2 – Fixer

Addie felt a little nervous walking into the Ninety-Nine. It was a club she’d heard of, but she’d always associated it with dangerous people like banger shot-callers, mercs who took contracts for corpo-sec, and, of course, runners. Runner—the term brought to mind people in shadows, slipping past security, carrying contraband, or trying to find it.

She always thought of runners as dangerous people living on the edge, taking high-risk jobs, and hoping for the big payday that would propel them to the next level. It was a subculture she’d tried hard to avoid, mainly because she’d been so focused on her dream of exposing corruption through freelance journalism. Things were different now, though.

Now, Addie was trying to be one of those runners—those operatives—and she was learning that the things they got up to weren’t always bad news. They weren’t always stealing or smuggling. In fact, more often than not, they were fighting the good fight, using their talents to do what others couldn’t: stand up to the corpos. Not always, of course. She’d gotten her initial impression for a reason. Plenty of SOA operatives worked for the corpos. They were the mercenary type—the kind of person Tony used to be. She hoped so, at least.

Walking behind him, his tall, broad shoulders wrapped in the dark fabric of the jacket she’d gotten him, she felt something she couldn’t remember ever feeling. She felt cool. She felt like she, by virtue of her association with him, could stand up straight and look people in the eye. She didn’t have to shrink into herself and try to avoid notice when they walked into the dimly lit club with its shadowy booths and neon underglows.

Of course, her new jacket certainly helped with the cool factor. She loved how it bulked her up and how its collar rose almost to her ears, giving her some shelter from wandering eyes. She loved the styling and the fact that the material was smart and could harden to deflect…all sorts of things. Her perfect little needler tucked snugly inside her waistband might have been a confidence booster, too, though she probably wouldn’t admit it out loud. No, she was happy to give Tony most of the credit for their “coolness.”

He walked like a panther on the prowl, his chrome eye glowing a baleful orange in the dim lighting. He had a predatory look to him—the way his dark brows angled down over his eyes, and he was constantly scanning any environment he passed through. He kept his hands loose by his side, and Addie knew that was a sign of his heightened readiness because his preference was always to slouch with hands in pockets.

When they came in, the guy at the door had scanned them, and Addie had been afraid they’d be turned away with their guns, but he just pointed to a sign with two rules: no fights and no visible weapons. She thought the second rule was strange. Why would it matter if they were visible or not? When she voiced the question, Tony had shrugged, saying, “If people see weapons, it makes ’em nervous, and nervous people tend to make dumb decisions.”

As Tony approached the bar, Addie looked around. Even though the night was early, there were a dozen or more people in the bar area, and she could see quite a few of the booths on the far side of the empty dance floor were occupied. She touched a blinking icon on her AUI, and the bar’s music began to play in her ears. It didn’t have much depth, thanks to her cheap audio augs, but it made the head bobs and tapping toes she saw around the bar make a lot more sense.

The most remarkable thing about the space was the dance floor. It was made of CrystalGlass—the whole thing—and it pulsed with the music, shifting between smooth, flowing neon waves and reactive beatsync visuals. Addie looked up as Tony cleared his throat.

“Yo,” he said, tapping his mechanical knuckles on the bar. “Looking for Torque.”

The bartender—a slender man in a neat, buttoned-up white shirt with a chrome lower jaw and two bright, turquoise LED eyes—looked up from sorting olives and gave Tony a once-over. “Torque’s on the second floor. Look for his muscle standing outside one of the lounges. He’s a big bald guy with a rattler for a left arm.”

Tony nodded and, with a glance at Addie, started toward the indigo, neon-lit stairs. She hurried after him, and when they were alone on the staircase, she whispered in their open comm channel, “What’s a rattler?”

“Means his arm isn’t a human-shaped limb. It’s like a, uh, turret. Could be one machine gun or multiple types of guns.”

“Thought no visible guns were allowed!”

Tony snorted and shrugged. “Yeah, they must make exceptions for some people.” He continued up the steps, and Addie followed. It was a wide staircase with shallow steps, and several clubgoers hurried past on their left while Tony took his time. Addie figured he was taking it easy, trying to project that unhurried “cool factor” he tended to cultivate.

