The hover car touched down on the building opposite, juddering as it’s driver fought with the A.I. for control. Dana watched through her recorder, zoom settings at maximum as she sucked down a ration pack. It was raining, and her jumpsuit was barely doing it’s job of keeping her dry. It was also too tight over her backside. Dana tugged at the elasticated material sullenly, and glared at her mark.
“Look at you, fuckin’ rich bitch. What’s this? Come to check on the poors? We’re doin’ just fine without the likes of you, slut.” She muttered to herself, watching the passenger jump out of the car and look around in apparent wonder. Dana allowed herself to laugh as the girl struggled with her luggage, those dainty, spoiled hands almost dropping the puny bag immediately. “That’s right, you fuckin’ spoiled slut, that’s what a case weighs. You woulda fuckin’ died if you had to carry what I did when I got here.”
This job was a strange one, by Dana’s estimate. Some nut using a virtual avatar and calling himself “Mr V” had offered her a monthly payment to keep a close eye on some girl that was moving to the city. A large enough payment that Dana hadn’t done more than a cursory investigation into her client, which turned up nothing. Strange, and suspicious. The girl, on the other hand, was more suspicious. Anything she tried to find about her background was locked behind elite-level security, digital black ink obscuring everything but her first name, photograph, and description. She could have paid a hacker to get through it, but that wasn’t the job. The job was observation. And Dana observed this ‘Sally’ arrive in a hover sedan that was out of the budget of anyone in 0B-City.
“Fuck’s sake, just because it’s fuckin’ old don’t mean it blends in. That thing’s a luxury model.” Dana thought to herself, as Sally finally entered the building. It was time to relocate to the room she had rented for the night. Dana was just glad to be out of the rain. The building she had been watching from was a run down hotel, where there were approximately five murders every day, and every floor had a resident stim gang. She kept her hand on her needle as she strode through the halls, giving any wandering stimheads a practiced death glare. From her room, she could see the entrance to her mark’s complex, and a light flicker on in a room she hoped was Sally’s. She lit a cigarette, tasting the artificial tobacco in her mouth. Under her jumpsuit, her stomach growled.
“Shaddup! We’re on the clock!” She hissed as though her stomach could respond. It growled again, insistently. Dana grimaced. She was trying to lose weight, and indulging herself every time her midsection made a noise wasn’t the way to do it. A third growl. Frustrated, she sucked down another ration pack. Just in time to see Sally leave the building, eyes locked to her holo map. “Fuck. Gotta hustle.”
Dana stalked the redhead through the streets, keeping at a safe distance until she reached the McDonagh’s. She decided it would be best not to get close enough to spot, so she looked around for a vantage point, finding a noodle stall just down the street, with a decent view through the dirty windows.
“Miantiao? Fresh for you shunu.” The old man behind the counter greeted her in the broken mix of mispronounced Chinese and English that passed for a local dialect.
“The pork bowl, please, Gramps. And a can of Upper.” Dana barely looked at him as she placed her order, watching her mark interact with the fat girl behind the counter. As Dana ate, so did Sally, and her reaction made Dana snort into her broth. “The fuck was that? No tolerance for the additives? Gotta be from F-city at the lowest. Every fuckin’ kid gets immune to those enhancers before they leave the education blocks..” She took a still, discreetly aiming her micro-camera under her jacket. It would break up her report to ‘Mr V’ at the very least.
^^^^^^^^^^
“Fuckin’ McDonagh’s again? Spice it up you fuckin’ bitch!” Dana watched as, for the sixty-seventh day in a row, Sally entered the establishment. Outwardly, she sat down at the noodle stand again, to a friendly greeting from the old man, and a fresh bowl of fake pork and fake noodles. “Thanks, Gramps. Best noodles in the city, right here.”
To look at Dana, you would certainly believe she was enjoying them. Her hefty booty had expanded with flab, necessitating a fresh jumpsuit to be ordered for rainy days. Her stomach, whilst not flat before, was beginning to bulge over the waistband of her miniskirt too much to hide under her jacket. The pre-war scale in her apartment/office told her that she was up to two hundred and thirty pounds. And if Sally kept eating as she did, Dana would need a new vantage point to avoid the three hundred mark. She glanced over, seeing her chat to the fat worker.
“Real fuckin’ friendly with her, aren’t you? Fuckin’ Fatass Felicity, slobbering all over the Sally the Stuck-up Slut.” Of course, Dana’s ass was pretty fat, but at least hers had some shape. That’s what she told herself, at least. She glanced over again, and her blood ran cold. She recognised one of the two figures entering the fast food joint as Mr Grubber, a nasty piece of work who Dana had investigated before. Sally, not knowing his identity, would surely get into trouble. She gripped her needle tightly. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! What should I do? If she gets iced here, there goes my easy money! But it’s not enough money to get into a fight, either.” She relaxed her grip on the needle, and returned to her noodles with the most casual air she could muster. Sally was on her own. Dana heard a bead gun fire, and braced herself for the next job hunt. It fired again, and she turned with the other patrons of the stand. There stood Sally, casually finishing her burgers like nothing had happened, two thugs bleeding on the floor. Dana struggled to process the information. She quickly snapped another still, marveling at the redhead. To be that calm after a shootout, she must have either nerves of steel or brains of mush. Dana wasn’t sure which was more dangerous.
^^^^^^^^^^
“And you left them alone? After that?” The modulated voice of Mr V came from her deck. Dana reclined in her chair, taking a drag on her cigarette.
“Sorry, but you didn’t hire a bodyguard. I followed them back home, nobody else did. That was my job.”
“And if I wanted a bodyguard? How much would that cost?”
Dana laughed. “Ask a security firm. I try not to get into fights. They’re bad for business.”
“I see. Could I persuade you to get a little closer to the girl? Perhaps another thousand a month?”
Dana hesitated. “Two thousand. For that I’ll get as close as I can without making her suspicious. But if she starts to figure me out, I’ll need to get out fast. And I’ll need a ten thousand upfront payment for some better gear”
“The funds have been transferred. I expect good things, Miss Stingray” The transmission ended.
“Yeah, you and every other fuckin’ jackass.” Dana muttered, giving her deck the finger. She took another drag, mulling over her options. She had fleeced Mr V for way more credits than she needed. So she could afford to splash out on something fancy. If the spoiled brat was picking fights with thugs, she might be thankful for it.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
