Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 11 - Full of Danger (Patreon)

The first time Jeremiah gave me real responsibility, I was so blown away that I almost failed the mission. Until then, I had only ever been a follower, so the authority – even if it was borrowed – was intoxicating. And I wanted more.

Nora Lancaster

When we reentered our bodies back on Earth, night had already fallen. The Dome was still crowded with people, though, so it took us almost two hours to make our way to the Rapid Transference network, where we stood in line for another forty-five minutes before finally getting our turn. The clerk in charge was a prim woman in a cheap uniform that consisted of a business-like skirt and a high-necked top. The whole get-up reminded me of the Enforcers’ dress uniforms, albeit of much lower quality materials. Her blonde hair was held in a bun, and she looked at Patrick and me with obvious disdain.

“No begging,” she said. Then, looking past us, she said, “Next.”

“We’re not here to beg,” I said. “I have some pick-ups.”

She looked down her nose at me, which made me want to punch her in the face. She was only Tier-2, and I knew good and well that she was probably from the Garden. So, she had no reason to feel superior to anyone. But a lot of people were like that, latching onto whatever they could to make their lives feel a little less hopeless. I understood it, but that didn’t mean I had much patience for her attitude.

Thankfully, all I had to do was put my hand on the security terminal’s reader, which pulled up my account. I’d already paid for the transference, so my gear should have been long since arrived. Still, the woman said, “Don’t make me call security, lady.”

I ground my teeth together before saying, “Just look at your screen. I’ve already paid for –”

“I don’t need to look at anything, you piece of trash,” she spat. “Now go back to whatever gutter you crawled out of before I call security in.”

“But –”

I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, and a voice said, “Is there a problem here?”

“Yeah,” I growled, yanking away from the man who’d approached from behind. I turned toward him and immediately surmised that he was a security guard, as evidenced by his blue-and-white uniform. I’d seen plenty of them stationed around the Dome. “This lady won’t give me my stuff.”

“Is that so?” he asked. “And?”

“And if she’d just look at the stupid screen, she would see that I’ve already paid for the transfer,” I spat. “I don’t know why it’s so hard to pick my stuff up.”

The man, who had a huge jaw and watery eyes, glanced over my shoulder to the screen. Judging by the look of superiority on his face, I expected that he was doing so in order to prove me wrong. However, the moment his eyes found the display, his expression faded into embarrassment.

“Janet,” he said. “Take the girl to one of the private rooms and give her the packages.”

“But –”

“Now, Janet!” he barked. Then, to me, he said, “I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Janet’s new.”

As he spoke, the clerk, whose name was Janet, stared at the screen, aghast at what she saw. She smothered her skirt, then stepped out from behind the counter, and asked me to follow her. I did, and we soon found our way to one of the side rooms that ringed the huge lobby that housed the Rapid Transference network. Once inside, she asked us to wait while she had someone fetch our packages.

Once she left, shutting the door behind us, I muttered, “I should’ve punched her in the stupid face. Maybe she would’ve hopped to it then. Stupid people and their silly prejudices.”

Of course, I knew it was partially my fault. After all, I was still wearing my refugees’ rags, which made me look like the lowest of the low. It was especially bad because I still wore the identity of a middle-aged, Tier-2 woman. To anyone who looked, I probably didn’t seem like the kind of person who could afford the entry fee for the Bazaar, much less to have something shipped down via the Rapid Transference network. That was my fault. I should have considered the implications of my disguise. I resolved to do better in the future.

Patrick tried to engage me in small talk, but my mind was going a thousand miles an hour as I made plans for everything I had to do. There was no time for idle chit chat. I didn’t have room to relax. I needed to focus. Eventually, a pair of burly men in coveralls brought a series of crates into the room. After I inspected them to make sure everything was there, I had Patrick store them away.

“If this storage node wasn’t here, I wouldn’t be able to yet,” he said pointing to a short pillar in the corner. I could feel the swirl of Mist around it, but it had a different flavor than normal. Beneath it was a platform that was raised a couple of inches off the ground. Over the next few minutes, we placed one crate after another onto the platform. Once everything was in place, he did something on the storage node, and they flashed into his implant.

“Convenient,” I said.

“Yeah, if you’re in one of these cities,” he said. “But this is the first time I’ve ever been able to use one.”

“Oh,” was my response. In some ways, Patrick was far more worldly than me. He’d been to a ton of different places. However, most of those locations were small towns like Mobile. His only foray into a real city was when he’d gone into Atlanta, and even that had been a quick trip.

Once everything was stored away, Patrick and I left the room behind and started back toward the monorail. As we did, I took in my surroundings with a curious mixture of awe and disgust. Nova City was a beautiful place, and at night, that beauty was accentuated. With all the lights, and with everyone sporting the latest colorful and daring fashions, it was easy to overlook all the seedier parts. However, it only took a single closer look to see just how inaccurate that first impression really was.

