Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 16 - Elysium (Patreon)

I never meant to hurt so many people, but any road to true power is littered with the corpses of the innocent. Jeremiah always said as much, but I never really believed him. I considered myself a good person, after all. I wouldn’t be like him. I wouldn’t sacrifice everyone for some personal vendetta. But that was then, and this is now. We’re all destined to repeat the mistakes of our mentors.

Nora Lancaster

I followed the two men, my feet silent and my presence muted by Stealth. It wasn’t a perfect ability; if I moved too quickly or ran into something solid, I’d quickly be found out. But I’d been trained by some of the best, and I kept a constant watch on my surroundings. It helped that the two mooks – both members of my uncle’s old tribe, though I didn’t recognize either of them – were careless and inattentive. In their territory, they didn’t have to look out for dangers, after all.

My uncle had built a strong organization, and even without him looking over them, they’d retained much of that power. As a result, they still controlled one of the biggest territories in the Garden. There were a half-dozen other tribes that could boast a similar degree of influence, and even a few who towered over them, but in their territory, which ran from Sadie Street all the way to the edge of the platform, they were kings.

Of course, even kings could fall. History told us that much, at least. No one was invulnerable.  I just had to wait for the right opportunity to make my mark.

My surveillance had been exhaustive, and over the past month, I’d mapped out most of the Specters’ activities. From Nora herself, who rarely left the penthouse I’d once called home, to the street level Operators who were the backbone of the organization, I had categorized their activities down to the finest detail.

And I was a little disappointed at how well things were being run.

Not that it was much of a surprise, really. Nora had always been competent, and once she’d stepped out of my uncle’s shadow, that ability had been allowed to shine. If she hadn’t been the person most responsible for my uncle’s demise and the destruction of Mobile, I might’ve even been proud of her. As it was, though, I kept reminding myself just how much I hated her.

Sure, she probably had her reasons for betraying Jeremiah, but in the face of my grief, those excuses mattered very little. In short, I just didn’t care. I had my mission, and nothing could derail my pursuit of vengeance.

Which was how I found myself following a pair of Nora’s most inept mooks. They were low-level couriers tasked with delivering a package into another territory. I had no idea what was in that package, just that it was important enough to warrant a shadow.

I glanced at hover van nearby, and I felt the Mist swirling around it. More, I could sense the connection between it and one of the men I’d been following. That surveillance van complicated things. I knew from previous experience, back when Jeremiah had been running things, that it was packed full of strong Operators armed with advanced weaponry. If there was even a hint of things going wrong, they’d flood out of the van and solve the problem. Viciously, and with the kind of extreme prejudice that would make an Enforcer proud.

Once, I had seen the aftermath of such an event. It had been an arms deal gone wrong, and the support team had reduced the entire area to little more than rubble. That portion of Algiers still hadn’t been rebuilt because the supports were unstable. Such was the power they could bring to bear.

Maybe I could defeat them, but to what end? I didn’t want to alarm Nora. Nor did I want to turn the Garden into a warzone. Not yet, at least. No – I had something else in mind. Something that would cause a lot more problems than a few dead mooks in an organization with a population numbered in the thousands.

So, I continued to follow the two men, well aware that the black hover van was only a couple of blocks behind me. All around, the glimmering lights of the Garden’s trademark holographic displays lit the night, but I ignored them as I trailed after the pair of mooks. The two Specters looked nervous, like they knew precisely how valuable their cargo was. Likely, they were also aware that they were being used as bait, too. After all, why hunt your enemies when you could coax them from the shadows?

Nora’s organization obviously wanted the deal to go off without a hitch, but if it didn’t, they could still come out as winners, so long as they could rid the Garden of a few of their competitors. In that way, the support team could play the dual roles of both protector and avenger, depending on the circumstance.

But they couldn’t account for me or my plan.

Slowly, we approached their destination, Bourbon Street. It didn’t come as a surprise. During my reconnaissance, I’d discovered the details of the meeting, so I’d mentally prepared myself for the infamous area. The name was a bit of a misnomer because it encompassed multiple streets and spanned quite a few blocks’ worth of territory. Instead of towering megabuildings, it was comprised of casinos, brothels, strip clubs, and dens of iniquity that could cater to just about any vice known to man. If the Garden was known for its holographic signs and blinking lights, then Bourbon Street was the purest form of that expression. Everywhere I looked were layer upon layer of the lights and displays, each one going past sexually suggestive and into downright pornographic.

The people were an equally interesting cross-section. As was the case anywhere else in the Garden, there were plenty of Operators, but many of them swaggered around in a drunken stupor. Fights were almost as common as men and women engaged in various sexual acts. On Bourbon Street, shame and modesty were entirely alien concepts. The revealing attire favored by most of the patrons was further evidence that the area was just different. I’d never seen so much skin, and there were quite a few people walking around almost entirely naked. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I stared at a particularly chiseled man being led along by an actual leash.

