Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 19 - Boiling Over (Patreon)

Sometimes, I wonder if I would have made the same decisions if I had all the information. Would I have suborned myself to Jeremiah if I knew he would never appreciate me? If I knew he would toss me aside like so much refuse? I don’t know. And that is a disappointing realization.

Nora Lancaster

I sat atop the building, my knees clutched to my chest as I stared at the columns of smoke twisting into the night sky. For the past few weeks, they had been a constant reminder that things in the Garden had reached a boiling point, and the tribes had gone to war. Old grudges, past disagreements, and simple greed had pushed them all into conflict. Some had made alliances, while others had fallen under a deluge of attacks from their opportunistic rivals. And I knew it was just the beginning. More would come. If the gangs refused to cooperate, I would just have to give them a little push.

At least it hadn’t spilled over into Algiers, but that wasn’t that surprising. After all, anything worth fighting over – like the docks – had already been claimed by the various corporations that controlled the city’s economy. And their interests were protected by Enforcers or well-equipped private security. Any tribe who chose to attack them would have to commit the entirety of their resources to the endeavor, and even then, they might lose. For most, it just wasn’t worth it.

It was a good thing I wasn’t one of them, though. I didn’t need to hold territory. I was free to strike, then melt into the shadows. I didn’t have anything to protect. Even my headquarters held no attachment.

Of course, I wasn’t the island I wanted to be. Not really. Never was that more apparent than when Patrick cleared his throat from behind me. I acted as if I didn’t hear him, but he’d seen just how sharp my senses were, so he knew that I had. Still, he didn’t point it out, instead choosing to climb onto the air duct beside me.

He sat on the edge of the big, aluminum duct, his legs hanging off and his elbows on his knees. For a while, we just sat there, both staring at the war zone that the Garden had become. It hadn’t just affected the operators, either. Civilians had already started retreating into Algiers, and I knew more would come. There were even rumors that some planned to create caravans that would take them to other cities.

Idly, I wondered if they knew just what sort of dangers such a trip might entail. I’d been out there. I had seen dinosaur sized alligators and hordes of feral wildlings. If a hundred trucks set out from Nova, I’d be surprised if half of them reached their destination.

But what was the alternative when their homes had become a battleground? When every indication was that it was going to get worse? They’d been pushed into a corner, and they didn’t have any other choice but to flee. If my resolution hadn’t been so strong, I might have wavered in my mission. As it was, I could only hope that they took the proper precautions and had enough protection to see them through. I couldn’t afford anything else.

“What are you thinking?” asked Patrick, finally breaking the silence.

I didn’t immediately answer. Instead, I thought about what I wanted to say. Patrick wasn’t quite as hard-hearted as me, and there was every chance that he’d want to do something about the flood of refugees that would soon flee Nova City. And there was a part of me – a cold, nearly dead part, to be sure, but a part all the same – that agreed. Before my uncle’s death, I probably would have been driven to help them. Now, though? I couldn’t allow empathy to affect me.

“I need to go to Gunther’s,” I said.

“What? Why?” he asked. He glanced at the plumes of smoke rising into the sky. “Is that smart right now?”

“I’ve hit a roadblock,” I answered. “And things in the Garden aren’t going to get any better anytime soon.”

Not if I had anything to say about it, at least. When I’d first set out on my road to revenge, I’d thought the journey would end when I took care of Nora. However, only a little thought told me that she was only partially responsible. She still needed to be punished, but the true culprits were in the Council District. Or in King’s Row. So, I’d adjusted my plan accordingly. Glancing back at those columns of smoke, I couldn’t help but wonder what my revenge would end up costing.

“What kind of roadblock?” he asked. “Can I help?”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” I said. “I don’t know how much you can help here, but at some point, we’re going to be leaving Nova. When we do, you’re going to be the key to what comes next.”

With that, my tolerance for conversation had been reached, and I slipped from the duct and quickly found the door down into the compound. It still didn’t feel like home, but I didn’t think it ever would. After all, I had no intention of staying in Nova City any longer than it took me to see my plan through. Until then, the headquarters would work just fine, but after that, I’d move on. There was no point in settling in. Besides, my uncle had settled into his life in Nova City.  And see where that had gotten him.

I found my way into the kitchen, where I tossed some imitation beef stew into the nano-wave. There was no joy in eating it; the chunks of imitation meat were heavily seasoned soy cubes, and the overriding taste was “salty”. Not savory. Not hearty. Just salty. Still, it was filling, and it would give me plenty of calories for the day.

