The Kingmaker

12 - Mark

"Would it be awful of me to bawl at the funeral? I mean, I think it would be polite, but I've only been his girlfriend for a week. Seems a little overkill to get so emotional. Oh, hey, perfect. This should be the last one."

Eden pulled out another brown paper bag no doubt full of banded hundred dollar bills from beneath the mattress and tossed it on top of the growing pile in the middle of the bedroom.

"Anyway. I'm pretty sure it'll be closed casket. I don't think he'll be anywhere even close to publicly presentable after a fall like that. I'm a thousand percent sure he won't be, actually."

She had carried him up eleven flights on her back. Her thighs had felt boneless and liquefied by the time she reached the top, but she had made sure to rest every few landings. The last thing she had wanted was to accidentally drop him all the way back down due to unchecked fatigue. But she had made it there in the end, and then she had let Nate fly. And by God, had he flown - like three bricks chained together.

"I would make an awful serial killer. I just wanted that s**t over with because he didn't even know what was happening to him in the end. Out like a light. Honestly, it was about six different kinds of boring, and I really regret giving him such a nice, clean end when Brook didn't get one - oh, here it is. Look at this, B.B."

Eden turned and held a rectangular package wrapped in brown paper and done up with zip ties up to the light. She was staring at the mounted deer head on the opposite wall, a spectacularly ugly specimen with lopsided antlers that scraped the ceiling. She gave the pitiful, stuffed buck a pleased nod.

"Paydirt. And there's more. Glad I brought a bag, this would have been an armful."

Paydirt was right. She was looking at easily a dozen kilos of these buried under the false floorboards at the bottom of the dearly deceased Nate's closet, all of them neatly arranged like lovely little bricks. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be able to shake down this place and take all of the product lest she trigger a more thorough investigation that suspected foul play and all those inconvenient things. All she could do was skim off the top, a believable amount so that the investigation wouldn't uncover anything too questionable.

She'd done all that work to make it look like a bit of an accident, after all: when someone eventually found Nate's body, they would find his empty beer bottles strewn about on the topmost floor of the abandoned construction site, and it would be nice if the police remained lazy enough to chalk it up to the ill-fated consequences of a drunken night.

The one solid whack she had delivered to the side of his head with the rebar would be dismissed, so long as the coroners weren't too assiduous about their work. She had made sure that Nate fell onto a pile of the steel cylinders on the ground below, and from that many floors up - well, she was willing to bet that the whole thing wouldn't be worth expending too much effort. Not only that, but he worked hand in hand with the two beat cops who patrolled his turf, so it was safe to assume they would do their best to bury the matter. A tale as old as Alexandria itself; some things just never changed.

But that also meant Nate's condominium unit would be getting a visit from the very same people who would ransack his belongings looking for exactly what Eden was digging up now. She didn't have much time. As much as she enjoyed talking to B.B. on the wall with his glistening black eyes and quiet demeanor, he wasn't worth sticking around for. Just these two bricks of cocaine and the hundred thousand in cash that the authorities wouldn't know existed, and therefore wouldn't miss.

"Okay, end of the line for us, pal," she said. "I wish I could take you with me, but I'd attract way too much attention."

There was a point to skulking around in the middle of the night, after all. It was far more discreet to slip into a place at this time, even if she was still bone-tired from having hauled Nate around less than two hours ago. And what would be the point of all this effort if she exposed herself by toddling around with a bulky taxidermy mount on the sidewalk as she headed off?

She blew the stuffed deer a goodbye kiss before shrugging back into her jacket and pulling the hood down over her face. A few seconds later, she was out the door with a loaded canvas bag on her shoulder and a smile on her face.

Now, this wasn't fun and it was certainly a thankless job, but someone had to do it. Was Alexandria going to implode on its own? Was everyone who had ever crossed her going to drop dead out of the generosity of their hearts? Of course not. Someone had to put in the work. And if not Eden, then who?

In light of those considerations, things weren't so bad. In fact, if she had to admit the truth, she would even say this bordered on the site of begrudgingly enjoyable.

Great, she thought. Now let's do it again.

--------

"I thought I wasn't going to be provided any outside resources."

"Now, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you sound angry about getting a little extra help."

"I don't need it, sir."

Director Baines's knowing chuckle filtered through from the other end of the line. "I thought you'd say that. But don't worry, Zero, this wasn't from me. You can put down the martyr act before you get yourself killed out of sheer stubbornness."

