Post by Pelch Gobwit on Jun 8, 2006 7:15:12 GMT -5
Looking for a JOB!
Yeah, I’ve been a dwarf all my life. At least that’s what I tell folks who ask if I ‘goblinized’ and just lived a long time. I’ve never had much of an education unless you call surviving an education. I ain’t rich and not likely to be at the rate things are going around here. It ain’t like Mayor Krass is going to reach down from on high in that big corporate tower of his and lift my scruffy hoop out of the sewers. So I can dream anyway, that is still free.
Now if you have some skills at fixing things then you can make at least some NuYen. I never had the time or the money to pay for those skills. The only skill I have is playing hard boy for those who need someone to get their hoop shot off. Heck, at least I’m a small target. That may be the problem. No one takes a four foot tall hard boy seriously. I wouldn’t even take me seriously so why should I expect anyone else to? Jobs aren’t that easy to come by if you’re not well known and to get well known in this business just makes you a target. Life ain’t fair but that’s the way it is.
I get to live longer than an orc, so that means I just get to starve and freeze on the streets longer than a human or orc would in the same lifetime. Elves? Elves got life by the hoop! Everybody likes those fragging daisy eaters. Me? I call them sex deviates. Elves will hoop frag anything that moves. You expect that from a dragon, troll, orc or human, but you sure don’t expect it from a namby pampy daisy eater! I’ve been fragged by elves so much that I should have gotten prettier just from the social contact!
Today, I am down to my last 2,000 or so NuYen. I spent last night finding a dry place in the sewers fighting off the devil rats and such down there. You don’t sleep well when everything wants to make a meal of you. So you find some chummers down there and you take your turn guarding each other and maybe they don’t kill you in your sleep. This morning I’m walking the streets looking for breakfast and a chance to make a buck. Honest, dishonest it’s all the same to me.
There I am wandering down in the dock area where the Yak’s pretty much control things. Yak’s don’t like guys like me but unless I do something real stupid they usually ignore you. The docks are a good place to find some left over food, if you’re not to picky. I had just finished scoring some garbage can fries and a partially eaten soy burger in an ally trash can when the ally barfed hard boys from both ends. They were pro and I wasn’t stupid enough to reach for my guns. I nibbled fries and watched them approach. They didn’t waste time or motion either. Two grabbed me, one to an arm and slammed me hoop backward into the wall. Another reached around and took out my two Ares Predators and tossed them on the ground. I smiled real polite like, just another friendly half wit who liked splatting his hoop on a wall.
For a bit they kept me pinned to the wall. I didn’t struggle. Why you ask? You don’t try to play big time with Shadowriders chummer. I had more than enough brushes with the lawboys to know when NOT to be stupid. Sometimes they had me do them ‘favors’ in return for not ending up dead somewhere. It was an arrangement, not a nice one, but it kept me alive for another day. The slim brown haired dude in the fancy suit I knew on sight as soon as he entered the ally. Captain Tim Knuckles was part of the Seattle Shadowriders that worked for Lone Star. He was one really nasty mother.
He looked at me like I was something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. “Pelch Gobwit, long time no see dog meat. If I didn’t know better I would say you’ve been avoiding me. You know I don’t like it when I don’t see you around. It makes me think you might be up to something bad. You know I have a low tolerance for bad. You know how a guy like me needs to know what’s happening in this burg and so I come and have these talks with hoopholes like you.”
I was polite. “Howdy Captain, I see you been promoted. I didn’t think a big timer like you would want some scruffy poor boy hanging around cluttering the scenery and frightening the citizens. I didn’t want to trespass on your territory.”
Knuckles smiled, as he looked at the guys holding me up, “Now isn’t that real thoughtful. Old drek eating Gobwit here is looking out for my interests.” He slammed a fist into the dwarfs stomach. So I barfed some fries and soyburger. Sure it hurt even with my armor and dermal plating. Lone Star don’t pinch pennies on their street monster cyberware, especially at the Captain level. Knuckles didn’t like me barfing. His boys pounded on me a bit. While I was lying in the wonderful world of pain the Captain finally cut to the fragging chase.
Knuckles looked down at the dwarf, “I hear someone is doing some hiring of runners at the Eager Beaver. The word I get is someone wants some talent to take out a Nestle’s factory. I hear that they are paying really BIG Nuyen. Now with a run that size, I’m a curious man. Could some BAD Runner be thinking of making a huge score and not cutting the Star in on it? So guess what? I’ve chosen you to go down to the Beaver and nose around down there. I want to know as much as you can find out. I want names, dates, times, places and targets. Don’t come back without it and don’t wait too long. I’m not a patient man.”
