'Most stories start with a beginning. This one starts with an ending. The white flash catches your retina first, a bolt of energy powerful enough to blind you for a few seconds. Then you see the orange mushroom glow rising at the core of the explosion as the shock wave, unseen, but with the power to tear flesh and stone apart radiates outward faster than the mind can comprehend. Before the first shock wave dissipates it triggers yet another wave, less powerful, but still potentially deadly. It's not the glowing fireball that gets you, it's the power of pressurized air suddenly made stronger than almost anything in its path. That same air you're breathing now, the air you rely on for your existence, has the power to kill you under the right conditions. I know this because knowing this is the difference between life and death, being derelict on the streets and living in well appointed luxury.

We're at war. At night various parts of the city light up with what often look like fireworks displays but are explosions of a much more deadly kind. The central enclave, the green zone as we like to call it, is about the only place that doesn't have blast damage. There are a few hundred apartment buildings in the green zone, but the bulk of the city is spread around it, a sprawling mass of soot ravaged humanity just trying to get by.

The official story is that we're at peace. If you read the propaganda papers or watch the shiny talky heads, then you'll 'know' the war is over. The national guard are supposed to have control of the place, but that's anything but true. At night the soldiers retreat inside the high walls of the green zone and the  bulk of the population are left to fend for themselves between groups of mobsters and wannabe warlords who are over weaponized and under educated.

The city is dark and dirty and dangerous - a triple D threat. You'd have to be crazy to live here, but I love this place. It's perfect for someone with my skill set and because there are so many places where the law just won't go, there's a lot of scope for anyone who wants to live outside lines. I'm not saying everyone in Baltham is a crook, I'm just saying right and wrong aren't black and white around these parts. Certainly not if you want to stay alive for very long, and definitely not if you want to make your way up in the world.

Me, I've got a nice little place in the green zone. A safe haven for when it gets too hairy or messy out in the wider city. A one bedroom apartment the size of a shoe box will run you a couple million in the green zone. I've got two bedrooms and a bath. How did I afford that sort of luxury? Let's just say I'm good at what I do. 

On a night like any other night, I wandered away from the explosion that had been my handiwork, my hands in the pockets of my black and orange leather jumpsuit, a small grin on my face as the shadows from the leaping flames danced wildly down the street ahead of me, my dark escorts of mayhem. I can't help but smile when an explosion takes, when I feel the pulse of energy as it radiates ever outwards in concentric rings that will travel for miles, quickly losing their destructive force as they dissipate and become part nature. My detonations aren't just acts of annihilation, they're also gentle breeze on a summer's day, the sneeze of a kitten. Do I feel guilty about what I do? No. In destruction there is life.  We all stepped out of the biggest bang there ever was, after all.

The blast site was a good five miles from the green zone, but I felt like walking it, so I did. There aren't many pedestrians around in the early hours of the morning in Baltham. Most citizens barricade themselves indoors as soon as the sun goes down. Anyone out walking the streets is dangerous or insane, or both. There's an unwritten understanding that you can do whatever is necessary to protect yourself out here. Most people are packing guns, but I prefer the Zapper for personal protection. It looks like a thick metal bracelet about 5-6 inches long and you clamp it over your forearm, right over whatever clothing you're wearing. It has a digital touch pad interface on the uppermost side with mundane functions like telling you the time and less mundane functions like sending two prongs charged with 50,000 volts of electricity at anyone who gets in your way. It's basically a jumped up Taser with a few extra useful functions.

It was quiet on the streets. That's how it is after a decent shake up, and the detonation I'd just overseen was enough to shake buildings for blocks on end. There was a lot of fear in the city and people tended to go underground when things looked like they might get hairy. I didn't blame them. It was the smart thing to do and hey, it made the streets slightly safer for me with fewer tweakers looking for an easy mark.

