Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Tested in Fire ❯ Chapter 2

Tested in Fire: New Humanity Part Two

Jack rode her motorcycle south down Granville to Hastings Street, turning right and then back tracking her route into town. 'There's more fliers around Vancouver,' she noted as a young man swept by not far above the street, 'than in Mission.'

For awhile Jack had been worried about losing her courier jobs to the fliers, but she had wised up fairly quickly. Fliers had to burn fuel to fly however their power really worked, and it was rough for them to go long distances. Even worse, they rarely could protect themselves other than just flying away. As long as she proved reliable, she'd keep her job.

Speedsters zipped by, leaving behind only gusts of wind in their wake. People walked the busy streets, some looking human, some anything but, all of them watching each other warily. The old hotel she wanted was near Main street, not far from the Chinatown enclave, and she climbed off the bike in front of the Victoria. A clean place, the last time she had been here, and the beer in the first floor bar was not too badly watered down.

After slinging her travel bag over her shoulder Jack ran a hand through her short, sandy brown hair as she walked up to the door. She stepped aside for a wolf, his gray fur thick and dirty, then she walked on to the counter that set into the wall. She noticed the black haired man standing there and found herself smiling in recognition, "Hey Max."

"Jack," Max Clark nodded with an answering smile. His hair was thinning a bit, and he looked like he had put on a few pounds, but other than that he hadn't changed much in the past few years. "The city's just like you said," he grinned.

"I didn't really expect you to move here from Fort Langley," Jack noted. She reached into her pocket, "How much for a room for the night?"

"Two nights for a gold mark," Max said. He tilted his head to the side, "I have to say this place is a lot more secure than other cities. Haven't been shot at for weeks."

"It's not a bad rate," Jack chuckled, setting the golden coin down on top of the counter, "does it come with dinner too?"

"Sorry to say it, but dinner's extra," Max picked up the coin, biting down to check and see it was real. "I see no one's tried to con you into taking loonies," he noted.

"Tried," Jack said dryly, "didn't work."

"It was Mayor Bannon right?" Max chuckled softly before adding, "Good for you." He gave her a thoughtful look and said, "You do look pretty worn out, Jack. Go take a rest, come down later and try the restaurant."

"We'll see," Jack gave him a casual wave as she took a key from a slot in the wall and headed up the stairs. The hallway was clean, the carpets worn thin but still crisp under her boots. The scent in the air was a mix of food, cleaning materials, and various kinds of human scents.

Jack found her room number and unlocked the door, entering cautiously. No one waited for her as she walked in, looking around the room carefully. The bed was neatly made, a dresser sitting beside it, and across was a small bookcase packed with battered paperbacks. Jack dropped her bag on a battered looking chair, slipping her jacket off in a smooth motion, leaving her gun in it's holster on. Nearby a telephone sat on the dresser, connecting to the wall by the standard cord.

"Huh," Jack picked up the receiver, blinking in surprise when she heard dialtone. "Looks like they got the phones running again," she mused aloud. She put the phone down and sat on the side of the bed, "Too bad I don't know anyone's phone number."

Reaching down Jack pulled each of her leather riding boots off, the thick leather thumping loudly as they each hit the floor. Her white T-shirt clung to her body with sweat as she lay back on the bed, leaving her dusty jeans on as she rested on top of the covers. She brought her arm over her eyes, puffing out a soft sigh.

Suddenly, the telephone rang out into the quiet. Jack looked at it sourly with one eye and it dared to ring out once again. Jack pushed herself back up to a sitting position, reaching out to grab the receiver and growl, "Yes?"

"Ah, sorry to bother you," Max really did sound apologetic as he continued, "but there's several men waiting to see you."

Jack blinked, hearing the fear in his tone of voice. "I'll be down in a moment," she offered quickly, reaching down to grab at her boots.

"Make it quick," Max said weakly.

Jack pulled her boots on and grabbed at her jacket to conceal her holstered gun. 'Who could I have annoyed that quickly?' Jack wondered, making her way down the hallway and looking down at the bottom of the stairs where three men were standing by the counter.

"Something I can do for you?" Jack asked as she walked towards them. All three looked like hired muscle, big men who could bend metal just by coughing. They fanned out almost as soon as she appeared, moving to surround her.

"The Mayor want you to deliver a message back to Mission City council," the tallest rumbled, his skin lightly furred an off brown.

"Which one?" Jack shot back irritably, "There's so many in Vancouver it's hard to keep track."

Max made an odd squeaking sound in the back of his throat, then the balding manager ducked behind his counter. 'Good,' Jack thought, 'keeps him out of the line of fire.'

"Mayor Bannon," the second growled, a wicked looking scar running down the side of his face. Despite his gruff manner a slight smile twitched at his lips, clearly he found what she just said amusing, too.

"I'm not planning any more courier trips for at least a few weeks," Jack said to the two of them firmly, "he can ask me then."

"He want's the message delivered now," and the furry goon made the mistake of trying to grab at her arm.

Jack slid free and in one smooth motion hammered her fist into his gut. Despite her thin frame there was a lot of power in the blow and he folded most satisfactorily. As his head went down Jack swung upwards with her other hand and grinned as she heard his nose break with a wet crack.

It was over in moments, the fellow dropping to the ground out cold at Jack's feet. "Why you," the previously silent goon moved forward only to find himself staring into the pistol in Jack's hand.

"Are you going to try anything?" Jack calmly asked, looking over to where the scarred man stood waiting.

"You think I'm stupid?" he asked back. He looked over at his companion, "Back away from her slowly, buddy."

"We can take her, Mac," he growled, his hands beginning to glow eerily.

Mac rolled his eyes, "Did you do any looking into this lady before we came here? This is Jack Bloody Scott, the lady who killed the twelve assassins who were after the Shogun with her bare hands. I'm not suicidal, man!"

Jack puffed out a breath, "It was ten, not twelve, and I would have thought that story would have died off by now."

"The Shogun tends to remind people," Mac said wryly.

The other muscle looked visibly pale, the odd light dying quickly. "Ah," he took a step backward, holding up his hands, "could we maybe forget about all of this?"

"Of course," Jack smoothly put her pistol away. "I'm going to assume you three tried to grab me on your own initiative, not on orders from Bannon, or else I'd have to report this to the courier's guild," she said crisply.

"It was all our idea," Mac said wryly.

"Right," she answered, irony in her voice. "You can also let Mayor Bannon know that I won't be doing any courier jobs for him again," she continued.

"He isn't going to like hearing that," the other man noted, hefting their unconscious companion up with difficulty.

Jack smiled coldly, "You're breaking my heart."

Mac took the other side of the man and the three shuffled to the door. He looked back, "Nice to do business with a pro."

A few moments later Max stuck his head up from behind the counter, "Are they gone?"

"Yeah, they're gone," Jack said. She ran her hand through her hair and muttered, "I knew I should have stayed out in Mission."

To be continued...