The Captain and the goons left. I waited a while to keep up appearances then staggered to my feet, recovered my guns and staggered down the ally. Looks like I was going down to the Beaver to be an ‘ear’ for the Man. Oh well, it was a job and the pay was good, they might let me live.
Which way is up or out?
I jandered up the street a ways. Now you might think that personal hygiene would not be a big part of any street dwarves makeup, but your dead wrong. Let's face it, people don't want to hire you if you offend in a personal way. So after puking my guts out, then getting the drek stomped out of me by the Lone Star apes, it seemed like a good idea to go get cleaned up.
Most people don't know that there are plenty of places you can go and find faucets where you can tap into a 'relatively' clean water supply. A lot of places have restrooms so it's not to hard to get some soap. As for most corner stores, who guards toothbrushes, or soap? Not hard to carry small things with you in a baggy inside the pocket of an armored coat. It didn't take long for me to clean up. Once again smelling springtime fresh but still looking like something the cat dragged in I headed out, walking the shoe leather express, to wards downtown Seattle.
On the way I thought things over. Ol'Knuckles must be really desperate or being crafty. I had about as much chance of blending in at a posh uptown strip club as a turd in a punch bowl. The street buzz I had heard was that some high roller called "The Fatman" was bankrolling a major run at Nestle's hoop. It was still only buzz but 'rumors' were flying around the plex that a local Johnson at the Eager Beaver was in heavy negotiation with Krass/Drassel and Associates. So far that was all that street rumor had. Something that big and that well covered up had generated a lot of talk. Normally with something THAT BIG,it was very unlikely I would be any part of it. More of my usual dumb hoop luck to get dragged in the hard way.
Not much was known about the Fatman, but many said he was the brains behind Krass/Drassel and Associates. That was a fairly new local corp on the scene and had MONDO connections in city government and the court systems. I was way out of my league and I knew it.
Knuckles probably knew more about Krass and Crew than I was ever likely to find out. Lone Star should have had stoolies and squeals all through the Eager Beaver as well. Knuckles could have given them all kinds of grief about liquor licenses, morality laws and such if they weren't paying the Riders 'protection' money already. So why send a scraggly looking street dwarf there?
That seemed to be the easy question to answer. Krass was involved. Krass was the mayor and ran the city government part of Seattle. He had UCAS connections and heavy corporate ones as well. The Fatman brokered strange stuff through Krass and some of the stories were only now becoming known. Lone Star didn't dare use anything traceable that Krass might find out about. If Krass thought the Star was messing him over, he might send Lawyer Drassel around to explain the legal niceties. Every street criminal knew about Drassel and how good he was at getting people off. If really dorked off Krass might even send that street killer Eon or the mage Ronilion around for a visit. It made sense that even the Star would want to play it safe.
Enter me. A nothing. I'm stupid and supposed to come in and ask a bunch of dumb hoop questions, especially since I don't have the cred to pass around. Word gets back to the kind of people who don't want some non-existent nosy parker looking at their affairs. It sounded like a fast easy fast food recipe for getting geeked. I get geeked, the Star grabs the guys who geek me and do their civic duty of interrogation. Who knows what they might learn.
This gave me an idea though. I had me a plan of action. The owner of the Beaver, some slag called 'Dom', had to know what was happening. That would mean he could well be a target. Surely others including Nestle would have picked up on the rumors. The smart boys might just waltz in and decide to have a heart to heart with Dom. Maybe he would need some extra guards around the place? Maybe he might want some 'extra' security. Maybe a smart low profile dwarf could get hired, make some NuYen and possibly find out enough to keep his hoop from getting put out to sanction! It was worth a shot. I continued to trudge to wards the Beaver. Guys were always chasing Beaver so why should I be the exception? Nothing like looking a beaver squarely in the eye.
Meet the eighth dwarf, Stabby!
It took me most of the morning to get into the downtown area. It was not a part of the town where a guy looking like me is real welcome. The nice thing is most people avoid you like you have the plaque. On the upside, the food in the trash cans was better and I finally scored enough food to make it a little pleasanter for my stomach and attitude.
The bad part of all this is that Lone Star has a big presence here for obvious reasons. I didn't count on Knuckles to have put out the word to the street monsters that his old friend Pelch was paying a social visit on his behalf. Knuckles would have figured if I was dumb hoop enough to get picked up for vagrancy, I deserved the beating I would get. He would just consider it another fine day for dispensing some Justice.
Being a dwarf does have it's moments. I was able to walk right up to the orc guy guarding the door. He didn't even consider me a threat so he was relying on some heavy backup. He had on one of those fancy bouncer suits with a fragging name-tag that said, "Hi! My name is Mort." I almost cracked a smile. Almost. He didn't even wait for me to crack wise as he took out a stun baton and eyed my sartorial elegance.