“Hey. Hey lady.” A rough voice coughed at me from the depths of an alley. I kept walking. Not for my protection mind, for the protection of whoever it was trying to get my attention. You don't want my attention, you really don't. People who spend time around me have a tendency to get hurt. How hurt they get depends on how much time they spend around me and how unlucky they are.

If I hadn't been distracted by the chatty bum, I might have been paying enough attention to avoid what happened next. As it was, there was a sudden flash of at the corner of my eye, light reflected sharply off a shined black finish. I took to my heels for a few brief steps as a dull purring drew closer, then slowed down again almost immediately. I was wasting my energy. Get away before you hear them and you might have a chance, but by the time they're close enough for you to feel the rumble of the engine, you're done for.

A limousine pulled up beside me. It was one of the mob limos, all understated class and sheen. I stopped walking and waited for the inevitable. Like clockwork, the door swung open and a large fist reached out, grabbed me by the shirt front and yanked me inside.  It took all the restraint I had not to reach for the Zapper and watch my assailant start flopping around like a fish out of water, but that would have been a bad idea. A very bad idea. You don't mess with the mob unless you want to get yourself messed with worse.

I tumbled into the back of the limo and found myself facing a broad man who managed to spread his bulk across almost the entirety of the back seat, forcing the platinum blonde girls on either side of him to perch on their bony sides and press their almost non existent bosoms against him. Dressed in matching flapper style sequin dresses that flattered their slim figures, they clung to the man like a limpet clings to the hull of a ship. My seat companion wasn't nearly as pretty, he was a silent giant of a man whose pumped shoulders threatened to burst out of his suit jacket at any moment.

“Hey Boss,” I greeted the massive man across from me as nonchalantly as anyone greeted Boss. Boss had a very well earned reputation for being both brutal and inventive. You crossed him, he crossed you back in ways you never knew you could be crossed.


“Where's my money, Tyler?” The big boss spoke with smoky grace whilst his two companions stared at me with glassy expressions. I'd put good money on them being out of their minds on something. There was no way those two were in the same dimension I was.

I looked him dead in the eye. “Coming.” Best to keep things abrupt. Best to keep an eye out for assassins too. People who owed Boss money had a tendency to meet with accidents. Unpleasant accidents that removed the odd essential body part. He didn't like waiting and he informed me as much.

“I have some work on. You'll have your money.” It was a bit of a lie, but I wasn't planning on telling Boss I wasn't going to have his money anytime soon. I had an expensive life and I'd funded it partially on Boss' dime. Yeah I make good money, but financial planning isn't precisely my strong suit.

Boss huffed like he knew I was lying. “You better. I like you Tyler, but my patience has its limits.”

I already knew I wouldn't like what happened when Boss reached his limit. “I understand Boss, really I do.”

“Yeah.” He grunted then directed his gaze to the mountain next to me. “Well, I think I'm going to need some insurance here, girl.”

My heart started beating faster. Did he want a finger? A toe? My first born? “What kind of insurance?”

“I'm going to have someone keep an eye on you. Make sure you get me that money.” He made a coughing, growling sound in the base of his throat that was probably a sign of humor. “Make sure you don't decide to maybe take a little holiday.”

That wasn't so bad. It looked like I was going to keep all my body parts. “You're going to put a tail on me? I appreciate the warning.”

“Not a tail,” he shook his head, but his neck was so large the movement looked more like a mild wobble. “I'm going to have someone look after you.”

“I can look after myself, Boss.”

You didn't argue with Boss. But he liked me, so he let me get away with it just that once. “Like I said, I want eyes on you. You owe me five million.”

“Five million? I thought it was four.”

“Interest,” Boss said.

I could have tried arguing again, but I didn't push my luck. It wouldn't have gotten me anywhere. He was just as likely to slap another million onto the debt for wasting his time. “So who's the tail?”

“He'll meet you at your place.” Boss' big hairy brows dipped into the crevice between his eyes. “Don't give him any trouble Tyler. I won't like it if you do.”

“I never give anyone trouble Boss,” I grinned.

