Save Scumming - Chapter One Hundred and Four

Gosh, I love Jane, but holy crap. The moment she's on the page, she derails the entire chapter. It's like she grabs the chapter in her little grubby hands and then takes off running with it. Every time.

Chapter One Hundred and Four

I showed up at the little chain restaurant in front of Full-Auto Stranger-Danger, parked my bike on the curb, then lingered there for a few minutes. Fran was on her way, but she had further to travel, and had to deal with inner-city traffic. 

After ten minutes, I decided that sitting around was boring, so I got off the bike and headed in. I texted Fran instructions for how to make it to the shop as I walked, so I figured it was all good. 

Jane was there. It was obvious as soon as I arrived because she was yelling... or maybe she was just talking enthusiastically? It was hard to tell with her. The front garage-style doors of the shop were opened, and I saw Jane standing up to a much taller man, poking him in the chest. “Nuh-uh, bitch, my shit’s the bomb, especially my bombs. What I sold you was top-shelf. Top, shelf! You ought to know what that is, you freakishly tall weirdo. What, you get them leg extender mods going, huh?”

“Hey, I told you, they didn’t cut it--,” the man said.

“Yeah, well I’mma bout to cut you. Come in here and say that my shit’s no good? What’d you even use it for, huh? Did you read the manual I gave you?”

“Yeah!” he said.

“Uh-huh, and what’s page nine say? What’s the special word?” Jane asked.

“Page nine?”

Jane exploded, which really just meant that she bounced on the spot a little. “Page nine! It’s big letters, small words. Even you could figure it out! I shoved that in there. Anyone who even skimmed the damned book would know!” She moved back, pulled a drawer open on a desk--which made tall-boy and his two pals tense up until she removed a set of papers instead of a gun--and then she flipped through them and displayed a page, presumably the ninth.

Even from across the room, I could read the text. The special word is ‘fuckadoodle.’

“Uh,” tallboy said.

“That’s right, bitch! You’re not the first one to come in here, in my shop, and lie to my pretty face. Get-the-fuckoutta here. Didn’t even read the damned manual and then you say that my gear didn’t work? You’re full of shit. No refunds!”

Jane slapped the booklet down, then raised both middle fingers at what I was assuming was some merc.

He tsked, but his buddies were holding in laughter, and it looked like he knew a lost cause when he saw one. “Fine,” he grumbled. “We’ll be back though. Next time, sell us shit that works.”

“Next time, learn to read,” Jane sniped. I don’t think she knew how to not get in the last word.

I stepped aside, letting the trio past. Once they were gone, I turned back towards Jane and grinned. “Nice customers.”

She shrugged a shoulder, suddenly all nonchalant. “It’s Sunday. So, Beanstalk, what can I do you for?”

I stepped in, stretching my arms up so that they were folded behind my head, all casual-like. I noticed her eyes flicking down though. “Can’t I visit my favourite fixer who only ever gave me one job?” I asked.

Jane snorted. “You know, I’ve got other work too! I’ll get you more stuff to do, just gimme a minute. And no, you wouldn’t just visit me. I know your sort, Beanstalk. You either need something or want something, and I bet neither of them are a roll in the hay.”

“Fair enough,” I replied. “I’ve got a thing coming up in... well, this afternoon. It’s me and another woman. We’re going to hit up a D-rank portal, solo. Or as solo as a duo can be. It’s out in the open though, so people might see us entering it. I’ve got my costume thing to hide my ID a little, but my friend doesn’t have anything of the sort.”

Jane’s eyes narrowed. “So you need gear, but far, far more importantly, you need a second costume, and you want it for this evening, and for a woman that I haven’t met?”

“She’s on her way here for the fitting and such,” I said. “Actually, if I were to, say, hypothetically give you a person’s measurements and tell you which items in your shop to grab over the phone, would you be able to do that?”

“You don’t know what I have,” she said.

“Hmm... assume that I’ve suddenly unlocked pre-cognition?” I tried.

Jane stared. “That’s fucked up, Beanstalk. Have you been using me in discarded future timelines?” I looked away, and Jane gasped. “Wait, wait, wait! Seriously? I was just fooling. Beanstalk, have we future-fucked?”

“Uh, no?”

“You bitch! Ohhhh, you owe me so much for this,” Jane said.