"You lost omae? I think you're in the wrong neighborhood. Dump's that way chummer." He pointed back the way I had come."
I looked him up and down, with my best I don't give a drek attitude. "Hey, I might be a paying customer. Aren't you supposed to be nice to me?"
Mort smiled showing fang, "You expect a strip bar to be open 24/7? Can't BE a customer unless you come when we open, which isn't for another five hours yet when the local corps let out. We also gots a dress code and you ain't even close. See, I'm polite. I gave you free information without kicking your lame hoop up the road. Beat it, lowboy, you're stinking up the area."
I shrugged, "Well I guess you know what you're doing, but when the DREK comes down you can explain to Dom-Dom why I couldn't be a good Samaritan and deliver that nice warning that would have let him know that a steamroller is coming his way. No skin off my hoop. I hope your insurance is paid up. The outside boys are ALWAYS the ones that get geeked first, even when they THINK they have the first class protection."
Mort looked bored, sighed and powered up his baton. "Do you know how many people a day try to weasel in with all kinds of stories to see Mr. Dom? Do you REALLY think that will get you a pass, just because you make some misty warning with no proof? As for protection, I got enough to handle a flea bag like you."
I raised my hands showing no weapon and smiled, "Yeah, I can see you're fragging Einstein and Schwarzenegger all in one super cool package. Now try to think a bit more, hard for an orc to do I know, but I'm good at explaining complicated ideas to morons. How many guys show up looking like me? Do I look like mob? Yak? Some fragging strip club crasher? Insurance salesman? Would I even BE on this side of town if it wasn't important?" I could see the wheels turning in his thick head and could ALMOST smell insulation burning in there.
"Sure I MIGHT be running a game to make you look stupid in front of your boss because I want your cushy job or I want to show him your an idiot. If so then your boss will know in five minutes and will tell you to kick my hoop out of the place. Now you being properly P.O.'d will then use that baton and I'll be laid up for a long while having gained, what?. Yeah, that sounds like a brilliantly made plan to me from an ORC point of view."
Mort started to look less bored and a little more angry, "You got a big mouth short and squat. Maybe you're a hit man? I could see some disgruntled hoop hole hiring an idiot like you to kill someone."
I shook my head sadly, "Oh Yeah, I'm fragging Eon in poor boy drag and I've come down in my sweaty hooped dwarf disguise to put a hit on your boss in his own place, with all the astral protection he has and probably tons of cyber guards. All this with my two little pistols that I'm sure you know about with those fancy scanners mounted on the building and I just know that you're never going to consider taking away from me before I even get past you. Do you usually just let any strange yabo waltz in carrying magic, weapons or cybergear even when you are open without some kind of protection? I suspect not. Now are you going to tell Dum-Dum that I have something he may want to know about or should I just go home and wait for the drek storm to hit? I figure I win either way because then there will most likely be a lot of new job openings for a smart boy."
I waited patiently for a response, because orcs don't always think too fast and it wasn't like I had a pressing appointment with a financial consultant. I was sure old Dom knew even now what was going on. All I had to do was wait a little and see which way he jumped.
I am NOT a nice dwarf!
OK, so they finally decided I could go in. Pretty dumb in my estimation. I wouldn't have wanted someone like me mixing with a crowd of high class folk. I would have sent me around to the servant's entrance. It might give the business a bad name to treat a skinny surly dwarf like real folks.
It's written in the BIG Dwarf Handbook, dwarves never smile, are always angry and grumpy and will take the gold fillings from your teeth. To bad, most of the folks I know can't even afford the dental work. No wonder I wasn't carrying around tons of NuYen with dual shotguns and a pile of iron hardware. I was lucky to get a good meal of Devil rat every now and again.
I checked my scruffy Ares pistols in with some snob waiter who used fragging tongs and tray to take them away, with his nose in the air he motioned me to the fragging table behind the swinging kitchen doors. Luckily there ain't no one else in the place except some slitch doing the hootchie on the stage. She notices me watching and grabs a towel.
I'm thinking {Why cover it up now honey? Every low life sex pervert from Krass on down, in Seattle's, already had a look. Probably some guys outside the plex as well. Guess she felt offended a dwarf was watching. Hell even the pro's don't want me to even look.}
J.J. "You're here to see Dom I would take it?" Her voice clearly has a hint of elven accent to it and seemingly flows from her lips like a hot knife cutting through warm butter.
