Instead of building to a crescendo, as the chanting for the wild-ride kid had, the crowd’s voice stammered to a halt, and then there was silence. He did not feel the adaptor plug in, and sensed that Keefer had stood up. The hands of the goon on his shoulders had also gone rigid, as if it were suddenly afraid?

Afraid of what?

When he opened his eyes Bobbie and George and the new love-girl had faded into the crowd. Scooter stood below one goon and next to Keefer, who had turned around and gasped. What he was looking at, what had made him gasp, was standing next to the other goon.

It is an org!

The org was tall—almost as tall as a goon. He was dark brown with short black hair that looked like insulation. And was he skinny!

Nobody there, except maybe Keefer, had ever been to a museum or to an org performance. Only the richest techs and the high-end gens got to see orgs. This was amazing. The org was dressed really funny and his clothes and shoes were stained with blood and mud. Most of all, this org was angry, pointing to the dead wild-rider and then to Scooter. “Whachyo freaks chyle molesters? Dis is some sick shit yo—en ya needs ta stop it!”

Oh, he is too funny!

The burly goon next to the org looked at Keefer questioningly and Keefer waved him back. “You can’t bust him up idiot, he’s a universal treasure.”

The goon stepped back from the funny looking org who turned on Keefer. “So you run dis crew yo?”

“Yes I do.”

“Den you mine tellin’ me what dis sick shit is—killin’ a kid?”

“These kids are downgrades; it’s their only chance. I only have the one can’t miss halo design. The others are experimental. It’s a chance at least.”

The org then pointed at Scooter. “He don’ look too happy ‘bout it!”

Then Keefer Smart, slick street survivor that he was, turned the conversation on the org, “So, you are an org?”

“Dat’s right chump, Original Gangsta, in yo face! What’s it to ya?”

“How did you escape?”

“Escape shit, I jumped up in dis joint yo.”

Keefer then straightened up with more confidence. “As you know, it is against the Unified Policies for an org to go feral. If I can determine your pedigree I will return you to your permit holder and collect the reward. Otherwise, if it actually turns out that you are an anomaly or black market birth, I should be able to get a lot for you at auction. Please, do not resist. You orgs are fragile. Okay boys.”

The hand’s released from his shoulder as both of the goons walked deliberately up to the org, who, as skinny as he was, was not afraid at all, and spoke with his hands as he caressed the front of his strange shirt. “Look I’m jus’ givin’ y’all fair warnin’: do not touch the threads. You messin’ whit da Playa From da Himalaya here, en da Playa don’ travel witout ‘is heat!”

Keefer was being advised by George who had edged closer, “He has delusions of potency and a severe speech defect. He is very entertaining. We should sell him to one of the theme preserves—in fact, he may be an escaped performer. You know, many of the lower end orgs believe their fictional back-story, and even sit for interviews with tourists.”

Keefer agreed, “As soon as he’s sedated and in the basement we’ll I.D. him.”

The org then lowered into some strange gaming stance and meowed like a cat as he extended his hands like claws. The kids laughed and giggled and the goons just smiled and shook their heads as they stepped in to grab him. George said something to Keefer about a shadow, and then he was there!

The shadow that had fallen through the arc of the streetlight was a naked male gen, who had jumped down off of the storage building to the right, to land in a squat behind the goons, who turned in amazement.

George whispered to his host, “We just ran into a feral band. That gen that’s about to rip your goons apart has been off world—I bet he’s AWOL from Luna Corp; probably has Reintegration Psychosis.”

The org was also talking as the kids all around oo’d and ah’d, “Da Playa be bringin’ da heat down on yo punk asses!”

That’s Grunge Cordite without his op suit!

The gen was extremely muscular and bald—like military gens should be—but was real hairy, which was weird. It was so shot-up it might have been Grunge Cordite after 2,068 missions!

When the goons turned on the gen, before Keefer could even call them off, the gen smashed his right shin into the left goon’s knee, completely destroying the joint, and causing the big armored male to collapse in agony as he clutched at a knee that was bending in the wrong direction.

I bet that totally sucks.

And, and—that’s badass!

Scooter could not help himself as he yelled with just-off-the-shelf clarity, “Badasss!”

The other kids were cheering and shouting too, as the bigger goon and the torn-up naked gen, who strangely had no genitals, tore into each other with fists and feet. The goon was bigger, armored, and booted, and began to get the best of the gen. The big goon drove the smaller gen against the carbon wall of the storage building and got a body-lock.

Then the org could be heard, “We ain’t got all day Jay-Bone, just eat his ass!”

What, gens don’t eat people?

Only trashers, crazies and alley dogs eat people; well, and sanitation compactors if you fall asleep in the wrong place like Roger Pod.

The gen then let out a savage snarling roar, like some sim animal, and head butted the goon’s helmet so hard that the halo strobe began to blink. He then screamed like some monster from the sewers of Titan as he picked up the flailing goon, jumped in the air with the big body held in his hands, and dove to the ground, slamming the goon’s back to the pavement with a sickening crack. The gen then looked up at the moon and howled like an alley dog—but much, much bigger, with a slathering quality. He then screamed like a crazy as he plunged his fingers through the seam in the goon’s neck armor and the chin of the helmet…and into it!

Oh that is so cool—and without a graviton claw!

The crowd of kids gave a cheer as George and Keefer and Bobbie all made sounds of disgust. They could all hear the gen’s hand ripping through the goon’s neck as he slathered and drooled and his lips peeled back like a baboon’s to reveal his teeth, two of which looked kind of nasty.

“Badass!” he shouted as his hands went into the air and he began to bounce.

Then, with a gurgle of indescribable agony coming from the helmeted head of the goon, the gen tore—well, something gross and disgusting—from the goon and bit into it. The org could be heard complaining, “I didn’ mean dat shit literal yo! I ain’ neva goin’ ta KFC again Jay-Bone!”

How did an org entertainer and a gen liquidator ever become friends?

Keefer and Bobbie and the new love-girl were shaking in disgust, but George was calm. “This could go badly for us Mister Smart, if we do not appeal to the org. This gen does not seem prone to conversation. It may not even be sentient, and is certainly psychotic.”

George is smart; smarter even then Mister Smart. I wonder if this gen will rip his head off like Grunge with the Titan CEO.

Just then, the most disgusting thing happened. When the gen finished sucking the blood out of the—well, whatever it had been—its very large penis and testicles fell out of its body, accompanied by a musky odor. Bobbie and the love-girl squeaked and the kids in the crowd actually got grossed out and ran. Scooter wanted to run also, because if this gen was a rapist like the trashers and the unattached grownup male techs, it was going to get real nasty around here. But all he could do was bounce, and all he could say was, “Badass!”

Keefer put a calming hand on his shoulder, and this shut down his bouncing and badassing. The street-tech now, seeming to have regained his composure, stepped forward to within reach of the gen, who now stood menacingly before him, sniffing the air and clutching his mighty hands. Keefer held out his left hand to the org, come friend, I can help you, and your renegade gen here. I know these streets…and I know his designer. Hurry up, we have to move out and get under cover. The AI Scan will forward this to Order Maintenance within ten minutes. The Cleaners will be here in twelve.”

With those words the org came forward and the gen calmed down and started to look human again, almost like some really nice grownup—except that he eats goons alive!

The gen then squatted down and picked up the wounded goon and threw him over his shoulders and looked at Keefer as he stood, well, like a tiger from Sim-Indus that has just been promised something that it would not understand not getting…