Moxy was waiting outside in the rain, shielded by a torn rag awning. the day was Thursday, May 22, 2011. She was in Tijuana awaiting a message from her employer Delwater. She finished her cigarette and went back into the bar, checking her reflection out in the glass before entering. Her features were that of an aztec noble, high cheek bones, long brown hair and copper skin. She was getting anxious, Delwater was late. Its not like him to be late.
She came back to her beer. The bar was a rancorous mixture of mariachi music and smoke from all the lighted cigars and cigarettes. draining her glass she decided to step out and smoke another cigarette when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Delwater.
"got the stuff" he asked, his elvish grin widening.
"Your late." She scoffed, turning towards the bartender and signaling for another round of cheep Mexican beer.
"I got held up, now lets see it"
Moxy pulled out her bag and opened it, inside were several books. A high priced commodity in this ever present Information Age. paper books were a hard thing to come by, reading was a dying art these days. Moxy had lifted these from a broker in los angles. by nature and occupation she was a thief. Delwater was her fence. but something seemed shifty this time around, Delwater looked anxious himself, eager to get the transaction out of the way.
"Whats wrong Delwater?" Moxy asked
"Nothing my sweet" Delwater said in an easy tone but Moxy could see right past his relaxed demeanor, something was on his mind. It began to bug Moxy real bad. She wanted it over with. Get her creds and run for the border, out of this lawless city and back into the comfort of her own apt on the other side of the border.
She handed Delwater the bag, a nylon gym bag and held her hand out for the cred stick which Delwater placed in her hand.
"I can't stay for a beer, my man is waiting outside" said Delwater, a noticeable bead of sweat trickling down his temple.
Little did moxy know that would be the last she'd seen of Delwater, stepping out the twin glass doors of the bar to be swallowed up by the encroaching night and falling rain.
She jammed it to the border in a taxi, trying to shake the feeling that she was being watched. As she got out of the taxi she flipped the taxi driver an extra credit and in a quick pace headed for the line. She had an RFID chip implanted in her right arm for this reason. She had to show the police she was a born and bred American even though her outward appearance was that of a Mexican. The RFID chip put her in a separate line and she was across the border in no time at all, the heavily armored guards in their black kevlar getups waving her through with soundless motions of their bullpup submachine guns.
They were waiting for her at her apartment. They came quick like leopards striking from the primeval jungle night. Before she could resist or preform any self defense maneuvers they were on her, restraining her arms and shuffling her into an awaiting van. Inside sat a man puffing on what smelled like a marijuana joint, a drug, in these complicated times, that could land you in prison for up to six years. he spoke in a deep baritone voice. His deep African features outlined by a strong jaw and wide flat nose. HIs eyes shone with implanted night vision. Moxie's first thought was that Delwater set her up. He got the books and now he wanted the cred back, until she saw Delwaters slumped corpse lying next to the reefer man.
"Give us the money." The man said, his voice reverberated with no nonsense frill
"How Do I know you won't just kill me like Delwater."
"We can just kill you now and take it from you." The man leveled an archaic pistol at her, a relic from the last war.
She handed over the cred stick reluctantly.
"Now have a nice day"
The men who wrestled her into the van then opened the door and dragged her out. Great, now she's outta a fence and a significant portion of her yearly income. And that job hadn't been easy. Books were a hard thing to come by and traded on the black market higher than the cost of drugs.
when she got to her apt she went inside her fridge and pulled a beer from the fridge. She drank it to calm her nerves. After her beer and her cig she felt calm. The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon. Moxy thought about getting out of the game before. this experience cemented her decision. She would go straight, or as straight as a career crook could go. She had a savings account and decided to make the move up to San Francisco, maybe open a flower shop, or become a dealer in art. She liked art. She had enough of strange guns being pointed at her face, she had enough of the their life.