Samuel "Samson" Cross's Story

The bar was quiet, a thin vapor of smoke hung in the air from the various cigars being smoked by the patrons. Their embers glowed in the gloom, pulsing and burning like eyes in the dark. Samuel Cross didn't smoke himself, and didn't care to sit inside a smoke cloud for too long, but this was one of his favorite spots in the city. It dark, it was peaceful, and above all else, it was quiet. No computer generated noises and simulated voices, no stark white sterile computers or giddy cyborg preteens. It was nice, so nice.

It was called "The Alley", and computers of any form were not allowed inside. It was a place for old men to come and talk and smoke and play cards without being bothered by the outside world. It was like heaven for Cross. He sat in the bar corner of the room, nestled in a booth and eating an old style pizza-pie that Doc Mussolini made in his brick oven stove behind the bar. He took his hat off and set it on the table next to his meal. "The Alley" was a converted wine cellar, and rested deep in the ground. Despite this, Cross could still see the grey sky and rain through the tiny half circle shaped windows that lined the top of the stone wall.

It was about noon, according to his watch, but the sun was hidden behind the grey sky. The majority of the city's residents would be inside, plugged into the wall and having a virtual sun-warmed picnic at the beach. Cross smiled, good, he had been wanting to take a nice walk in the rain for some time now. He took his time with his pie, letting the warmth settle in his belly, then he picked up his hat and scooted out of the wooden booth. He laid some money down on the table and began to make his way to the door.

"You up and leaving already Samson?" Mussolini asked him, looking up from polishing his glasses. The huge Italian had a thing for polishing his glasses, and kept them sparkling.

"I'll be back later Doc, I don't want to miss the rain." He replied with a smile.

Doc just chuckled and shook his head, returning to his glasses. Samson continued out of the room, sliding through the various card-covered tables. A surprisingly large number of people were at "The Alley" today, probably due to the rain. Mussolini let anybody in who wanted to come in, so there were always more patrons when the weather went cold or wet. There was no rule against cyborgs as long as they didn't bring in anything that could connect them to the overall network, but they mostly steered clear.

A few groups of men greeted him as he past, mostly Mafia, some of whom he had worked with and for on previous occasions. He returned their gestures warmly, and shook many hands before reaching the stone steps that led to the door.

"Hey! Where ya going? It's raining out there!" A voice called out to him.

"I love the rain!" Samson called back to no one in particular, then opened the door and stepped outside.

A car pulled up in front of "The Alley" just as he opened the door. A wealthy looking man in an antique pinstripe suit (much like Cross's own suit, but of much higher quality) got out of the backseat. He was immediately flanked by two men who exited the car. They too wore suits, and carried umbrella's over the man's head. He smiled as he approached Cross.

"Samson, my boy! I have not seen you in far too long!" He said with a smile. He extended his arms and embraced Samson, then took an umbrella from one of his men. He handed it to Samson, who took it with a grin.

"Too long Grigori, far too long. I haven't seen your face since that job last Winter." He replied.

Grigori smiled and nodded.

"That was a cold night, but we made it work in the end didn't we?" He said, moving closer to the door.

"Let me know if you ever have anything for me to do!" Samson said.

"Of course Samson! Things have been quiet lately around my businesses you know, but if something does come up, I'll find you first." Grigori smirked again, then disappeared into "The Alley" with his men.

Samson, umbrella in hand, set off down the side-walk. He knew of another place where he liked to relax, and he intended to make it there before the rain stopped.

"Hey you!"

Samson froze; his 1911, Maria, suddenly felt heavy in her holster beneath his left arm. He resisted the urge to slink behind cover and draw it.

"Not every shouting voice in the street means a shootout." He thought to himself, but still it unnerved him.

He let out a sigh of relief as the voice continued, it was just the spokesperson for the Brickwall. He let himself loosen back up. It was a woman, standing out in the rain without a care in the world. She must be quite dedicated, if she was calling out to passersby on the street in this weather. Sam remembered her face, but not her name. "The Brickwall" was Yakuza operated, and was right on the border of the Mafia and Yakuza operated fronts. While "The Alley" wasn't actually owned by any one family (they all respected Doc Mussolini's rights to the place), the two bars had always stared each other down. The two big players on the street. It was like from an Old Western film, back when everything was shot with actual people and real cameras.

