Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 64 - Unique Advantages (Patreon)

If there’s one thing the powerful leaders of Nova City hate, it’s being made to look like fools. For months, Mira has done just that, and now that the cat’s out of the bag, my peers have reacted predictably. They’re out for blood, one and all, and they won’t be satisfied until she’s dead.

Nora Lancaster

Under so much scrutiny, my grip on Stealthwavered. The Mist quivered, threatening to unmask me, and I was forced to leverage the entirety of my mind toward keeping it within my grasp. Still, it felt like trying to wrangle a mass of greasy noodles, and I struggled to keep the ability active. I knew that, in only a few seconds, I would fail.

So, I ran.

From copious experimentation, I knew that the ability didn’t react well to rapid movement. The best I could manage without creating telltale ripples in the air was a light jog, but I could tell that wouldn’t be enough. Already, my grip was slipping, and it would only be a few more moments before the ability shattered altogether. When that happened, I needed as much distance between me and the amassed Operators as possible.

There were hundreds of them. Maybe more than a thousand. A veritable army of armed, armored, and experienced warriors, all howling for my blood. Even bringing the BMAP to the party would be insufficient in the face of such a force. My only option was to escape and lose them in the streets of Nova City. Perhaps once I was hidden, I could wage a guerrilla war. Or, better yet, I could just hit Nora and leave the city behind. After all, I had no real quarrel with most of them.

Of course, they probably didn’t see it that way, which was why they’d come. I didn’t know how they’d discovered my presence or evidence of my previous actions. But it was clear that they knew enough to recognize me as an enemy.

Not that it really mattered in the grand scheme of things. I had enough to worry about trying to escape without trying to puzzle out the reasons for their attack. Instead, I needed to focus on staying alive, because after only a few sprinting steps, the first Operators noticed the ripples in the air that denoted my ability falling apart around me.

I didn’t stop, pouring every ounce of my inflated Constitution attribute into my legs as I dashed to the right. Someone shouted, and a moment later, a hail of gunfire erupted, falling in my wake. By that point, I was moving far too quickly for most of them to take proper aim; at one point, I’d clocked myself at almost forty miles an hour, and I’d only grown stronger since establishing that benchmark. Still, a few of the more talented marksmen adjusted beautifully, and only a second later, I felt the familiar sensation of multiple bullets thudding into my back and side. Fortunately, my infiltration suit held up, keeping them from testing my subdermal sheath.

But I knew it wouldn’t last.

A few bullets from these relatively weak Operators didn’t pose much of a threat, but each one tore into the integrity of my suit. And if enough of them found their mark, it would fall apart. Then, I’d only have my sheath to protect me, and powerful though it was, the subdermal armor wasn’t infallible.

Quantity, when it came to gunfire, was a quality all its own. And there were hundreds of guns pointed in my direction.

I stumbled from each landed shot, turning my sprint into a stumble. I was still moving with incredible quickness, but I would never win any awards for style. It didn’t matter. I only needed to reach cover for a few seconds so I could summon my Cutter. When I managed that, I could be a mile away before they had a chance to react.

To that end, I circled the exterior of the Dome, leaping over a few scattered benches and dodging around a statue of a bearded man holding a lightning bolt. Zeus, perhaps. Or maybe some other deity from Earth’s mythology. I continued along in a zig-zag pattern as I wove between the various statues until I broke free of the plaza. With each step, I left all but the physically strongest Operators behind, and I eventually found my way to the Bywater markets.

If I’d had any ideas that the Operators would hold their fire in order to spare the civilian shoppers or storefronts, I would have been sorely mistaken. They didn’t let up, and as I burst through one crowd after another, their assault continued unabated. More than a few unlucky bystanders were torn to pieces by errant gunfire, and even more had limbs shattered by the Operators’ powerful weapons.

I hated thinking it, but I was actually somewhat grateful for the fact that, unlike was the case in most parts of Nova City, Lakeview was mostly unaffected by the mass exodus. As such, they provided a good distraction and a potent obstruction. Even as that thought crossed my mind, I felt horrible. But that didn’t make it any less true, and soon enough, I burst through the edge of the crowd and turned down a side street. With the resulting few seconds of space, I summoned my hoverbike.

It materialized out of the Mist, and just as I hopped on, a trio of Operators shouldered their way through the panicked crowd and took aim. I twisted the accelerator in my grip, but in the brief second it took for the engine to spin up, a half dozen bullets thudded into my back.  I grunted in pain as my already broken ribs felt the brunt of the impacts, but I refused to acknowledge it further. Instead, I leaned forward and shot down the street, leaving the angry horde behind.

I sighed in relief as I turned a corner, removing myself from their view. For a few moments, I raced down the street and, using my map, put myself on a direct course to the Garden, where I hoped to end my quest for vengeance. Once that was done, I intended to leave Nova City behind for good.

It might’ve been better to simply go to ground and hide until the heat died down. However, there were a couple of issues with that plan. First, I wasn’t sure that the Operators would ever give up their pursuit. I’d angered a lot of people, and it seemed the price of my actions had come due. Second – and perhaps more importantly – I had no idea how exposed I was. Surely, Nora and Gunther had discovered my base in Algiers, and I would’ve been a fool to believe that they were ignorant of the other safehouses I’d scattered throughout the city. After all, Gunther had helped me set most of them up. Surely, he’d informed Nora as to their existence.

