The Walker

When Daisy was out of sight, Charlie’s grin faded.

“You’re gonna get her killed, mate.” He sipped at his drink, eyes twinkling form behind his dark glasses. “Remember the last one?”

Walker’s mouth darkened further. “Let’s not. Besides,” he said, looking over to where Daisy stood arguing with someone at the bar, “She can look after herself.”

“Well,” Charlie replied, sipping thoughtfully at his cocktail, “The last one could look after himself, if I remember rightly, be a shame to see another one...” Charlie made a gun shape with his hand and held it against his head, blowing a raspberry loudly.

Walker glowered at him. Charlie shrugged and put his glass down.

“Just play it safe mate. Head down, all that. The less publicity, the better.” He cocked a thumb to where Daisy had finished her argument with a decisive kick. “Now,” he continued, “To the job.”

“You want me to kill him, then?” Walker replied.

Charlie looked genuinely surprised, and shook his head. “So quick to jump to that, mate? I only want you to meet the poor bastard.”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “He and I have this deal going on, see; he says he knows the best ways to get stuff into the city, and all that. Says he knows the big boys—“

Walker interrupted. “Less story, Charlie. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Charlie sat back and pulled a small, brass cigar case from his breast pocket. He clicked it open and took out a fresh cigar. He lit it with a match and puffed heartily, before closing the lid again.

“He’s a weird fella, thinks too much. Been stuck in the VR for, well, ages. But he knows people, gets good stuff in, flash, juice... He also knows where to get hardware, if you need anything like that.” His eyes glittered meaningfully, as Walker shrugged.

Charlie nodded and flipped his cigar case over. He pressed a switch along the side and the back flickered into life. Walker saw a familiar egg shape, and faded blue clothing.

“Funny. I’ve already met him tonight.”

Charlie nodded, flicking his cigar ash into Daisy’s abandoned drink, which flared briefly as the spirits were set alight. “Hilarious, I’m sure. Just remember, he’s a bit weird. Jumpy. So watch yerself. Here’s the dough.” He slid a small satchel over to Walker. It clinked heavily as he took it. “Still,” Charlie continued, “he gets the good shit. Valuable, he is. Meet him in the alley next to the Window Bar; you probably saw it on your way here?”

Walker smirked humourlessly. “Yeah, we saw it. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Just tell him ole Charlie sent you.”

Walker finished his drink and left the booth, leaving Charlie smoking his cigar.

Daisy had just finished downing another whiskey when Walker appeared behind her. She spun, furious.

“I told you, I’m not dancing witchu“ she looked up at Walker, slightly unsteady. “Oh, it’s you. We goin’ now?”

She’s drunk, he thought. He peered down at the last man who had bothered Daisy, still writhing slowly on the ground. “I see you’ve been practising. I’m off out. I’ll be back soon.”

She glowered up at him, wobbling slightly. “Well, tha’s fine. I’ll stay here an’ drink, on my own. ’S’not like you’ll need help out there, or anything.” She added sarcastically.

Walker shook his head disapprovingly and scratched his chin. “Just stay here, girl,” she scowled harder at him, “I’ve got some business to take care of.”

“’Ere, you stop calling me—“

Walker ignored her, and headed out.