Beneath that thin veneer of beauty, there was a city of grime, oppression, and violence. Anyone that looked happy was probably on something. It didn’t matter if it was drugs, alcohol, sex, or something else – it was all just a façade meant to hide the city’s real nature. So long as the populace was distracted, they were easy to control.

As I glanced at the city’s other, more affluent platforms in the distance, I found it ironic that even the so-called aristocracy were no different than their poorer counterparts. They still spent their lives trying to distract themselves from the reality of their situation. The vices of the rich might be more expensive than those of the impoverished, but they served the same purpose.  The only difference was that at least they didn’t have to worry about where their next meal was coming from.

I shook my head as we climbed the stairs to the monorail platform. When we reached it, I tried not to look at the couple having sex on the park bench. They’d at least covered all the naughtiest bits with a long coat, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out what they were doing. Patrick’s jaw dropped as he stared at them, at least until I elbowed him in the ribs. That woke him up, and for the next few minutes, he pretended not to notice them. However, his reddened cheeks and furtive glances told a different story.

Thankfully, the monorail arrived shortly after we reached the platform, and we soon left the copulating couple behind. The trip through the city was uneventful, though I couldn’t help but notice that we had picked up a tail. Two men had followed us from the Dome, probably tipped off by either Janet or the security guard that we were carrying a lot of wealth. That, coupled with our apparently low tiers, was an invitation to be robbed. Sometimes, having too much wealth was a sin, and there were plenty of desperate men and women who were willing to dole out judgement.

“When we get to the next stop, we’re going to split up,” I said, keeping my voice low. I would have used the communication function of my KIOI, but I knew just how easily those could be intercepted. It took a real idiot to do anything important via that kind of connection. There were ways to establish a more secure line, but I’d yet to take the time to do so with Patrick. Another oversight on my part, and as soon as I had some spare time, it was one I intended to remedy. “Head straight to Gunther’s.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, turning toward me.

“Act normal,” I said. “But there are a couple of guys who followed us here. I’m going to take care of it.”

“Aren’t there, like, police or something?” he asked.

“The Enforcers,” I said. Perhaps things were different in other cities; in Mobile, the Amigos headed up something like a security force that kept people mostly in line. But even they didn’t bother with anything but the worst of the worst crimes. For instance, the gangs there made a habit out of running protection rackets, and nobody had ever done anything about it. “And I don’t think we want their attention right now.”

“R-right,” he said.

“Besides, I’m a hands-on kind of girl,” I said. “Don’t worry. They don’t feel very strong. I’ll take care of it.”

I was still down a hand, but I didn’t think I’d have any difficulty dealing with the pair of mooks. One was Tier-3, while the other was Tier-2, which meant that, unless they’d spent decades leveling and training, there was no way their attributes were anywhere close to comparable with mine. Even with my Awakening only being a few years old, I knew that my training had put me in a unique position. I was aware that I couldn’t stand toe-to-toe with the city’s elites – not unless I manipulated the circumstances perfectly – but I felt confident against common, everyday mooks like the ones who’d followed us from the Dome.

As the monorail tore across the city, passing back into the Garden, I surreptitiously studied the two men. Nothing about them suggested that they were anything but what they appeared to be, so, by the time the monorail pulled in to our stop, I felt pretty confident in taking them out.

Patrick and I disembarked, then descended the steps down to street level. There, we joined the tide of pedestrians as we made our way toward Gunther’s Guns. It was only a handful of blocks away, so I knew that as soon as we turned off the main thoroughfare, the men would make their move. When they did, I’d be ready.

Finally, we reached the street in question, and I hissed, “Now! Go!”

Patrick took off, sprinting in the direction of Gunther’s Guns while I took off in the opposite direction. To my dismay, one of the mooks followed me, while the other ran after Patrick. Cursing inwardly, I ducked down a nearby alley and hid behind a pile of foul smelling refuse. The man was hot on my heels, and his boots splashed in a disgusting puddle as he followed me.

The alley was a dead end, so he knew he had me. I watched as a long blade erupted from his cybernetic forearm. He held it out in front of him, saying, “C’mon out, lady. All I want is your shit. We can be civil about this.”

I knew that was a lie. Even if I gave him everything in my possession, he’d still kill me and sell my parts on the black market. In Nova City, a mostly intact body could net you a few thousand credits, so long as you knew where to go. Nobody was willing to leave that kind of wealth on the table. Nor did any self-respecting Operator make a habit out of leaving his victims alive – not unless he knew good and well that victim couldn’t come back to hurt him sometime in the future. And this mook didn’t know anything about me, so the logical course would be to simply kill me and move on.

