2005-01-18 - 10:19 p.m.

The Daily Grind

6:07 AM

Vittoria Verta stood in the Action Station, her hands on the twin SIG automatics on in the quickdraw position on her combat rig. The room was programmed to project a holo of a gothic cathedral, ceilings soaring, widows blazing with light.

“Allé!!!”

At her command, white doves, flying at impossible speeds, began to rocket around the room. The guns were in her hands so fast, it was like they were always there. And then they began to sing. 15 seconds and 20 rounds later, the floor was littered with dead doves. Vittoria smiled and then spun, her guns leveling at the form of Gonzalvo “Gonzo” Chang, who was leaning against a massive granite pillar and smirking as he smoked a cheroot.

“Nice. You almost got me before I had time to shoot you.”

“You are lucky I didn’t.”

“You’re better than that. Nice gun-fu by the way.”

Vittoria blushed a little. “Thank you. That is a compliment, coming from you.”

Gonzo made a face and picked up a battered back kit back at his feet, walking towards Vittroia. “But why are you wearing all that crap?”

Vittoria looked down. She was wearing what she always wore for her morning exercise: camo pants and shirt, combat boots and vest with a full tactical load of weapons and gear.

“What is wrong with what I am wearing? I always do my shooting dressed like this.”

“Then you’re probably the only female Man of Mystery, Inc. employee who does. It’s a training sim, not a mission. You don’t have to get kitted out like you’re storming the fucking Iranian Embassy.”

“This keeps me prepared and keeps me used to the feel of full field kit.”

“Yeah well what if you have to shoot wearing regular clothes.” He gave her a look. “You do have regular clothes?”

“Yes. Do you?”

Gonzo looked down at his attire. A Hawaiian shirt that Wheel might have thought was too loud, mixed with jeans and a pair of boat shoes and topped off with a Panama hat. He looked like any of the drunken tourists along Sea Devil Coast.

“Funny girl. Just for that crack about my fashion sense, the Great Gonzo’s gonna give you a shooting lesson.”

Gonzo reached into his back and pulled a pair of pistols, gray and flat, with the look of barely finished prototypes.

“Whenever you’re ready Mary Sue.”

“Why does everyone keep calling me that?”

“Beat me and I’ll tell you.”

“Fine…old man. Allé!!”

More doves appeared, flying at insane speeds. Vittoria raised her guns but then, for only the 5th time in her life, flinched at the sound of synthetic thunder coming from next to her. Gonzo’s guns were like twin dragons, breathing a never-ending hail of fire. In a matter of seconds, all the doves were splattered messes on the floor.

“In nominé patre….”

Gonzo gave her another look and smirk. “What, you thought Actionhero was the only cat who knew the secret of the Never-Empty Clip?”

“That was amazing.”

“Yeah, well I do have a few years on you with the gun-slinging so don’t feel too bad.”

“I know. You’re something of a legend where I come from.”

“Yeah? I’ve been wondering about that. You’re accent’s Italian, homegrown too. Sicilian Mob?”

“Close. I’m from Vatican City.”

“Nice. I did some work for the Swiss Guards once or thrice.”

“I know. My father’s Constantine Verta.”

“You’re Connie’s kid? Wow. Time flies.”

“My father’s mentioned you. He said you were the best gunsmith he’d ever seen. That your guns were the best he’d ever shot.”

“That right? Well that’s a hell of compliment coming from the Cardinal of Killers himself.”

“He also said you saved his life under St. Peter’s Basilica.”

“Oh that. Don’t read too much into it. I was more of a spectator. And Actionhero did most of the work.”

Vittoria leaned in close and gave Gonzo a peck on cheek. “I love my father more than anything save Holy Mother Church. That night you saved both of them. Thank you.” Blushing again, she walked out of the Action Station.

“Huh,” Gonzo said. Looking up, he said out loud. “You know, maybe there’s a thing to this ‘Man of Mystery’ jazz after all.”

7:17 AM

Suki Katayama woke up and looked at the blaring alarm.

“Fuck,” she whispered. She rolled and felt the distinctly empty space next to her.

