I snort and throw myself back on the office chair. I roll for a half a meter and look at him, stunned. - Damn it, Tears, how can you live this way? You're an analog clock in the digital era. -
He curiously approaches the monitor and puts his Guinness can on the desk. - I'm also a sundial, if I lie down naked, but what does that matter? -
I sigh. - With this computer we're directly connected to the Confederation archives! Who installed it for you, if you aren't even able to send an email? -
He scratches his temple and takes his beer can back.
- A couple of months ago Shelv sent me a couple of pencil pushers who connected it to something. -
I spread my arms. – Then you already had a computer! -
- Yeah, but I wasn't the one using it. -
- Well, who was it then? -
- My previous roommate, let's just say it was his legacy. Now, you called me here while I was washed up on the couch watching “Fist of the North Star.” Give me one good reason why I shouldn't unscrew the seven-watt light bulb that keeps your brain on. -
I sigh. – Okay, here's the thing, through the browser, entering the IP... -
- Hey, make it quick! - He barks back.
- But it's complicated! I was already making it quick! -
- You only have 30 seconds of my precious time. Surprise me. -
I throw my head back. My hair reaches the floor when I sit, so I try to keep it away from the huge boots this man is wearing, and in the meantime I think. - Okay. From here we can immediately know who crosses the border and where, even before the Confederation contacts an ally. -
- Great. Just what we need. And then what? -
- The location of all the allies, through their GPS bracelets. - I point to a dot on the monitor. The browser displays a satellite map of the city as seen from above. There are many bright dots and there is a short key on the side. The resolution is so high that one could even zoom in and see a candy wrapper on the sidewalk.
- And then, buckle up. - I change the map visualization and, – TA-DA! -
- Fuck ta-da! What's this shit? - He grunts looking at the dots before him which now only have some numbers on the side and no map below.
- I managed to change the reading code of this map in such a way that it not only tracks the bracelets through their GPS, but it also checks how much these are charged, in other words how much magic each bracelet blocks. -
- Which means how powerful are the ones wearing them. -
- That's correct! - He understood immediately, that's incredible. - So you are not as dumb as a bucket of shrimp! - I say triumphantly.
He turns very slowly and stares at me. He looks at me in a way that I can't describe, but nobody can save me from the huge shiver that runs down my spine.
- Let's get things straight here, Princess: I tease, you don't. -
I nod. I swallow, and change the topic.
- However, I can't understand why the Confederation grants you access to all of this highly confidential information. This is unbelievable. Just to let you inside their Control room, they scan your body on the way in and on the way out. The only thing that they don't give you is a rectal examination. -
He shrugs and finishes his beer, he crushes the can, and throws it in the bin next to the desk.
- Let's just say that Shelv trusts me. He has no reason not to, we've known each other forever. -
He burps. - And then, – he adds, – do I have to remind you that I'm fighting against an asshole that has the Iantor? He can easily get all this same information through the Iantor, so we need to start on an even footing. -
He really is not stupid. Every now and then he says things that I hadn't even thought about.
- Right, so how do we proceed? How can we tell the refugees contacted by Sin from the others? Or where he is, - I say.
He stares at the monitor, but he isn't looking at the map on it, he's thinking. Then he shakes his head.
- We'll follow my intuition. -
- Your intuition? -
He shakes his head again and stirs a bit. – There's no precise pattern, but if I know the place where the refugees show up, I can tell you with certainty whether we have to go or not. -
He leaves the studio and goes to the living room. I follow him. - What fucking kind of a working method is that? -
- It's stupid, I know that. But we've got nothing on that asshole, except my sixth sense. And up to now, it has worked just fine. Whenever I thought he would hit, he did. -
- You just got lucky! -
He sways his head, pondering on it. - Maybe I did, or maybe I just know our enemy very well. -
****
That happened three days ago.
I detected more than sixty raids on the Confederation computer in these past days and Tears' “intuition” didn't sense anything funny in any of them.
As a matter of fact, Shield has never contacted us, not even wondering... say, "Where the fuck are you?"