Sam smiled, it was actually quite a funny situation. He was about to respond to the woman when another figure suddenly approached her. He could tell by the man's expression and the way he carried himself that he was acquainted with her. He had a full replacement arm, which glittered in the rain. He obviously kept good care of himself. Sam waited until the cyborg man had drawn the attention of the woman, then hurried past not wanting to interrupt this reunion.

He stopped short though, and looked back. The Brickwall had never been a second home to him like The Alley, and he had left the Yakuza with a bad taste in their mouths on several occasions. Still, if that woman was going to stand out in the rain by herself for the sake of business, he might as well give the place some patronage. He looked up at the grey sky, the rain would last a bit longer yet. He would come back later.

He set off again, settling into his stride. He knew this route by heart, he had walked it hundreds of times before. Back through the alley-ways and side-streets he walked, going ever deeper into the crowded maze of apartments and small restaurants. Small signs, illuminated with faint neon, advertised open rooms and special deals. He even passed several cyborg-part shops, many of which sold things more along the line of combustion engine parts, rather than state of the art equipment.

Eventually, he reached his destination. The beauty of it always took him by surprise, no matter how many times he visited. It was a garden, hidden away from the rest of the world down a back alley behind a bakery. He had always wondered who took care of the place, because surely nothing like this could grow naturally here. Flowers of every kind and color shuddered beneath the rain, their soil held in brick containers of the same type as the street. Benches were placed at various places in the little park, all placed to give a good view of the greenery. Sam loved this place, loved even more to see it in the rain like this, it was simply beautiful. It made him feel deeply honored to be one of the few people that knew of its existence.

He could have sat there for hours, but the benches were all soaked. He took one last look at the place, then turned and walked back the way he came. He loved the rain, but he was getting tired of holding his umbrella. He hoped it cleared over soon.

The rain had begun to let off a bit as Samson approached the tense atmosphere that surrounded the turf that "The Alley" and the "Brickwall Club" shared. He smiled as he approached the "Brickwall", he could recognize Danny Valentino from inside already. It was rare to see a live musical performance anymore, and he didn't want to miss this chance.

Per sat outside, under the balcony and shielded from the drizzle. Samson recognized her, and he was sure she would recognize him. A lot of people couldn't judge Per's gender at first glance, and to be honest he couldn't blame them. She kept her hair cropped quite close to her head and was flat-chested. All in all, she looked like a young boy. Samson understood, he had had quite a lengthy conversation with her once. She had been born in the slums, where it was often times safer to be a boy than a girl; the Yakuza had saved her from the blood-soaked streets and brought her to the slightly less dangerous streets. Still, she had grown accustomed to the look.

She smiled at him.

"Strange to see you on this side of the street." She said simply.

"Can't miss Danny. How are you holding up?"

"Pretty good, I've eaten three meals a day for the past week. In my book there's nothing else in life worth worrying about." She chuckled and opened the door for him.

Samson smiled back and handed her a tip, then walked inside. The lights had been dimmed for the performance, but crowd was obvious. Even though the Brickwall was an "old fashioned" joint, it was still a club, and a hopping one at that. Lots of cyborgs frequented here, apparently it was the cool new thing lately to experience a reenactment of the days gone by. Most of the people here had probably never even heard of Danny Valentino, and would never know that they were watching the performance of a legend.

Samson strolled into the club, he avoided the crowded main area and found a snug little table and chair off to the side. Far enough away to be comfortable, but not far enough away to draw attention to himself. He assumed this place didn't have waiters or even served food, it was more about partying and fancy alcohol here. It was a shame really, that such a beautiful old building had been delegated to selling luminescent vodka to hip young fools.

He had half a mind to go sit with Per outside.

He eyed the bar, then thought against it. Once you tasted Doc Mussolini's eighty year old vintage red wine, no coarse liquor fermented the previous morning would ever satisfy you. He looked around for the girl who had been standing in the rain earlier. He couldn't see her, he was terrible with finding people in crowds.

"Or would you rater prefer a 52 year old Chateau du Marnac?"

Sam was genuinely surprised that the Brickwall would have anything near that quality. It sounded good, but to honest he preferred to drink with a full meal, and he preferred to dine in silence.

"Ah, that sounds great Miss, but I think I will have to pass. Its a bit early in the day for wine. Let the cook know that I regret having just eaten lunch." He stated.

She was pretty, but almost fake in a way. He could tell she was a cyborg by the way she held herself. It was kind of an intuitive trick, he had learned it during his time with the Family. Cyborgs with limb replacements had a certain rigidness to them, nothing too terribly noticeable, but it was there if you were looking for it.