Cute. Now I have another part elven fragging cutie who wants to grab me by the 'nads' so she can rip my balls off before she takes my last NuYen. I looked at her with a stupid look. "I don't know what you're talking about sister. I'm here to perform health inspections. I'm the new city gynecologist."
J.J. Looks confused for a minute but decides to not let me baffle her with bulldrek. "He's busy at the moment, may I get you a drink?" I notice that during the conversation her hair changes from a bright brilliant red to a dark black."
Pelch peered at her deadpan. "I'm not allowed to drink on duty but I have a message for you from Mayor Krass, a close personal friend of mine. {That wasn't a lie either because he's always screwing me even from long distance. Since he was mayor though he's been screwing the whole city so I figured he would have gotten to her as well, even if she didn't know it.} Krass wants to know; Do you have a mirror in your pocket?"
She looked even more confused as her hair turned to plaid. I hate fragging plaid. "Why?" she asked in that soft voice.
I delivered the line without a smile, "'Cause he said he could see himself in your pants." The slitch glared and stomped away angry. If Dom was testing to see if a pretty bimbo could make me talk, I guess I passed. If she really was trying to make time with a dwarf I was the one that had hoop fragged himself. It wasn't a pleasant thought. Sometimes I suspect I'm my own 'wurst' enemy. Maybe she should have offered me something to eat. Everyone knows dwarves love to take sausage.
I had done some homework. Dom was supposedly a big wheel fixer. Male, Age 24, no fragging descriptions so I wouldn't know the slag if he kissed me on the hoop. The latest version of the Playtoy set, Mr Huge Heftnuts himself. Didn't have an ounce of compassion or mercy and only interested in cold hard NuYen. Probably had farking Drassel on fragging retainer to get him off anything laid on his doorstep. From his history he seemed like the type.
I was beginning to think I would get more action and NuYen around here if I took off my clothes and shagged my scruffy UGLY ass onto the stage and did a pole dance. That thought was not only revolting to me but would have gagged a maggot. Maybe the customers would have paid me to leave.
I looked around. I knew I was being watched. Let them look. They couldn't read my mind. I was cool, alert and cranked up out on the pointy end. All they saw was a dwarf about 3' 3" tall, very skinny. OK so I don't eat well, sue me. Dark hair looking like I cut it with a dull knife, which I had. Black brooding, beady eyes that look like they came off some Cross Eyed Bear! What you could see of my skin was tanned and wrinkled, part of the dermal sheath. So sue me I can't afford the best and it shows through my malnourished hide. The hair hides my face real good and makes a dandy insulation and warmer on colds nights. The eyes have absolutely no expression. I wondered what I would look like cleaned up.
I had on third hand and patched clothing with a trench coat all armored of course. They had been patched so many times I looked like those old court jesters, what they called a fool in motley. It's the way I felt most of the time anyway. I knew I should have taken that drink from the broad. She would have probably charged me five times it's worth and then drugged me and ripped me off. I would have woke up looking like a furry bear with no clothes and Mort's shock baton stuck up my hoop. Who knows it might be a good look for me, but I wasn't eager to try it out. This place was typical, more hurry up and wait while they tried to figure out what the frag I was doing here. I decided to clue them. I was waiting for money. I got up and walked into the kitchen.
Would you believe the cook was a fragging ELF. He had himself a whole crew of mixed breeds and they were obviously getting ready for the evening dinner crowd. The fragger actually put his hands on his scrawny hips, "What are YOU DOING in here?"
I almost snickered as I went into the act. I cringed, I mad hand scrubbing motions, I whined, "I was sent here."
The doufous never gave it another thought. If I had gotten through this much security someone must have sent me, hence I must belong here. His logic was impeccable. "You must be the additional help. They never send enough help and then look what they do send. I wish Mr Dom would stop worrying about the whores out front and consider MY position." He glared at me. "Well don't stand around, dolt, get over to the sink and start scrubbing those pots and pans. Mind you use HOT water and plenty of steel wool and soap. I want those pans shining or I'll have your Hoop!"
"But Sir!" I exclaimed most piteously, "I was told that you were to FEED me first and give me a weeks pay in advance before I started so I could get decent apparel."
The doufous sighed, "Why does this always happen to me? Go get started I'll have someone bring over food you can eat while scrubbing, as for the money, I'll give you a note for the accounting people and you can get it when your shift is over. Don't worry about clothes now, you won't be leaving the sink."
I smiled and whined Thanking him profusely and then got to work. I was determined I was going to make some money out of this. I wondered how long though DUM-DUM was going to let me run around here without doing anything. He wasn't going to learn much from me this way. I smiled like Drassel seeing big contract. I wondered how much Dom Dom paid his pot scrubbers by the week. Maybe I could turn this into a permanent job for a while, until something better came along.
