Reality Intrudes Pt 13 (Patreon)

Who Needs Luck, I Know Kung Fu

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Morrigan

The tinny little alarm clock jangles, jiggling back and forth on the chain that connects it to the frame of the bunk above mine. I hate the thing, but it wakes me up when I need to be on my feet, and it doesn't use batteries. So I'm not about to use it for throwing practice … yet.

Getting up, I stretch the kinks out of my muscles. It's a good idea to go into a Matrix insertion nice and limber, otherwise you can come out of there with cramps on your cramps. If the last dive into that hellhole they laughingly call a civilised city was any indication, I'm gonna need to be on my toes every second I'm in there.

I traipse along to the ablution block and shower in cold water, partly because it'll wake me up some more and partly because there isn't a whole heap of warm water for the purpose. Even back in Zion, it's a good idea to keep hot showers nice and short. One more reason why the Machines needed to get shot in the face soonest.

I heard they were talking about recolonising the surface. Makes you wonder what's left up there. We made the Machines in our own image, so I'm not exactly optimistic.

Clean, dry, and dressed, I stop by the commissary and acquire a bowl of gruel. Nutritious, filling or tasty: pick one. I nod to the other members of the crew as I stroll along to Operations. Nobody but Hornblower, Loki and me know the whole story about what we're doing here, and it'll be a good idea to keep it that way for as long as possible.

The last thing we want is some misguided do-gooder mass-dumping the already-traumatised inhabitants of Bet into a whole other dystopian paradise. Or worse, getting the attention of the Scion program. We'd be fine, but the whole Earth Bet server would be fucked nine ways from Sunday, and I don't play that way.

I step through the door just a few minutes short of showtime. Hornblower is seated in the corner of the room reading something on a tablet, while Loki is making himself comfortable in the Operator's chair, with the waterfall display in front of him. It's a weird feeling: I know that in the server, Taylor is fully aware that I'll be stepping into her head and going out to perform constructive acts of violence on the assholes who infest her city. And apparently, she's perfectly okay with this.

"Her Majesty finally chooses to arrive," snarks Loki. "Did we stop to curtsey to the adoring masses?"

"They curtsey to me, asshole. You should try it sometime." I flip him the bird as I settle down into the chair, then I go back to eating my gruel. When I talk next, I ignore Loki and address Hornblower. "Anything new since I had the chat with her?"

Hornblower shakes her head, apparently willing to overlook my back-and-forth with Loki if it will keep things moving along. "No. She did her homework and ate dinner with her father. There doesn't seem to have been any trouble over the brawl; whether because they didn't want to admit she'd beaten them up, or because the school administration is so apathetic, I'm still not sure."

"My vote's on 'both'," I decide. "Having seen what that place is like first-hand, I'm guessing the assholes running the place are just fine with ignoring their duty of care so long as the almighty dollar keeps dropping into their paychecks. And as for the little sociopaths who infest that school, admitting that three of them got beaten up at once by a nobody like Taylor Hebert would be worse than the actual beating. Nobody would take them seriously after that. What's Madison been up to?"

Loki shrugs. "Fucked if I know. Which of the little shits is Madison, and why do you care?"

I repress the urge to wing the bowl of gruel across the room at his oh-so-punchable face. "She's the third member of the unholy trinity, the cutesy one who set the other three on Taylor in the bathrooms. I can see them just laying low and denying that anything of the sort happened, but how she reacts is going to set the tempo for the rest of it. She's trying to be the queen bitch since I beat up Emma and Sophia, and I'm interested in seeing if she's going to be smart and listen to Taylor's warning, or do something stupid. If she's aiming for 'stupid', I might have to do something about her before she fucks up our entire operation. That's why the fuck I care."

"Oh." To his credit, he actually listens to my explanation. It's probably because Hornblower's in the same room, but he still listens. Turning back to his screens, he opens a secondary window and mumbles to himself as he types in commands. I tune him out as I finish my gruel.

"So what's your plan for tonight?" asks Hornblower. "Continue following up on the Empire Eighty-Eight? They seem to be a large operation."

"… no," I decide. "It's tempting, but I think I'll see what's going on with this Lung character. Being able to spit fireballs and grow to twenty feet tall is a pretty impressive reworking of the laws of physics, even in a server like this one."

Loki blows a raspberry as he swivels on his chair to face me. "You're just scared you might run into an actual challenge, now the Empire knows you're here."

"It's more like I'm keeping them off balance," I correct him. "I out-skilled the skill thief and killed the unkillable man. They're gonna be jumping at shadows, wondering which direction I'll be coming at them from next."

"Morrigan is correct," Hornblower intervenes before the argument can get heated. "When you're one against many, it's vital that you don't get into a pattern that they can recognise and anticipate."

