Consider Us Even: New Eden Series:Rexall Cycle, #0

By Jarrett Rush

It's a grimy future and data is a drug. Solis is an addict willing to do whatever it takes to get his fix -- even if that's calling in debts and trading punches with a few guys he considers friends.

Included with this story is an excerpt of the novella Chasing Filthy Lucre.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jarrett Rush
• Release date: Jul 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781540165114

Book preview

Marquez smashed the bottle against the edge of the bar. Bits of brown glass clattered to the floor, and he swiped what was left in his hand at Solis’ face. Solis shoved Marquez’s hand away, and he dropped the bottle.

A pair of security bots spun in circles by their feet, the little red lights on their domed heads flashing. Solis kicked the bot nearest him, and the machine slid across the floor, smashing in to the leg of a chair.

Marquez was distracted by the commotion and Solis put a fist hard into his opponent’s stomach. Marquez doubled over and Solis brought a knee into the shorter man’s nose. He dropped to the ground, and the other security bot passed by his ear. Marquez pushed it aside.

He brought himself slowly to a knee then sprung at Solis, burying his shoulder into the older man’s soft middle. The pair crashed into three barstools as they fell to the ground. Marquez straddled the old man, his hair falling in his eyes in a sweaty mess. Solis grabbed a handful of Marquez’s dark mane and pushed him back into an upright position. He swung his left arm and crushed Marquez’s cheek. His head snapped to the side and smacked the old wooden bar next to which the two men were laying. Solis pushed Marquez off of him and the younger man lay on the ground in a wet heap, one of the security bots by his head and the other near his feet. In computerized voices they told him to stay where he was, that he was being detained.

Solis reached into Marquez’s back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took the three American 20-dollar bills that were inside.

Now, we’re even, Solis said as he pocketed the bills and headed for the door, a security bot tailing close behind telling him to not move any farther.

Marquez rolled to his stomach and tried to say something, but no words came.

Fight and all, Solis wasn’t leaving The Dudley in much worse shape than he’d found it. Dive bars lined the streets off the south bay and all the places were the same. Wooden floors. A beaten up bar against one wall. Tables across the other. A questionable crowd inside.

Solis passed three more establishments just like The Dudley before reaching the corner. Overstuffed ships lined the other side of the street and they bobbed up and down on the rough water. The wind whipped in from the bay and Solis shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets to fight the chill. He wrapped a fist around his new found cash and headed for the hothouse a few blocks down. He’d only have to spend one of his new twenties on a hit that would