High Frequency

Johannesburg, Africa  Late 2014

Loud chatter flooded from all directions. Languages mixed, people laughed, hiccuped and hollered. The city was alive with noise and lights. Horns blared in traffic. Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance, radiating with the loud bustle of nightlife. The air was hot and humid and Remedy could feel the sweat beading at the back of her neck. She wiped it with her hand and adjusted her fraying hair in its bun. The closer they got to the club, the more crowded it became, and the more reckless. Even at their distance, they heard bottles smash and a fight break out in front of Die Senuwee. Slate was in front and he turned sharp on his heel to go down a narrow alleyway; she followed with Jace watching their backs, searching around quickly to make sure no one was paying too close attention.

They squeezed along the concrete walls into a wider, quieter alleyway with stray people minding their own business, but still casting glances. Her and her co-workers were not dressed for a night out in the club or for anything, really. It was more of a grab-what-you-can and go situation. She was sure it wasn’t just their appearance, but what she carried. Remedy tucked the silver case closer to her body and tried to hide it better between her and Slate’s coat. When they arrived at the back entrance of Die Senuwee, she noticed Jace slowing back to check the surroundings. He was trying to plan an escape route just in case.

Not even a day ago, she had successfully managed to secure a job interview in South Korea. The date was set, she just needed to pack her bags and give Sevigny her notice, but Slate showed up at her hotel room with an ongoing conference call from the boss. He sounded worn and couldn’t make the drop. He needed them both to fill in for him. It was inconvenient timing for a deadline that was just barely skimming its hours.

There were only a few men in front of the staircase leading down into the dance floor. Some sat on plastic crates playing cards and dice on a flimsy folding table. There were bottles by their feet and a few discarded smoking packs and dropped fags. One man bobbed his head to the muffled thump of music coming from inside the building. The structure itself was an old warehouse that had been remodeled, mostly to support the third floor as the vip room.

Remedy glanced at Slate’s back when they stepped close enough. She saw his shoulders tense first and then relax. He never liked short notice deliveries, especially when Sevigny was expected.

“Gentlemen,” Slate said when stopped. She stayed just a ways behind his right shoulder. Jace stepped up to have their backs. A couple of men looked up, the others glanced then went back to playing their game. To them, the three were foreigners with little importance. Slate’s voice gave way he was American, like her, though neither had been to the country in years.

Slate preferred to keep his brown hair cut real short, as if growing in from a buzz. He often narrowed his brows, making his dark eyes more menacing depending on the circumstance. Remedy’s hair was only a couple hues lighter, but wavy as hell. Her hair often bumped at the scalp when she had to put it up. Sometimes she didn’t know what color her eyes were; she’d been told they were green and other days they were blue.

Jace stood out against them with bleach spiked hair and ear cuffs, he was thinnest and probably the youngest- his early twenties somewhere. Her and Slate had just passed thirty, but most people didn’t believe the number. Three baby-face foreigners with broken Afrikaans and faded clothes, of course no one was responding.

Slate cleared his throat and made himself more known.

“No entry,” a small man grunted with a strained accent. He was sitting on one of the crates and threw down a card, then grimaced at the play. He lost whatever he had on the table and the others took it away laughing. Remedy clenched the case a little tighter, then flexed her fingers when she noticed how sweaty her palm was getting. Slate pulled out a small black business card from his sleeve and held it out for any one of the guardsmen to take. It took a couple seconds before the gruff, bearded man against the rails snatched it from Slate’s fingers and looked down at it, then back up. Jace shifted behind them and scratched the back of his head. Remedy glanced at him over her shoulder and he straightened up, crossing his arms. Remedy doubt he’d gone to anything more than a slow, buzz-lit pub on a street corner.

“Hulle is hier vir die baas,” the bearded man said aloud. The others finally acknowledged them, gave a nod of approval to go down. The man held the card back out to Slate and with a sneer, Slate snatched it back, flipping it back into his coat sleeve.

He’d been agitated ever since they had to leave and it just kept building during travel. Slate preferred the physically messy labor of killing people or crashing buildings, not the face-to-face trivial business negotiations. Their boss counted on him as his replacement because he never backed down in an argument. She was pretty sure she was along to keep his mouth in check. It seemed that there was something else bothering him, ever since the plane ride. He kept readjusting his coat then. He did so even now, when they descended the steps into the concrete entryway lit by a dim flickering light. The bearded man warned them about their firearms, but never took them.