When they entered the dim upstairs hallway, Addie saw Torque’s guard right away. Just as the bartender had promised, the “muscle” was big, bald, and sported a mechanical arm with a long, fat barrel where his wrist should be. Moreover, his shoulder bulged up beside his head into a metallic, rectangular container that, to Addie, looked like an ammunition box. She was no expert, but she wondered at the wisdom of having a box of bullets next to your head during a firefight.

Tony walked confidently up to the man, and Addie noted that Torque’s muscle didn’t lift the barrel of his arm. He glared at Tony from behind his metallic visor, though, and grunted, “What?”

Tony shrugged. “Here to see Torque. We have an appointment.”

“Names?”

“Shepherd and Ember.” Tony jerked his thumb at Addie when he said “Ember,” and she felt her heart rate quicken like she was trying to get away with something.

“Sec,” the big man grunted. Tony nodded, looked over his shoulder, and tossed Addie a reassuring smile. “All right,” the guard rumbled. “You’re good. Keep your hands visible while you’re in there, and don’t do anything stupid.” He tapped his visor. “I’ve got eyes in the room, and I can smoke you through the door or walls. Clear?”

“Crystal.” Tony nodded.

The muscle turned and tapped the keypad by the door, and it slid open, revealing a room just marginally brighter than the shadowy hallway. Tony walked through, and Addie hurried after him. The “lounge” was just large enough to accommodate a small, horseshoe-shaped booth to the right and, on the left, another smaller table and two chairs. A woman sat at the small table. Incongruously, she wore an ill-fitting business suit and was busy tapping away at the elements of her AUI, her eyes flickering with lights.

“Over here. Grab a seat,” a deep voice commanded, and Tony moved toward the booth. As he stepped out from in front of her, Addie saw a large, overweight man with dark skin sitting on the booth's far side. He wore a peach-colored silk shirt and kept his hand busy, flicking open and closing a golden lighter. She couldn’t see his eyes because, even in the dim lighting, they were covered with blue-tinted, oversized, round-lensed sunglasses.

“So, the infamous Shepherd, huh? I’ve seen you in action, buddy—only reason I took this meeting for a no-name fresh-start.”

“Yeah?” Tony chuckled and stood near the booth, motioning with his eyes for Addie to slide in ahead of him. She didn’t argue; if trouble came through the door, it would be smarter for him to be ready to jump up. Torque turned those big blue lenses on her as she sat down on the stiff, well-patched plastic cushion.

“And Ember, hmm? Haven’t heard anything about you, doll, but—”

“Don’t call her that,” Tony interrupted. Addie felt a flush of embarrassment and, infuriatingly, a flicker of satisfaction. Damn it, she didn’t need defending—but she wasn’t about to tell Tony to stop.

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“My bad, Shep,” Torque chuckled. “So, Miss Ember, what can you tell me about yourself? I’m only asking ’cause you’re a blank page on the SOA database. At least I know Shep here can handle himself in a tussle.”

Tony had been over this part with her. As much as she hated it, she had to talk herself up. As she finished scooting into the booth, Addie nodded and turned to regard the fixer. "Yeah, you know that ’cause of my drone footage. I’m good with recon—real-time data feeds, high-altitude surveillance, and tracking targets without them knowing they’re being watched. I don’t just pilot drones like any kid with a joystick—when I’m flying, it’s like it’s a part of me."

She leaned forward slightly, keeping her tone casual but firm, trying to hide that deep down, she knew she was utterly full of baloney. "I put together ops that don’t end in a bloodbath. I handle logistics, contingencies, and weak points before they become problems. And when things get messy, I know how to move unseen, get intel where it doesn’t belong, and make sure my crew has the upper hand."

She tapped the table lightly with two fingers, gathering a breath to spew forth the last part of her rehearsed spiel. "Just because I haven’t been operating through SOA doesn’t mean I’m a nobody. You haven’t heard of me because I don’t make noise. I don’t get caught. And if you’re smart, that’s exactly the kind of operator you want in your network."