“Double fuck.” Finally, giving in, she rose and hit the alarm until it stopped making noise. Grumpily she crawled out of bed and into the shower. She didn’t bother to undress as she always slept nude.

“Though I don’t know why,” she grumbled as she fiddled with the taps. “I haven’t gotten laid in a month. Haven’t gotten good and shit-faced in a month. I haven’t even had time to go street racing. All I do is deal with corporate shit. Go to corporate meetings. Get shanghaied into corporate parties. Get hit on by corporate fucks who couldn’t get my nipples hard with jumper cables. Fuck, I’ve become more wholesome than Vittoria. If Grandfather could see me he’d run me over.”

After 15 minutes (her POV 15 seconds) under the hot water, Suki felt human enough to face the day. Looking at her closet though, and the power suits hanging there, she finally drew the line.

“The hell with this shit.”

She opted instead for a black halter-top emblazoned with the kanji character for Bitch, low rise jeans that showed off a good portion of her taut abs along with the black silk thong from Frederick’s, and a pair of overpriced high-tops being pushed by the latest felony indicted rap/sports star. Walking out of her room, she passed by Vittoria who was, as usual, standing outside her door, looking perfect, wearing the latest fashion power suit, holding her leather Prada appointment book and a cup of poisonously strong coffee.
Suki grabbed the cup and marched to the office, Vittoria following easily behind. Suki had left the old main office the way it was, with all of Actionhero’s trophies and knick-knacks (like the Tyrannosaur skeleton, the weapon racks, the Victorian hand-dawn maps of Mars). But she’d also put her stamp on the place, with a few flowers and mirrors, some better lighting and curtains, and more than a few Hello Kitty items.

“Tell me some good news.”

“Your hair looks nice.”

Somehow, Vittoria always knew the right thing to say to diffuse Suki’s bad moods. Suki automatically ran a hand though her hair. It had been cut stylishly short and feathered a bit by Manuel, a former Peruvian terrorist and one of the City’s most expensive stylists, for some corp. party she had been suckered into attending the night before.

“It’s not too girly?”

“No. It’s just right. You have great hair.”

Suki looked at Vittoria’s perfectly coiffed silky ebon tresses. “Now you’re just fucking with me….”

“Not at all,” Vittoria said, putting her book down and walking behind Suki and grabbing a Hello Kitty mirror from the desk. “See? Look at the way it frames your face. And your features. Not too soft, but not too harsh.”

“I guess….”

“And what about the men at the party last night? They seemed to like it.”

“Oh those dogs would hump a hole in the ground if they though it would make them come in under five minutes.” Suki spun and chair and faced Vittoria. “I noticed, though, you brushed off more a few of them.”

Vittoria blushed. “Well, like you said. Dogs.” Suki was about to say something when the phone rang. Vittoria seemed to snap to attention.

“That will be Helena.”

“Fuck. Put it on the holo.”

Vittoria picked up her leather appointment book and opened it, revealing the wafer thin computer console inside. Hitting a few buttons, she activated the holographic projectors in the office and suddenly, Helena Wayne appeared in the office, resolution so sharp, it was like she was there in the beautiful, bitchy, flesh.

Suki slumped in her desk. “Good morning, Helena.”

“Good morning, Ms. Katayama. Did you get my earlier messages?”

Helena shot Vittoria a look. Vittoria nodded to the stack of unread memos on the desk. Suki sighed. This was part of the morning ritual. Pretty much every day, she woke up to no less than 4 multi-page memos from the law firm of Cranston, Grayson and Wayne, Man of Mystery, Inc.’s legal counsel and, at least three times a week, a conference call. From Helena Wayne, Managing Partner and Queen Bitch of the law firm of Cranston, Grayson, and Wayne.

“Just tell me what the problem is today, Helena.’

“Well, it’s the Will. As usual. First, I’ve gotten another complaint from Techyoto. They’re claiming your little bounty on Kasigi Omi’s head sponsors terrorism and are threatening to sue before the ZOG again.”

“The what?”

“The Zurich Orbiat Geimenschaaff Bank, GmbH.” Helena looked at Suki and saw no comprehension. “The one that doubles as the corporate court.” Still nothing. “The one on the satellite.”