This wasn’t home turf, they’d be outnumbered anyhow.

The man pressed a long code into a keypad, the doors buzzed, and then he opened them. The music was slightly louder, but as they followed their guide through a dark corridor leading to flashing lights, the house music dropped and Remedy felt the bass vibrate her body. They merged into a sudden heavy crowd. Neon lights scattered and flicked across a large lit dance floor that changed colors to the beat of the music. Remedy kept close to Slate's heels, keeping firm on the case’s handle that her nails pinched her palm. As they followed their guide around ravers and bystanders she checked on Jace; he was distracted by the lights and the people. Women in reflective tops and smeared makeup called to him and tried to get him to stay. Remedy tugged on his sleeve to keep him with her.

The heat was thicker here than outside and odors mixed between strong alcohol sweat and overdone body sprays. Smoke wafted between people off the dance floor as they passed joints; it was heavier on the iron catwalk where the smoke sifted in the changing lights. Remedy wiped the back of her neck again and sighed in relief when they passed under a small mist spray. She knew Slate had to be suffering under that coat of his.

They managed to trail their guide to the complete opposite side of the building to a sectioned room with a large crowded bar and a pissy bartender. He shoved someone back from the counter when they tried to take his soda gun and she fell hard onto the floor with a curse. Remedy grimaced at her, part of her wanting to check if she was alright, but she turned away from the scene. They passed the bathrooms and veered into a hidden room with an elevator and a man sitting in a chair, reading a tabloid she couldn’t understand. Words were exchanged quickly and the three file inside. Remedy stood next to their guide as he pressed the floor number. With a ding, the doors closed and the muffled house music was replaced by a sudden smooth Muzak track. She furrowed her brows, glanced up at the speakers, then over at Jace; both were confused. The bearded man cleared his throat and shifted. She wondered how many awkward elevator lifts he’s had.

It was slow for the short number of floors, but when the doors opened the atmosphere was fairly different. It was smaller and colder and there were less people. The lounge featured neon cube tables with lit rimmed booths. Most of the lighting came from the glowing blue aquariums built into the one wall, sparsely populated with fish. The other side were glass panes that looked out over the rest of the dance floor through the metal trusses and structures. In the center of the lounge was another aquarium, but round with a dark leather seat that encircled. The music wasn’t as loud, but the genre changed to rapping or hop. The bar was directly across from them, small and clean with neon lights slowly changing color across the counter. Remedy stared at Slate’s back to avoid eye contact with anyone, they weren’t shy to stare them down and whisper in plain view. Being underdressed was one thing, but underdressed and late was another. The closer they got to their dealer, the more she wanted this over with. A knot was forming in her stomach.

They passed the bar and stepped into another dark hall, lit with modern square wall lamps.

“Last call!” the bartender said aloud. He repeated it in a couple other languages. She bit her lower lip to think they were so late the bar would close, or that it was because no one would get to nosy about the pay off. They stepped through an open doorway into an exclusive area, talkative and loud with men. The room was small and lightly decorated with modern decor. There was a safari touch to it; the mirrors and wildlife paintings were framed in wood and there was the occasional instrument from tribes she didn’t know. The floor was wide, slick black tile that reflected green light coming from the two tal vertical aquariums at the back center. It backlighted the man sitting in a leather seat ahead of a glass, kidney shaped table on bulky wooden legs. There were two matching sofas to either side occupied by men. Some of them had consorts in their laps or rubbing their shoulders from behind. One young lady seemed uncomfortable to be near Klaue.

At least the smell here wasn’t as suffocating as below; there was tobacco and one of the men must have dropped too much cologne on his skin. Their guide stepped away, and even with Slate in front of her she felt too open. The song changed to something she couldn’t understand. The case felt heavier and the handle was too sweaty; she switched hands and instantly caught attention. She briefly imagined dropping the damn thing and screwing everything up. Sevigny and Klaue had a history, but she never met the latter. 

