From: ion@ocf.berkeley.edu (Iain Shigeoka)
Subject: STORY: Memories
Date: 15 Apr 92 20:06:48 GMT

Ok, a change of scenery to hopefully liven up the Chat and to
keep everyone (semi) interested in the Vulgar Unicorn and the
Justice story line i've been working on.  This is a short, one
post, story in an attempt to makeup for the elephantitis that
the Justice thing seems to be suffering from also (even this
stupid intro thing balloned into a full screen of ramblings).
Oh, and for you few who are following the Justice storyline,
there's alot more ready for posting, since i've teamed up with
a great guy from europe (I don't know if he wants his (real)
name known so i'll hold back on that announcement).  Anyhow,
alot more  of Crash, and Medea and Thom, with some new
characters and (hopefully) better writing forthcoming.  Watch
for it.

As usual, flames, criticisms, or any communication from anyone
would be HIGHLY appreciated.  Send it to ion@ocf.berkeley.edu
or me128-bw@euler.berkeley.edu if that doesn't work.  No repro-
duction with out express written consent...[insert rest of
legal stuff here].  Oh, and feel free to join in if
anything here interests you.  I really like the interactive
authorship sort of thing so jump aboard!...and enjoy.

****************************************************************
MEMORIES:  No one can hurt you like the ones you love...

by Iain Shigeoka, 1992 (copyright)



	Jay watched as the two red and white Honda street cycles
screamed away from him, their tail lights weaving back forth in
the empty night street.  He sat there in his custom RX-7, for an
eternal second of deep internal concentration, listening
meditatively to the deep rumble of the Mazda rotary engine.
Ultimately patient, he lightly fingered the extreme short throw
shifter and adjusted his body slightly in the snug fit of the six
point safety harness and the bucket seat.  The tail lights faded,
faded until Jay could barely make them out through the napalm
burning on the windshield.  In the short time he sat there the
napalm was beading up on the No-Stick windshield and dribbling
off.

	The only sign that Jay had finally found his balance again
was the slightest twitch of his mouth.  The killing grin.  And
with the grin, Jay hit the revs and dropped the clutch...

	Four minutes to catch up to them.  Twelve seconds and one
was dead, slamming through the engine block of a Ford truck in
cross traffic.  Three hundred yards of flame and screaming metal,
it was beautiful.  Everything was beautiful at one hundred twenty
miles an hour through city streets.  The traffic lights blurred
into lines of colour over his head as he nudged up to the second
cycle.  The traffic lights seemed to be visually chanting an
ancient rhythm... red light, red light, red light, green light,
red, red, green green red green red greenredredredgreen.  One
minute after his friend bought it, the second hit the parking
meters on the right side of the street, and parts of his body
went ballistic through the most of the store fronts for half a
block.

	Jay went down through the gear box.  Blip, blip, blip heel
and toe shifting down.

	*What the hell am I doing?*  Jay wondered to himself.  He
tried to think back through his recent past.  A blur of biz,
cash, and faces flashed through his memory.  He couldn't figure
out his own actions after Grig had died.  He'd been feeling like
he was running sprints, day in and day out, never knowing where
the finish line was.  Speed without purpose or direction.  Biz
with nothing to show for it.  Jay wondered just for a moment, if
those two razor boys he'd just dusted had kids.  Did they have
mothers somewhere?  It was just useless mental torture to think
of it.  He shrugged it off with a visible shudder.

	Maybe he should just slow down a bit and figure out what he
was doing?  Yeah, maybe follow up on that soft lead he'd gotten
in the Pit from Dauber a few weeks ago?  It sounded good.
Make a few calls and set up a meet.  Slow down Jay boy and think
this through.  Make the calls.  Didn't they say it was a simple
data raid?  Full briefing through micro-chip.  Didn't need to
even talk to nobody.  Pick up the chip, do the job, drop off the
goods.  Open and closed.  No partners.  No dealing with unknowns.
A lot of time to think alone.  Yeah, make the call.  Jay reached
down and thumbed the cellular phone on.