"Right you are, Captain," smarms Loki. I can tell he's doing his best to make it clear that he's agreeing with her, and that he doesn't give two shits about my opinions. Turning his head, he checks his screen over. "And the kid's just settling down to sleep now … hah!"

"'Hah'? What's 'hah'?" I ask, leaning forward to see.

"You'll find out." He smirks at me over his shoulder while deliberately blocking my view of the waterfall display with his body. "Best time to go is right now, Captain."

I really want to get up out of the chair and shove him out of the way to see what he's hiding from me, but professionalism takes over and I settle down again. Besides, clocking a crewmate, even someone as odious as Loki, is frowned upon if you do it in front of your captain. Don't ask me, I don't make the rules.

Putting the empty bowl to one side, I slide my arms into the restraints and relax into the padding of the chair. Last time I jumped into Taylor Hebert's head, I wasn't sure how it was going to go, and I really didn't know how she was going to take having her body hijacked. This time, at least I know she's okay with the procedure, and I've got a better idea of what I'm doing in Earth Bet.

"Understood." Hornblower puts her tablet aside and gets up. I close my eyes and exhale, sending my tensions away as I relax into the chair. When the Matrix jack hits my port, I'm ready. Hornblower plugs me in, Loki hits a key, and I'm down the rabbit-hole again.

I open my eyes in Taylor Hebert's bedroom. Sitting up, I look down at myself and discover what Loki was laughing at. For a change, it's nothing bad.

Before going to bed, Taylor must have snuck downstairs and retrieved the shoulder-bag, the long coat, and the hat. The outfit I was wearing when I killed Victor and Alabaster (yes, I checked them up after the fact; I still think Captain Nazi and Whitey McWhiteface were better names) is hanging over my computer chair and there's a shotgun lying alongside the bed, with a box of ammo beside it. Also, Alabaster's shoulder holsters and pistols, and a box of ammo beside them.

I mentally chalk up a plus mark toward Taylor's common sense; even though she's likely got all my gun skills, she's left them unloaded with the breeches open, so I know exactly what I'm dealing with when I pick the things up. The first thing I do is put on the shoulder rig (adjusting the straps because Alabaster had some heft, and Taylor … doesn't) and the long coat. Then I load the guns and put some spare ammo in the long-coat pockets. The shotgun goes over my shoulder on its sling.

Getting outside is the easiest thing of all. I open the bedroom window, pause to make sure there aren't any inconvenient witnesses, then climb out and kick off from the sill to land just inside the fence. But now I have my next hurdle: transport.

In a normal Matrix insertion, the Operator will program the Operatives up a car, or even just drop them where they need to be. Things are different here, so I've got to be smart about this. If I'd been thinking ahead, I would've 'borrowed' Danny's car keys, and filled it up on the way back.

God dammit. I bite the bullet and pull out my phone. Loki must be loving this.

"Operator. Forget something, Mo-Mo?"

I grit my teeth. "Shut up and find me the nearest motorbike." I love motorbikes. They're so easy to bend the laws of physics with. Everyone's seen so many impossible stunts in movies, they'll just accept that kind of bullshit in what they consider to be real life.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Well, if you were mighty to begin with." I hear the clicking of keys. "One block west. Better hurry before someone else steals it."

"Oh, ha ha."

"No, I'm serious. Some local five-finger discount artists are eyeing it off right now. Better put the pedal to the metal if you want metal to put pedal to."

Well, shit. I end the call, hurdle the fence, and start heading west. Nobody's out and about at this time, which suits me down to the ground. I can really stride out, hitting speeds no bluepill can match, hopefully to get there before our prospective motorbike thieves make off with it.

Don't get me wrong: I can run really fast. But motorbikes can go faster, and they don't get tired. And with a little reality-nudging, they can be persuaded not to run out of fuel any time soon.

I swing around the corner of the block just as the bike's being quietly wheeled out of the driveway by a grown man, with two teenage boys in attendance. Aww, isn't that cute; they're learning crime from the master.

Unfortunately for them and their boss/dad/uncle/older male role model, I'm not there to enable them in their larcenous ways. I'm here for the motorbike. So just about the time they spot me coming, I've got enough speed up to go for a flying jump kick. I pass between Junior Bike Thieves One and Two, and hammer the guy in the chest with my heel. Then I fiddle Matrix physics a little so I backflip off the impact, land astride the bike, and catch it before it can fall.

The ignition's already been busted open, probably so they could unlock the handlebars. I spot the two wires I need and twist them together. The bike roars to life, especially when I give it some throttle.