Slate straightened his shoulders and held his chin up, clasping his hands in front of him at the waist. The businessmen, his henchmen, had hushed whatever conversation they were having to focus on Slate. Their ties were loose, shirt collars bent, and coats ditched to hang on arm rests or the sofa backsides. Klaue had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his collared shirt was unbuttoned. She could tell he had a necklace, but couldn't make it out. He appeared sharp, but disheveled at the same time. His hair was messy, there was sweat on his brow, and when he forced a grin his gold teeth glinted in the green light. His beard must have gone untrimmed for weeks.

Leaning forward he tapped ashes off his cigar into an empty scotch glass.

“Given the timing, I guess you’re Sevigny’s fill ins,” Klaue said and hardly looked the three of them over.

“I had ‘n better image in my head.” His accent was thick and consonants were bold on his tongue.

“So did I,” Slate replied. Remedy instantly shut her eyes and grimaced. Klaue’s grin dropped and he shooed away his consort. The other ladies followed. Their short skirts and close fitted tops caught Jace’s attention. They smiled and giggled at him, jewelry jingling as they hurried out the door. Their bearded friend shut it behind them and stood with his arms crossed, glaring down at Jace.

Slate held his hand out, palm up over his shoulder wriggling his fingers near Remedy’s face. She eyed him, but he refused to meet her gaze. Carefully she slid the case into his hand. It was sleek, metallic, and vague. The only characteristic were the imprinted initials B.S. that stood out at the right angle under the light.

“Regardless of presentation, we brought Sevigny’s pay.” Slate tapped his fingers around the edges of the case, impatient. She wanted to reprimand him or hide her face out of shame for his attitude, or at least elbow him. Their boss looked bad enough right now, Slate was just going to make it worse. He met her gaze after a double-take. It was a couple of seconds of her silent plea for him to stifle his curtness for a little longer. He still had that irritable look in his eye, but he dropped his chin a bit and relaxed his stance, seeming less agitated. Klaue resituated himself in his seat and stuck his cigar between his teeth, eyeing the case as he puffed a couple of times then ditched what was left into his glass.

“Hm.” He nodded to the table. Slate approached in a few long strides. He set the case down on the glass facing Klaue and unlatched it. With a push he slid the case to the other end right at Klaue’s knees. Slate stood up straight, but didn’t retreat back to stand near Remedy. She wish he had, even if it felt like he shouldn’t.

Klaue picked up a couple bounds of cash, glancing over the stacks that were underneath them before thumbing a pile and beginning to count quietly. He was estimating what was there. While his company had drinks and smokes to satiate them, Slate stood there bothered. Jace shifted weight to his other foot, but Remedy try to be more patient than either of them. Again she wished Sevigny was able to come instead; she sort of thought she could could do this. Now she wasn't sure. It'd only been a moment in that room to get the gist of what kind of man Klaue was.

Rarely did Remedy deal with clients and collectors herself, but she didn't kill people like Slate. She preferred the background, so Sevigny taught her how to track accounts and move the money about. She overlooked transfers, deposits, and withdrawals. She made the bank trips for the cash and changed the pins for his accounts regularly. She also outfitted the forms and then filled them out for their paperwork, then filed them in cabinets she organized. Essentially his accountant, but what he taught her was her only experience and she hated numbers. It was better than going out into the field unless she was really needed.

This last minute job was a little different. Remedy often knew what the payout was or what was owe. She assumed because this was Ulysses Klaue, Sevigny didn’t want her to take care of the payment. He kept everything separate, including the loan he took. She couldn’t document it anywhere. She didn’t get the actual money case until Slate handed it to her in the taxi that night. But, Remedy had been with Sevigny for so long, she trusted he had things under control.

Klaue dropped a stack without finishing the count. He groaned loudly as he rolled his head and shoulders, muscles popping. The look he gave Slate was ill intent.

“I’m insulted.”

Remedy’s face betrayed her and she stared at him. Klaue’s men put down their drinks and Slate was the center of bad attention. He held up a finger at their stirring restlessness, reaching into his coat’s inside pocket. He pulled out an elongated black velvet box and handed it to the nearest man. She watched curiously, slowly realizing that this was hidden from her on purpose. This was why he was constantly shifting his coat. Why didn't he tell her about collateral? Klaue took the box with disdain and carelessly opened it to find a delicate silver chain that curved into a V and adorned with small diamonds. Matching earrings were clipped into the space above it. His expression was unreadable, but he didn’t immediately reject it. He studied it in the green light for a bit, eyeing the cut and shimmer. He started chuckling a little and looked about.

