System Jazz

Which corner was it?

These dead ends are a nightmare in the dark. How can this simple district turn into such a maze behind the warehouses?

The spark arching through the night is damn close to giving me a heart attack. It's a cigarette flicked with a movie villain's aim.

"About fucking time." Boss scoffs, and the Kid jumps to stomp on the cig.

No! It was store-bought, with a few more drags in it.

The Thin's here too, and the brat twists his feet until it's gone.

It hurts to watch.

"Do you know how cold it is, Arnim?"

"Yeah, where the hell you've been?"

These flickering sodium-yellow lights won't reveal more than their hoodies.

Only four of us are here, and they brought the Kid of all people.

He has a family for fuck's sake.

They'll kick our asses if he gets caught. And he murdered that cigarette too. It deserved better, rest in pieces.

"Well shit, cops swarmed the Container Park."

This is a low-effort lie to avoid mentioning the arcade.

It was a humble birthday celebration. The credit balance wasn't enough for a pack of smoke, so the slot machines swallowed it whole.

"Safe detours take a while."

Even if it's gone, that vanilla scent's the best.

It's strong enough to trigger the cravings and a stomach grumble.

Buying food should have been the priority, but you only turn fourteen once.

"They didn't track your phone, did they?" The Boss asks as if I'm stupid.

He's insufferable without a smoke so the words come out harsh.

"Who told you what those governmental phones are for?" This might have been too loud. He shrugs. "Sent it on a bus ride for the feds."

"Let's go then." The Thin shakes more than the cold can justify it. Is he on that stuff again? Well, it's his problem. "We're behind schedule."

"So what's today's Jazz? I'm all out of cigarettes."

"Second-class rations." The Boss says, and all motivation goes poof.

"Come on, they taste like shit. It won't even pay for a pack."

"You're pissing me off, Arnim. If you're late, your name's 'Shut Up'." He's not the brightest but his raw strength makes up for it. It's better not to piss him off. "Life's tough, you didn't bring anything either."

"What about the headsets?" Nice save, Thin. "There's a buyer."

"They guard it like gold." Boss grumbles. "And almost got the Kid."

"It must be some fed-related stuff, they had sentries." He confirms it.

"If you want a smoke, I can make up for the difference." Thin offers, and whatever's his deal, there's no reason to refuse.

Sentries are bad news anyway. Who wants to die for a few credits?

Why's he so eager though? It can't be the birthday since he can't remember his own when he has withdrawals.

"Fuck, let's go for the rations then." Anything for a cigarette.

Turns out, it's too early to get my hopes up, as it starts to rain halfway there.

The acidic drops make us itchy, and now the ground's slippery. This is getting worse with every moment.

"Or we should cancel it after all."

"You want to taste these knuckles?" The Boss doesn't like the idea and gives a rundown on the security of this automated district.

Turns out, we're the only life forms here.

"You kill the cams and stay outside as the lookout. We go in and out and take the rations. Five minutes."

Sure, give me the shittiest task as usual, dickhead.

And there's no ground to complain after being late.

"I'll give you a cigarette if you're quick." Thin pats my back, whispering.

Even if he means well, he's one creepy bastard with those shakes.

A smoke is a smoke. It's worth popping a broken panel open for it.

These were peak systems fifty years ago; cheap, reliable security with real-time streaming. They work from solar or battery, but the schematics are all over the internet.

They're far below today's standards.

Even the Kid could disable them in five minutes.

Well, I can do it in five seconds, though these streetlights fuck with my vision.

It's not that the rain helps. At least these cables and switches are simple enough to kill them with eyes closed.

"They're off. Now a cig please."

"Once we're out." Boss blocks the Thin before entering.

Fuck you, leaving me in this drizzle without a smoke. It can't cover the putrid smell of mold and feces, only their noises.

Using a birthday wish so he meets his karma is a bad idea though.

The siren almost rips my eardrums.

They retreat with some snatched rations, and the Kid carries more than he can handle.

He's close to falling over and drops a few, and guess who'll have to take care of him.

"Arnim, bring the Kid to the usual place and grab the loot." Boss coughs before disappearing into an alley, and here's hoping he suffocates.

"I'll give you the cig there." The Thin winks, sprinting in the opposite direction.

That's it, we dash along the road with the Kid. He'll have to answer a few questions while new voices tune into the concert.

"What the hell did you do?"

"It's fine, we got most." Fine my ass. He's already out of breath.

A reflector blinds us before chewing him out, and it rides on a cop car.

With a strong yank, we're both off the street and they drive past.

The road might be straight, but they'll never get us in the alleys.

"The stupid roof had a hole, and the rain fell in. I slipped." He sniffs, and it's not the time to deal with a crybaby. "It's not my fault."

"Sure, shut up for a bit. Do you hear that buzzing?"

I'm not imagining it, a drone zooms overhead.

The feds have millions of these, let's hope the sensors don't like the rain.

We should be in cover, so fingers crossed that it will pass.

If only life were that easy.

"Achoo!" He might be a child, yet this would put an adult to shame.

"Stop! Suspicious activity detected." Well, shit. Blasting the machine-voice the drone's searchlights turn on. "Wait for an officer..."

The Kid has other ideas, raising the packages to cover his face and dashing the way back.

We should be going in, not out, damn it.

A silhouette at the end of the alley already blocks his path, and three more come from the other side.

There goes that promised smoke, he's screwed.

"Fuck." The solo guy looks smaller than the rest, they should be easy to knock over, so I smash into them without thinking.

We all end up on the wet asphalt as one amorph mass, and the rest sprints toward us.

The Kid breaks free, making a run for it.

There's a clicking sound in the next moment though, and a pair of handcuffs wrap around my wrists.

It takes five seconds for the other cops to catch up and surround us, laughing at our tangled limbs.

There's something soft I'm pushing against.

"Pervert!" And bam, a hard slap followed by a high-pitched scream.

"Nice catch, Aspirant."

They howl, and the drone's searchlight reveals a pretty face with messy blonde hair.

My palms rest on her chest, and she isn't enthusiastic about it.

These hands never got this close to a girl's boobs, and it's still the worst birthday possible.