"Well, fuck you too."
Ever since the two punks, Dumb and Dumber, had approached Baru with the proposition of making a profit of ten bucks and some beer, Mason knew the inevitable was coming.
He glanced at the camcorder, then back at Baru, his only friend on the cold, lonely streets of New Tokyo. Correction, a former friend. It was wild what a bum would do for ten bucks and a can of flat beer. I've probably done worse for even less, though, Mason thought. Poverty had that way of changing a person, inside and out.
"You can't be serious," Mason continued in a gentler tone, his hands raised in the air to demonstrate non-aggression. It worked on most strays. Hopefully, it'd work on his back-stabbing son-of-a-bitch friend. There really wasn't much of a difference anymore. "Think about this."
"I'm sorry, Mason." Baru assumed a fighting stance. Or at least an imitation of one. His legs were spaced too close to each other, and his fists were trembling in front of his face. Were those tears streaming down his unwashed cheeks?
"Ruining our friendship for some beer and pocket change? I thought you were better than this." Mason gestured to the two punks at the mouth of the alley. They were filming. Probably hoping to go viral off two bums fighting. Unfortunately, they were just a step too late to the fad. "Those bastards don't care about us."
"I know that," Baru whimpered, his fists dropping to his side. "What have we become? The streets are tearing through us."
The punk holding the camcorder, Dumb, called out, "you boys going to fight or what?"
"We'll even make it twenty dollars," his partner, Dumber, hollered.
Tragically for them, Baru didn't seem to be very interested in fighting anymore. He fell to his knees, shoulders slumped and empty eyes downcast. "What have we become?" he whispered. "This isn't right. I was so ready to fight you. . ."
Mason slowly sauntered up to Baru and placed a hand on his head. "It's alright. We all have moments of weakness. I know just how damn hard life is out here. Cherishing the people close to us is the most important thing. It's really all we have."
From the corner of his eye, Mason noticed Dumb angle the camcorder downward, positively sure that there was no viral video to be found in the alley. What a mistake they were making.
Once he was sure the filming had stopped, Mason grabbed a fistful of Baru's hair and slammed his knee into his former friend's face. A satisfying crack resounded through the alley. Naturally, Baru fell back, clutching his now broken nose. Mason gave him an extra soccer kick to the dome to shut him up. Which was totally necessary. The bastard had betrayed him, after all.
"You should've cherished me better, idiot." Mason stepped over Baru's still body. He was still alive, probably. "Never show your face around me again."
"Hey!" Dumb shouted. "I wasn't filming!"
"Yeah!" Dumber seconded. "He wasn't filming!"
Mason smirked. The camcorder would fetch him a small fortune. He didn't know the exact models of their phone, but anything was better than nothing. And were those earrings and noserings real gold? Even if they were fake, it wouldn't hurt to rip those off either. Well, it would hurt for them, very much so.
"The fuck are you looking at?" Dumb snarled. "Get out of here."
Mason picked out a pipe from the ground. It had a good shape, unbent with minimal dents. Perfect for bashing heads. God was smiling down on him today. Exposing snakes and gifting money straight into his willing hands.
"Gentlemen," Mason said, giving his improvised weapon a good practice swing. "How about handing over that camcoder?"
Dumb threw back his mohawked head and laughed. "You're an interesting old fuck, aren't you?" He pulled a switch from his pocket. The blade gleamed underneath the full moon of New Tokyo's dark sky. "I hope you can back up that attitude."
"Yeah," Dumber said, cracking his meaty knuckles. "Back up your attitude."
He seemed to outweigh his partner by more than a hundred pounds. It didn't matter, though. To Mason's trusty old pipe, everyone was equal.
"Man up, boys," Mason muttered under his breath. He raised his pipe and charged. It was going to be a long night. "You fuckers are in for a world of pain."
. . .
Two blocks and a half away from the alley, Mason stumbled into the New Tokyo Pawn. It was a sad-looking place, but so were most places in New Tokyo. For a city with new in its name, there sure weren't a lot of new things. His windbreaker was relatively new. He glanced down at the cut in his sleeve and sighed.
The owner looked up from the article on his counter terminal and muttered a brief pleasantry. He wasn't gaijin, but no one spoke Japanese these days, not even ex-pats from the mainland. And most of all not to foreigners.
"I'm here to pawn off a camcoder." Mason held up the camcorder. It was a little banged up from his fight but not too banged up. "I'm willing to take three hundred for it. Don't try to play me either."
"Fifty," the owner muttered, rubbing the back of his shaved head. "That's all I'm offering."
"What?" Mason placed the camcorder on the counter and glared at the owner. "It's YukonCorp. I'm doing you a favor by going down to three hundred."
"Lens cracked. No paperwork regarding ownership. And it looks like it's been pried from someone's hands." The owner shrugged. "This is practically charity since it's not like I can resell this. Just take the fifty and go buy yourself another hit of whatever color ice you're sniffing."
Mason shoved his hands in his windbreaker pocket and dropped a couple of golden rings down on the counter. He had cleaned the blood off them the best he could. "How about this?"
"I'll throw in an extra thirty."
"You've got yourself a deal," Mason said reluctantly.
Still, at least he was making a profit. Baru and the punks would be waking up to nothing but a world of pain.