Biopunk Blues: The Cyberpunk Detective Series (Liquid Cool Book 7) by Austin Dragon

Author:Austin Dragon [Dragon, Austin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cyber-noir, cyberpunk novels, genetic engineering science fiction, cyberpunk detective, cyberpunk tales, best science fiction mystery, biopunk novels
Publisher: Well-Tailored Books
Published: 2019-06-27T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

Quix

I HADN’T BEEN IN OLD Metropolis since Wilford G.’s death but having connected with Wize, it made me think of another person from the G-Man’s circle of associates. I would never be one of those massive private investigation firms which also did security with their own pseudo-army on payroll. I was never the seedy detective firm with an office adjoined to a bail bonds outfit. If they needed security, they’d just hire someone off the street for a few bucks. PJ was more than able to do enforcer work, but that wasn’t her job. I also couldn’t lean on my best friend, Run-Time’s corporate security led by his third VP, the Mick. I had to have my own. Call it bodyguards or full-blown security, I needed to have my own team for when I needed it. I had been talking about it for over a year. It was time to make it real.

Fubar was a very seedy dive bar of ex-military. Outside the main entrance, there were always at least several big bald guys talking in some language not English and drinking—I still didn’t know if they were customers or bouncers. I approached and tried to move around them, but they blocked me.

“What you want?” one asked with a heavy accent.

“Quix.”

They watched me for a long while.

“I’ve been here before,” I said. “With G.”

“G?”

“Yes.”

“What you know about him?”

“A lot. I was there when he died, and I was at his funeral with his family. I don’t remember seeing you.

The group of guys who were big enough to pull my arms and legs out of their sockets just for sport looked like little kids with eyes cast down as if being scolding by parents.

“But Quix was there,” I added.

They let me through.

The ex-Marine cyborg was seated near the back of the establishment at a round table with other guys that I assumed were all ex-military too. They always gave clues: dog-tags hanging outside their clothes, wearing camouflaged Army hats or pants, Aviator-like glasses, though I knew no airmen ever wore them.

Quix saw me from the moment I stepped into the bar. I stuck out like a neon thumb in this place. When I reached the table, we exchanged a fist bump. He was a short, bald, muscular, cyborg with big leathery hands, an earring in one ear, part of his jaw and neck were metal, and he was wearing yellow-tinted shades.

“Cruz.”

“Quix, can I join you?”

“Private conversation?”

“It’s up to you.”

“Pull up a chair.”

I did so and joined the men at their table. Before I could agree or object, he had signaled the barkeep to bring another drink over. All the men were drinking serious alcohol and it was not even lunchtime.

“How’s the cherry red Ford Pony?” he asked half-laughing as he drank his drink.

“My Miami Vice Red Pony is doing quite well.”

The other men laughed and muttered to each other in some East European language.

“Remember, what we had talked about before?” I said.

“I remember.”

“If I ever need muscle, I’d like you to be that man.

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