He glanced over her shoulder in the direction she had come from, and spied two figures standing close together. What looked like an android and the cyborg man from earlier that day stood together and spoke. The man was glancing in his direction, or rather, her direction.

"Friends of yours?" He asked the cyborg woman. "Miss, erm, what was your name?"

A gunshot. Aseria sprinted out and the man Nimo was conversing with quickly followed. He began to follow but caught the eye of the man Aseria was talking to, a man of older fashions but good taste. Him, alongside most of the other patrons, were showing a calmness that could only be associated with 'It was a common thing'. After a few seconds Nimo turned and left to greet the scene outside.

Per was lying on the ground, heavily wounded, and Aseria was already contacting an ambulance. Beside her was the corpse of a cyborg and his frontal lobe, while next to him was the body of a female cyborg and the fully functioning head nearby shouting expletives at the ground as the henchman carried it away.

"A deep laceration that caused minor damage. The bullet is lodged in the skull, but urgent medical attention is required. Brain damage - minimal" he whirred off soullessly. Ghosts from his forgotten mind told him he knew nothing of medicine. Another upgrade then...

At that point, he came to a realisation. All he deep, purposeful memories featured nothing about cyborgs, Yakuza or Mafia. There was still technology, but not to this extent at least. Straining hard to catch the whispers of thought, he tried to break the chip, learn something, but then as if a switch were flipped, they were gone. He sighed.

As soon as Per was in the ambulance (Nimo had to help a little with the heavy lifting) Aseria marched indoors. The rain was wavering, but regardless Nimo stood there, deep in non-existent thought. Within a couple of minutes, he re-entered the club.

Sam had heard the shot, it had startled him, but it didn't really concern him much. Shots fired in the street were a regular thing. Miss Mykonesic rushed outside, but Samson remained where he was. He was interested in seeing what had happened, and Per's defenselessness suddenly sprang to his mind. However, he didn't want to get caught up in the throng of people that were sure to gather around the disturbance. The room was suddenly a swirling maelstrom of panic. Young patrons ran helter-skelter around the room looking for cover. In midst of it all, Sam found the single pulsing red "eye" of the android in the crowd examining him. It was a rather unnerving sensation, and Sam looked away quickly.

He looked up at Danny on stage and gave him a quick wink.
Danny Valentino, would had already stopped playing, made a hand signal. His fellow band members suddenly dropped their instruments and slid long barreled, silenced pistols from out of their suits. Samson stood and drew Maria as well, working the slide back once and moving towards the door.

Sam arrived at the front door at the same moment as the android. The robot casually strode outside, Samson slid out and covered the rear of the crowd that had now gathered around something. He glanced back and saw Per laying on the ground, covered in blood and surrounded by bits of metal and cybernetics. Miss Mykonesic still clutched a cybernetic head in her hand.

She was a bouncer after all.

"A deep laceration that caused minor damage. The bullet is lodged in the skull, but urgent medical attention is required. Brain damage - minimal"
The android whirred out.

Though clinical, the robot's assessment calmed his nerves. She would live as long as she got to a hospital. Sure enough, the sound of sirens in the distance eventually reached the crowd. Per was taken away by the ambulance and the crowd gradually dispersed. Aseria and the majority of the other patrons returned inside the club. The android remained stock still outside though, like some kind of statue. Samson slid Maria back into his shoulder holster, a little disappointed that he hadn't gotten the chance to put the weapon through its paces.

Something weird was happening in this city. He could feel it in his bones. Only two or three years ago, this sort of thing would have been unheard of. No idiot would simply walk up to a bar and shoot the bouncer in the head. He had seen something like it happen only once, and the fool had been pumped with lead before he could reach the doorstep of the "Alley". He could claim that it was just the Yakuza's inadequacy, but that wouldn't be entirely true. The honor was being sucked out of this district. As more and more punks grew up, and the older generation passed away, things were getting out of hand.

He had a feeling something serious was about to happen.

Samson had watched as Aseria and the other man prepared to follow the ambulance to the hospital. Samson himself decided to remain inside the club and cool off, he hated it when a calm day was interrupted. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that this little incident could snowball into something else. It seemed the only thing he would be able to do for now was wait. He relaxed in his chair as Danny and his band resumed their performance, to a much smaller audience.