Of course, even if I’d been as helpless as I seemed to be, he would have to be careful. There were ways to retrieve things from spatial implants, but they were expensive. Likely, he’d prefer it if I gave everything up before he did what he had to do.

Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t survive more than a few more moments.

I summoned my sword from my Arsenal Implant, and when he was a few steps into the alley, I sprang into action.  To his credit, he reacted quickly, but with his attributes, he had no way of keeping up with me as I leapt over the refuse pile, kicked off the wall, and brought my sword down on the crown of his head. When I landed, I yanked my sword free, and he collapsed to the ground. In the space of a second, he’d gone from aggressor to victim when I’d bisected his head. I stowed my weapon away a moment later.

After dragging him into the refuse pile, I threw some errant boxes on top of him, then took off after Patrick, only to find that he’d made it to Gunther’s. Of the other mook, there was no sign. I didn’t like that. It felt sloppy. Who knew what the other would-be mugger would do once he discovered his partner’s death? So, after questioning Patrick, I went back outside and hunted him down.

Luckily, it didn’t take long. He was camped out under a bridge in a location that would allow him a good vantage point to see the comings and goings of the patrons of Gunther’s Guns. He died with a knife in the base of his skull, and I quickly returned to Gunther’s, where I found Patrick waiting for me.

“Did you find him?” he asked.

“I did,” I said. “Now, let’s go see if Gunther found our [Cybernetic Engineer].”

We only had to cross halfway through the armory that passed for the building’s lobby before Gunther himself appeared. He looked much the same as he had before, though he’d changed his brown leather suit for a black one. Doubtless, he’d been warned of our arrival by his cyborg guards. I’d ignored them on my way in, but they’d clearly taken note of me.

“Good,” he said. “You’re back. I’ve had Cirilla cooling her heels for the past four hours. She’s going to charge you for that.”

“Oh,” I said. “How much?”

He quoted me a price, and I just shook my head, saying, “It costs what it costs, I guess.”

In reality, the price, which was a few hundred thousand credits, wasn’t much compared to what I’d spent in the Bazaar, but that was more of a testament to how far a credit went on Earth than anything else. Certainly, the engineer didn’t strike me as the type to give discounts. I transferred Gunther his fee, and he escorted us through the labyrinthine building until we finally reached a room that looked strikingly similar to the one where I’d had my first set of implants installed.

As Gunther had claimed, Cirilla Montague was already there, and she looked incredibly impatient. A stern-looking woman with chin-length, pink hair, she might’ve been pretty if she didn’t look like she’d just tasted something sour.

“Finally!” she hissed in a haughty tone. “When I agreed to –”

I initiated the transfer of funds, which cut her off. “That should take care of it,” I said. I’d added a little extra for her trouble. Then, I turned to Patrick and asked, “You have enough Mist to pull everything out?”

“I should,” he said. Then, one crate after another appeared at his feet. They were all metallic boxes trimmed in black, and each of them bore various glyphs that I took to be identifiers. It didn’t take long before I’d found the ones for the cybernetics. Once that was taken care of, I explained to the engineer what I wanted.

“You don’t need me for the sheath,” she said, her voice taking on a bit more humanity than before. Money, it seemed, solved a lot of personality problems.

“I know,” I said. “But I’d appreciate it if you installed it for me anyway.”

“Very well,” was her response. “I will do the hand first. Then the sheath. Finally, I will link the hoverbike. Is there anything else?”

I shook my head, saying, “But I want you to explain what you’re doing to Patrick. He’ll be here while you work on me.”

“What? Why?” she asked.

“First, to keep you in line,” I said. “I don’t think you’d do anything stupid, but I’ve been wrong about this kind of thing before. You make the wrong move, and Patrick will put one in your temple.”

“That is wildly unnecessary, and I –”

“Second, he’s got the skill,” I said. “And I want him to start laying the groundwork for advancing it. To that end, I’d like to hire you past today. All I want is for you to take him as an apprentice. I’ll pay you, and on top of that, you get someone to help you out. Seems like a win-win to me.”

“This is very irregular,” she said.

“I’m an irregular kind of person,” I said. “But give it some thought. I won’t force that part on you. Right now, what I need is for you to do what I’ve hired you to do. What comes next is up to you.”

“Very well,” she said. Then, she gestured to the shiny, steel chair behind her. “Have a seat. This procedure requires you to be unconscious.”

I had expected as much. Some of the minor procedures could be performed with the patient still conscious, but having a hand replaced wasn’t one of them. That’s why Patrick was there.

I did just that, and a few moments later, she put me under via a few needles hidden in her cybernetic fingers. As she did so, she explained to Patrick what she was doing, but even as her explanation droned on, I felt the blackness of unconsciousness overtake me. When it did, I dreamed of my impending revenge.