Yeah, I’ve been a dwarf all my life. At least that’s what I tell folks who ask if I ‘goblinized’ and just lived a long time. I’ve never had much of an education unless you call surviving an education. I ain’t rich and not likely to be at the rate things are going around here. It ain’t like Mayor Krass is going to reach down from on high in that big corporate tower of his and lift my scruffy hoop out of the sewers. So I can dream anyway, that is still free.
Now if you have some skills at fixing things then you can make at least some NuYen. I never had the time or the money to pay for those skills. The only skill I have is playing hard boy for those who need someone to get their hoop shot off. Heck, at least I’m a small target. That may be the problem. No one takes a four foot tall hard boy seriously. I wouldn’t even take me seriously so why should I expect anyone else to? Jobs aren’t that easy to come by if you’re not well known and to get well known in this business just makes you a target. Life ain’t fair but that’s the way it is.
I get to live longer than an orc, so that means I just get to starve and freeze on the streets longer than a human or orc would in the same lifetime. Elves? Elves got life by the hoop! Everybody likes those fragging daisy eaters. Me? I call them sex deviates. Elves will hoop frag anything that moves. You expect that from a dragon, troll, orc or human, but you sure don’t expect it from a namby pampy daisy eater! I’ve been fragged by elves so much that I should have gotten prettier just from the social contact!
Today, I am down to my last 2,000 or so NuYen. I spent last night finding a dry place in the sewers fighting off the devil rats and such down there. You don’t sleep well when everything wants to make a meal of you. So you find some chummers down there and you take your turn guarding each other and maybe they don’t kill you in your sleep. This morning I’m walking the streets looking for breakfast and a chance to make a buck. Honest, dishonest it’s all the same to me.
There I am wandering down in the dock area where the Yak’s pretty much control things. Yak’s don’t like guys like me but unless I do something real stupid they usually ignore you. The docks are a good place to find some left over food, if you’re not to picky. I had just finished scoring some garbage can fries and a partially eaten soy burger in an ally trash can when the ally barfed hard boys from both ends. They were pro and I wasn’t stupid enough to reach for my guns. I nibbled fries and watched them approach. They didn’t waste time or motion either. Two grabbed me, one to an arm and slammed me hoop backward into the wall. Another reached around and took out my two Ares Predators and tossed them on the ground. I smiled real polite like, just another friendly half wit who liked splatting his hoop on a wall.
For a bit they kept me pinned to the wall. I didn’t struggle. Why you ask? You don’t try to play big time with Shadowriders chummer. I had more than enough brushes with the lawboys to know when NOT to be stupid. Sometimes they had me do them ‘favors’ in return for not ending up dead somewhere. It was an arrangement, not a nice one, but it kept me alive for another day. The slim brown haired dude in the fancy suit I knew on sight as soon as he entered the ally. Captain Tim Knuckles was part of the Seattle Shadowriders that worked for Lone Star. He was one really nasty mother.
He looked at me like I was something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. “Pelch Gobwit, long time no see dog meat. If I didn’t know better I would say you’ve been avoiding me. You know I don’t like it when I don’t see you around. It makes me think you might be up to something bad. You know I have a low tolerance for bad. You know how a guy like me needs to know what’s happening in this burg and so I come and have these talks with hoopholes like you.”
I was polite. “Howdy Captain, I see you been promoted. I didn’t think a big timer like you would want some scruffy poor boy hanging around cluttering the scenery and frightening the citizens. I didn’t want to trespass on your territory.”
Knuckles smiled, as he looked at the guys holding me up, “Now isn’t that real thoughtful. Old drek eating Gobwit here is looking out for my interests.” He slammed a fist into the dwarfs stomach. So I barfed some fries and soyburger. Sure it hurt even with my armor and dermal plating. Lone Star don’t pinch pennies on their street monster cyberware, especially at the Captain level. Knuckles didn’t like me barfing. His boys pounded on me a bit. While I was lying in the wonderful world of pain the Captain finally cut to the fragging chase.
Knuckles looked down at the dwarf, “I hear someone is doing some hiring of runners at the Eager Beaver. The word I get is someone wants some talent to take out a Nestle’s factory. I hear that they are paying really BIG Nuyen. Now with a run that size, I’m a curious man. Could some BAD Runner be thinking of making a huge score and not cutting the Star in on it? So guess what? I’ve chosen you to go down to the Beaver and nose around down there. I want to know as much as you can find out. I want names, dates, times, places and targets. Don’t come back without it and don’t wait too long. I’m not a patient man.”