I simply keep an eye on the instruments and report any anomaly, while Tears is sprawled on the couch burping and trying to slam dunk the empty beer cans in the bin.
Oh yes, he also cooks. And he does it very well.
Of course I didn't make any comment. I think I risked my life the first time I saw him with an apron on. This is probably because the look on my face gave my thoughts away.
Is it my fault if I have a wide range of facial expressions?
The computer just reported a raid, I think.
I get out of the studio and go in the living room.
I put my hands on the huge steel trash bin that is next to the kitchen counter.
- There are some anomalies between Busto and Castellanza, in the area of Borri avenue, - I say.
He doesn't move, he stays there, beer in hand, sitting on the couch with his feet on the coffee table (or whatever it is, since it's made out of two truck tires), watching TV.
- What kind of anomalies? - He simply asks.
- An electrical variation in the field dividing the two worlds. -
- A storm? - He throws me the empty beer can and I lift the lid, the can bounces off the lid and ends in the bin. - The sky is crystal clear. -
I close the bin.
- Great! - He gets up in a flash and I even hear him sing under his breath as he heads to the table to retrieve his Beretta. He takes the magazine out, checks the bullets, adds a couple of them and then closes and arms it.
- It could only be a coincidence, I'm not sure, - I say
- Nah, man, I don't believe in coincidences. This is a new refugee, and I think he's on us, – he grins. – Go and put on your Sunday dress, missy, we're off! - He giggles happily while adjusting his gun behind his back.
I make a face giggling back to him.
- And you know what we're going to do afterwards, my child? We'll go to Disneyland! -
Is it possible for one person to enjoy killing people so much?
I go to my room, I detach the laptop from its docking station and stick it in my backpack. I also throw in a mobile phone I found a couple of days ago that had been forgotten in a desk drawer. Coming to think of it, I also put the GPS Navigator in my pocket.
- C'mon, Princess! Are you powdering your nose? -
Some day I'll kill him, and it will be my first murder.
I retrieve my Glock and I put it in my sweatshirt pocket. I got back to the living room just to find him already in the hoist. – They're not waiting for us, you know? -
- Got some ammo? - I ask.
He pulls down the hoist gate and we start going down. He sticks his hand into his jacket pocket and throws me a box of bullets. - Here. -
****
We are in the garage and I am loading my gun as I walk, then I look up and I'm stunned.
Tears throws his bag in the trunk, then gets in and starts the car. - So? Are you waiting for Christmas? MOVE IT! -
I get in. And he instantly takes off.
- When did you get the car fixed? It's new! -
- While you were glued to the computer, browsing porn sites. You seem to be in a trance when you're in front of that box. – He picks up a shortwave radio, like the ones used by the local police. I had noticed it the first time I got in the car but I hadn't given it much thought.
- Look who's talking, Mr I know all the lines of “Fist of the North Star,” - I mumble.
I open the laptop and load the map of the dimensional passage, which is the place where we're going to. I'm pleased to find out that the Confederation has already succeeded in identifying the refugees.
Meanwhile, Tears speaks into the radio.
- Hey, Shelv! -
- Shelv? - I say with wide open eyes. - You speak directly to the head of the Confederation? Just like that? -
- Don't be rude, man! - He looks at me, - I'm talking, - and he indicates the radio.
I flicker an eyebrow.
- So, Shelv, do you copy? -
The transmitter sizzles a little bit, then I hear the general's voice. - Roger, Tears. When do you plan on start using a mobile phone instead of this old shortwave transmitter? -
He sniggers. - Nah, then you could have that horrible box removed from your bright and modern crystal desk, and it wouldn't be funny anymore. -
He's driving again with his knees, so that he can keep the radio in one hand and, with the other one, take a cigarette from his jacket. - Listen up, – he says into the transmitter. Then he turns to me. - How many are there? -
The computer says three.