	"Connect to number from d-base 'Pit contacts', search for
cross ref's during last month.  Uh, let's see, cross ref's are:
Dauber, soft lead, micro-chip, full briefing,..."

	"Match made and isolated....dialing."  The onboard computer
interrupted Jay.  He listened to the rings as he turned off the
main drag and headed south, putting distance between himself and
his latest rampage.

	"Yeah?"  A deep male voice answered the phone.

	"This is Jaybird.  I was speaking to Dauber, and I think I'm
your man."

	"Man for what?"

	"Come on.  Don't play with me, not tonight.  Meet me in two
hours at the Vulgar Unicorn."

	"Who did you say you were?"

	Jay hung up.  If these people were interested they'd be
there.  Two hours would be just enough time to take a shower,
grab a bite to eat, and get down to the Unicorn.

			*                       *                       *

	Jay peered slowly down both ends of the long, long alley.
Barely four feet wide, the alley went straight from one side of
the block to the other.  It was boxed in claustrophobically by a
large, five story concrete warehouse and the brick walls of the
Vulgar Unicorn.  Four years after the old Vulgar Unicorn had
burned down, Jay still couldn't get used to the weird entrance to
the rebuilt one.  An alley for chrissakes.  He couldn't blame
Mako though.  After all, having a car and three motorcycles go
crashing through your front door was a damn good reason NOT to
have your entry facing the street.

	The naked light bulb, hanging down just above the huge oak
doors of the Unicorn, flickered.  It was the only light in the
alley.  The door had an eerie feeling of being the only thing in
existence, with the darkness surrounding it like a suffocating
nothingness.  Flick, flicker, flicker.  Jay ran his fingers
lightly along the beautiful carving of the infamous vulgar
unicorn's horn... the one mounted on his head of course.  He
stepped in.

	The entry was placed about four feet above the floor of the
main bar area as if to help in making entrances as melodramatic
as they ought to be.  Jay paused at the threshold and scanned
tonight's crowd.  The main lounge was large, lined with booths
along the right wall and the beautiful brass railed, wooden bar
on the left.  Behind the bar was the large mirror and bottles
typical of any great drinking establishment.  Also behind the bar
was what made the Vulgar Unicorn unique, Mako.  He was a big man,
the hair on his face denser and almost as long as that wispy
brown cloud on his head.  He wore the stained, mostly white apron
he always did, his gut hanging out over it, like the double chin
on his bulldog face hung over his white t-shirt collar.  Jay gave
him a slight tilt of the head, Mako grunted in return and turned
back to his conversation with somebody at the bar.

	Tonight there were mostly deckers, some corp exec's doing
biz... or slumming, and a couple of flash samurai scattered
amongst the background crowd of dirtboys and easy's.  He looked
in the far corner booth, at the back right of the main lounge,
through the smoke and dim lights and caught the eye of L.T..
When L.T. saw he had Jay's attention he raised his left eyebrow
slightly.  Jay shook his head once slowly and stepped down onto
the main floor and started walking across the lounge.  Out of the
corner of his eye he could see L.T. signalling his whores to
leave him alone tonight.

	The back wall was split by a stairway going up and a ramp
going down.  Jay started up the stairs, he had biz tonight, no
time to spend chatting in the Pit.  On the Upstairs loft the
lighting was even lower than in the main lounge, as all the
ceiling lighting was hung below it on thick cables.  Each table
had several candles burning at it.

	Upstairs was for serious biz and privacy.  You found biz
downstairs, you made contacts in the Pit, and you finished the
deal Upstairs.  Jay took his usual booth in the corner near the
open railing that separated the Upstairs from the twenty-five
foot drop to the tables of the main lounge below.  A lot of
people preferred the dark recesses back in the far corners of the
Upstairs.  Even the candle light from the tables seemed to be
darker back there.  Jay liked to be able to look down at the main
lounge and keep an eye on the front door.

