“You got him to handle it, right?” another man in a suit, flat top hair cut with a husky build said from an apartment across the street. Three hours had passed since the roach died, casualties from the event sky high as predicted. The woman, whose name was Sadie, filtered into the room, doll like features illuminated from the single light bulb dangling from a yellow strand of wire.
“I told him what you said.” She said, smiling.
“That I’d retract the offer if he didn’t do what we said?”
“Obeyed me like a dog.” she said, sitting down, jet black hair still rippling around her shoulders. The commander, Mr. Dels, turned closing yellowed drapes as sirens picked up, dusters handling the toxic corpse. He sat down, drew a cigar, and lit it, blowing a puff of smoke into the already musty air.
“We’re covering this up as a terrorist bombing from the Aleph. We can’t let anyone know this happened. The partitions would panic.”
“You know” Sadie began, with an annoyed look on her face. “This hadn’t of happened if you’d not deliver them through the streets. We need those corpses, commander. That’s the only way we can construct more Junkies.”
Dels shrugged, smirking. “I don’t really care what happens to the people that live here. We get payed part of what these fuckers that work for us get payed from the Partitions we protect. What happens to them isn’t my problem.”
“Fine, but when Chesterson starts raising eyebrows you know the first one they’ll kick is you.”
“And I’ll pull the plug on my own operations. I’m good with them, too good. They get rid of me and they’ve got more problems then they can handle. Now you, worry about your own affairs before you go criticizing mine.” he said, pushing her from the room.