He snorted, knowing that to be the lie of the century. “Okay,” he said, extending his hand palm upwards. I put mine in his and smiled slightly as he smacked his rubbery lips down on the back of it. It was a mark of affection, though I knew it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference how much affection he felt for me if I fucked with him. “Get out of here and get me my money.”

“You got it Boss.” I skedaddled out of that limo as quick as I could, then stood and watched it pull away into the night. Breathing a sight of relief, I inhaled the smoggy air deeply. Having gotten out of that limo alive was no small thing. Time to go home.

I figured I'd tested my luck enough for one night, so instead of walking I used the Zapper to call for an armored cab. It showed up in less than five minutes, just like it says in the ad. I got into the back seat. Armored cabs look nothing like normal cars. They look more like steel plated armadillos ambling around the streets of the outer city. There are no windows apart from a thin strip of glass at the front where the driver can theoretically see where they're going. If you get hit by an armored cab, there's not going to be much left of you. They're not allowed in the green zone, but if you want to get around the outer regions without getting into trouble then they're your best choice.

The driver was completely obscured behind a full inch of tinted bullet proof glass. A metal grille activated with a low buzzing sound and I heard a distant, tinny voice. “Where to?”

“Green zone.”

Just like that we were off at a slow, but steady pace.

There are four entrances to the green zone, North, South, East and Main. My apartment was on the South and we were headed for the main gate. I was okay with that. You could walk around the green zone at any time of the day or night buck naked if you want to and nothing bad was going to happen. The place was so heavily policed with on the ground officers and flying drones that crime was pretty much non-existent. Even at 3 am, the main gate was well lit and clean, an oasis of civilization in the outer city.

The cab pulled up a few feet away from the gate. “That'll be thirty bucks,” the tinny summons came through the speaker. I put it on the Zapper. With a few strokes, thirty credits were transferred from my account to the driver's via the wireless communications network that over-laced the entire city, an invisible web capable of tracking almost anyone almost anywhere.

Having paid for my ride, I got out of the cab and made my way over to the main gate. As I walked, unseen sensors were sweeping my face, looking at my irises, checking to see who I was. The process is so fast now you don't even have to stop and wait, you just amble up at a reasonable pace and as long as the system recognizes you as a resident of the green zone, the gate opens and you go in. If you're not a resident, no harm done, the gate stays closed. If you're a little more insistent, well, the gate can be charged with a high enough voltage to pretty much vaporize you instantly, so it's not advisable to keep pushing the limits. The gates slid open for me obligingly as I approached them, allowing me to step into the inner sanctum of the privileged.

My apartment sat about one third of the way up a shimmering green glass sky scraper that arced into the air in a hyperbolic curve. Whilst the rest of the world was going to hell, the green zone was putting its ample resources into development. The results were stunning. Everywhere you looked, LushGrass ™ served as a walkway between the buildings. You'd think that the incessant foot traffic would kill it, but the bio engineers had designed it to be crush proof, pick proof and even fire proof. When they mowed the stuff they had to to it with diamond tipped blades. If you reached down and tried to pick the  grass yourself, it would just slip right out of your fingers.

I was almost home when I saw Boss' babysitter outside the front doors of my building. I knew why he was waiting. The lobby of the Gourd, the building I called home, was stocked with the same sensors that worked the gates. A very unobtrusive, very genteel system. If someone who didn't belong there arrived without notification from an occupant then they would be kindly asked to leave by the attendant at the front desk. If they continued to linger, sterner actions were taken.

Boss' man was standing with his hands behind his back, a powerful figure silhouetted against the glowing neon green of the building. He looked tidy in his three piece suit, his dark hair cropped short in a way my grandmother would probably have approved of. As I drew closer I saw that he was slightly older than I'd first taken him to be, a little touch of gray speckled his short sideburns and played through his hair in a dignified sort of way. A tidy mustache graced his upper lip, putting me in mind of one of the old timey gentlemen that you used to see in movies. He was a fairly handsome man with decent bone structure and kind brown eyes.  Standing in front of him I felt slightly shabby. I was a bit of a mess, okay, a lot of a mess. I'd picked up some soot and dirt during the job and knowing me, it was probably smudged across my cheeks because I had a habit of wiping my face with the back of my hand whether the back of my hand was clean or not.