	A piercing giggle came from the Pit.  Jay flinched slightly
and waited, staring straight into the candles flickering at his
table.  One mississippi, two mississippi, three mississi... His
count was interrupted by a loud report.  Glock 9mm, just as he
had anticipated.  The powder was slightly wet or poorly packed.
Jay's head rattled off more stats as he let out a long breath he
hadn't known he had been holding.  A few more seconds passed then
Gig and Tiny appeared under the spot Jay sat, coming up the ramp
from the Pit into the main lounge.

	Gig and Tiny.  Jay couldn't suppress a slight grin.  Gig and
Tiny were the modern day Fafhard and Grey Mouser, slightly
screwed up like the rest of the world.  Gig was small, quick, and
wiry.  Tiny was huge, somewhere's over three hundred pounds of
huge, with just enough fat covering his immense musculature to
make him resemble a massive teddy bear... but not enough so he
looked safe and cuddly.  One liked random violence and
destruction and the other had the wits and cunning to outfox the
devil himself.  That's where the comparison ends.  Tiny for
starters is the cunning one.  Gig, or Giggles if you had a death
wish, was slightly uncorked.  Everyone in the Unicorn knew that
when Gig laughed, it was death itself, mocking the life it was
about to consume.  The two of them ran the little bar in the Pit
and kept things on the level when it got a little wired.

	Tiny had a body draped over his shoulder, and as he passed
from under Jay, he could see a rivulet of crimson starting to
stain the back of Tiny's shirt.

	Gig was following close behind, hopping from one foot to the
other, wiping his forehead with the Glock.  Jay could barely pick
up their conversation, a feat which ordinarily would be
impossible without some sort of hardware or wetware enhancement,
if it weren't for the complete silence which had fallen
throughout the Vulgar Unicorn when Gig's insane giggle had ripped
through the buzz of biz.  Those few newbies who didn't
immediately catch on had joined the silence when the Glock had
gone off.

	"Aw com' on Tiny.  I didn' mean notin'", Gig pleaded dancing
around Tiny in nervous circles.  Gig's mania's often flashed from
adrenal blitzkriegs to piss-in-your-pants fright when Tiny
disapproved.  All eyes watched the Glock waving spasmatically.
Tiny silently strode across the lounge towards the bar and Mako.

	"Gee, Tiny.  Do ya gotta tell Mako?  Cain't dis be a secret
thing?"

	"Gig.  I believe Mako already knows about your little
accident."  Tiny's voice had a richly mellow tone.  He spoke
carefully, with slow concise enunciation of every sound.  It's
civility was chilling.

	"Cain't dis be anodder secret.  Purty please Tiny.  A secret
like that odder guy we stuffed down the incinerator in Brooklyn."
Tiny stopped walking.  He narrowed his eyes and stared hard into
Gig's puppy dog eyes.  Gig's eyes flashed open in horror.  The
whites shown all around them.

	"ah God, Tiny.  I didn't mean ta..."  Gig was jerking
around, gaping at all the staring eyes around him at once.
Panic.  Pure adrenalin.  Several old timers, including Jay began
searching for cover.  Gig turned to the person closest to him, a
dirtboy.  Jay recognized the kid.  Barely thirteen and dying to
get real, he hung out at the Unicorn a lot.  "did ya hear what i
said?"

	The kid wasn't stupid.  His adams apple bobbed up and down
as he nervously stuttered then weakly shook his head and almost
cried, "N-n-no man.  I wasn't listening at all."

	"Good good good", Gig leaned down with the Glock waving to
and fro, "I don't want no one to hear none of my secrets I was
sayin'.  Now if you hear somebuddy sayin' they heard my secret
you tell Gig OK?  You just keep quiet and tell Gig.  Quiet.
Shhhhhh."  Gig had the Glock up against his lips.  The dirtboy's
eyes never left the Glock that wavered three inches in front of
his nose.  Even the spittle from Gig's hushing didn't make the
kid flinch.