While I ate, Patrick came down from the roof, but he didn’t try to continue our brief conversation. Instead, he went back to studying the [Cybernetic Engineering]programs I’d purchased for him. He also had some medical texts meant to bolster his knowledge, if not his skills. I hoped that it would give him all the tools he needed, but I knew it would be a long time before he could rival someone like Dr. Montague. Even so, it should be sufficient to advance his skill to the point where he could repair my cybernetics if they were damaged.

After I finished my meal, I went to my room – which was little more than a cubicle where I slept – and changed into my M11 Infiltration Suit. Getting shot in the shoulder a few weeks before hadn’t even damaged it, which really drove home how advanced it was. I could only hope that it would hold up just as well when I faced real enemies.

Over that suit I donned an old, green jacket and a pair of loose jeans before putting on a pair of worn work boots. Then, I tucked my hair into a matching cap and activated Mimic, taking on the appearance of a Tier-2 woman I’d seen on the monorail a week before. Instantly, my features changed to that of a haggard blonde woman in her mid-twenties. She wasn’t pretty. Nor was she ugly. Thoroughly average, especially for someone who lived in the Garden. In that guise, I knew nobody would give me a second glance.

Once I was happy with my disguise, I left the compound without further delay. Not for the first time, I counted myself lucky to have found the building. It was nestled in one of the least prosperous parts of Nova City, which meant that I’d have to go a couple of blocks before I found an occupied building. Everything else was abandoned, and most were in such a state of disrepair that they weren’t fit for habitation even by the city’s transient population. Still, I’d had a series of cameras set up so that I could be certain of my privacy. I’d taken the time to connect them to my interface, so it only took a few seconds for me to check them to make sure that the coast was clear.

Most interfaces couldn’t handle such a workload; instead, they were dependent on wired security terminals. But the KIOI was not a normal interface, especially when it was boosted by [Cybernetic Mastery], so it could do so with relative ease.

Once I had checked the cameras and was satisfied that no one was around, I summoned my Cutter. Because of Mimic, it materialized with the appearance of a much cheaper, far less mechanically sound bike. Even when I ran my hand along its fuselage, I couldn’t tell that beneath that façade was a sleek machine that was far more advanced than any other hoverbike I had seen in Nova City.

When I mounted it, I couldn’t keep a slight smile from turning up the corners of my mouth as I heard the Mist engine hum to life. The bike lifted an inch or two before I grasped the handles, leaned forward, and shot down the road. In an instant, I was up to cruising speed, and it was all I could do to stop myself from laughing out loud.

Even with all the horrible things I’d had to endure, there was still a primal sort of joy to riding that hoverbike. I wasn’t sure if it was the sense of freedom, speed, or something else entirely, but I loved the bike even more than I’d expected to. It was a convenient way to get around the city; the Cutter’s maneuverability made dodging the detritus and trash that littered Algiers’ streets easy, and I used those traits to full effect as I traversed the cramped and cluttered streets on my way to the spiral ramp that led up to the Garden.

My path was unimpeded, and I reached my native district without issue. However, I pulled to a stop when I saw that one of the tribes – the Bengals, judging by the prominent purple and gold in their attire – had blocked the street. So, I quickly turned down a side street only to find that my detour was blocked as well. Over the next few minutes, I found that the Bengals had enacted a blockade on the Cyberdogs’ territory. That was fine by me; the more conflict there was between the various tribes, the better. The only problem was that I couldn’t quickly reach Gunther’s without going through them.

Of course, I could have just gone back to the monorail and bypassed them altogether, but as I saw it, it was an opportunity to gain some experience and sow the seeds of chaos. So, I ducked into a narrow alley, dismissed my Cutter, then tied a blue armband around my upper arm before adjusting Mimic and adopting a new persona.

Then, I summoned my weapons, one by one, and inspected them. They were all in pristine condition, loaded and ready for war. So, I attached my nano-sword to my back, checked that Ferdinand II was clear on my hip, then retrieved my Pulsar sniper rifle from my Arsenal Implant.

With that done, I crept to the end of the alley and peeked out into the street. Two-hundred yards away, I could see a series of old and rusted hover cars parked end to end, with only a small gap between them. A dozen Operators, all wearing the purple and gold of the Bengals, stood guard, turning anyone who tried to enter the territory away. Anyone who complained or argued got a bullet or a beating, and I couldn’t really tell what prompted the difference.

Of course, it didn’t really matter that they were clearly willing to use their power to bully civilians. But it helped steel my nerves as I took aim at the biggest of the bunch – a hulking, bearded man clad only in leather pants and a vest. One of his legs had been replaced by a crude cybernetic, but the rest of him looked human.