As I drew closer, he saw me looking at him and put two and two together. “Miss Tyler?”

“Babysitter?”

He smirked slightly, his mustache swerving on his lip. It wasn't the worst thing I could have called him. He was almost certainly an assassin on Boss' books, but 'Babysitter' sounds better than 'Killer for hire'. “Please, call me Jeremy,” he said with casual charm.

“Jeremy?” The name didn't quite seem to fit him, it wasn't genteel enough for the perfectly groomed fellow. He should have been an Earnest or a Nathaniel or something. “Whatever floats your boat.” I walked past him into the lobby. “You coming?” I asked the question over my shoulder. If I'd wanted to be childish and petty I could have lost him then, could have told the attendant I didn't know him, that he was stalking me. If I'd done that, Jeremy would have been removed forcibly by building security. But that would have pissed Boss off, and I wasn’t going to piss Boss off.

“I have a guest,” I announced as we went in. “Jeremy...” I turned and looked at him. “What's your last name?

“Blade. Jeremy Blade.”

Jeremy Blade. What a ridiculously macho name. “Jeremy Blade,” I repeated to the attendant. Keystrokes were made and Jeremy was allowed into the building without being vaporized or forcibly ejected in pieces. I lead him into the elevator and he stood next to me, keeping a polite distance. Even if you're sharing them with friends, elevators have a way of making everything weird. Trapped in the small space, I suddenly found myself unable to remember how I usually stood. Every position seemed awkward. What was I supposed to do with my hands? I crossed my arms over my chest, and when that felt wrong, I shoved my hands deep into my pockets. With my every movement, I felt his eyes on me, judging me silently.

“I'm going to catch a shower,” I said when we got in to my apartment. “Make yourself comfortable.” I had to get cleaned up and I didn't see any real need to worry about the guy. If he was one of Boss' men he wasn't going to be too much trouble. Boss didn't play like that. Plus Jeremy seemed to be the sort of man who prided himself on being a gentleman. He even wore a pocket square with his suit, a nod to perpetual formality. I left him in the lounge whilst I took myself into the bathroom, stripped off my clothes and examined myself in the mirror before I got into the shower.  I was every bit as much of a mess as I'd thought I probably was. Dark smears of ash and soot coursed across my forehead and snubby nose. Some of the stuff had even managed to get itself into my hair.

A great deal of scrubbing and carefully shampooing, rinsing and repeating three times restored my skin to its normal sort of pinkish color and my hair to its usual rust red. When I emerged from the shower  wrapped in a big fluffy towel that covered me almost from top to toe, Jeremy was sitting on my couch, looking out the window at the view of the green zone. It was all shimmering beauty and delicate lights from my apartment, the filth and desperation behind the high walls was neatly hidden. “It's a nice view you got here, young lady,” he said, carefully not turning around in case I was in a state of undress.

“Yeah, it's not bad.” I scooted to the bedroom wearing a towel and looked for something semi decent to wear. Something comfortable, but not too casual. I settled on black yoga pants and a lace trimmed close fitting camisole and padded out into the lounge on bare feet.

“So,” I said as I mixed myself a drink at the bar. “You thirsty, Jeremy?”

“I could go for a gin and tonic,” he stood and smiled at me and I noticed the way his eyes crinkled pleasantly when he did. He was not as old as he made himself look and sound. I was guessing mid forties, maybe slightly older. He had a score or more of years on me though, which was probably why he insisted on calling me 'young lady'. The older you get, the younger everyone else looks to you.

“Coming right up.” I poured a couple fingers of gin into a tumbler and splashed tonic around the place fairly liberally before handing the glass to him.

