Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 5 - Back to Nova (Patreon)

I’ve always wanted to be strong. Growing up, I saw what happened to weak people. But I refused to let myself become one of them. Jeremiah gave me the opportunity to leave that fate behind, and I never looked back.

Nora Lancaster

Telling Viola and Douglas about my uncle’s fate was an exceedingly difficult thing. They reacted as well as could be expected, which was to say that Viola shed a few tears while Douglas struggled to remain stoic. It was an uncomfortable situation for me, so I quickly headed back to collect Patrick. I found him huddled in the corner of the building where I’d sent him, clutching the gun with white-knuckled hands. He’d obviously heard the battle, and I think he’d convinced himself that I’d already fallen. Thankfully, he had underestimated my prowess.

We returned to Haven, where we found that Viola and Douglas had already released the rest of the prisoners and organized them into groups. As I approached, I asked, “What’s going on?”

“We can’t stay here, now,” drawled Douglas. “The Enforcers will be back, and when they come, they’ll come in force. We couldn’t stand up to them before, and we won’t be able to when they come back.”

“Where are you going to go?” I asked.

“Some are going to Nova,” Viola said. “We’ll get them set up with jobs and the like. Others, they’ll come with us up to Memphis.”

I glanced around, and that’s when I realized that Haven was populated by far more people than it had housed when we’d come through on my way out of Nova City. And they all looked terrible. Thin to the point of malnourishment, dirty, and with slumped shoulders, it seemed clear to me that they were all refugees of one sort or another.

“What’s going on here?” I asked.

“Enforcers,” Viola said. “They’ve been aggressively expanding Nova’s influence lately. We weren’t sure what was going on until you told us about Jeremiah. He was the only one keeping them in check. Now that he’s gone, there’s nobody to stop them from taking what they want.”

I nodded, understanding exactly what she was talking about. After having seen what was going on in Bayou La Batre, I knew that there was plenty of wealth waiting to be harvested outside of the city. Before, I’d thought that the Enforcers just didn’t want to rock the boat, but now, it was clear that the threat of my uncle’s retribution had kept them from taking over. Now that he was gone, they were free to do what they wanted to do. The poor people of the free towns didn’t stand a chance against high-tiered and well-trained soldiers.

“Any news of Bayou La Batre?” I asked.

“That old shrimpin’ town?” asked Douglas. “No. Haven’t heard anything from that neck of the woods. Not surprisin’, though. We didn’t even know about Mobile until you got here. Most of these people came from the towns closer to Nova.”

“What are you going to do now?” asked Viola.

“I’m heading to Nova,” I announced. “I just don’t know exactly how I’m getting in.”

“You could tag along with some of the refugees,” Douglas said, taking off his hat and wiping his forearm across his forehead. He squinted in the direction of Nova City. As large as it was, the barest outline of the city was visible even this far away. It was like a mountain looming in the distance. “I’m not sure what you’ve got goin’ on, but you feel like a Tier-2 at best, and a weak one at that. Now, I know that ain’t true, so the way I figure it, you got somethin’ to keep you hidden. Right?”

I nodded.

“So, here’s what I suggest,” he said. “You and your friend, you get all dirtied up and join the refugees. We already bribed the guard at the Green Gate, so shouldn’t be any issues gettin’ you inside, so long as you don’t stand out too much.”

“What do you have planned for when you get back inside?” asked Viola. “Please tell me you don’t intend to take over your uncle’s business.”

I shook my head. “No,” was my truthful answer. I had no desire to follow in Jeremiah’s footsteps in that respect. But I also didn’t want to go running my mouth about what I did have planned. For all I knew, Douglas and Viola had been complicit in my uncle’s death. I didn’t think it likely, but then again, I’d never expected Nora to turn traitor, either. So, it seemed smart to hold my cards close to my chest. I figured I could trust Patrick – at least for the most part – but everyone else, I would treat like strangers.

“Good,” said Viola. “Girl like you, you’d get eaten alive.”

I clenched my jaw, but I didn’t respond. She had no idea what I was capable of. But then again, that wasn’t that surprising, considering that I looked like a petite teenage girl. It was probably difficult to imagine that, if I wanted to, I could kill every single person in that town without skipping a beat. How they thought I’d managed to free them, I had no idea. Perhaps they just thought I was good with a rifle. Either way, her misconception was my gain.

“What d’ya say?” asked Douglas. “You in?”

“When do you plan to leave?” I asked.

“Soon,” he said. “Before nightfall. We can’t stay here any longer than that. The Enforcers already know we’re here, so it’s only a matter of time before they send another squad out this way. So long as we make it to the edge of the Dead Zone, they’ll leave us be.”

I shrugged. “Suits me just fine,” I said.

After that, Patrick and I went inside one of the buildings and took a few minutes to eat. As I bit into a ration bar, he asked, “What are we going to do when we get inside the city?”

“I need to find a doctor,” I said, holding up my splinted hand. “That’s the first order of business. Then, I need to hit the Bazaar. You should probably come with me when I do. After that, I think we might want to part ways. I’ll try to set you up with someone to –”

“Don’t give me that shit, Mira,” he said, and for the first time, it sounded like he had a little steel in his spine. “I know you’re going to find out who’s responsible for killing all those people back in Mobile. I have a stake in that, too, you know. My stepdad was one of the victims, remember? I want in.”

