Agree to Disagree

We continued on until we got all the way up Cholla Vista, near the edge of the bowl where an ever so gradual curve upward lead to the beach. The carts and vendors picked up down here.

They were sitting table to table in some places, people were roller blading.

The blading gangs were out looking for purses to snatch. I could see them cut down a cross street up ahead in a roving pack with boom boxes on one of their shoulders.

No one seemed to mind though. Everyone had their beach best on. There was enough skin prancing about to host a summer event.

Not all of it was impressive skin, true, but hey. People were enjoying themselves.

The crystal blue wall that rose far in the distance ahead seemed like it went up in the skyline and consumed almost all of it.

Dvar finally took a left off of that beautiful street, living in the brilliant golden light of Thread’s sun, down into a graffiti tagged alley.

It immediately felt unsafe.

I felt like moving out in front of him. Like it was my job to take a bullet or get the shit beat out of me first.

But he confidently walked on, those shoulders swinging as we descended into the curving alleyway, following a few turns behind a building.

The evening shadows cooled the space between them. I felt it against my skin as the saccharine smell of confectioners sugar hit my nose.

My eyes moved around, memorizing the alley as Dvar walked up to a set of double doors on what looked like an uninhabited building and pushed them open.

Easily.

There was a beeping sound.

Geofence lock.

We stepped into the space ahead of me. It was a warehouse.

Several people were sorting boxes coming in from a conveyor. We walked past employees.

My eyes caught boxes…

“Cakes?” I asked, confused.

“Traditional Destiny Cakes. They’re made on one of Meridian’s moons. The ones you didn’t know existed. We ship them for those Vampire Ninja Clan brats on Sunless.”

“Sunless?”

“Yeah,” Dvar brought his fingers to his mouth as he stepped onto the production floor and blew an ear piercing whistle.

Everyone went silent.

Every machine cut off.

Everyone turned to pay attention.

Okay, that shit was impressive.

“This is Uno Kelevra. Don’t make me remind you. Back to work.”

That was it. Then he started away and I followed after a fashion, looking around again at all of the people that made up his shipping business. Finding a different level of respect for their compliance and loyalty to his every command.

Every machine started back up and everyone went back to packaging cakes.

I didn’t know how to grasp the moment. The weight of a single man having this much power but it started to dawn on me why he had the private ear of the Prime Minister.

And why he’d casually spend money hand over fist rifling through clones until he got one he wanted. Right down to his favorite oral fixations.

How rich was this guy?

I followed him throughout the warehouse. He seemed to stop at nearly every station. Shake hands with people.

He knew employees by name. He heard their problems. Conversed with them in their native Hindi, Punjabi, Japanese.

People brought him clipboards of shit and my horrible Hindi understood little to none of it.

Reroute shipments. Sunless this, Meridian Prime that, problems with some order from some place on the other side of Thread.

This close to the waterline our part of the City State was beautiful.

It wasn’t all like that. It definitely had its questionable neighborhoods the closer you got to center.

Further still, its farmlands. Its entire counties of rural countryside.

I knew that because I was built to know that.

Head full of failed start lives.

I just followed Dvar like a hollow Doll.

Every once in a while he’d push up on me. Plant me against a wall and ask me if I wanted something.

Like now.

“NNph…” I grunted. Bullied again into the wall by his office door.

“I love those sounds you make when I rough you up.”

“Yeah? Glad I don’t disappoint,” I rolled my eyes.

“Give me those eyes,” He whispered.

I complied.

“I don’t want anything.”

“Liar.”

“Jerk.” I smiled.

He patted my cheek and backed off me, stepping across his office to his desk, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over his leather bound chair.

He fetched a pear off of the bowl of fruit on his shelf and took a bite.

“So you ready to have that conversation?”

“About what?” I asked.

“Lakshmi.”

I took a deep breath, “I mean we’re out here.”

“I’m here to work. Just checking on my cake shipping business,” Dvar said, taking another bite of his pear.

“Oh. Right. Yakuza front…” I grinned, excited to get to say it.

“Come on, now, Pretty Boy. You know how this thing works. We attack each other, looks bad… one of our officers do it? Turf spat. Right?”

“And we turf spat our way into instigating a turf war.”

“That’s my boy,” He gave me that confident smile.

Praise. You bastard.

I smiled. Breathed a dorky little exhale of a laugh, dimples imploding on my cheeks.

My eyes knocked about, avoiding his as he sat down in his office chair.

“So what about Lakshmi?”

“One of her pork distribution centers isn’t far from here.”

“What, you want me to go all Punisher in there, or something?”