Up until now, the kids have been frozen in shock, possibly because I kicked their mentor five yards down the street, and possibly because I've got a shotgun slung over my back. But when Bike Thief (Senior) sits up and yells at them, they go to grab me. However, it's too late for that; I kick the thing into gear and peel out of there. The last thing I see in the rear-view mirror is the lights of the house coming on, and the three thieves scattering (and staggering, in the case of the one I kicked) into the darkness.

There's nothing quite like cruising the streets late at night on a stolen motorbike, looking for trouble. I know for a fact it'll find me shortly, or I'll find it, and then we'll see what's what. I've read up everything I could about Lung and the Stupidly Spelled Racist Name Gang, but there's nothing like personal experience, in my opinion.

Also, I want to see if Oni Lee is really all that.

Riding one-handed (because I can) I sigh and fish out my phone again. Brockton Bay's a big place, and there are easier ways to look for a super-powered crime lord than by cruising around and looking for places where the smoke is rising. I don't like having to do it this way, but I do it anyway.

"Operator. Wow, you're needy tonight."

"Fuck you. Where can I find Lung?"

"Okay, not needy. Suicidal. But hey, who am I to argue with the mentally impaired? Sending you the address now."

He ends the call before I can reply with a suitably cutting quip, so instead I flip the bird toward where I'm guessing the waterfall-display point of view might be.

The address pops up on the phone, followed by a useful little map to show me how to get there. I've already memorised the general layout of the city, so I won't have much trouble getting there. Putting the phone away, I gun the bike to pop a wheelie on general principles, then accelerate straight through the speed limit in the general direction of Lung.

I've got a date with a rage dragon.

<><>

Lung

As far as Kenta was concerned, the night had started well but was beginning to go downhill.

One of the blonde giantesses—he'd never made the effort to tell them apart—shoved a thirty-foot spear at him, but he turned aside so the bladed head merely scraped off his scales. In return, he blew a vast plume of flame back at her. Her sister's shield intervened just in time, though he suspected the spearwoman would be lacking in the eyebrow department, come the end of the fight.

He'd long suspected that their ability to minimise incoming damage was limited mainly to actual physical attacks, such as bullets and cars. Flame wasn't as easy to shrug off; against a larger opponent, it spread. Their caution when dealing with his fire breath seemed to be bearing that out, but landing a proper attack was difficult when they worked together like this.

The news that both Victor and Alabaster had fallen to some unspecified opponent (he'd scoffed at the description of a 'seven foot tall woman with eyes of death') had been a welcome one, but when he'd initiated a push into Empire territory it seemed they hadn't been caught napping. Oni Lee was duelling with Stormtiger somewhere out of sight; the occasional sound of a grenade explosion indicated that they weren't done yet. It was quickly becoming clear that the more time he wasted on this fight, the more Empire capes would arrive to oppose him.

He'd meant this to be a quick push to secure territory, done and dusted before the Empire could respond. It was shaping up to be anything but. However, he was up to the challenge, and could escalate further and faster than any of his opponents could—

The roar of a motorcycle engine behind him almost drowned out the pistol shot. The cape with the sword and shield rocked back, her hand going to her face. Another shot rang out, this time from a shotgun if Kenta was any judge; she staggered back, almost dropping her shield as red showed through a tiny gap in the armour at her shoulder. What is this? He wasn't aware of any of his followers who was an expert sniper.

Glancing behind him, he saw the oncoming motorcycle rider; apparently deciding that proper riding rules were for wimps, she—it was a woman—had one foot on the fuel tank, with the other steering and keeping the hand-throttle wide open. As he watched, she fired the shotgun once with her right hand, and the pistol four times with her left. The giantesses staggered backward again as the rider somehow managed to target the minuscule gaps in their armour; while the shots wouldn't kill them at that size, they'd certainly sting, and a deer slug to the eye might still blind one of them.

An unspoken agreement seemed to pass between the pair and they began to back off, spear held in a defensive position and shield ready to block any more shots. Kenta grinned savagely. He wasn't sure who this newcomer was, or why she'd chosen to aid the Azn Bad Boys against the Empire, but—

Too late, he realised that the motorbike wasn't slowing down, and that the illumination of the headlights seemed to be centering around him. He looked around, just in time to see the bike hit a piece of debris from the fight and take to the air. The long-coat clad woman—she was wearing a fedora, he registered absently—kicked off just in time.

Even at twelve feet tall, taking a motorcycle to the face was not something he could do lightly. The impact was massive, sending him sprawling across the road. Although he didn't quite pass out, he came close.

<><>

Morrigan

In the instants before impact, I'm idly wondering exactly how the local Matrix justifies thirty-foot-tall women, even as strong as they clearly are. I mean, the square-cube law exists for a reason. But then the motorbike encounters Lung's face and they both go over backward, bits and pieces flying off the bike in all directions. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be getting the non-existent security bond back.