The Captain and the goons left. I waited a while to keep up appearances then staggered to my feet, recovered my guns and staggered down the ally. Looks like I was going down to the Beaver to be an ‘ear’ for the Man. Oh well, it was a job and the pay was good, they might let me live.
Which way is up or out?
I jandered up the street a ways. Now you might think that personal hygiene would not be a big part of any street dwarves makeup, but your dead wrong. Let's face it, people don't want to hire you if you offend in a personal way. So after puking my guts out, then getting the drek stomped out of me by the Lone Star apes, it seemed like a good idea to go get cleaned up.
Most people don't know that there are plenty of places you can go and find faucets where you can tap into a 'relatively' clean water supply. A lot of places have restrooms so it's not to hard to get some soap. As for most corner stores, who guards toothbrushes, or soap? Not hard to carry small things with you in a baggy inside the pocket of an armored coat. It didn't take long for me to clean up. Once again smelling springtime fresh but still looking like something the cat dragged in I headed out, walking the shoe leather express, to wards downtown Seattle.
On the way I thought things over. Ol'Knuckles must be really desperate or being crafty. I had about as much chance of blending in at a posh uptown strip club as a turd in a punch bowl. The street buzz I had heard was that some high roller called "The Fatman" was bankrolling a major run at Nestle's hoop. It was still only buzz but 'rumors' were flying around the plex that a local Johnson at the Eager Beaver was in heavy negotiation with Krass/Drassel and Associates. So far that was all that street rumor had. Something that big and that well covered up had generated a lot of talk. Normally with something THAT BIG,it was very unlikely I would be any part of it. More of my usual dumb hoop luck to get dragged in the hard way.
Not much was known about the Fatman, but many said he was the brains behind Krass/Drassel and Associates. That was a fairly new local corp on the scene and had MONDO connections in city government and the court systems. I was way out of my league and I knew it.
Knuckles probably knew more about Krass and Crew than I was ever likely to find out. Lone Star should have had stoolies and squeals all through the Eager Beaver as well. Knuckles could have given them all kinds of grief about liquor licenses, morality laws and such if they weren't paying the Riders 'protection' money already. So why send a scraggly looking street dwarf there?
That seemed to be the easy question to answer. Krass was involved. Krass was the mayor and ran the city government part of Seattle. He had UCAS connections and heavy corporate ones as well. The Fatman brokered strange stuff through Krass and some of the stories were only now becoming known. Lone Star didn't dare use anything traceable that Krass might find out about. If Krass thought the Star was messing him over, he might send Lawyer Drassel around to explain the legal niceties. Every street criminal knew about Drassel and how good he was at getting people off. If really dorked off Krass might even send that street killer Eon or the mage Ronilion around for a visit. It made sense that even the Star would want to play it safe.
Enter me. A nothing. I'm stupid and supposed to come in and ask a bunch of dumb hoop questions, especially since I don't have the cred to pass around. Word gets back to the kind of people who don't want some non-existent nosy parker looking at their affairs. It sounded like a fast easy fast food recipe for getting geeked. I get geeked, the Star grabs the guys who geek me and do their civic duty of interrogation. Who knows what they might learn.
This gave me an idea though. I had me a plan of action. The owner of the Beaver, some slag called 'Dom', had to know what was happening. That would mean he could well be a target. Surely others including Nestle would have picked up on the rumors. The smart boys might just waltz in and decide to have a heart to heart with Dom. Maybe he would need some extra guards around the place? Maybe he might want some 'extra' security. Maybe a smart low profile dwarf could get hired, make some NuYen and possibly find out enough to keep his hoop from getting put out to sanction! It was worth a shot. I continued to trudge to wards the Beaver. Guys were always chasing Beaver so why should I be the exception? Nothing like looking a beaver squarely in the eye.
Meet the eighth dwarf, Stabby!
It took me most of the morning to get into the downtown area. It was not a part of the town where a guy looking like me is real welcome. The nice thing is most people avoid you like you have the plaque. On the upside, the food in the trash cans was better and I finally scored enough food to make it a little pleasanter for my stomach and attitude.
The bad part of all this is that Lone Star has a big presence here for obvious reasons. I didn't count on Knuckles to have put out the word to the street monsters that his old friend Pelch was paying a social visit on his behalf. Knuckles would have figured if I was dumb hoop enough to get picked up for vagrancy, I deserved the beating I would get. He would just consider it another fine day for dispensing some Justice.
Being a dwarf does have it's moments. I was able to walk right up to the orc guy guarding the door. He didn't even consider me a threat so he was relying on some heavy backup. He had on one of those fancy bouncer suits with a fragging name-tag that said, "Hi! My name is Mort." I almost cracked a smile. Almost. He didn't even wait for me to crack wise as he took out a stun baton and eyed my sartorial elegance.