“Feels like I’m being proposed to.” His men snickered. Slate didn't. She didn’t. Klaue snapped the case shut with a loud clap and dropped it on top the bound cash. He peered back at Slate with a shrug and held his hands out.

“If fluctuation was a different story, I’d take it but uh...honestly, dis doesn’t change the situation.”

Slate’s jaw clenched and Remedy was at a loss. Jace stepped up near her, his nervous self repeatedly switching weight on his legs. Like everyone else in the room, she focused on Slate for an explanation. His arms crossed and his fingers tapped; in the corner of her eye she noticed the water shimmer in the aquarium tanks. On the outside he passed for any normal human being, but his mutant ability reacted to his frustration and impatience. She learned this was a thing for a lot of mutants and emotion had to be kept in check; she had to keep him calm. As long as water was around, Slate could always build the pressure around it then control it. The fallback was range- if he wasn’t within thirty feet it was useless.

“He wouldn’t have thrown that in for anyone else,” Slate seethed. “You know that covers his debt and it’s interest. He’s paid you.” His nose wrinkled and it rubbed Klaue the wrong way. The older man straightened.

“He’s under paid me; that shit only matters if I can make a profit off it. Do I look like I deal Tiffany’s on a regular basis?” He gestured to himself in a sarcastic manner and tilted his head with a pissed stare and forced grin.

“But since you’re so insistent on it, I’ll keep it as a gift.” Klaue nodded his head to the man on his right, who took up the case and box and carried it off despite Slate protesting. The men on the couch reached for guns on their hips as a threat, but Slate refused to retreat back. His fingers moved slowly over his arm and water in one tank moved enough to make a low rumble, enough for Klaue to hear. His brows furrowed and he began to look over his shoulder.

Remedy stepped fast to Slate’s side. She placed a hand on Slate’s elbow, her other on his fingers to close them flat.

“We’ll tell Sevigny,” she said. She tried not to falter when Klaue’s gaze shifted to her, but it was hard not to fear those eyes. At least her voice wasn’t as bad as her facial expressions. The intensity didn’t leave the room, she knew simply telling their boss wasn’t enough to get them out of there. They may not get out of there at all. Klaue was in control of the situation and there was no making him accept what he didn’t want. The collateral failed and she was on the wrong side.

“It’s his mistake, but he’ll fix it.” Remedy added. Slate didn’t like her words; she gripped his elbow harder. Sevigny had to make it right, because if not then he’d be dead and her probably after. When you don’t pay money back in a normal life, it follows you and fucks you over fiscally. When you don’t pay money back in the black market, it literally owns you or kills you.

The silent look between her and Klaue lasted a few seconds, but it felt longer to her. He made her feel so small. He scratched the stubble on his cheek and then smiled at her.

“His interest goes up.”

Slate started to retaliate, but Remedy squeezed his elbow hard enough he flinched. Klaue seemed to enjoy the discomfort and finally laughed, before giving Remedy a wide-eyed serious gaze.

“Twenty percent,” he said aloud while nodding. Remedy didn’t realize she had nodded with him, she hadn’t meant to, but it was done. Slate seethed a curse under his breath and she turned around sharply, using her weight to bring him with her. Jace was pale.

“Dave!” Klaue shouted. The bearded man at the door perked up and smiled, letting them out of the room. In the dark corridor Slate finally pulled away from her.

“You made shit worse, Remmy.”

“Save it,” she replied and had to swallow the lump in her throat. It was like she stepped off a roller coaster, walking out of that room.

Klaue watched the doorway while the trio left, his men returning to previous conversation before they’d been interrupted. They scoffed at early morning hour and were happy they had the bar to themselves now. They wanted more cognac and to bring the women back in. Limbani came back over from counting the case and assessing the set, but Klaue didn’t pay him any mind. He knew Sevigny always had the real thing when it came to jewelry or items in general. What bothered Klaue was he had to wait longer to get what his money. What bothered him was the mouthy grunge-laiden boy. There were no exceptions for a late payment. Without looking away from the door, Klaue grinned as an idea came to mind.

“How many people does it take to deliver a message?”