“Thank you kindly,” he caught me in one of those warm smiles again and for a moment I forgot why he was there. It felt like I was just having a drink with a new friend. I smiled back as I poured myself a bourbon and brown.

“So how is this supposed to work?” I carried my drink over to the couch and sat down. I reckoned it would be best if we kept this congenial. There was no point introducing tension into a delicate situation, especially a delicate situation that could easily end up with me getting shot. I couldn't see any guns on the man, but I would have bet anything there was a holster under the tidy suit jacket he wore.

“I'll try not to get in your way too much, Miss Tyler,” he said, putting a hand in his pants pocket as he held his drink with the other. “I find it's best to keep these matters amicable.”

“Amicable suits me just fine,” I agreed. “But I gotta tell you up front Jeremy, there are some places you won't be able to follow me. The people I work for usually don't want witnesses.”

“I'm aware of the need for discretion,” he said. “I can assure you, if there are circumstances under which it is best I am not observed, I will not be observed.”

“Oh yeah? Stealthy, are you?”

“It is one of my talents,” he acknowledged.

I took a sip of my drink then used the tumbler to point at him accusingly. “If you're so stealthy, why do you need to be here then? Why doesn't Boss just have you tail me from a distance?”

“It is his wish that I keep a closer eye on you and act, if necessary, as a conduit of his desires.”

“Is that fancy talk for he wants you to be able to whack me if I don't get him his money?”

“Whack you?” A little smirk passed his lips. “Something like that.”

“I've lost you Jeremy.” I downed my drink and went back to the bar for another. The warmth in my stomach was already growing from the first lot, but I wanted more. As congenial as this little affair was, the underlying menace could not be denied. I had one of Boss' gun men in my apartment, not three feet from me. Things were pleasant enough at that precise moment, but they could turn real nasty, real quick. It takes a fraction of a second to end someone's life if you know what you're doing, and I was sure Jeremy Blade knew what he was doing.

He spoke again from behind me, his voice sliding up my spine like liquid silk. “I have a unique approach to my job, especially when it comes to dealing with young ladies like yourself.”

There he went with the 'young lady' thing again. I turned back towards him, shaking my head. “I'm really not all that young Jeremy, hate to disappoint you.”

He smiled. “You're not as old as you think either.”

Another cryptic remark. Jeremy sure liked having mystique about him. “Whatever it is you've got to say, just spit it out, Mr Blade. I'm tired.” I poured a decent splash of bourbon into my glass and downed it in a single gulp.

“Do you always drink before bed?” He changed the subject rather abruptly.

“It's called a night cap, and yeah, sometimes. What's it to you?”

“Drinking before bed can disturb your sleep.”

Something in his tone, a patronizing note, got my back up. “What do you care?” I poured another couple fingers out. I didn't even want them, but I sure as hell wasn't going to take orders from the guy. He worked for Boss, but I didn't work for him.

As I lifted the glass to my lips, he stepped forward and politely, but insistently took it from me. “I care because you need to be sharp in order to do the work you need to do to get my employer his money.”

Later on I'd be angry, but at that moment I was too surprised to be angry. I gawped after my glass as it floated away, propelled by Jeremy's meddling fingers. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you're in top form. I think its time you went to bed, Miss Tyler, it's late.” He spoke with the genteel tones of a butler, but there was an underlying hard note that got my attention. Blade was being nice, but he didn't have to be. I decided to take the hint.

“What about you? You want the spare room?”

He relaxed visibly as I gave in to his demands without a fight. He'd probably been briefed to expect more shit from me. His shoulders lost a lot of their tension and he placed my drink back on the bar with a slight smile at me. “That's very kind, thank you.”

“Hey, I'm all about being a good host. You'll find towels in the closet.” I leaned over, grabbed the drink  and downed it before he could stop me. It burned like hell going down in one thick rush of raw alcohol, but I had a point to make. “G'night.” I grinned broadly, slammed the tumbler back down on the bar and walked off in the direction of my room without a second glance at Mr Jeremy Blade.