I'm already airborne at this point, flying toward the Valkyrie twins. Mungo and Fungo, or something like that. One's got a spear and the other's got a sword and shield. I mean, what's with that? If I could grow that tall, I'd be packing a Smith & Wesson .500, and I'd be laying down fire with that sucker like there was no tomorrow. I'd literally be firing two-inch shells. That's the sort of ordnance that makes buildings bend over and kiss their asses goodbye.

The one with the spear tries to bring it up toward me, like she can defend against what I'm doing. I twist in mid-air and land on the spear shaft, then run up it. Directly toward her.

Her sister—or clone, or whatever—tries to intervene with her sword, but I snap off a shot in her direction, through the tiny eyeslit. Tiny at normal sizes, maybe. Since Loki replenished my skills, I've been able to hit a gnat's ass blindfolded in a coal cellar with a brass band playing in the background.

Her head jerks back; I think I got her in the eye. Probably won't blind her, the reaction isn't pronounced enough for that, but she's gonna be feeling that for the next few days. Which is totally her problem and not mine at all.

With sword-girl being kept honest, I holster the pistol and work the action of the shotgun. This time around, I'm loaded with deer slugs from beginning to end. Like the pistol shots, they won't be lethal, but with the way one of those slugs can disassemble a bluepill, it's gotta be hurting her. Left eye, right eye, boom boom.

She drops the spear and bolts. Hitting the ground, I roll to my feet.

The one with the sword retreats also; she shouts something about being sorry I crossed the Empire, but I draw the pistol again and place a shot into her open mouth through a gap in her armour. She coughs and chokes, then staggers after the other one.

There's still a fight going on, if the sounds I can hear are any indication. I sling the shotgun and reload the pistol with economical moves, then head toward the sound of combat.

Turns out it's Oni Lee fighting some guy doing the shirtless thing with chains and a tiger mask. I am mildly offended by the chains concept. Didn't those things go out in the nineties?

The moment I see them, I start laying down fire. Three at Oni Lee, and six more at the tiger guy. Tiger Storm? Maybe Stormtiger? I remember thinking it was a stupid name, anyway.

Lee takes the hits, then dissolves into ash. A tingle at the base of my neck warns me, and I duck aside just as he's about to gank me with a respectably sized knife. I take away the knife and shoot him in the face, only for both him and the knife to dissolve in turn.

I've already fired six times at Stormtiger. As per his PHO page, he's generated a gust of wind that blew five of them off course. The sixth one has punched a nice hole through his lower calf muscle, and he's now bleeding. Go me.

He's also throwing wind-claws at both me and Lee, so that's less of a 'go me' situation, but hey, I'm a glass-half-full kinda gal. I fend off Lee's second and third attempt to introduce my insides to the outside, dodge some hostile bits of air, then ricochet a bullet off the pavement to hit tiger-boy in the hip. Well, I was aiming at his groin, but it's not a precise science.

Apparently realising that a) I can actually shoot him, despite his vaunted (actually, does anyone even use 'vaunted' anymore? Is it just taking up valuable space in the dictionary? Can we boot that word out of the English language?) ability to redirect bullets, and b) he's wounded and alone in this fight, he decides to fuck off as well.

Works for me. The teleporting wannabe edgelord is starting to get a little irritating, and I don't want to saddle Taylor with cleaning too much Lee ash off my clothing in the morning. So I leave Drizzle-kitty to retreat with his tail between his legs, and turn my attention to Oni Lee.

His problem is, he thinks he can't be beaten.

I know I can be beaten, and what's more, I know how he can be beaten.

He's skilled, but I'm a fucking Matrix Operative with more asskicking programmed into my stats than a hundred lifetimes could give me. Plus, I know one thing he doesn't.

This isn't real.

That's not air we're breathing.

So when he pulls his teleport-clone bullshit, I lean into the Matrix. Now I know exactly where and when he's going to pop up. I defend against the outgoing clone, and backfist the just-arrived one in the throat as he manifests. He gurgles and staggers, I shoot the one in front of me before he can pull a pin on his grenade, then throw out a side-kick to get the new new one in the ribs. Two of them go, and he falls over, still clutching at his throat.

The fourth one gets shot in the kneecap, and I cartwheel over to where the fifth one's going to appear. A dropping knee smash splits his mask wide open and shatters his nose. He collapses, out like a light.

As his clones all around me pop to ash, I stand up and dust myself off, looking around to make sure Lung is still on the ground. He'll be getting up in a minute, once he extracts what's left of the motorbike from his sinus cavity, but I don't have be here when he does.

Well, that was a nice little workout. What's next?

Part 14