Torque nodded, his lips spreading to reveal brilliant white teeth. “Damn, she knows how to sell herself at least. Can’t argue with that. Well, time will tell, d—” He glanced at Tony and held up one of his big, ring-bedecked hands. “Miss Ember. I wouldn’t have called you two to a meeting if I wasn’t going to give you a shot. I’ve got a few jobs where, if you blow the fuse, it ain’t going to ruin my rep.”

Tony’s leg shifted under the table, his knee brushing against hers, and Addie felt absurdly pleased by the closeness. He nodded at Torque and, in typical Tony fashion, grunted, “Yeah?”

“That’s right. You down for some grunt work until I get to know you two a little bit?”

Tony glanced at Addie, and she did her part, affecting an almost uninterested shrug. “Depends on the payday. I can make grunt-work money filming weddings.”

Torque chuckled, nodding. “Right, I get it. Don’t worry; Torque doesn’t broker jobs that pay peanuts. These might be easy, low-risk affairs, but they’re important enough to garner my interest. Get me?”

This time, Tony answered, “We get you. So? What you got for us?”

“Okay, listen. Shepherd, if done right, this job shouldn’t require your talents. I’m sure Ember wants you along, though, in case things go sideways—always a possibility.”

Tony nudged her knee with his, and Addie straightened up, leaning toward Torque. “I’m listening.”

“So, before I start naming any names, you think you’re cut out for covert surveillance, yeah?” When Addie nodded, he continued, “So there’s a mid-tier corporation in this district—not Boxer, but one of their subsidiaries. They’ve got a certain executive who’s been getting too close to someone he shouldn’t—a spy from a rival corp in District Eighteen. Need you to get footage of their meeting. Need recordings of their comms or, if you can get close enough, their voices. You game?”

Addie looked at Tony, and when her eyes locked onto his silver one, he gave her the barest of nods. She turned back to Torque. “We can do that.”

“Okay. Contracts before we talk names.” He glanced at the woman sitting at the smaller table, and Addie realized she’d nearly forgotten the suit-wearing woman was there. “Cyan. Send ’em over.”

“Incoming,” the woman replied in a sing-song voice.

“Addie,” JJ announced, “a contract file has arrived marked priority.”

Addie ignored him and selected the blinking icon on her AUI. A window expanded in her vision with the contract language:

STANDARD SOA AGREEMENT – COVERT SURVEILLANCE CONTRACT

Contract ID: SOA-6718A22

Issuer: SOA Fixer ID: 9611 – Torque

Operator(s): Shepherd, SOA Operator ID: 26778 & Ember, SOA Operator ID: 26779

1. Mission Scope

The Operator(s) are contracted to conduct covert surveillance on Subject A, a mid-tier corporate executive employed by Subsidiary X within District Seventeen. The objective is to obtain visual and audio evidence of Subject A’s suspected interaction with Subject B, an individual affiliated with a rival corporate entity within neighboring District Eighteen.

Subject and entity names are to be delivered upon contract acceptance.

2. Deliverables

The Operator(s) must provide:

Photographic and/or video footage of the interaction between Subject A and Subject B.

Audio recordings of any communications between the two subjects.

3. Operational Conditions

Operator(s) must not engage or otherwise reveal their presence to Subject A or Subject B.

Operator(s) assume full responsibility for their own safety and discretion in the field.

If compromised, Operator(s) are expected to disengage immediately and avoid confrontation.

4. Payment Terms

Base Compensation: 2,700 Sol-bits upon successful delivery of contract deliverables.

Per Diem Stipend: 100 Sol-bits per operational day, capped at five days.

Performance Bonus: Additional 500 Sol-bits if comms interception provides actionable intelligence.

5. Delivery Terms

All deliverables must be securely transmitted to the Issuer via SOA-approved encrypted channels.

Deadline: 72 hours from contract acceptance.

Failure to meet deadlines without prior renegotiation may result in forfeiture of payment.

