Excerpt from Null/Void

Jojo looked down at the kid dubiously. It was obvious he wasn’t taking very good care of himself. It had been a little too long since his last shower and far too long since the last time his clothing had been washed. Telling a junky was easier than you’d think. His hands shook and the skin had been scratched raw on his face in a few places. “So the word is you buy good parts for cash.” The kid twitched.

Jojo’s mouth went dry. “Sometimes, and only if I am looking for parts.”

“These are real first class parts.” The kid was beginning to sound desperate.

“C’mon, lets see what you got. If they’re that good I might be willing to pick them up.” Jojo reached under the counter and flipped the switch that unlocked the garage bay door. “I’m telling ya right now, if this shit don’t look right…”

“Don’t worry Jo, it’s all good.” The kid turned and signaled his partner who was outside, who quickly disappeared from sight.

She walked into the adjacent garage, crossing all the way to the third door, pulled the metal bolt and grabbed the yellow control box that hung from the ceiling. The electric winch hummed to life and the door retracted slowly. The kid ducked underneath to help his equally thin friend wheel a motorcycle into the bay. Jojo blanched. “That’s not parts. That’s a bike.”

The second teenager piped up. “A bike’s made of parts, isn’t it?” There was an angry edge to his voice that JoJo didn’t like. “Use what you need and chop the rest.”

JoJo turned to the first kid. “I don’t mind moving a few parts that I can use, but I’m no chop shop. A whole vehicle is a lot easier to track.”

He looked at her pleadingly. “Please? We already got rid of the really traceable stuff.”

She tucked a wisp of her snow-white hair back under her cap and appraised the bike. The fairing around the front of the bike was ruined. Something had been bolted into it and had been hacked out rudely. The bike was a Harley, so she had an outlet for the parts, but something didn’t feel right. “Wheel it all the way inside, so I can see it with the light.” Her eyes widened when she saw the emblem. “This was a cop bike!”

“We trashed the radio and the GPS where we dropped the bike.” The second teen shrugged. “A Harley is a Harley. Engine is solid. It’s gotta be worth something.”

Jojo crossed her arms and shook her head. “No freakin’ way! You find some part in the back of a van, or a box falls off a passing truck, that’s a different matter. You guys jacked a cop and took his ride. They’re going to be looking for this bike.” Jojo pointed to the street. “Get it out of here.”
 

--- --- ---

Beret pulled up in his Lincoln. The address matched the business card, as did the sign over the front door of the shop. It was an old brick building that had survived from long before the riots. It had probably been just a garage at some point, but it looked like the current owner serviced anything mechanical. Considering the size of the vehicle bays, as well as the rest of the building, the building may have been designed as a taxi company headquarters, or a delivery service. Whatever it had been, the current owner had lucked out. Each vehicle bay could easily hold a bus, or three cars in a pinch if needed. She probably had plenty of space for storage and had converted several of the interior rooms to specific types of work.

One of the bay doors had been opened. A couple of gangers looked like they were haggling with the shopkeeper and she wasn’t having any part of it. When he got out of the car, the kid in the rear started acting squirrelly and fingered something tucked in the back of his waistband. “Gun. Looks like a twenty two revolver. Probably wouldn’t do much to you, but I doubt she’s wearing any armor.”

“Thanks, Lucy.” He pushed his chin to the side, turning his head until his neck popped. “Fuck, I hate this ganger shit.” Beret opened up his glove box and pulled out a machine pistol. “I think we need to instill some fear in the rat bastards.”

“You got it.” Beret gritted his teeth as Lucy initialized his combatware.
 

--- --- ---

Uncle Solly had informed her he was sending someone over, but had neglected to mention anything other than a name. She was hoping the green felt cap meant that the large, menacing, black man that was walking up was Beret. “Alright, look, I told ya we’re done here. I don’t want the bike. You guys killed a cop and took his bike. That’s not the way I roll. You guys are gonna have to do business elsewhere.”

The angry kid was getting overly agitated. “Look, you buy stuff we are selling stuff. You need the parts we need the cash.” His eyes narrowed and a hint of malice entered his voice. “You can’t afford to pass up this deal. The last thing you want to do is screw things up for yourself.”

Jojo jumped from the sound of the receiver catch on Beret’s gun going forward. She hadn’t even seen the gun and now both he and the ganger had one out. “The last thing you want to do is threaten me. I don’t like guns. And I really don’t like them pointed at me.”

“You heard the lady, put the gun down and your buddy won’t have to wash his brains out of his shirt.”

Jojo glared. He may be a customer, and he might even be cute, but he was sticking his nose in her business. “I don’t remember asking you for help and, like I said, I don’t like guns.”

“You got a meth fiend so hard up for a fix he is shaking like a wet dog. The scab aced a cop to steal his bike. That tells ya right there he is not even in the same time zone as good judgment. I draw down on him when he points a pistol at you and you tell me to back off? Lady you got problems.”

Jojo grimaced. “No, I just don’t like guns. I have everything under control here.”

“Junkie with a gun pointed at your head asking for money and you got things under control?” Beret rolled his eyes and holstered his pistol.

“Yes.” Jojo turned back to the ganger, her violet eyes locked on him. The left eye dilated and a laser pointer painted his chest. “Sick ‘em.”

Three tazers fired, one from under a nearby workbench, another from under the rolling toolbox, and a third from a clump of weeds near a trash bin that sat where the fenced lot met the building. He danced like piece of bacon on a hot skillet for nearly half a minute before the popping stopped. He collapsed to the ground with a groan and she turned to original ganger. “Take your buddy and the bike and get the hell out of here. You’re not welcome at my shop anymore. Show up again and I’ll taze ya on sight”. The kid quickly hoisted his friend over the seat and wheeled the bike away.

“Nice trick.”

She smirked. He sounded surprised. “Not a trick. A girl’s got to be cautious around here. This is not the nicest of neighborhoods.”

“Security drones, eh?” Beret knelt down to get a better look at where the tazer shots had come from. Underneath the toolbox was a small plastic wedge half the size of a cereal box. On it set a clear plastic dome that protected a sensor array and sported a turret that had mounted a pair of tazers. “Pretty sweet security box you got here. I never even picked them up.”

“Hey, that’s not my fault. If you’re not looking at them I’m not seeing them.”

“Disconnect, return to patrol.” Each of the bots ejected a spent tazer cartridge and skittered out of sight. She knelt down and began gathering the wires. “They’re my own design. The outside shell is the same heat masking material they use on recon helicopters. They recharge on their own in various ports I have stashed around the shop and the lot. All the internals are made from graphite and coated in Teflon so they run virtually silent. The treads are a thick soft rubber so if they need to, they can get anywhere. They know to keep hidden and they’re programmed to recognize me. I’ve got five, but there is never less than two active at any given time. They patrol the yard, the vehicle bays, and storage, basically the entire first floor inside and out. The AI is sharp enough to tell if someone is forcing an entry or not. It’s actually a vehicle tazer meant to short a car out. I saw one take down a juicer in a demo video. It’s cheaper than putting grating on all the windows, and I hate how glass block looks. It’s supposed to be a friendly neighborhood business.” Jojo smirked. “Sorry about the attitude earlier, but I really don’t like guns. If you hadn’t put yours down the drone would have immediately shot you as soon as he fell. It’s part of their programming.” She held out a hand. “You must be Beret. I’m Jojo.”