"You lost omae? I think you're in the wrong neighborhood. Dump's that way chummer." He pointed back the way I had come."
I looked him up and down, with my best I don't give a drek attitude. "Hey, I might be a paying customer. Aren't you supposed to be nice to me?"
Mort smiled showing fang, "You expect a strip bar to be open 24/7? Can't BE a customer unless you come when we open, which isn't for another five hours yet when the local corps let out. We also gots a dress code and you ain't even close. See, I'm polite. I gave you free information without kicking your lame hoop up the road. Beat it, lowboy, you're stinking up the area."
I shrugged, "Well I guess you know what you're doing, but when the DREK comes down you can explain to Dom-Dom why I couldn't be a good Samaritan and deliver that nice warning that would have let him know that a steamroller is coming his way. No skin off my hoop. I hope your insurance is paid up. The outside boys are ALWAYS the ones that get geeked first, even when they THINK they have the first class protection."
Mort looked bored, sighed and powered up his baton. "Do you know how many people a day try to weasel in with all kinds of stories to see Mr. Dom? Do you REALLY think that will get you a pass, just because you make some misty warning with no proof? As for protection, I got enough to handle a flea bag like you."
I raised my hands showing no weapon and smiled, "Yeah, I can see you're fragging Einstein and Schwarzenegger all in one super cool package. Now try to think a bit more, hard for an orc to do I know, but I'm good at explaining complicated ideas to morons. How many guys show up looking like me? Do I look like mob? Yak? Some fragging strip club crasher? Insurance salesman? Would I even BE on this side of town if it wasn't important?" I could see the wheels turning in his thick head and could ALMOST smell insulation burning in there.
"Sure I MIGHT be running a game to make you look stupid in front of your boss because I want your cushy job or I want to show him your an idiot. If so then your boss will know in five minutes and will tell you to kick my hoop out of the place. Now you being properly P.O.'d will then use that baton and I'll be laid up for a long while having gained, what?. Yeah, that sounds like a brilliantly made plan to me from an ORC point of view."
Mort started to look less bored and a little more angry, "You got a big mouth short and squat. Maybe you're a hit man? I could see some disgruntled hoop hole hiring an idiot like you to kill someone."
I shook my head sadly, "Oh Yeah, I'm fragging Eon in poor boy drag and I've come down in my sweaty hooped dwarf disguise to put a hit on your boss in his own place, with all the astral protection he has and probably tons of cyber guards. All this with my two little pistols that I'm sure you know about with those fancy scanners mounted on the building and I just know that you're never going to consider taking away from me before I even get past you. Do you usually just let any strange yabo waltz in carrying magic, weapons or cybergear even when you are open without some kind of protection? I suspect not. Now are you going to tell Dum-Dum that I have something he may want to know about or should I just go home and wait for the drek storm to hit? I figure I win either way because then there will most likely be a lot of new job openings for a smart boy."
I waited patiently for a response, because orcs don't always think too fast and it wasn't like I had a pressing appointment with a financial consultant. I was sure old Dom knew even now what was going on. All I had to do was wait a little and see which way he jumped.
I am NOT a nice dwarf!
OK, so they finally decided I could go in. Pretty dumb in my estimation. I wouldn't have wanted someone like me mixing with a crowd of high class folk. I would have sent me around to the servant's entrance. It might give the business a bad name to treat a skinny surly dwarf like real folks.
It's written in the BIG Dwarf Handbook, dwarves never smile, are always angry and grumpy and will take the gold fillings from your teeth. To bad, most of the folks I know can't even afford the dental work. No wonder I wasn't carrying around tons of NuYen with dual shotguns and a pile of iron hardware. I was lucky to get a good meal of Devil rat every now and again.
I checked my scruffy Ares pistols in with some snob waiter who used fragging tongs and tray to take them away, with his nose in the air he motioned me to the fragging table behind the swinging kitchen doors. Luckily there ain't no one else in the place except some slitch doing the hootchie on the stage. She notices me watching and grabs a towel.
I'm thinking {Why cover it up now honey? Every low life sex pervert from Krass on down, in Seattle's, already had a look. Probably some guys outside the plex as well. Guess she felt offended a dwarf was watching. Hell even the pro's don't want me to even look.}
J.J. "You're here to see Dom I would take it?" Her voice clearly has a hint of elven accent to it and seemingly flows from her lips like a hot knife cutting through warm butter.
Cute. Now I have another part elven fragging cutie who wants to grab me by the 'nads' so she can rip my balls off before she takes my last NuYen. I looked at her with a stupid look. "I don't know what you're talking about sister. I'm here to perform health inspections. I'm the new city gynecologist."