“Nice of you to use my bad arm to your advantage,” Slate muttered once they got to the lounge. The consorts from earlier were sitting at the bar sipping mixed drinks and flirting with the bartender. When they saw Jace they stopped and started giggling again. Jace had enough sense this time. He hurried his pace to the elevator and pressed the button repeatedly to hurry up.

“Don’t know about you two mates, but I’m buying a large tub of sorbet for the flight home. My anxiety is-” Jace whistled two notes, emphasizing with his hands in the air. Remedy didn’t mean to smile at his panic, but it was cute that he preferred sweets to a shot. She’d rather take the shot. Slate scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Straight to the airfield, no stops.” He looked at the round aquarium and used his arm to test the water. It shimmered with him in time. He cast a glare to Remedy but she ignored him. The elevator door dinged and opened, but the guardsmen from below was inside. He held his gun to Jace’s face and pulled the trigger. Remedy yelped when his blood splattered back and he dropped with a perfect bloody hole in his forehead. Slate reacted first, rushing the man and locking back his arm just as he fired another shot. It went into the ceiling. With a quick jerk, Slate snapped his arm out of its socket causing the man to yell and drop his gun.

Remedy turned at the sound of a cocked gun to see the bartender taking aim with a shotgun. The girls were squealing and ducking under the counter behind the stools. Three more men came out from the corridor, including Dave. She drew her gun and ducked behind one of the neon cubes when they fired. Slate used Jace’s killer as a shield, but one of the shotgun bullets hit the guy's kneecap and he was useless. He was pummeled by the time Slate dropped him and took cover by the round aquarium. It took enough hits to crack the glass, but not break it. With a sneer Slate moved his arms and the water burst out in a large crushing rush of water that hit Klaue’s men with enough force to throw them back into the corridor.

The bartender popped back up over his bar after reloading, but Remedy fired her bersa and clipped his neck. Blood spurted and he dropped his weapon, clasping his throat and falling.

“Remmy, get in the elevator!” Slate shouted at her. She thought the stairs were better, but they were further.

Klaue’s men got back up and now there were more to see what the hell was happening. Slate held one hand out to the wall and his fingers shook as he slowly turned his palm. Remedy looked behind her to see the water vibrating and the glass cracking. The fish were going crazy. She rushed to the elevator to get out of the way, bullets missing and hitting the elevator ahead of her. One ricocheted inside and the lights went out and sparks burst from the panel. She veered behind a crouched down Slate and tried to cover fire.

“Fok!” Dave cussed and gripped his arm, retreating back into the corridor. Remedy felt a bite on her cheek and ducked back, covering her face from the bullet skim.

With a loud pop and crack the aquariums on the wall busted and Slate stood, sweeping the water over the other men and into the glass window panes on the other side of the lounge. With the men's weight and water's momentum, the windows shattered and they were thrown out yelling into the metal beams and trusses. It didn’t take long for people to start screaming when a body or two landed on the dance floor. Remmy stared at Jace’s body, trying to think of a way they could take him back. Slate grabbed both her shoulders and rushed her through the staircase exit, knowing more people were coming after them. They hurried down the dark stairwell, the iron grate stairs creaked all the way down. Shots were fired from above, they didn’t see who, but they got out the bottom exit by the elevator shaft. A remix of Swedish House Mafia blared and skipped over the speakers as they rushed out through the bottom lounge, but they hit the crowd of people filing down from the catwalks. Remedy looked up to see one of the men limping on it and she shoved Slate forward with the crowd to blend in. More shots fired off; she reached out to Slate’s head and made him duck down. He was taller, they’d see him before seeing her. He reached a free hand out and repeatedly waved it overhead, breaking the mist sprayers and pouring large amounts of water out of their spickets to divert anymore of Klaue’s men and security coming out of their posts. People were drenched. Some slipped and it caused a pileup for others. Both the back exit and front entrance were overcrowded with people trying to get out, at least those who had enough sense to leave. There were wasted people slumped over tables, some party-goers passed out on the floor. Remedy tried to avoid anyone with their phones on who were live recording.

They stuck with the front entrance. Slate tripped or shoved his way out, keeping a tight hold around Remedy’s wrist until they made it into the street, soaked but free. They started to run in the direction they arrived from, but familiar sirens were speeding down the road towards the club. They bolted across the street instead and took off into the night, one less person with them. Remedy’s cheek stung from the threat.