I jerked my attention away and refocused on the mission. Thankfully, the two mooks had gotten a little sidetracked in their own task and currently had their noses pressed against a mirror as they watched a mostly naked woman twirling around a pole. After a few seconds, the screen went black, and a holographic display told them that if they wanted to see more, they’d have to come inside and pay the price.

The two Operators scoffed at that and wasted no more time before moving on. I followed dutifully, glad that nobody noticed me. It wasn’t that I wasn’t curious about the infamous district, but as inexperienced as I was, it almost felt like I was drowning in a sea of nudity, sex, and fetishes. It didn’t take long before I realized that I needed to walk before I even attempted to run.

Of course, I knew that it was yet another distraction meant to pull people’s attention from how terrible their lives really were. Another drug to keep them placid and controlled. In that respect, Bourbon Street was no different than dust or the entertainment feeds. Or those pornographic chips that people like Squirrel seemed to like so much.

Even more, I knew that beneath the glitz and glamour of the holographic signs and perfect bodies of the ubiquitous prostitutes and entertainers was a level of oppression that was even more insidious than what was present in the rest of Nova City. How many of those perfect-looking men and women had been forced into their lives, either by circumstances or slave implants? How many of them had been pushed into taking the skills necessary for such a profession?

My stomach twisted into knots as I realized that it probably wasn’t much different from the Rift mining operation I’d dismantled back in the Dead Zone. It was one thing when the aliens were the ones who did it; I had no idea what kind of perspective drove them, and it was entirely possible that they saw us as animals in need of herding. But humans doing it to humans? That was infinitely worse.

I forced those thoughts to the back of my mind as I continued to follow the men, and I was unsurprised to see them turning a corner and heading toward what looked like a church. It had tall steeple flanked by two smaller ones, with a plethora of arched windows and a couple of small domes in the back. In each of the arched windows were holograms depicting various dancing men and women, all of whom were as close to nude as they could be without actually being naked. The building was, I knew, a recreation of an old cathedral from the destroyed New Orleans, but its name was lost to history. My uncle probably would have known, but to the residents of Nova City, it was simply called Elysium.

Everyone in the Garden knew of Elysium. The club was neutral ground, protected by treaties as well as a veritable army of high-tiered security Operators. It was where the city’s elites peacefully hashed out their differences.

And it represented my first real roadblock.

However, my preparations had been extensive, so, once I was free of prying eyes I let Stealth drop. With Mimic active, I’d adopted a well-selected persona as a Tier-3 Operator named Azalea. She was a little taller than me, but we shared a similar build. In addition, she wasn’t equipped with any cybernetics. The similarities meant that Mimic didn’t have to work quite as hard, and while I didn’t think I’d soon run low on Mist, I didn’t want to waste it when it wasn’t necessary.

Most importantly, Azalea – who, by now, had probably been eaten by one of the alligators in the swamp below the city – enjoyed VIP access to Elysium. A good thing, because passing through its doors, I felt a slight tingle that I knew from experience would deactivate any stealth or camouflage abilities. Mimic was unaffected, though, so my disguise remained intact.

Like that, I stepped inside one of the most infamous places in Nova City. I ignored the trio of guards near the door, and once they saw the pendant I wore around my neck, their attention shifted to the other entrants. The pendant itself wasn’t anything special – just a cross wrapped in silver wire – but it marked me as a VIP.

Elysium’s lobby was a study in contrasts. The décor was decidedly classy, with high, vaulted ceilings and elaborate marble statues depicting perfectly proportioned people. However, everything else painted a wholly different picture. The thump of dance music rattled the walls, and multicolored lights illuminated the area. But what really sold the contrast were the people. Everyone was dressed in expensive clothing – the poor and destitute masses didn’t get into Elysium, after all – but it all reminded me of my uncle’s old territory. The people of his tribe had some money, but they spent it on the most frivolous things. Like leopard print couches. Golden statues. Or sound systems that were clearly far too large for the confines of one of the megabuilding’s cheaply appointed apartments. The same could be said for Elysium’s patrons. I saw quite a few fur coats over otherwise naked torsos, plenty of faux leather pants, and more jewelry than I’d seen in my entire lifetime. Metal glinted where teeth should be, and cybernetics gleamed like they’d just been polished.

I was reminded of my uncle’s categorization of his people as “ghetto rich”. They had money, but they weren’t wealthy, and they’d gone a little wild with their expenditures, like if you gave a child unfettered access to a candy shop. It was inevitable that they’d overdo it.

He had also gone on to explain that it wasn’t their fault before going on a rant about generational wealth that ended with him cursing the people in charge of the city, but that wasn’t that uncommon for him. Usually, Jeremiah had been a man of few words, but when he got worked up, he’d go on some truly epic rants.

I crossed the Elysium lobby, following the two mooks as surreptitiously as I could manage. However, when they went into the next area, which was a bar lined with private booths, I turned in the opposite direction. I knew where they were going, and it was impossible for me to follow. Not directly, at least.