“This was a mistake,” I grumbled. “Just... answer the question?”

Jane crossed her arms. “Maybe? Depends on what I’m working with here. Slapping a mask on someone’s face and giving them an oversized hoodie is more than enough to conceal their ID. Have you never seen CCTV of someone robbing a store? As long as you can’t make out too much of a person’s shape and their face, it’s pretty easy to get away as long as you don’t fuck up in other ways.”

“Yeah, but I feel like you’ll want to go the extra mile for this one,” I said.

Jane looked curious, then her attention snapped to the side and out of the shop.

I turned as well, in time to see Fran stepping into the small courtyard behind the fast food joint. She was dressed in casuals. Or as casual as Fran could be. That meant a nice blouse and skirt combo, with a designer bag and heels. She’d have fit right in on any of the streets in City Centre, or any of the nicer restaurants. She was entirely out of place here.

Jane let out a low whistle. “Damn. Beanstalk,” she muttered.

“Deadline,” Fran said as she came over. She nodded to me, then glanced at Jane. “Hello.”

“Hey gorgeous,” Jane said. “Is your hair real?”

“Pardon?” Fran asked. She reached out and touched a hairdrill, almost defensively.

“It is,” I confirmed. She wouldn't sleep with a wig, and there had been some... tugging involved at some point. 

Jane looked suitably impressed. “That is one hell of a hairdo. And your makeup is on point blondie. This is the woman you want me to dress up, Beanstalk? ‘Cause I don’t know if we need to. Look at her. She could shoot a baby in the face on live TV and she’d be acquitted before you can cough through ‘bribed judge.’”

“I’m afraid that I’m not keen on infanticide,” Fran said.

I sighed. “Fran, this is Not-so-plain Jane. She’s one of, if not, the best fashionista in all of Fortress ENE. She’s also good at procuring strange and interesting and dubiously legal equipment.”

Jane made a mock-bow. “Hey hey. I’m also very hot and humble.”

“I see,” Fran said.

“Jane, this is Fransicca Ojou, heiress of Redline. If you hurt her, she will disappear you. In fact, I’ll help.”

Fran cleared her throat. “I’m quite capable of caring for myself. Though the thought is appreciated.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “But you never know with Jane. Her hands... wander.”

“Redline, huh?” Jane asked. “Straight up corpo nobility, damn. So... you’re what I have to work with? Can’t say I can complain about the materials you bring me, Beanstalk. Give me a spin, princess?”

Fran stared at Jane, then looked to me, as if to confirm that I hadn’t accidentally led her into the wrong sketchy alley.

“It’s easiest if you just play along,” I said.

Fran didn’t sigh, but it looked like she wanted to. She raised her arms slightly and turned on the point of a heel, making it all seem rather graceful. 

“Okay, damn,” Jane said. “You work out, girl. Look at those calves. Flat tummy, huge knockers. That ass looks... mmm, that’s a fine looking behind. The hair’s on point, though I sure wouldn’t want to have to take care of that every day. Pretty eyes too. Pale green like that... what’s that, Light magic?”

“It is,” Fran replied.

“Girl, you don’t belong skulking about with Deadline here,” Jane said.

“I’ll have you know that I’m quite capable,” Fran replied.

“Sure. I bet you kick ass, but have you considered being a model? Singing? Acting? You don’t even need to know how to act. Just glare into the camera and tell people that you’ll step on them if they don’t listen and you’ll have morons laying themselves out on the street for you.”

Fran blinked. “That... ah, are you being complimentary?”

“Girl, I’m saying I want you to step on me, I’m not sure how else to interpret that,” Jane said. “I am nothing if not honest in my opinions when it comes to pretty ladies.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Isn’t it nice when your friends all get along?” I asked. “Jane, I’m sorry to bother you, but if you could extract your head from the gutter for a moment, we do have some stuff we need? You said something about oversized hoodies and masks?”

“Nuh-uh, no, I didn’t say anything like that,” Jane denied. She slipped up behind Fran and gently guided her into the shop. “Ma’am, you are a nine out of ten, but with my expert help I will make you stand out like no one ever has.”

“This is a stealth operation,” I pointed out.

“You will be the ten-out-of-tenest stealthy lady ever,” Jane continued without missing a beat. 

This was a mistake.

***