	Tiny's voice diffused the tension, "Gig, please accompany
me." Gig jerked his head up at his name.  He turned back once
more to the dirtboy and gave one last quick "shhhh" then, with a
odd grin on his face, ran to join Tiny who had reached the bar.
The dirtboy allowed himself to wipe the slick of sweat that ran
across his face.  He was slightly shaking and one of the other
dirtboys at the same table handed the kid his drink.

	Mako and Tiny whispered, while Gig still absently waving the
damn Glock around with his left hand, his right hand jingling the
earrings on the dead man's head.  Gig had become engrossed in
watching the mixing of gleaming silver and crimson blood.  A
decision seemed to have been made as Mako reached down under the bar
counter and pulled out the old-fashion phone stored there.  Jay
still marveled at that phone.  Imagine, all phones used to be
PHYSICALLY attached to the wall jack somehow.  Amazing.

	Several patrons silently got up and began to leave.  Jay
heard the light scrape as the back door in the Pit also opened
and closed.  The police were coming to pick up the body and ask
questions.  Jay wondered if the deal would still go down.  He
decided to wait and see.

	Forty-five minutes later the police arrived, breaking up the
conversation in the Vulgar Unicorn once again.  In ten minutes
they left with the body and a handful of halfheartedly taken
notes.  Several patrons from in the Pit had vouched for Gig's
claim of self-defense and Mako guaranteed Gig would stick around
if further questions were needed.  As the police left, a man in a
long black overcoat approached Jay's table from the recesses of
one of the darkened corners of the Upstairs.  Jay eyed him
carefully as the man slowly placed both hands on the table and
sat down.

	"Well, that certainly was interesting."  The man began.  He
was of average height, short black hair with too much grease in
it, a scar across his left temple.

	"Yes, it was.  Do you mind," Jay said staring the man in the
eye, "I'm expecting on doing some biz tonight."

	"Oh, sorry.  I'll let you have your table to yourself in a
second.  I just want to know if you have a collection?"  The man
was leaning closer rather than leaving.  Jay was beginning to get
slightly annoyed.

	"I don't understand."

	"A collection.  Do you collect anything?"  The stranger's
eyes were starting to get that look Jay saw in too many others on
the streets... mania.

	"No.  Now if you would..."

	"Ah just wondering.  If you ever start to collect give me a
ring."  The man got up and dug a business card out of his pocket.
Jay took it just to get rid of the guy.  The man went downstairs
and out the door.  Jay glanced over the card. "The collection"
and a phone number was all that graced the card.  Jay was about
to torch it in one of the candles when he noticed one of the
corners was bent down slightly.  Jay straightened it and saw the
embedded square outlined in the card.  That damn fruit cake was
his contact?  Maybe this deal wasn't so sweet after all.

	Jay sighed heavily then grabbed some of the beer nuts from
the bowl on his table and got up to leave the Vulgar Unicorn.  Time
to get to work.

			*                       *                       *

	Five hundred miles, two guns, three cars, a lot of sweat,
and too much of his own blood later, Jay was back in the Vulgar
Unicorn.  A small metal briefcase leaned against his left leg as
he sat in his usual Upstairs spot waiting for his collector/fruit
cake contact.  Thirty minutes late, the fruit cake arrived.

	"Your call came a little earlier than we had expected."
There was a new cut on the man's chin that looked like it would
leave a scar.

	"Yes, I was thinking I should get a bonus for prompt
delivery."  Jay made sure the sarcasm was as thick as the goop in
the man's hair as he slid the briefcase containing twenty CD's
under the table to the man.

	"You're curious aren't you?"  The man had an idiotic grin on
his face that cried out for Jay's fist.  Biz first.

	"Curious?"

	"You're wondering what it is I collect."

	"No I'm not.  I AM getting a little impatient with this
whole game here.  Do you need anything else, or is that it?"

	"You are curious.  I can tell."

	Jay gritted his teeth and breathed deeply.  Biz first.  Let
the fruit cake tell his story and get this over with.

	"Alright, I'm curious.  What do you collect?"

	"See, I told you, you do want to know."

