breaks. They never really left. It was so much a part of her that she had almost gotten used to it. Almost.

Mrs. Farrow was sobbing on the phone next to her daughter's hospital bed. One of the nurses would be in soon to tell her that she had to leave, but she didn't care. It was too much, seeing Diane that way, all those tubes, all those drips. It wasn't the first time her girl had fainted from the pain. But she prayed...oh she prayed hard that it would be the last.

But it wouldn't be.