Instead, I headed deeper into the club and after skirting the huge dance floor in the next room, found my way to a set of stairs. They were guarded by one of the Elysium’s security personnel. I leaned against one of the walls and, as I looked out over the dance floor, activated Misthack. Once I found a likely victim in a great, hulking bastard with a pair of exposed cybernetic arms plated in gold, I bypassed his laughable security and uploaded a Ghost I’d been working on for the past few days.

After that, I only had to wait a few seconds before it took effect. The Ghost itself was mostly harmless, but it was designed to hijack a person’s interface with the purpose of altering their brain chemistry in order to increase aggression. I called it Rage, and the few times I’d tested it out, it had definitely lived up to its name. This instance was no different.

As I waited for the Ghost to take effect, I deactivated the various cameras in the room. There were also a few auto-turrets, so I put them to Sleep as well. By the time I finished, Rage had done its thing, and the man had already gotten into a shoving match with another dancer. The other mook was busy trying to deescalate the situation, but Big Boy wasn’t having it. With how much adrenaline he had coursing through his veins, it wasn’t a surprise when the altercation became a full-on brawl. Predictably, the man who was guarding the stairs raced in to break it up, and I used that distraction to slip into the stairwell.

Thankfully, no one else had taken the stairs, so I didn’t run into anyone as I climbed to the next floor, which contained more private rooms. Most of them were occupied, but as curious as I was about what was going on in there – whether they were home to illicit deals between rival tribes, private parties, or orgies – I wasn’t there for them. Besides, I was on a schedule. So, I hurried through the halls wearing a haughty expression so none of the other passersby would bother me. Eventually, I found my destination, and after looking around, I knelt down, grabbing the panel I knew would be there.

It had cost me quite a bit of my remaining fortune to acquire detailed schematics of Elysium, but it had paid dividends when I’d discovered that it was riddled with secret passageways. Given the nature of the club, it wasn’t a surprise, and more importantly, possession of those schematics allowed me to easily map out an appropriate route to my true goal.

Once I removed the panel, a small passage was revealed. It would require me to crawl, but I could easily fit. So, I slid inside, replacing the panel on my way. After that, I slowly followed my plans and quickly found my way to the private room occupied by the two mooks I’d been following.

It was at that point I realized that I probably hadn’t needed to follow them at all. I could have just posted up in the passage and waited on them to arrive. It would have been uncomfortable, but I could have dealt with that. Letting out a slight sigh, I shook my head and resolved to plan better in the future. I knew I couldn’t think of everything, but I needed to be more thorough if I was ever going to accomplish my goals.

The corridor in which I’d found myself was little bigger than a ventilation shaft, but I knew it had a more nefarious purpose. The owner of Elysium – a man by the name of Clyde Baxter – had clearly built it so that he could spy on his patrons. To that end, the ceiling of each of the private rooms had a cleverly concealed hatch that functioned similarly to a two-way mirror. I could see down into the room – and more importantly, hear everything that was said – but when they looked up, they’d just see a coffered ceiling in gold and black. It was an ingenious design, and I wanted a similar setup in my base.

I passed quite a few rooms – in which there were various dealings, including yet more people having drunken or otherwise inebriated sex – but I ignored them. Instead, I kept going until I found my two mooks. It was just in time, too, because only a couple of minutes later – during which I preemptively broke through their defenses – another trio of two men and a woman entered the room.

Immediately, I identified them as Cyberdogs. No other tribe in Nova City wore their cybernetics with quite as much pride. One of them had even replaced much of his face with an unmoving, chrome visage. Whatever their appearances, their presence was a perfect setup for my plan.

After exchanging greetings, the man with the metal face, said, “You got the package?”

One of Nora’s mooks slapped the case at his feet, answering, “Right here, chief. You got the –”

I didn’t let him finish. Instead, I activated my Ghost, which I’d chosen to call Tranquilizer, and the two Specters immediately passed out. Chrome Dome – yes, I know that’s not very creative, but I’ll stand by it – reacted without hesitation, barking, “What the –”

I never let him finish, dropping through the panel. As I fell, I aimed a specially bought pistol at his head and squeezed the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times. Apparently, the metal wasn’t bulletproof. Or even bullet resistant. Because it exploded in an eruption of metal, flesh, bone, and brains. In the space of a second, I’d put his two subordinates down as well.

They slumped to the ground, but I didn’t bother looting them. Instead, I bent down, put the pistol in the first mook’s hand before leaping back to the passage above. I climbed through, and once I was out of sight, I reactivated the camera I’d hacked right before my descent. Then, I retreated the way I’d come, finding no impediments on my way back to the dance floor.

On my way out, I saw a group of Cyberdogs – all high tiered Operators – running into the club. I had to suppress a grin.

Finally, I’d begun fighting my private war, and nobody but me even knew that the battle had begun.