6. Confidentiality & Non-Disclosure

The Operator(s) agree not to disclose the existence of this contract, its objectives, or any acquired intelligence to any third party not authorized by the Issuer.

SOA-standard anti-leak clauses apply, including payment forfeiture and blacklist penalties for breaches.

7. Acceptance & Execution

By selecting "Accept Contract," the Operator(s) acknowledge their understanding and agreement to the terms outlined herein. Upon acceptance, this contract is binding under SOA regulations and enforceable within the Operator Network.

Addie read the contract, and it must have taken longer than Tony because she was still looking at section six when he said, “This looks good, but we’re going to need an advance on the payment.” Addie fought to keep a frown off her face, a little bothered that he’d agreed without even looking at her.

“Not something I do—” Torque started to say, but Tony interrupted.

“You can put a clause in that we’ll repay the advance if we fail. It’s just that Ember needs a piece of equipment if you want this done right, and we need the scratch to make it happen.” Torque didn’t answer for a long moment; he just stared at Tony through those dark lenses. Tony must have felt the weight of the silence because he said, “Look. What’s a thousand bits to find out if you can trust a couple of operators? You work with us, and we’re going to become your top money-makers. Count on it.”

“Heh.” Torque chuckled and thumped his fist on the table. “You heard him, Cyan. Alter the contract.”

Tony looked at Addie and arched an eyebrow. “Cool?”

Addie smiled, her earlier twinge of irritation at not being consulted almost entirely forgotten. “Yep, cool.”

“New contract incoming,” Cyan said in her strange, breathy, sing-song voice.

Addie looked it over, saw Tony's requested change, and, without further hesitation, accepted it, stamping it with her digital signature. She immediately got another message indicating that Tony and Torque had also accepted the contract. When she looked at the final draft, she saw that the “X” and “Y” terms had been replaced by actual names. The company was Orlen Dynamics, the executive they were supposed to surveil was Fletcher Grames, and the mystery woman he was meeting was simply described as “Theresa X.”

“We don’t have a surname for the corpo spy?” she asked.

“Not a full name. This is all the client had. If more information comes my way, I’ll forward it.” Torque looked at Tony. “See your bit request. Forwarding it to Cyan. You’ll have your advance within the hour.”

Tony nodded. “Sounds good.” He bumped his knee against hers again. “Anything else, Ember?”

“Um”—Addie wondered if he expected her to say something in particular, but she couldn’t think of any pertinent questions—“no, I’m good. We’ll be in touch.”

“Perfecto.” Torque nodded toward the door. “I’ve got more appointments, so please, see your way out. Get yourselves a drink on your way to celebrate. Tell the bar to put ’em on my tab.”

Tony stood and moved to the door, waiting for Addie as she slid her way out of the booth. After she stood, she looked at Torque, smiled her most winning smile, and said, “Pleasure doing business, Mr. Torque.”

He grinned back at her and nodded. “The same to you, Miss Ember.”

Addie and Tony left, and neither said a word until they were halfway down the steps, when Tony sighed and shrugged. “Well, it’s not much, but it's more than we’d make working at Boxer for a couple of days. This is called paying our dues, Ads.”

“Oh?” Addie had been kind of excited about the job. “I think it’s fair, though. We just need to do a little snooping.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ve just got memories of some much bigger paydays I need to push aside, you know?”

“Sure, sure, Mr. Bigshot.”

Tony smirked and shook his head, jerking a thumb toward the bar as they reached the bottom of the stairway. “Wanna take him up on that drink?”

Addie almost said no automatically, but paused, her mouth halfway open. Why shouldn’t they? When would she be in a fancy club like this again with Tony? She supposed it could happen pretty often if things worked out for them, but that was no guarantee. “Yeah,” she said with a smile. “Why not?”

Tony looked at her for a long second, and she couldn’t quite read his expression. He wasn’t smiling, but he still looked amused somehow. Maybe it was the way the skin crinkled a little at the corner of his eye. After a moment, though, he dipped his chin approvingly. “Right on, Ember. Let’s order something expensive.”