I sighed. “And what do you offer?” I asked. “This isn’t some game, Patrick. I’m going to kill a lot of people. Some of them are going to be really dangerous, too. Like, you remember that blonde woman you shot? She was mid-level, at best. The people I’m going after are much stronger than her. Some of that power might be political, but it’s just as likely they’ll be on my uncle’s level. That’s what I’m going up against, and I can’t afford to drag around dead weight. I like you. I even trust you, mostly. But this isn’t the kind of mission where I can afford to babysit you.”

Indeed, the necessity to protect him had already shown its detriments during our trip from Mobile to Haven. If I’d been alone, I would’ve only been forced to fight a few times. But with Patrick along for the ride? The entire journey had been punctuated by one fight after another. In the wilderness, I could live with that. But in Nova City? My uncle hadn’t explained exactly how powerful the people there were, but he’d intimated that they were not to be trifled with.

If I was going against those sorts of people, I couldn’t afford any baggage.

“I have a [Smuggler] skill, which means I have a lot of useful abilities,” he said.

“And what does that entail?” I asked. “What kind of abilities does it give you?”

“Mostly pilot stuff,” he admitted. “But I have my [Gunfighter] abilities, too. And [Cybernetic Engineer]. I’m not saying I want to go out and fight with you or anything, but there’s nothing that says I can’t support you, right? What if your cybernetic implants get damaged? What are you going to do then? Go to some shady cyber-ripper or something? I can help you, Mira. I want to help you.”

I sighed. He wasn’t wrong. I was realistic enough to understand that my hand probably wasn’t salvageable. I would try to get it fixed, but if push came to shove, I’d be forced to get a cybernetic one. And even the high-grade versions needed maintenance sometimes. Having a [Cybernetic Engineer] in my pocket could certainly come in handy. On top of that, I expected that I’d have to leave Nova City at some point, and when I did, having a pilot – or a [Smuggler]– to ferry me around would make things a lot easier.

And he’d already saved my life once. Without him, I’d have been either dead or subject to a slave implant, which was probably the worse of the two options. Patrick had proven his mettle, and I felt I owed it to him to give him a shot.

So, I said, “Fine. But the moment you aren’t pulling your weight, I’ll drop you. I can’t let you drag me down.”

He smiled and said, “Works for me.”

After that, we finished our ration bars, then retreated into separate rooms to change into something more appropriate for refugees. Patrick’s clothes were mostly fine; he hadn’t changed since being taken captive, so he was pretty grimy. However, he did change his shirt for one that was a little less bloodstained. For my part, I donned the clothes I’d used for my disguise back in Bayou La Batre. They’d worked well back then, and I figured they’d do the trick now. However, I was a little distressed to find that the jeans were far tighter than they had been back then.

Was I getting fat? No. There was no way. But maybe I was finally growing into my figure. Or more likely, all the exercise I’d had in the year since I’d last worn the jeans had done my body good. Either way, they weren’t so tight that I couldn’t wear them, so I pushed it from my mind. Added to those jeans was a loose and ripped tee-shirt and a pair of sneakers, which completed the refugee look.

When I rejoined Patrick, I couldn’t help but notice that his eyes lingered a bit on my backside, but I found that I didn’t mind so much. Clearly, I’d never be a bombshell like Heather, my uncle’s girlfriend, but I was okay with a little male attention.

Once outside, Patrick and I smeared dirt on our faces and clothes to sell the refugee look a little more, then headed over to where Viola and Douglas were organizing the others. They had been joined by another man, who stood by while everyone loaded into the back of a transport truck with huge, knobby tires.

I looked him up and down. He was tall, thin, and sported a cybernetic implant that coated his neck and much of his upper chest in black metal. I had no idea what it was for, but I couldn’t help but think he’d left it exposed for a reason. Perhaps he liked the way it looked, as inexplicable as that preference was. After all, he left his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his torso in an effort to show it off. Some people might’ve been attracted to that sort of thing, but I certainly wasn’t one of them.

As for his face, he had hollow cheeks, a long, thin nose, and his short hair came to a dramatic widow’s peak. In short, the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew that he was a shady character.

“You two!” he shouted. “What the hell are you waitin’ on? Get in the fuckin’ truck!”

Viola looked like she was about to say something to the man, but I gave her a subtle shake of my head. If Metal-Neck – yes, that was what I decided to call him – didn’t know who we were, he couldn’t betray us. I’d already activated Mimic, taking on the appearance and apparent tier of a woman I’d met back in Mobile. She was a couple of years older than me, and similar-looking enough that we could have been siblings. Or at least cousins. More importantly, she was only a Tier-1, which I liked because it would cause everyone to underestimate me.

Metal-Neck clearly did just that, because, as Patrick and I joined the others in climbing into the truck, he looked us both over with a dismissive sneer. Once everyone was inside, I heard him tell Viola that he would take us into Nova City, but he didn’t plan on doing anymore runs. That made plenty of sense to me; if the Enforcers were out and about, it was probably smart to lay low.