"You didn't send this?" Zero tossed down the phone onto the motel bed and held up the strangely sleek body armor vest with both hands to inspect it. It looked like a tactical vest if one could go on a crash diet. The only thing this was going to protect him from was a stiff wind.

"I thought that might get your attention. Yes, Zero. That's right. I had no idea that was it being sent to you until I was notified this morning. It's Baines-free. Straight from the department."

"It'll be useless."

"Well, that's going to be your job to prove right or wrong. It's the first one of its kind, just rolled hot off the line."

The mercenary responded with a short scoff and let the vest drop to hang at his side. "So they want me to field test it."

"Don't turn your nose up. That thing cost just under 350 million to make. With the blueprint, it's worth almost 400."

Zero paused, and a moment slid by in stunned silence at the director's revelation.

"Yeah, that was about my reaction," Baines said dryly. "Anyway, that's all I needed from you so long as we've confirmed receipt. Should be three separate pieces in the package including the helmet. They should fit you well enough. And don't take too long, Zero. You're needed here, and the longer you stay in Alexandria the less I expect you to make it back out in one piece -"

Scarcely before the other man had finished speaking, Zero picked his phone up to end the call and then tossed it back down immediately, not bothering to reply. The screen was still blinking when he began shrugging on the article, and he turned to face the full length mirror screwed into the wall of his motel room as he pressed the edges of the vest together over his torso.

Alright, he thought. So it wasn't as small as it looked, but it was still far thinner than any tactical gear he had ever willingly trusted. He'd worn ponchos bulkier than this thing, was this thing bulletproof or was it a swimsuit?

It wasn't until he began to slide his fingers along the bottom hem of the material that he finally understood. With a sharp inhale, he pinched the fabric and tried to twist it in his grasp, but the inner layer he felt inside confirmed his sudden suspicion: this wasn't a mere variant of Kevlar. He'd assumed as much already when Baines had told him how much this thing had cost to make (purportedly), but he hadn't suspected that he would see something like this actually being put to the test in his lifetime.

He tried to dig his fingers between the seams to get to the flexible metal sheet of graphene he would see inside it, but even the fabric of the external material was too strong to break. Just from touching it, he could already tell he would have just as much difficulty cutting it apart with a knife, even. What was this fabric? It was smooth, light, compact, and yet nothing he did betrayed any sign of even the slightest strain.

With narrowed eyes, he squeezed the material in his fist and felt the graphene sheet obediently buckle under the external fabric. He wouldn't know until a bullet caught him whether it was the real thing, but Zero had taken more than his fair share of varying equipment into vicious firefights to know he had something far different from the usual in his hands.

Yes, different. He would have a great need for different here in Alexandria. He was here with no backup, and despite this unexpected gift, he knew better than to expect assistance from anyone on the outside. Prospects were even worse on the inside - this city was one of the few places where his employers had failed time and time again to establish a strong foothold. Case in point, eight years ago when their pet figurehead met a gruesome end along with most of her family. The only way Zero would find any allied interests in this place would be if he paid them for it, but he had no money, either. A few thousand in cash, enough to tide him over for a month or so at most.

A month, Zero thought to himself as he examined the dark pants he found inside the same box, apparently made of the same material as the vest. He didn't intend to stay that long, and he had implied he would be back sooner than that when Baines had asked, but he knew better than to overestimate his capabilities here. Alexandria was a special kind of hell, an urban monster with a greater body count annually than some small countries.

It was why he'd been given this body armor to test, too. What better experimental conditions than the most violent place in the country? If he ended up still riddled with bullets by the time this was all over, they would have all the data they needed to conclude the gear was useless. A little overkill, but for four hundred million dollars, they would certainly want to make sure they were getting what they paid for.

Knock-knock.

Zero didn't even pause. He drew one sidearm from its holster on his left hip, leaving the other in its place, and then pointed it at the door. He moved silently along the side of the wall at an angle, hands gripping the butt of the gun with practiced steadiness.

Knock-knock.

This was a motel, no such thing as room service. And Zero hadn't made any friends since he came here. The only reason anyone would be at his door would be to bring trouble, and on his second night here, he was in no mood to find a bullet whizzing through the door and into his skull. He'd save that for later.

"Hey, baby," a feminine voice slurred through the wood. "I know you came alone. Want company?"

