To Live and Die in LA...

The Last Job

Fuck Coldcut

Coldcut got us work. A lot of work. All kinds of work. I have never been as busy as I was with that crew. We would have three or four jobs a week doing everything from the same bodyguard and PI bullshit that we did before to real hardcore stuff like corporate espionage and monster slaying. It was a rough time for me. I never worked so hard in my life. I made some money. Good money. I got me some more cyber and some neat toys. I learned a lot of things in those days. Went from some street punk who was going to show up on an Organ Grinder’s slab one day to a real professional who was going to put people in that very spot. I owe a lot to Coldcut and the work he got us, but still, fuck that guy.

Me and Chuckie’s last job with Coldcut began February 28th, 2049. It was almost a year after we had started running with him.

The job was an odd one, simple, as he explained it. Drive to Spokane. Go to a body shop. Get some work done. Drive back to Seattle. Drop the car off at an Ares owned facility. Walk away with a pile of money.

There were the obvious complications of leaving UCAS territory and going into Tribal land, but Coldcut had it covered. The drive would be more or less through desolate areas, but we could bring supplies. There would be go-gangers and Indian shitheads but me and Chuckie had that covered. It seemed like a simple there and back again type job. Nothing complicated.

Coldcut needed a car that was bought a while ago to not arose any suspicion. Chuckie offered his Americar. The pieces were set. The job looked like any other.

But Coldcut got greedy. He didn’t want to split the take five ways, he wanted it all for himself. He betrayed us. Tried to kill the rest of us. Took out the decker and the hermit before I knew what was going on.

Me and Kelly put two into Coldcut for what he did, but not before he got to Chuckie. Delilah and I finished the job. Lead poisoning would have killed him if the seventeen holes wouldn’t have done it first. I blame myself for not seeing him for the piece of shit that he was sooner.

He destroyed the two things I loved the most that day, but he died and now I have the Americar and whatever the fuck those guys put on it at the bodyshop in Spokane.



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