Before long, we were rumbling along, and I found myself studying the other refugees. Most of them were Tier-2, but there were a fair few Tier-1’s as well. Patrick was one of only three Tier-3’s, which meant that he was one of the more powerful people in the back of the truck. That was discounting Metal-Neck up front, who was also Tier-3 and moved like he could handle himself at least a little, though.

The trip itself was mostly uneventful. There were no giant, mutated alligators to attack us, at least, and we made decent time, arriving at our destination a few hours later. I felt the truck pull to a stop, and then, after the lift shuddered, we were moving upward. Some of the refugees looked panicked, but I did my best to calm them.

“It’s just an elevator,” I said. “Nova’s way up in the sky. This is just taking us up to the city.”

That helped, but I could see in their eyes that some of them were still quite nervous. I couldn’t really blame them, either. They’d lived their whole lives in the back country, and, after everything they knew had been upended by the Enforcers, they were going to a completely unfamiliar place. In their place, I would have been nervous, too.

The elevator slowed to a stop, and a few moments later, the truck was moving again. With Observation on my side, I heard the exchange with the Enforcer on guard, and it was clear from that conversation that the man was on the take. He let the truck through without much issue.

However, it was a further ten minutes before we pulled to a stop.

“Alright!” yelled Metal-Neck. “Everybody out! Let’s get you all set up in your new life.”

I followed the others out of the truck, and I was unsurprised to see that we were in Algiers. But what did surprise me was when Metal-Neck started sorting people into groups. The young girls like me were all put into one group. The strong-looking boys were put into another. And anyone over the age of twenty-five were pushed into yet another cluster. When one of the older women complained, Metal-Neck shut her up with a backhand.

I was about to respond when I noticed that the lot we were in was surrounded by men and women with guns. And all of those weapons were trained in our direction.

“Now,” said Metal-Neck. “Some of you probably thought you were headed to a new, better life. And maybe that’ll be true. Eventually. But for now? You’re all going to be fitted with control implants and put to work in appropriate jobs. If you’ve got free skill slots, we’ll provide you with something appropriate. Got me?”

A din of conversation and complaints erupted, but Metal-Neck shut them up by yelling, “Rhetorical question, idiots! Marvin! Let’s get those implants, yeah?”

As a short, pudgy man scurried forward from the shadows, I let out a sigh. Then, I muttered, “Nothing is ever easy, is it?”

Then, I activated Engage and darted forward. I moved so quickly that Metal-Neck didn’t have even a second to respond, and by the time he realized what was going on, I had my nano-bladed knife to the underside of his chin. With a flick of my wrist, I could jam it up through his jaw and into his brain.

“What the…”

“Call off your guys,” I growled. “Or you’re done, you dumb mook.”

He yelled out, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot, guys!”

“Good,” I said. “Now, listen close. Did you do this on your own? Or did Viola and Douglas know about it? Tell the truth, ‘cause I’ll know the difference.”

“I…I didn’t…I mean, I just thought…these people would have a better life…if I could give them jobs,” he gibbered. I could see tears falling down his cheeks and snot running from his nose. “P-please…I didn’t mean no harm…”

I rolled my eyes. “What do you have on you? Any credits?” I asked. His eyes widened, and I said, “Transfer them to me. Let’s call it an idiot tax, yeah? Be an idiot, lose some money. Or we could do it the other way.”

To punctuate my point, I pushed the knife up a little, drawing blood. A second later, a prompt to receive a transfer of a few thousand credits flashed across my HUD. I accepted it, then said, “Now, let’s do this nice and slow, okay? You and me, we’re going to get in that truck, and we’re going to take all these nice people somewhere else, okay? And none of your mooks are going to follow, right?”

He muttered, “Y-yes, ma’am…”

“Good,” I said. “Let’s go, then.”

After that, everyone climbed back into the truck. Some moved far more slowly than others, and I could see quite a few tear-stained faces. Patrick helped organize them, though, which just cemented my decision to keep him around. Once the refugees were back into place, Metal-Neck and I got into the truck’s cab, and soon, we were on our way. Once we were inside, I exchanged the knife for Ferdinand II, which I kept aimed at the mook’s temple.

After traversing the breadth of Algiers, we crossed a half-dozen different gang territories, which meant that Metal-Neck’s mooks weren’t likely to follow. Once I judged we were safe, I directed him to pull up next to an abandoned tenement. It was barely standing, but it would provide some shelter for the refugees.

At least until they figured out how to make their own way.

Once they were all unloaded, I told Metal-Neck that if I saw him again, I wouldn’t hesitate to put him down. He nodded enthusiastically, and after he got back into the truck, raced away.

Turning back to the group of refugees, I said, “Alright, then. That’s my good deed for the day. You’re on your own, now. Welcome to Nova City, I guess.”

Then, without another word, I turned away and strode off into the city. Patrick hurried to follow, but I didn’t slow my pace. If he wanted to tag along, that was fine, but he needed to learn to keep up. As for the refugees, either they would make it or they wouldn’t. Their fate wasn’t my problem.