	Jay just stared with dead eyes at the man.  His hate was
under tight control, buried deep down.  Biz first.  The man
seemed oblivious to the war of control going on before him.  He
scooted over to the seat next to Jay and leaned close.  Jay
clenched the edge of his chair and forced himself to stay where
he was.  The man slowly grabbed his black trench coat and opened
it up.

	Jay was expecting thousands of things.  Knives, guns, ears,
thumbs, the man being naked under that trench coat, and any of a
billion other macho, suppressed weakness, perverted things.
Instead, the inside of the coat was lined with rows upon neat
rows of little gold circles with occasional silver ones.  The
little circles were obviously paired up.  Most were plain but
some had little things on them. What were they?  Rings?

	Jay's expression must have given away his surprise.  The man
leaned close to Jay grinning like a little boy sharing his
daddy's Playboy's with his friends.

	"What are those?  Rings of some kind?"

	"Yes... rings.  Do you know what kind of rings?"  The man
was so goddamn smug Jay's fist jumped slightly by pure reflex.
Jay just stared at the man, refusing to play the game.  Slightly
disappointed, the man sighed and began to close his trench coat
around himself.

	"Wedding rings."  The man said quietly.

	"What?"  Jay was taken back.  The man mistook Jay's reaction
for enthusiasm.

	"Wedding rings.", He opened up his trench coat again, "Every
single one is a complete pair.  I try to space each ring in a set
apart for the challenge, adding one day for each pair I get.
This last one,", he paused and poked at one of the fifteen or so
solitary rings sewed into his trench coat nearing the bottom of
the left side, "This one here has one hundred and thirteen days
on it... only 74 days to go and I can go out and complete another
set."

	Jay had begun to shake when the man had confirmed what Jay
refused to hear.  Wedding rings.  It wasn't as if marriage was
some sanctified institution these days.  In fact, it was a joke
in most cases, but still, this perversion managed to strike a
dissonate cord in Jay's soul.  He wanted to rip this man's head
off.  He wanted to scream and he wanted to cry in the soft
embrace of L.T.'s whores.  What the hell was the world coming to
when people like this ran the world?  His vision was swimming
before him and Jay had a sudden fear.  What if I start to giggle?
Why the hell was this bothering him so much?  He'd seen worse
hadn't he?  Ten year old kids, collecting ears in the aftermath
of riots back in '23.  Then, he didn't know who to blame, the kids,
the absent parents, the world...  Looking into the man's twisted
features, Jay still couldn't figure out who to blame.  At least
now there was a target.

	The man was watching Jay's face intently, probably in
search of a kindred spirit.  There was no way he could miss the
revulsion and hatred that flashed across Jay's face.  His look of
glee quickly turned into that of anger and fear.

	"Hey, buddy."  He was cozying up and hoarsly whispering
to Jay.  Jay's right cheek twitched slightly when the man's fetid
breath brushed over it.  No other reactions. "You better damn
well, remember your place in this world.  You fuck with me and I
promise you there will be hell to pay.  Now you just keep this
quiet or I swear I'll see to it you never do biz again."  The
man was looking more scared than mad now.

	Grig, Jay's long dead mentor, suddenly seemed to be there
next to Jay, just like in the good old days.  "Business first Jay.
When you're doing biz, nothing else matters but the biz.  Nothing
is personal, and nothing matters except the biz.  Just work the
biz." he seemed to whisper in that goofy New York accent he had.

	"Fuck off Grig."  Jay whispered.  He took another deep
breath and looked around.  The man was carefully wrapping his
trench coat with all those damn rings around himself again.

	"Are we doing more biz or is this it?"  Jay was surprised at
how normal his voice sounded.

	"That's it for now chummer.  I'll be sure to keep your
number handy though.  You do good work."  The man got up with the
briefcase.  He had a smug grin on his face now.  That look that
said he thought he had things under control.  Jay glared back but
said nothing.  The man opened his mouth to add another threat, then
thought better of it and walked downstairs.