- Three. -
Back to the transmitter. – So those three between Busto and Castellanza, we're taking care of them. -
I hear more sizzling. – Roger. I'll remove the ally we had already alerted. -
He grins. - Was it Mesis? That's her area. -
- I am not compelled to share this information with you. -
- Yes, yes, whatever. -
- However, I am pleased to see that the netbook you've been provided with, it's finally being used. -
I swear. - Shit, – it slips me. So they knew that I've been combing through the archives.
The transmitter works very well, because the General heard me.
- 156459 b? -
I look at Tears, he motions me to speak and hands me the transmitter. - Er... Right... Y-yes? -
- I'm about to send you the personal files of the refugees you are going to meet. -
- Ah huh... Okay... Thank you. – I manage to panic even when he's not in front of me.
- And don't worry, you did not violate any protocol. You were just using devices that we had provided 156459 with, and that he has never even been able to switch on. -
- Fuck you, Shelv! - Tears speaks loudly in order to be heard by him.
156459? Something's off. But as I get the files, I'm too busy to think about it. I open them.
- Did you receive the data? - I hear through the transmitter.
- Yes, thank you, General. -
Tears mimics me. Obviously, he thinks I'm too formal.
- Great, I'll leave you to your job then. – The communication is cut off and I only hear sizzling. Tears gets the transmitter from my hand and puts it away.
- Out of curiosity, Tears... -
- Yup? – He sounds like an ape when he answers like that. Even when he eats sometimes. Even when he's sleeping on the couch.
As a matter of fact, he often sounds like an ape.
- What was your ally code? -
He snorts and lights up a cigarette. - 156459. -
Holy shit! – And who am I? Your doppelganger? -
- Relax, it's just a coincidence. They started giving the same numbers again but adding a B and you've just got my same number. -
- That's so cool! –
- Why do you find it so "cool"? -
I look at him. - I don't know, but it's an interesting coincidence! And then we ended up working together! -
- So what? What's this? Fate has bound us? -
- Yes! -
- Oh, fuck off! Why don't you tell me who the fuck are those three, instead? -
- Okay, okay! So... They are three ex-convicts, that's why the files that we have are quite complete, they already had a record. The first one is called... - I stop because he's staring at me. - WHAT? -
I see him waking up from his daydreaming and going back to driving. - Nothing, - he says, - I'm listening. -
- Okay, but what was that? Did something happen? -
He shakes his head and inhales from his cigarette. - No, just a fucking deja-vu. Go on. -
I stare at him, I shrug and start again. - The first one is called... -
- I don't give a fuck about his name, this is not a date! I want to know if they know how to use weapons, or magic, or both and, if so, what's their specialty! -
- Okay, okay. Relax. So, it looks like all three of them already crossed the passage to this dimension a few years ago, and the Confederation sent them back. But, before going back, they managed to stay here for a few months and have learned how to use firearms to defend themselves. As per magic, it's not mentioned here. -
- Okay, let's go kick their asses. -
He accelerates.
****
I'm looking at the GPS monitor when I realize that we just passed our destination. I put my hand on Tears' right arm and... - TEARS TEARS! Wait! -
He stops and removes my hand from his arm very slowly and pinching me in the process. – Hands off. Don't be fooled by the length of my hair. -
I massage my hand. - The GPS says that they're here, asshole! -
I see him scanning the area, peering doubtfully out of the windows. - Are you sure? - He asks.
I confirm. - They must be on top of that building. - The GPS can't be wrong, that is precisely the point related to the coordinates that Shelv gave me.
He stops the car and gets out. I grab my stuff and when I close the door I find him standing before me.
- All that shit stays in the car. -
- The what? -
He gestures vaguely. – Your crap! All that electronic stuff! - He points to my backpack with the laptop, the GPS and mobile phone.
- What? - I protest. - Why? -
He snorts. - Damn it! Apparently the faster spermatozoon is not always the smartest, - he inhales. - Your greatest skill, and perhaps the only one that you have apart from the ability of annoying me, is your speed and agility. If you carry all this weight, I'll have no use for you! -
I open my mouth to say something.
- Shut it! -
I freeze.
- Mouth closed and breathe through your nose! - He points to the car behind me. - Now you download everything in there! -
I shoot him a dirty look. But I do as he says.
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