He didn't lower the weapon, neither did he relax his hold. He kept the gun trained where he could safely assume he would strike anywhere from the throat to the trunk of whoever stood outside the door.

"I know you're in there. I watched ya. Listen, I'll give you a discount because you looked kinda cute when you were giving me the eyes."

The hooker outside the motel. He remembered her - long black hair, dark eyes, pale skin. It was habit at this point, examining every possible lookalike of the target in case it was her in disguise, no matter how unlikely. Clearly, the hooker had gotten the wrong idea when his gaze had lingered on her a few seconds longer than necessary, confusing his vigilance for interest. But to think she had followed him here all the way to his room...Suspicious. The savviest hookers were business smart, knowing better than to pursue customers on foot if it meant missing other, more willing customers in the process.

"God, at least answer me," the woman insisted, and Zero heard a dull thump on the door as if she had just hit it with the side of her fist. "I'm...so f*****g horny. C'mon...I'm already wet, you know, save you some time and money. I'll throw in a blow job for free."

Ah, that explained it. There was a slurred hitch in her voice that he recognized well now that she was speaking a little more loudly. She was high, likely on h****n. No wonder she'd come all the way here. The stimulation must have been unbearable.

But he didn't answer, and he didn't let down his guard. Zero hadn't lived this long by assuming he was ever safer than he really was.

A minute later, he heard an aggravated sigh from the other side of the door and another thump, but the woman seemed to have no intention of giving up just yet.

"I'll just get off right here, then," the woman grumbled through the wood. "You can listen to what you're missing. I bet you're gonna just f*****g grab me by the t**s and pull me in and eat me ou...uhh..."

Apparently, she hadn't even been able to wait until she finished her sentence. Although Zero couldn't explicitly hear her pleasuring herself, she was fumbling against the door and rubbing herself on it, and her moans seeped through into the room to his ears.

Too bad for her, Zero found something else far more entertaining to occupy himself. Although he still kept the gun in one hand, finger on the trigger and ready to retaliate just in case, he quietly began examining himself in the mirror again. His fingers ran along the smooth, cool material that didn't seem to warm up from his body heat even though he had been wearing it for the past few minutes now.

Captivating. He almost couldn't wait to get shot at to see if it would really work. And if he were a little less skeptical, he might have even risked it. But as it was, he didn't think it prudent to put his life on the line for a mere field test. He would stick with his normal tactical gear for now, but he would find a good time to test the new body armor himself under more controlled conditions.

"Ahh...Don'tcha wanna come out here and f**k me against the wall..."

There were plenty of places around Alexandria where he would be able to do that with no disturbances. The docks, for one. The shipyard would be a good place to start tracking down information anyway. Besides that, Zero was sure there were still a multitude of abandoned warehouses all over the city, too. Sadly, but fortunately for him, no one would report a flurry of gunshots going off in any of those places.

"I could use a big, fat c**k inside this pussy...don't make me beg."

Was she still going? Zero resisted the urge to move up close to the door just to unload the magazine from the gun and reload it where the hooker could hear. At least she was almost done if her growing moans were any indication. The only upside was that if this was the worst Alexandria had to offer him tonight, it would be better than the night before, and almost certainly preferable to the rest of his nights in this blood-soaked city.

"Ah-h-h!"

There it was. Finally. Zero placed the vest onto the bed and carded his fingers through his hair instead, skin starting to prickle despite his every effort to remain detached. It wasn't the hooker. Just...maybe it had been too long, he thought. Not that he was even remotely tempted by the offer - the only thing he intended to take with him out of the city was the target, not a new venereal disease - but his mind kept wandering back to the moment he had first spotted the hooker outside the motel. His pulse had thundered under his skin; he'd really thought it was the mark. It wasn't until he reached the motel entrance and they locked gazes that disappointment had crashed through him: it most definitely wasn't her. A face lined and blotched by years of drug abuse, hazy blue eyes, distended veins on her arms and scarring from excessive syringe use.

He had really thought it was her from a hundred feet away in the dark.

It had to be the adrenaline, he told himself. That was why he could feel himself getting hard right now, and it was a coincidence that he happened to be thinking about the target at the same time. It was also a coincidence that his hand was inching toward his fly, and that he was thinking about a lilting, cheeky smile and too-intelligent eyes...

"Ahh....If you liked what you heard, I can go for a round two..."

Zero's jaw clenched, and he shot an annoyed look at the door as his growing erection suddenly flagged in his pants.

Fuck Alexandria.