“Get that smile off your face… No, you’re not gonna go cripple a bunch of innocent people working in a fucking pork shop.”

“Oh… right…”

“What do you think this is, Uno? The movies? No… we pick discrete fights.”

“How the fuck do I do that? Do you realize the problem with the words ‘pick a discrete fight’?” I bitched, throwing air quotes like crazy.

“You’re gonna go down there like a man and throw down with her clone lieutenant. How else?”

“… What if he beats me up?”

“… Then when you get out of the tissue clinic, you’ll go try again.”

“What!?”

“You knew what this was,” He warned me carefully.

I stared at him… realizing the futility in my words.

“Fine…”

“You’re a Dharma Yog. Word of advice?”

“What’s that?”

“Fight like you want to win.”

I took a deep breath and slumped down in one of the chairs across from his desk as he sat in his own desk chair.

“Well, at least tell me what I’m up against.”

“Lakshmi bought her clones through Sunless. They don’t have to register anything on Thread. They’re their own government. They’re ruled by coven clans. Naturally, she sets up a front there, buys clones galore and only has to register what she bought for personal use.”

“Which was?”

“23PSI… or SAI… her name is Two-Three.”

“Two-Three?! That filing clerk from Meridian? Oh, come on. I’ll beat the shit outta that bitch.” I twisted my face.

“Two-Three. And no. You won’t. She wouldn’t have bought that filling clerk if she hadn’t been trained in the same gauntlet as you. Meridian’s got a back stock on Sunless.”

“A back stock?!”

“Yeah. Not all clones get thrown away. Some get back stocked. That whole City Moon is generations of clones that got saved for later.”

“Thought you said Vampire Ninjas.”

“I did. Sunless’ coven clans. There’s two. Back before the Gate Treaty, people used to get cute with clones… somebody bred a blood sucker and by the time they realized it could be spread virally the whole moon was infected. Now they just run around blood sucking each other and waging covert wars.”

“Great. Vampires are real now. Cool. Cool… that’s nightmare fuel I didn’t need.”

“You said she was a filing clerk on Meridian?”

“Yeah. You say 23SAI. I only knew her from clerical.”

“That happens a lot… clones they keep. The ones that can day walk. Sunless often pimps out their clones in various tasks. Fuels part of their cashflow.” He explained.

“Oh… makes sense. I didn’t know she was part of my clone line though. We look nothing alike.”

“Not all clones do, remember? Custom models. Anyway… As in twenty-three. Psi not Delta.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s right,” Dvar said.

“Five-twenty-nine.”

“The very same.”

“Cute. So that’s… what, my latest greatest?”

“A first in a series vs a last in a series. She bought smart.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t know yet. We haven’t seen what she’s capable of. Just know that she was trained on Sunless. And the bitch drinks blood.”

“Fuck, man!”

“Exactly. You might be kinda screwed on this one,” Dvar chuckled.

“Why are you happy about that?”

“Delta’s adapt. Psi’s react. You’ll be fine.”

“That’s a slogan.”

“Yeah. That’s the commercial they sent me in your purchase pamphlet.”

“Oh, fuck you,” I laughed.

He did too.

It was a weird moment of masculine solidarity. Two broski’s just slumped out, vegging it in the office. Talkin’ shit.

I felt normal… it was weird.

“Not possible. I’m always a top, Pretty Boy.”

“That’s kinda depressing. You’re a big boy. Not lookin’ forward to that.”

“Aww, relax, Cutie. I’ll be real gentle like.”

We both cracked up laughing.

“Kill yourself.”

“You first,” he said in that calm, deep purr as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Anyway,” he gave a great big stretch and a groan.

“So end of the day I’m picking a fight… but mostly because you want me to draw Two-Three into open combat.”

“We need to see what we’re up against, yeah. She’ll be better than you at some things, worse than you at other things. There’s always tradeoffs with combat clones. You don’t get it all. Question is, which kind of clone is she? A ghost, a hunter or a knight.”

“Yeah…” I said, already imagining the future in each of those scenarios.

“Odds are, coming from Sunless. My bet’s on a Hunter… off chance it’s a Ghost. God help you if it’s a Knight. Fuckers fight til their burger.”

“Yeah, I know…” I sighed, “Fuck, man. So I gotta bust up a couple gang lieutenants, piss off your sister then possibly get beat cat raggedy in the street in a fight with one of my own siblings.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. Y’need a punch cannon?”

“That’d be great. Yeah,” I nodded, massaging my temples. “Can I borrow your Dharma Blade again?”

“Sure, Cutie.”

“I’m not cute, I’m tough,” I frowned.

He stared at me.

“Agree to disagree.”

“Man…” I whined.