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QA1 Scraps: Quail the Shicker

        It hadn't been hard to find a job in Horizon, and a small-time drug pusher like Quail was exactly the kind of guy Gray needed. Quail was portly and short but he could run fast while Gray fought off whoever Quail was trying to run from, or just as frequently, fuck over.         "Uh, so yeah, shickling business an't exac'ly loved in West, y'see, so," Quail had told Gray, "if y'see som'er' comin' over while'm tryin' to deal, you fuckin' shoot 'em in the nuts en' holler en' I run, 'en we met back a' the hanger, so yeah, right?"         "Shick" was a shitty drug that rotted your teeth and your nails, but it was easy to produce, cheap to buy, and gave a pretty good high. Selling shick in West District was difficult, where few would buy it and fewer were dumb enough to sell it--it was low class, and West was not. But of course, credit was king and it was paying for Gray's meals and pod for the time being, so he'd deal with it.         "Right," Gray said. Quail spoke sort of like an idiot, and it was hard for that opinion to not convey in his voice. Quail was sort of an idiot anyway, so he didn't notice. Their rail to West arrived, and they stepped on. Gray scanned the compartment: regular populace, a few drifters. One was wearing an abundance of gray clothing covering his torso and arms, but he wasn't bothering anyone. They waited.         "Dreamer's Den, West District," the too-perfect female voice announced. They stepped off into the Den's transit area. It was decorated beautifully, with deep reds, mahoganies and burgundies, hanging bits of stiff paper decorated by Detrid lights. A gentle throb of new-nuevo-wave deepheart synth vibed through the room over speakers, augmented by subs.         Gray and Quail stepped into a small alcove with the floor inlet with glowing orange lights. Quail pushed a small switch downwards, and the alcove gave way downwards as well. Dreamer's Den was small, so they used minivators, small inlaid elevators that only sometimes had doors, and a manual switch that was held for as many floors needed to be traversed. Quail let go about five floors down, and Gray estimated that they were on floor six. They stepped off, and the synth immediately became louder.         The room was about twenty by thirty feet, Gray reckoned. Populated with people. Most were conversing or lying on soft red couches and lush pillows. Others were by the bar, chatting, ordering drinks, or busying themselves with consuming the latest neon-whatever-color drink they ordered. Almost everyone was wearing relaxors, loose-fitting clothing that tended to hang from the body with slight future-deco reflectors embedded. Relaxors were great for two things in particular: sitting around, and having sex. This wasn't one of those kinds of places, so people were still clothed and only talking.         "Wait 'er," Quail said, walking towards a group. Gray moved over to the bar and waved the bartender over. He ordered a Plague Burner, a fiery red-colored drink. He sipped it to cover the agitation he could feel in his stomach. This was not a shick joint. The people here were all well-off, and wouldn't use shick if they had a year's free supply of it. Selling it in West District wasn't just difficult and dumb, it was fucking stupid.         This probably marked the fourth deal Gray accompanied Quail on. Quail normally stuck to Southeast, but tonight he was on something and was dead set on doing his "shicking" in the West. Normally, Gray's job was to follow Quail around and let him get off on the fact that he had enough credits to afford a personal bodyguard now. Occasionally, Quail would actually pull off a decent deal, and take Gray out to a good meal and give him a little bonus. That was nice. It was a safe, boring job, and Gray had only broken a single knuckle during the entire job.         Here, however, things were already going to shit. Gray watched Quail interacting with a woman with bright blue hair turned purple in the red light, and she was laughing. Not with him, at him. Quail was stiffening up, and Gray hoped he was getting laughed at for his ridiculous slum accent, not because he had offered to sell her shick. A man next to the purple-haired woman stood up and started moving towards Quail.         Gray double-checked the exits: four minivators, numerous windows, pretty sure Dreamer's Den is near some hangers, a couple security doors, wouldn't be easy to breach--and then he abandoned his drink to get to Quail. One of the patrons started shouting something indecipherable over the hum of deepheart synth, but it was enough to tell Gray that it was time to leave. The man approaching Quail pushed out his hands as if to shove him, and Gray yanked Quail back by his right arm and collar. The man overextended himself and stumbled forward. Gray rotated around Quail and threw a swift kick and hit the man in the hip, sending him sprawling backwards onto the couch and onto purple-hair, who started screaming. Several people at the bar started shouting and one started for the inside of his relaxor.         Gray grabbed Quail and hauled his stupid ass over to a minivator and pressed up as hard as he could, sending them hurtling to the transit room and away from the shouting. He saw people on each level looking over at them with startled expressions as they whipped upwards and past. Quail was now swearing out of fear.         "Fuck! Fuck! Shi'l'kers! 'Ey pieze a' shi'!" he said. Gray grabbed him and shook him. "Shut up! We need to get on the rail," he said. Quail stopped talking and looked at him angrily like a kid that just got told off. The mini summited five floors quickly and they walked out. Luckily, there weren't too many people around, and there was a rail just pulling up.         Unluckily, a squad of four Smiths stepped out of the rail in enforcer gear. Smiths, they were called--a tongue-in-cheek joke referencing an old futurepunk movie, as well as Matthias Smith, head of East and most of Horizon's security. Gray let go of Quail and pushed him forward. "This guy's the shicker," he said, and went back to the minivator and pressed the down button. Quail's swearing stopped as quickly as it began, and Gray went down and out through the front door of Dreamer's Den on ground level.         "Shit," Gray said. He would have to find a new job.

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