	OK Jay-boy.  Just pickup the briefcase the man left by his
chair and walk out.  Go home.  No, go out for a while.  Europe?
Asia?  No, it's time to visit New York again.  Recharge.  "Just don't
do nothing stupid kid."  .... Grig.  Damn you Grig.  Just sit
tight Jay-boy and cool off.  Just wait.  Cool off and think.  One
mississippi, two mississippi, three missi... Fuck. He couldn't
wait any longer.

	Jay grabbed up the briefcase the man left and walked out of
the Unicorn.  Half way across the lounge he remembered something
and went back to the bar, nodded at Mako and grabbed a handful of
beer nuts with his free hand.  Outside the door, for once Los
Angeles gave Jay a break.  The surprisingly cool and almost clear
air was heaven.  Suddenly up the alley way there was a loud yell
and then a small squeak.

	Jay proceeded cautiously towards the sound.  Ahead, he spied
the man with the steel brief case clutched protectively by his
chest.  He was stomping on something small against the alley wall.

	"Hey, what's going on."  The man turned to face Jay.  There
was a small string of spittle hanging from the corner of his
mouth.  He stared at Jay for two long seconds then, without a
word turned and continued to walk down the alley towards the
street.  Jay pulled up close to the spot the man had stomped.
Crushed to the wall was a rat, it's body broken almost in two.
It's guts were smeared across the alley floor.  Guts with
partially digested beer nuts.  Jay stood, quickly dropping the
briefcase with the money to the ground with a hollow thud.

	The man, who had almost reached the street, turned, to see
the business end of a truly ancient Colt Peacemaker.  One
mississippi:  Grig was screaming in Jay's head, "The biz man.
You're going to blow your rep for a fuckin' rat?  Nobody gives a
fuck about the fuckin' rat or the fuckin' wedding rings or
nothing."  In his mind's eye, Jay could only see Grig strung up
to that pole, could only feel the chain link fence that cut him off
from the room and Grig, could smell the fear... his fear and he only
heard Grig yelling at him, in the same angry tones.

	Two mississippi:  Suddenly, Grig magically switched to his
teaching voice, the voice that made Jay accidentally call Grig
"Dad", "Nobody cares about you, Jay, except you.  Even me.  I can
only care about you sometimes.  Now cool down and think.  You've
gotta look out for yourself.  Think about the biz.  You can't
waste your rep here for rats or for some pervert.  Nobody cares
about you.  Nobody cares about the wedding rings, and nobody for
sure cares about the rat."  Jay's vision swam.  Grig's body was
coming apart before his eyes and he just gripped that chain link
fence and watched.  Blood everywhere and Jay puked in silence.
He couldn't even scream.  He couldn't do a goddamn thing.  Maybe
it was more like he could have but he didn't.  Why didn't he do
anything?  Goddamn it Grig.  I would have done something,
anything, but...  Grig's voice echoed again through Jay's head.
Always saying the same thing that had been haunting him since
Grig had died, "Nobody cares..."

	Three Missi:  *you're wrong Grig, I care* .... Jay thought.
For a moment he could have sworn he heard a giggle, then... SLAM.
The explosion shocked Jay out of his trance.  He watched numbly as
the man crumpled to the sidewalk, unmoving in his black trench coat.

	Jay turned and walked back a couple paces to a small chink
between the concrete sections on the warehouse.  He brushed away the
dirt in front of the hole, and said goodbye, as he tenderly
piled up the beer nuts that he'd clutched in his left hand.

	Jay picked up both briefcases on his way out.
He was going to miss the Vulgar Unicorn, but right now he needed
out.  It was time for some changes.

	He also told himself he wouldn't be back, but the cruelly
grinning unicorn carved into the door knew better.


	*                       *                       *


	It took Jay longer than he thought it would to find the
other halves of those fifteen solitary rings.  He left LASD a lot
later than scheduled too, but traveling just as light as he'd
planned with only twenty four CD's as his luggage.  After all, it
was their money, in a twisted sense, and it was just beer nuts.


Iain Shigeoka, copyright 1992