I took a breath, then embraced Empowered Shot. Two seconds later, I squeezed the trigger. A comparatively tiny ball of superheated plasma erupted from the barrel and tore through the air, faster than most people could perceive. Less than a millisecond later, it hit the big mook’s chest, disintegrating his entire torso. As his lower half collapsed to the street, I was already taking aim at one of his fellows. This time, I didn’t bother with Empowered Shot, but the lack didn’t really affect the lethality of the shot, because it tore through his chest, leaving only a gaping hole behind.

In the space of a few more seconds, I fired one shot after another, and before any of them had even pinpointed my location, half were dead. That’s when they retreated behind their hover car barricade.

That was fine, too.

I ducked behind the corner, stowing my Pulsar and replacing it with my BMAP. To date, I hadn’t seen what it could really do. Instead, I’d trained with comparatively weak practice ammunition. Now, though, I was finally going to get the opportunity to put it through its paces. So, I knelt, brought the stock to my shoulder, and leaned out of cover.

In the blink of an eye, I fired three arcing shots, each one aimed at one of the cars.

I thought I knew what to expect. After all, Gala had described the weapon by talking about how it could demolish a building. Even so, I was taken aback by the potency of the series of explosions that tore the barricade apart. Everything within thirty yards of each eruption was swallowed in a ball of white-hot flames, and when they settled, there was nothing left but three overlapping craters.

I stared, open mouthed and wide-eyed.

So I didn’t even see the squad of Bengals bearing down on me. But that changed when a bullet hit my shoulder and sent me spinning to the ground. The sound of gunfire filled the air as I rolled to the side, taking cover behind a dumpster. Rolling my shoulder, I was once again thankful for the combination of my Infiltration suit and the subdermal Sheath. Without it, that bullet would have torn through my shoulder like it was paper. But with it, I felt like it would only bruise.

“Did we get him?” came a ragged, yet feminine voice that I could only hear because I’d flared Observation.

“Ain’t sure it was a ‘him’, Dee.”

“What the hell did he use, anyway? A goddamn rocket launcher?” asked another.

“Couldn’t see,” said yet another.

While they were arguing, I dismissed my BMAP; it could have probably done the trick, but they were close enough that I didn’t want to chance being swallowed by the resultant explosion. Even with the protection of Blast Shield, that would’ve been stupid. So, I exchanged the BMAP for the R-14 assault rifle. Out of force of habit, I checked again that it was loaded before leaning out, taking aim, and sending a three-shot burst downrange. The shots rang out in such rapid succession that it almost sounded like a single gunshot.

The weapon’s payload was similar to that of the Pulsar, meaning that it didn’t fire solid rounds. Instead, it fired Mist-infused plasma that tore into the first mook, doing more than enough damage to drop him before he even knew what was going on. Another burst took out a gangly woman with blonde hair who might’ve been pretty if not for her rangy limbs and awkward appearance. Her ragged scream was enough to identify her as Dee.

The Operators all scattered, but the R-14 was accurate and had a high rate of fire. They never stood a chance, and I grimly persisted, tearing them apart with one well-placed burst after another. In the space of ten seconds, they were all dead or dying. Another handful of seconds, and the night grew quiet, save for the fires still burning from the BMAP’s brief bombardment.

I stood and looked around. It hadn’t been more than a couple of minutes, and I had killed almost two-dozen Operators. None had been the cream of the crop; in fact, I’d have been surprised if any of them had exceeded Tier-3, much less worked to get the most out of their potential. However, knowing that and seeing how quickly I could dismantle an entire squad of Operators was a sobering experience.

One thing was for certain, though – my new weapons had far exceeded my expectations. Gala had done right by me, and I suspected that I’d only scratched the surface of their potential. After all, despite my training, my skills had only experienced moderate gains. I intended to change that, though.

I quickly looted the mooks who’d attacked me, but I left the Operators who’d manned the barricade untouched. The BMAP hadn’t left a lot behind, and I wasn’t going to dig through the charred corpses. In any case, I had plans to augment my funding, and it didn’t include looting a few mooks who were so low-ranked within their organization that they’d been put on blockade duty. They were fine to intimidate a bunch of civilians, but against anyone who knew what they were doing? They were fodder, and they’d been equipped as such.

So, I once again summoned my Cutter, mounted it, and took off into the heart of the Garden. However, when I saw the barricade on the other side of the territory, I didn’t slow. Instead, I summoned my BMAP, took aim at one side of the barricade, then let loose. I only fired one shot, but that was enough to kill half of the Operators and distract the others long enough for me to race through the gap and into the next territory.

However, I did slow just long enough that they could see the blue band around my upper arm. After all, what good was it to kill a few nameless mooks if I couldn’t pin it on Nora and her Specters?

Once I got out of sight, I ripped the armband off and adopted a new persona – this one, a slight man with skin color similar to my own – and continued on toward Gunther’s, content in the fact that I’d almost assuredly just caused quite a few problems for Nora.