Spoil the Kill
By Oisin McGann
()
About this ebook
Scope is not your average teenager. A self-described criminal nerd, she spends most of her time cleaning up forensic messes and faking evidence. When you work for Move-Easy, London’s most powerful thug, life is never boring.
But WatchWorld owns the city now, and running an illegal empire is no easy feat. Cameras, drones, and heat sensors line the streets and stalk the skies while Safe-Guards, the part-human, part-robot police, patrol the city and enter homes with impunity.
Everyone knows that crossing Move-Easy means certain and painful death. So when he sends Scope and several other rat runners—young outlaws who evade detection by traveling through the city’s Voids—to track down one of Easy’s old enemies, they know they have no choice. But what if the target is innocent? Can Scope spoil the kill, or will doing so make her Easy’s next mark?
This is a Rat Runners novella. For the full experience, be sure to read Rat Runners by Oisín McGann, available January 13, 2015.
Oisin McGann
Oisín McGann studied art at Ballyfermot Senior College and Dún Laoghaire School of Art and Design, and went on to work in illustration, design and film animation. He moved to London in 1998, where he eventually found work as an art director and copy writer for an advertising agency. He now lives in Meath and works as an author, freelance illustrator and artist. You can check out Oisín's own website at oisinmcgann.com.
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Book preview
Spoil the Kill - Oisin McGann
Spoil the Kill
A Companion to Rat Runners
Oisín McGann
Chapter 1: Horribly Orange
Move-Easy has never asked me to help kill someone before. He has experts for that kind of thing. I’m a criminal nerd—I’m good with chemicals, biology, forensics. Normally, it’s my job to check if stolen merchandise is genuine, or lecture knucklehead thugs on how not to leave traces of themselves at a crime scene. Sometimes I even create fake evidence to leave at the aforementioned crime scenes to help put Move-Easy’s competitors in prison. But violence just isn’t my bag.
I’m summoned to Easy’s audience chamber, and find two other kids my age waiting for me. I know both of them. FX and Manikin; they’re brother and sister. Like me, they have unusual skill sets for kids their age. FX is the younger one—younger than me—he’s a hacker, a wizard with tech. Manikin is a chameleon, combining the skills of an actor, con-artist, and thief. I don’t think I’ve ever seen what she really looks like—there’s something different about her every time she shows up.
My boss, Move-Easy, could do with taking some tips from her.
You don’t talk about Move-Easy’s orange skin in his presence—not unless you fancy being scarred for life. Years of living underground, hiding from the law’s surveillance, made him horribly pale, so he started using a sunbed. Now he’s horribly orange—all the more disturbing with his gargoyle’s face. The last guy to suggest he lay off the UV got beaten to a pulp with one of those scented Yankee Candles. It was the nearest thing on hand.
Ah Scope, there you are my Little Brain,
Easy greets me, puffing on a pungent cigar that sends clouds of smoke curling toward the ceiling. Come on in, luv. Now, I’ve gathered this clever bunch of young vermin together to take advantage of a rare opportunity that has arisen, all of a sudden like.
He holds the cigar in his left hand. The right is fondling the gold medallion that sits in the forest of grey hair visible on his orange chest. He’s wearing an expensive suit that he makes look cheap. There are three buttons open on the pale pink shirt to show off the gold. He waves me over to him, and I sit down beside him, where he likes me to be. My skin tightens at being so close to him. My fear of him never really goes away.
I’m what’s known as a rat-runner, though I’m not as hard boiled as a lot of the others. Like Manikin and FX, I’m under sixteen, which means I’m not subject to the same insane levels of surveillance as adults in London. Most rat-runners are just couriers or petty thieves, underage foot soldiers—they’re chosen for having quick wits and even faster feet, but are otherwise unexceptional. Some of us, however, are more specialized.
"I have a job that requires some … delicacy, Move-Easy declares in his East London accent. He runs his hand through his slicked-back, dyed-black hair.
A task that demands your unique skills, and a certain degree of mobility. I want you to find someone, an’ we ’aven’t much to go on. An’ this investigation, such as it is, shall start wiv you, FX."
FX is doing his best not to squirm nervously under Easy’s gaze. He hates coming here. He’s in his usual combats with a black t-shirt printed with a poster from some film called War Games. His curly dark hair is a bit too long to be gelled up the way he’s done it, making his freckly cherub face look even younger. He seems naked without his ever-present console to hook him into the digital world. The doormen take that off him as a precaution whenever he comes into Easy’s place.
He may not look like much, but FX once hacked into the Prime Minister’s personal computer to win a bet. He left a virus that played a video clip of Barney the dinosaur singing the Clean Up
song every time the PM tried to open his emails.
You reckon you could track someone down through their MyFace page?
Easy asks FX.
Yeah, I think so,
the boy answers tightly. "MyFace has decent security, but hardly any of the users get