(no subject)
Gerad spent the better part of the evening playing wallflower. That was nothing new, but his reasons for it tonight were. When the company signed him, he spent two years jockeying a monitor doing surveillance as a cell tech spook. Countless sleepless hours sitting in front of a screen absorbing the crumbs of other peoples' lives. He'd watch them wake up and listen to them piss. He knew when they were sleeping. He knew if they were bad or good. He was like Santa Claus, only everyone on his list was Naughty, or at least under suspicion of it. When he was promoted to cell leader of Bravo Unit - "Bully Unit", under his command - he read up on every case file he could get his hands on. Gerad was an intolerant jerk and a pain in the ass to work for most of the time, but he cared about what he did and was damn good at it. Even as a baseline, he'd memorized scores of case studies and histories on potential threats.
And that's what was making getting out there and "mingling", as Sergio had insisted, so damn hard. Back to the wall, he kept one leg propped over the other, immaculate Armani tuxedo pants cusping over a pair of black wingtips that looked uncomfortable on his feet, his arms folded in the universal "leave me the fuck alone" gesture, his eyes in bunkers beneath his brow, staring out into the sea of finery at people who weren't.
A tall man in a eufibre suit rocked slowly on the dancefloor, cradling a well-dressed woman in arms made of solid tungsten. The man was Leland DiMarco, alias "Ironside". Two weeks ago he'd leveled a refugee encampment in Eritrea, killed their livestock. They didn't have anything to eat and no means of evac. Collapsed in the jungle from heatstroke and exhaustion three days later. Never made it out. The woman dancing with him was his wife. She liked to watch the video footage of the attack while they made love.
A robust woman with flowing black hair passed him by and smiled warmly at him, showing the back of her hand, fretted with a ring and bracelet combination that cost somewhere in the upper tens of thousands. Gerad knew her, too. She wasn't a heavy. A nova, but a paper pusher for DeVries. She didn't kill people. She just arranged for other people to kill people. An agent. Further in was a reptilian man with compound eyes. He liked missions far afield, away from prying eyes. Indulging in human flesh is something you try to avoid getting caught at. Arsonist. Murderer. Rapist. Arms from sockets, burst eyes, twisted limbs, shrapnel wounds, acid burns. Gerad looked with sad disgust out on the crowd before him and all he could see was case files. How many people KIA and WIA and where.
It made enjoying the party a little difficult.
And that's what was making getting out there and "mingling", as Sergio had insisted, so damn hard. Back to the wall, he kept one leg propped over the other, immaculate Armani tuxedo pants cusping over a pair of black wingtips that looked uncomfortable on his feet, his arms folded in the universal "leave me the fuck alone" gesture, his eyes in bunkers beneath his brow, staring out into the sea of finery at people who weren't.
A tall man in a eufibre suit rocked slowly on the dancefloor, cradling a well-dressed woman in arms made of solid tungsten. The man was Leland DiMarco, alias "Ironside". Two weeks ago he'd leveled a refugee encampment in Eritrea, killed their livestock. They didn't have anything to eat and no means of evac. Collapsed in the jungle from heatstroke and exhaustion three days later. Never made it out. The woman dancing with him was his wife. She liked to watch the video footage of the attack while they made love.
A robust woman with flowing black hair passed him by and smiled warmly at him, showing the back of her hand, fretted with a ring and bracelet combination that cost somewhere in the upper tens of thousands. Gerad knew her, too. She wasn't a heavy. A nova, but a paper pusher for DeVries. She didn't kill people. She just arranged for other people to kill people. An agent. Further in was a reptilian man with compound eyes. He liked missions far afield, away from prying eyes. Indulging in human flesh is something you try to avoid getting caught at. Arsonist. Murderer. Rapist. Arms from sockets, burst eyes, twisted limbs, shrapnel wounds, acid burns. Gerad looked with sad disgust out on the crowd before him and all he could see was case files. How many people KIA and WIA and where.
It made enjoying the party a little difficult.