“Oh that. I think the Boss stole something from them once.”

Helena sighed. “Well good for him. Techyoto is pissed and if Techyoto is pissed so is Japan, the Yakuza, and Oni clans, and just about every other bastard in Asia. Have you given any thought to canceling the bequest regarding Omi?”

“Nope. It’s in the will, it stays. Is there more?”

“Well it seems then that this is piss-off nation-state day. South Africa is still upset over the van der Lieter bequest. Says we’re sponsoring ‘bio-evolutionary terrorism and rogue science.’”

“Like they’re so fucking innocent. Tell them I have pictures of their involvement with the Argentinean Nazi Flesh Farms from the ‘50s. Rogue Science my ass.”

Helena continued on icily. “China’s doubly pissed. They issued another statement saying that anyone found taking artifacts of a historical or religious nature will be found guilty of “cultural piracy” and all involved parties will be held accountable.”

“What is it? ‘Use made-up catch phase day?’”

“Their also claiming that any film made in Hong Kong must have a cultural attaché involved with final script approval to prevent ‘biased concepts and racist stereotypical archetypes’ from being perpetuated.”

“It is ‘use made-up catch phrase day.” Despite herself, Vittoria smirked at her boss’ comment.

“I’m glad you find this funny, Suki,” Helena said sourly, a common tone for her. “Because this brings us to the movie problem. AGAIN. The Director’s Guild has just sued. Again. And so have the guilds of India, Pakistan, and Australia, bringing the number of guilds suing or threatening to sue up to 15. France is suing us three times. Every major studio is also suing. They’re all saying we’re violating antitrust laws, yadda yadda yadda. On the up side. Spielberg is offering to share legal costs if we give him the picture. But he wants 35% of the gross plus points on licensing. Same with Lucas. Tarantino said he won’t do it unless he has total creative control. And Yuen Woo Ping still hasn’t committed to anything. I think he wants points on the licensing too. And the sound track, especially if we do a Punjabi hip-hop version. And a look at some of the personal flight tech. you’re rumored to have up there. Zhiang Yimu also says he’ll do the picture the way we want it, but only if you sleep with him. No, that’s not a joke.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Look, I can handle everything else but the movie thing is a real pain. Unless you drop it or come to some kind of agreement, the firm can’t continue to represent you in it. Its too big a drain….”

“Hold the fucking hologram right there, you prissy Ivy League sorority cunthole. I may not know anything about this law shit but I know for a fact that you are on this until the wheels fall off. You’re legal counsel for this corporation and this falls under your purview!!!”

“Look, Suki, we’ve got other clients. You don’t pay us enough….”

“Yo back the soul train up a sec. You got the Hidalgo Trading Company portfolio, you get to be legal counsel. I’d think an Olympic-sized pool of gold, among other things, would be compensation enough, you greedy shyster bitch!!”

“I’m getting really tired of your attitude….”

“And I’m fucking sick of yours!!! Now, are you going to get to lawyering or do I have to take it up with Grayson, the SENIOR EXECUTIVE partner. Or maybe I should skip the Boy Wonder and go right to shadowy Old Man Cranston himself, huh? Since after all he was the one who negotiated the terms of your retainer with Actionhero.”

Helena stared daggers at Suki. “Fine. I’ll take care of everything. But I’m going to have to make a separate legal team for the movie.” She looked down at her desk. “I’m going to have Michael Jon Carter give you a call. He’s our golden boy when it comes to media.”

“Fine. And I wasn’t kidding about the South Africa thing. Let those fuckers know that. And I’ll see what I can do about Techyoto and China. Don’t forget, people owe us favors too.”

“It certainly seems that way. See you tomorrow, Suki.”

With a blink the holo disappeared. Suki slumped even more in her chair. “Mary Sue, get me some pot.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“You ask every day and I tell you: not until after we’re done with work.”

“But we always have work to do.”

“And you have to do it.”

“Take it from an old Girl Friday. Office work is the LAST thing you need to do.”

“You’re still not getting any pot.”

“FUCK!”

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