Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Tested in Fire ❯ Chapter 7

Tested in Fire: New Humanity

Part seven

The cycle smoothly slid into the improvised gas station sitting there nearby Hastings and Commercial, the battered tanker truck resting on the empty industrial lot. Jack Scott climbed off her bile smoothly, her sandy brown hair falling into bright blue eyes as she scanned the area around her cautiously, ready to move if needed.

"Gasoline, Miss?" the older man asked, sitting on a battered chair by the hose connected to the back of the fuel tanker.

"How much is it?" Jack asked him warily, reaching into a inner pocket of her leather jacket for her money pouch.

"Gold mark," he shrugged, his white hair wild and messy. Not far behind three younger men stood guard, carrying heavy lead pipes in case anyone decided to just take the gas and not pay.

"Used to be half," Jack frowned. He took the hose and splashed a bit ion the ground, confirming for Jack that it really was gasoline, then once she gave him the coin he began to pump.

"Haven't seen you around," the older man noted as he pumped, "or that bike you're on. You just moved here?"

'Well well, someone who doesn't know me,' Jack thought, feeling pleasantly surprised. "Jack," she answered, "just moved back to town."

"Fred," he said as he drew the hose out, shaking a bit to make sure the last drops fell into her tank, "swing by again when you need more."

"Thanks," Jack gave a small smile as she screwed the cap back on then swung aboard, pulling out onto Hastings and headed west for downtown. It didn't take long to pass her temporary lodgings at the Victoria, then she slowed a bit as she reached Main and entered the Shogun's territory.

The old Woodwards building was only a street or two up Hastings, the building nearly taking up the next entire block. Once just a big store, it had been converted to a mix of housing, offices and storefronts back before the comet hit. Because of modern construction and reinforcement it had held up well to the years or rioting and madness, only the first floor had been badly damaged in the chaos.

Out front people lingered as Jack pulled up in her bike, watching her curiously as she got off. "Don't mess with the bike," she cautioned them all calmly as she strode to the entrance, "if you aren't lucky the booby trap can be lethal."

The manager was waiting as she went in, the same man she had known back in the old days. Mike's long brown hair was tied back, a few more lines creasing his face, but he still looked much the same. "About time you got here," he grumbled, turning to lead her to the stairs.

"Nice to see you, too," Jack answered, entirely unruffled by his abrasive manner.

"Hmph," he grumbled, stomping onward. Mike pushed the door open to the second floor, "You look like shit."

"So I lost some weight," Jack shrugged. They walked down the hall as she asked, "I was wondering if I could get my old office, and maybe the room I used to rent..."

Mike stopped cold, looking down at her in pure amusement. "I kept them both open, Jack," he answered with a smirk, "just like you left 'em." He barked a laugh, "Well, except for having a friend clean them up a bit, anyway."

"Wait a minute, why?" Jack blinked in surprise.

Mike barked a laugh, "Jack, you're an idiot. You saved my life twice," he started off suddenly, making Jack hurry to catch up, "not to mention helping my security hold off that idiot Bannon's people when they tried that territory snatch and grab."

"They were shooting at me, too," Jack shrugged uncomfortably.

"Whatever," Mike just shrugged before saying, "the place is yours if you want it, under same deal that we had before."

"Rent has to have gone up since then," Jack frowned up at him as she added firmly, "I want to be paying the going rate."

"Considering the tensions between Bannon and the Shogun this isn't the safest place," Mike answered with a sigh, "I can't really raise rates much."

"Bannon's ambitious," Jack agreed, thinking of her last courier trip.

"Here we go," Mike said as they reached the corner office.

The door had frosted glass, an indulgence Jack had paid for years back, with 'Jack Scott, Investigations, Negotiations, Problem Resolution' inscribed on it. She pulled her old keys from her pocket and slipped the right key in, smiling slightly when it opened with a soft click. The hinges were quiet, obviously oiled, and while it was a bit stale inside the place was spotlessly clean.

"Thanks," Jack said softly, her voice rough with emotion.

"I'll let you get settled in," Mike answered with a wry little smile, "come down to my office later if you change your mind." With that he was gone, striding away with a bounce to his step.

'I'd have to be a fool to change my mind about staying,' Jack thought, looking around fondly. The old carpet was comfortable as she ran her hand along the wall to the old filing cabinets. They rattled as they opened, empty as when she had left. The desk was battered but familiar, the dust that lingered swept away with a wave of her hand. Jack settled into her chair, swinging to sit behind her desk as she put her elbows on the scarred surface.

Outside the view was familiar, the street below and the older region of Vancouver just beyond. Gastown was mostly abandoned now, the old buildings burned and battered by riots and chaos, but they still had a sorrowful beauty to them. Out in the distance the ocean waited, battered but still serviceable docks bringing ships in from up and down the west coast.

"My home," Jack murmured as she got up, walking over to the other door.

She unlocked it too, walking into the large second office that she had converted to a set of sleeping quarters. A couch with a hideabed, mini kitchen and a battered computer/entertainment system were all as she had left them. With a happy sigh jack flopped down onto the couch, coughing in surprise as dust flew up around her.

"Not exactly how I left it," Jack choked, rushing over to a window and getting to open. "Going to need to do some dusting," she smiled wryly, listening to the noises of the street. Horses hooves, bicycles and the occasional motor vehicle rang out, mixed with the sounds of human traffic. A flier whizzed by the window, then a streak raced through the crowds as a speedster ran along.

The sound of knocking brought Jack to the office, noting a figure standing outside the main door. Old reflexes had her sitting behind her desk then she called out, "Come in."

He leaned on a cane, glasses gleaming on the end of his nose as he stepped inside, his clothes crisp and neat. With a practiced eye Jack scanned him for concealed weapons, but none were visible his clothing laying smooth on his lean form. His hair was white and thinning, face oddly unlined despite his appearance of advanced age.

"Ms. Scott," he nodded, "it's been a long time."

"Mr. Davison," Jack offered a half bow to him in respect as she asked, "how is your master, the Shogun, today?"

"Quite well," Davison answered calmly.

The Shogun's man, Davison was unusual in that he was one of the few that were not Asian by birth. Still, the Shogun rewarded signs of loyalty, not race, and Davison had proven himself more than once to the man. The last time Jack saw him he had been one of the Lieutenants, the leaders two steps below their master, and it wouldn't have surprised her to see him rise to a greater rank.

"So," Jack leaned forward to study him thoughtfully, "take a seat, can I get you anything?"

Once he sat and politely turned down the offer Davison looked at her curiously, "Your being here, are you intending to return to your old business?"

"For the time being, at least," Jack admitted. She asked him, "What can I do for you, sir?"

"I have a bit of a private commission for you," Davison admitted, his eyes narrowing slightly in anger. "A good time girl I've been known to frequent," he said uncomfortably, "was assaulted recently, and I want you to protect her."

"You think it's connected to you?" Jack asked. Gently she added, "If they pick up the wrong sort of trick, things can happen...."

"They told her specifically to send their regards to Davison," he answered bleakly.

"Then yes, I'd say it's personal," Jack nodded. She looked at him thoughtfully, "I take it you know who did this?"

"Yes," Davison nodded, "and I'll have it dealt with soon. I just want her safe while I do it."

"My standard rate is ten gold marks a day plus expenses," Jack said crisply, "once I take the retainer, I'm yours."

To be continued....