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Neo Warsaw # 1 ABRUPT
He was shaking, his fingers tapping against the dashboard and his legs beating out a frantic rhythm. When he wiped the sweat off his face, his hand was so soaking, he was sure he’d rubbed his tattoos off.
The holo on the car’s windshield read, 3:40 AM. But they’d scheduled the drop off at 2. With every second passing he felt sicker and sicker. A whole cinema of horrible thoughts in his mind.
He kept glancing to the backseat. Where the pills presence felt like a unpleasant passenger.2,000 blue blocks crammed into a plastic case. A life sentence in waiting.
Where the fuck are you.
Opala was parked in a small alley in level 5 Żoliborz. The black hover-car was camouflaged in grime and hidden by trash, but still he felt exposed.
He had never seen the city so quiet. The only lights on the street were from the blue flickering lampposts. Occasionally a car would shoot past anxiously or a police drone would buzz overhead. But other than that Neo-Warsaw’s lowest level held its breath.
It felt like a whole new world from level 4. The streets were thinner,the builders squatter and packed even closer together. Even the air tasted wrong. Any moment he was sure someone would burst out the doors and point him out.
How the fuck have I gotten dragged into this ?
It had all started, as it so often did at a party.
He’d been standing in the living room. Leaning out the window, chain-smoking. Watching the people 30 floors below him like colourful ants It was Friday night and the city was at its prime, the way he loved it. On the sidewalks people were heading to the centre in hordes. Those with money, the businessmen with tired eyes and dusty suits, heading up to Level 3. Where they could enjoy Western pleasures from NNYC and Neo-Paris. Those without money were aimed for the street bars and underground clubs. Where they’d party all night and emerge blinking to blaring morning news carried by Party drones.
On the buildings opposite him floating billboards were intercut with announcements. Going from shimmering golds and purples to the governments red and grey.
“BEWARE OF SPIES”
“BEWARE OF ILLEGAL SUBSTANCES”
“BEWARE OF..”
The billboard Opala was looking at glitched out, green static spread across the screen and then it turned black. With a sigh he threw away the butt of his cigarette and watched it streak down into the street. It bounced off the hood of a hover-car and died.
He liked Norek, he was probably his best friend. Not that he had many to choose from. But that didn’t mean he extended the same feelings to Noreks friends. Almost everyone at the party was a youth group member. Tinted goggles on their eyes, hacked watches that let them monitor black markets and police scanners, and of course iconic bomber jackets and tracksuits. Looking around at the patches on their sleeves he saw members from,
Ochota Youth
Bad Dogs
KULT
The various knives, bats and pipes they all held close to them left a bad taste in his mouth. The last party Norek had thrown had ended with a rival member stumbling in by accident, and being left bloodied and broken on the stairs.
While he was studying for high school exams Norek was standing on the stairwells of the 100 floor buildings selling powders. While he struggled to find a job that didn’t pay half the minimum wage, Norek was assaulting people for representing the wrong youth group. Opala dreamed of level 3 , Norek of moving out of the kiddie-pool and into the serious gang waters. They’d managed to stay close solely because they’d been raised together, and that meant so much more than petty lifestyle difference.
Even so, when a guy from Bad Dogs, tapped him on the back and jerked his thumb towards a door he knew it would be bad news.
“Norek is inside, he wants you.”
He nodded at him and the Dog glared back.
When he stepped inside, the door locked behind him. The room was a tiny smoke filled bedroom. A drugged out Norek lay sunken into a chair. Two older men sat on the bed.
He nodded his head at them and sat down. They ignored him and fixated on his patch-less jacket. They gave each other a look and then decided that he was ok. He sensed that simple shake of the head from either would have meant a knife in his ribs.
They were both massive, huge squares of muscle that took up most of the room. Both bald with shaved heads and tattooed arms. Their fashion was old-world. No holos,no tech, no bright PVC clothing. Just gold chains draped over white t-shirts.
“Opala these are two businessmen I’ve had the pleasure of talking to tonight” , Noreks wobbled the words out. Opala couldn’t tell if it was fear or the drugs that had him so shaken.
“ We heard that you’ve been having some money issues, son.” They were cutting right to the chase. No time for dancing around with words.
He thought for a second, “ I suppose so.”