J.J. Looks confused for a minute but decides to not let me baffle her with bulldrek. "He's busy at the moment, may I get you a drink?" I notice that during the conversation her hair changes from a bright brilliant red to a dark black."
Pelch peered at her deadpan. "I'm not allowed to drink on duty but I have a message for you from Mayor Krass, a close personal friend of mine. {That wasn't a lie either because he's always screwing me even from long distance. Since he was mayor though he's been screwing the whole city so I figured he would have gotten to her as well, even if she didn't know it.} Krass wants to know; Do you have a mirror in your pocket?"
She looked even more confused as her hair turned to plaid. I hate fragging plaid. "Why?" she asked in that soft voice.
I delivered the line without a smile, "'Cause he said he could see himself in your pants." The slitch glared and stomped away angry. If Dom was testing to see if a pretty bimbo could make me talk, I guess I passed. If she really was trying to make time with a dwarf I was the one that had hoop fragged himself. It wasn't a pleasant thought. Sometimes I suspect I'm my own 'wurst' enemy. Maybe she should have offered me something to eat. Everyone knows dwarves love to take sausage.
I had done some homework. Dom was supposedly a big wheel fixer. Male, Age 24, no fragging descriptions so I wouldn't know the slag if he kissed me on the hoop. The latest version of the Playtoy set, Mr Huge Heftnuts himself. Didn't have an ounce of compassion or mercy and only interested in cold hard NuYen. Probably had farking Drassel on fragging retainer to get him off anything laid on his doorstep. From his history he seemed like the type.
I was beginning to think I would get more action and NuYen around here if I took off my clothes and shagged my scruffy UGLY ass onto the stage and did a pole dance. That thought was not only revolting to me but would have gagged a maggot. Maybe the customers would have paid me to leave.
I looked around. I knew I was being watched. Let them look. They couldn't read my mind. I was cool, alert and cranked up out on the pointy end. All they saw was a dwarf about 3' 3" tall, very skinny. OK so I don't eat well, sue me. Dark hair looking like I cut it with a dull knife, which I had. Black brooding, beady eyes that look like they came off some Cross Eyed Bear! What you could see of my skin was tanned and wrinkled, part of the dermal sheath. So sue me I can't afford the best and it shows through my malnourished hide. The hair hides my face real good and makes a dandy insulation and warmer on colds nights. The eyes have absolutely no expression. I wondered what I would look like cleaned up.
I had on third hand and patched clothing with a trench coat all armored of course. They had been patched so many times I looked like those old court jesters, what they called a fool in motley. It's the way I felt most of the time anyway. I knew I should have taken that drink from the broad. She would have probably charged me five times it's worth and then drugged me and ripped me off. I would have woke up looking like a furry bear with no clothes and Mort's shock baton stuck up my hoop. Who knows it might be a good look for me, but I wasn't eager to try it out. This place was typical, more hurry up and wait while they tried to figure out what the frag I was doing here. I decided to clue them. I was waiting for money. I got up and walked into the kitchen.
Would you believe the cook was a fragging ELF. He had himself a whole crew of mixed breeds and they were obviously getting ready for the evening dinner crowd. The fragger actually put his hands on his scrawny hips, "What are YOU DOING in here?"
I almost snickered as I went into the act. I cringed, I mad hand scrubbing motions, I whined, "I was sent here."
The doufous never gave it another thought. If I had gotten through this much security someone must have sent me, hence I must belong here. His logic was impeccable. "You must be the additional help. They never send enough help and then look what they do send. I wish Mr Dom would stop worrying about the whores out front and consider MY position." He glared at me. "Well don't stand around, dolt, get over to the sink and start scrubbing those pots and pans. Mind you use HOT water and plenty of steel wool and soap. I want those pans shining or I'll have your Hoop!"
"But Sir!" I exclaimed most piteously, "I was told that you were to FEED me first and give me a weeks pay in advance before I started so I could get decent apparel."
The doufous sighed, "Why does this always happen to me? Go get started I'll have someone bring over food you can eat while scrubbing, as for the money, I'll give you a note for the accounting people and you can get it when your shift is over. Don't worry about clothes now, you won't be leaving the sink."
I smiled and whined Thanking him profusely and then got to work. I was determined I was going to make some money out of this. I wondered how long though DUM-DUM was going to let me run around here without doing anything. He wasn't going to learn much from me this way. I smiled like Drassel seeing big contract. I wondered how much Dom Dom paid his pot scrubbers by the week. Maybe I could turn this into a permanent job for a while, until something better came along.