MAD

chvpter 31

...

"I put a tracker in the bag, kept dreaming that one of Gypo's boys was gon' knick my stash so I got paranoid," Scor says, sitting on the log we're meant to be chopping into firewood. Instead, he dices the bark with his machete absently, like a kid who can't help but destroy something.

"Did it have security?" I ask, trying to figure out if they'll be able to detect the device with AI retrievers, like my eSight.

"Oh fuck yeah, I was curious to see where Heratix would take the bag before they distributed it, so had it secure as..." He shrugs, unable to care that tracking their goods is a punishable offence, "I flexi-sealed the tracker into the bag too, all, intricate and shit, so no way in fuck they'll ever detect it. And I can't disconnect it because then the guns are gone for good and the Heratix will gut us for losing them."

I squeeze my temples, "So we promise to get 'em back? How? We're both wanted. Both got faces that people will recognise even if we take new files." The log I sit atop is bigger than Scor's, but it's covered in mushrooms that smell rank.

Scor sucks the eDart, "Look," he talks around a cloud of cherry flavoured smoke, before he frisbees his phone for me to catch. I scramble to grab it, but then I inspect the screen... the map pins a tracker in a building called the Facilities & Holdings Yard of National Police Force Command, Newcastle. "Jesus that was fast, it's already in NC." I balk, but he nods at me to take a closer look. "Yoh we hit that warehouse last year."

The warehouse is a small component of a large police facility in the suburb next to the Newcastle CBD. The Police Force Command is tucked neatly between a Hospital, the Elizabethan Centre of Health, the National Australian University, the Australian Department of Defence Command, and notably, Parliament House. "That place was crawling with coats." I cuss.

He nods, "About every important building you can have is there."

"How do you know they haven't taken the guns out of the bag?" I zoom in on the map.

"I don't..." He gestures vaguely, like he's about to start spit balling ideas and I should prepare, "The Heratix control the army. Problem is them big-dīck oldies from the war who officially run the army have been looking for the cold-hard that'll put the Heratix on an official terrorist organisation list." He stands up like sitting still will drive him mad. The ferns and greenery beneath brush above his knees.

"So, the actual army, wants evidence that the Heratix has been puppet-mastering them? The cold-hard?" I quote his assessment of what the guns might be to a court of law, "an' we just gave them the fucking evidence they need to tear the Heratix down!" I swear.

"Yeah but... nah, nah. We're thinking about this like we're from a REDZONE." Which we are. "They made a law that there aren't no laws here," He gestures around, shaking his head like he's onto something. "But they're not REDZONED. The army got to stick to the Police's rules... rules that make the bag, and if they ever find my tracker, evidence. And if they fuck with the evidence then it screws with their laws and it might ruin their case, or, or..." I look at him like it's dumb, "I know, I know, seems fückin' stupid. But like I said these people use laws from before the Unfinished War, back when every asshole with an opinion was running around telling everyone to wank with their right or left hand. NC is still over-legislated, but until the case goes to the Newcastle zecs," Newcastle politicians, "with an officiated governmental hearing, they've gotta hold the guns in the evidence warehouse because they're dangerous goods. They'll survey it, sure, but can't leave the warehouse."

I look at the map again, my brows shooting sky high, "and that warehouse will have a lot of shīt that the Heratix want?" I follow his train of thought, admiring his mad genius.

With a grin, he nods, "And if you look at it in a wonky way, we're about to deliver Heratix," he counts on his fingers, "three, four, five, six new grunts," Scorpius tosses a shakas sign like we're sweet, "and a map to wipe their name from the army system, plus Craig Warrendale's daughter," He points at me, then switches so he's pointing at his chest. "And Maddon Voytah's son, who just so happens to be in the good books with the Manic King."

I chew my lip, trying to let him convince me. He has a point, as much as I fight it I am the daughter of the Ghoul's and Scor's mum runs a crew in Holders Bay. Reid seems like he'd be useful to them too.

But I can't let myself take to the idea, "Scor we've traded with them, we've seen how quick their switch up is if it works out better to let someone else take the fall."

He nods, "Yeah, course, but point is if we get them the shit they need before they can screw us then they'll give us access to the records and we can get all them," he gestures back at the camp, "hell get us new files. This is our chance to walk off scot-free, for real."

My breath hitches and I take hold of the axe leaning on my log, easing it forward and back as I contemplate, milling his mad proposition through my head, "Elias and Reid are gon' need help finding their families. No doubt they're somewhere in Newcastle... We can pitch it at them and if they vote in favour then no doubt Sax and Thai will get on board. But do we tell them-."

"You's want help?" Elias interrupts, and I swivel around.

"Woods rotten," I call back smoothly, "I wanted ten minutes without Trent breathing down my neck, so we decided to have a smoke."

E tramples through the forest bracken before he arrives beside me, "You got darts?"

"Yeah I got a deck, and," I lift the vape, "a vape."

Scor grins, using it as a chance to segway, "Don' tell me big-bad-lake-darling never seen an eDart."

Elias cracks a grin, looking at Scorpius with an undercurrent of scepticism, "Guilty," he extends his hand for me to give him a go but I tap my mushroom ridden corpse of a log and he arches a brow, sitting.

"So, you're the other boyfriend," Scor teases, and Elias's smile becomes real.

He coughs a laugh, "Nah we both know she's hard-whipped on Myers."

"Who knew Viper was ever gon' go sweet for a boy?" Scor rests the knife, no longer entertained by butchering the bark.

"I ain't sweet," I murmur, and Elias makes a dreamy sound, fanning his face.

"I'm sugar sweet, baby," he makes a girly voice and I smack his arm.

Scorpius barks a laugh, and a weight lifts from my shoulders.

They might get along.

Scor leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, grinning at me like I'm never gon' live it down. I glare and he snickers harder, raising his hands in surrender as Elias sneaks the vape out of my hand, "Night of passion, eh?" Scor quips.

Mid-pull Elias starts coughing, "You's fücked?" He balks, utterly dismayed that he's only finding out now. I guess he wasn't listening when Scor ratted me out for needing the morning after pill. "Thai owes Teacup-..." He flinches, his face dropping.

...

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CVILYN

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