“ Well then, you should like our li..proposition. We’ve been playing around with this new stuff. Gets cooked up in a little place in Praga. Really clean amphetamine. “ He stopped to take a sip of his drink while the other one continued.
“ It’s been doing well up here but we want to expand the line down to five.”
“ Ok”
“ We have a test order of almost two thousand pills that we want to get shifted this weekend. And it’s you two who we want to bring it down there for us.”
“ Why can’t you do it yourself ?”
Their eyes hardened and their clenched fists turned red.
“ There’s been issues with the guys down there. They knocked off a few of our friends. So while I’m sorting them out, we need somebody they won’t recognise to take care of it for us.”
Opala turned white.He’d just seen through the facade. The pair weren’t the type of big gangus’s Norek dreamed of being. They weren’t shit. If they were real Żoli group then there’d be no issue clearing out any level 5 beef.
He looked at Norek and felt like sinking a fist into his face. The idiot just gave him a wide grin as if to say, this is my big break.
“Can I think about it?”
“No”
He took a deep breath. One answer would possibly end with him dead but the other would certainly do so.
“Ok, fuck it, I’m in.”
They agreed, shook hands, and walked out the room. Norek tried to persuade him to do a few lines of the floor but he declined.
When the elevator dinged at opened at bottom floor, he raced out. Getting swallowed by the sea of people and trying not to panic as he realized what Norek had done to him.
Why aren’t you here you piece of shit?
He woke up the next morning at 7. From the only window he saw the grayness of the morning as the whole level nursed its hangover. Only the red postal drones zipped excitedly through the air. The hover cars on the road-strips were groaning in the traffic and the nights party stalls had started serving breakfast.
Giving his government supplied holo a tap he swiped past the news,party broadcast and weather report, to see a glowing blue message from Norek.
“Sorry bro”
And below it, more five messages from : Norek.
From that pathetic little first message he could tell what had happened straight away. Norek had woken up up, felt the comedown slam him and was know trying to weasel out of the suicidal deal they’d both made.
Muttering he rolled of his futon and gathered his clothes from the floor. Barely awake he strapped on a knife and slammed the door shut. Jumping into his hover car and speeding over to Noreks
The entrance door was unlocked as usual so he let himself into the building. Then mashed the elevator button until it finally rattled down. Stepping into the box he smelt urine and look down to see a junkie passed out in the corner. Vomit stained his rags, and his outstretched arm showed blackened skin. He’d obviously spent the night begging on the highway and was coated in pollution. Some of the youth gangs had carved, “BAD DOGS” into his cheek.
When he reached Noreks floor he exploded out and started hammering the door harder than a CBŚ agent.
“NOREK OPEN UP”
Silence behind the door.
“NOREK!”
Nothing. He grunted and gave the metal door a kick that echoed out the hallway and up the building.
He waited a minute more, banging the door and mashing his fingers against the locks keypad. When it was clear Norek wasn’t going to open up he grabbed his knife and stabbed it into the peep-hole. Leaving the fractured glass on the welcome mat.
Trying to catch his breath he stumbled back into the elevator. If this drop went well he’d never let Norek see a pixel of the money.
Where the fuck is he.
He’d sunk his head against the steering wheel and was about to leave when there was a rap against his window. He snapped up and grabbed his knife . A face leered at him. Head shaved into a X and purple tinted sunglasses covering his eyes. Patched jacket, tracksuit.
“ Sorry I’m late” , he said. Then laughed, exposing sharpened gold teeth, knowing full well he could have had Opala waiting until the sun turned on.
“ It’s…no problem.”
He pressed the button and the doors slid open. The man got in. The doors closed.
“ You got the money?”
“ No I’ve got a message from Young Żoli though.”
He heard a click, he took a short breath and then saw the gun rising. A short semi-auto, the barrel jutting out of a fat body. Then with another golden smile, the thug released the trigger. Blue light filled the car. The rounds seared his flesh. Leaving charred holes in his face that reeked of burnt flesh. A few lights went on in the grey blocks. But no one was brave enough to look out their windows. The sound of the gun was swallowed up by the city.
*
Thanks a lot for reading. Just remember to reblog and like if you enjoyed and that NEO WARSAW stories are being update weekly
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