If Nova hadn’t been mostly abandoned, I might’ve been able to melt into the wider population. Using Mimic, maybe I could have hidden in plain sight. But as empty as the city had become, that strategy seemed destined for failure. Sure, I probably could have hidden away in the Underground or in the abandoned buildings of Algiers, but I’d eventually have to come up for air. When I did, the Specters – as well as the other tribes – would be there to ambush me.

Even as I raced through Bywater, I couldn’t be sure I wasn’t being watched. With every corner sporting a security camera, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that the entire city was under Nora’s watchful eye. Maybe she’d made a deal with the Enforcers. Or perhaps she had access to someone who specialized in infiltrating those kinds of systems. I had no idea what kind of pressure she could bring to bear when her back was against a wall.

And I had no interest in giving her time to explore her options.

Instead, I intended to end the fight – one way or another – as soon as possible. Sure, it would be difficult. Maybe impossible. But I was tired of stretching it out. I wanted to finish it and move on, and I couldn’t stomach the notion of spending months trying to formulate the best plan possible.

Impulsive? Probably.

Reckless? Assuredly.

But for my mental state, it was necessary.

First, though, I needed to find somewhere I could get a few minutes to administer some first aid and initiate the repair of my equipment. To that end, as soon as I’d gone a few dozen blocks, I pulled into a deserted alley and dismounted the Cutter. As I did, I dismissed it into the dedicated spatial storage device in the bracelet on my wrist. With that done, I ducked behind a dumpster and embraced both Stealth and Camouflage.

It wasn’t perfect. Someone like Gunther could probably see through it. But for the run-of-the-mill Operators, it would be fine. Once that was done, I took one of my last remaining boosters and injected it into the infiltration suit’s port. The subdermal sheath was almost entirely intact, so it didn’t require repair. My body, on the other hand, did.

Consulting the appropriate menu on my HUD, I found that I had six broken ribs, multiple bruised organs, and a minute crack in one of my vertebrae. None were life-threatening, and the less severe injuries had already begun to heal, courtesy of Regeneration. However, the last med-hypo I’d used had begun to wear off, and my Pain Tolerance had reached the edge of its effectiveness. Soon enough, I’d be awash in agony unless I administered another pain suppressant.

It probably wasn’t healthy, using them so flippantly, and it certainly wasn’t inexpensive. But I pushed my concerns aside and did what I had to do.

When I’d suffered serious injuries in the past, I’d had plenty of time to retreat and heal. However, I had no such options this time. Sure, that was due to my own stubborn refusal to hide and convalesce, but it was a reality all the same. In any case, I was convinced that if I did try to hole up, my instincts screamed it would be a mistake.

I stayed there for fifteen minutes, letting the booster, med-hypo, and my abilities work on getting me back to fighting shape. But eventually, my convalescence was cut short when a trio of Operators – big, bulky figures with powerful cybernetics – stepped into the alley.

“I’m tellin’ you, Brick – I feel somethin’ down this way,” said the smallest of the three. She was barely recognizable as a woman, her proportions were so blocky. She also sported a masculine haircut, heavily muscled shoulders, and a square jaw that would make any man proud. The other two were plainly men because they both sported thick, braided beards.

The one I assumed was named Brick said, “You said that ‘bout the last two alleys. What makes this one any different?”

“We shoulda just went to the ramp,” said the final member of the group, his voice whiny and annoying, even to me. I could only imagine what his companions must’ve thought. “That’s where she’s goin’. Everyone said so.”

“Shut up, Roach.”

“I told you I don’t like that name!” growled the whiny-voiced Operator.

“It’s a compliment,” said the woman, slapping him on the shoulder. “You’re hard to kill.”

“Still don’t like it,” he muttered.

“Both of you – shut your traps,” Brick spat, clearly irritated by their banter.

All three members of the group were predictably armed. Brick carried a double-barrel shotgun that looked like it would fire shells as big around as my wrist. Roach had a pair of submachine guns, and the unnamed woman carried an actual crossbow. In most cases, that would’ve been the least intimidating of all the weapons on display, but I could feel the Mist swirling around it, suggesting that the ammunition was incredibly powerful. Likely, it had some sort of elemental effect like my scattergun.

That, more than anything else, took underestimating them off the table.

The three continued to bicker as they made their way down the alley. I didn’t move, lest even the slightest ripple alert them to my presence. The woman – whose name I learned was Barbie, of all ridiculous monikers – clearly had some means of detecting me, but given that they’d made a few stops along the way, it seemed safe to assume that it was limited.

As I waited, I slowly drew Ferdinand II from the holster at my hip.

A slight twitch of Barbie’s eyebrow was all the warning I got, but it was enough that, when she brought the crossbow up, I had plenty of time to spring into action.

Or that’s what I thought before the weapon flashed, and in only an instant, the dumpster behind which I’d been hiding erupted into an explosion of molten slag. Even as the concussive force of the blast threw me a dozen feet in the wrong direction, I was pelted by molten metal. More distressingly, the spot I’d vacated only a second before was turned into a crater of melted concrete.

Any slower to react, and I’d have ended up in that same condition.

As I flew through the air, I activated Balance so I could twist into a firing position. Three times, Ferdinand II barked, and three heads exploded before I hit a wall with enough force to shatter bones. My Constitution was up to the task of enduring the force, but only just. And it did nothing for the burst of agony that came from having one of my shoulders wrenched out of its socket.

I fell to the ground, splashing into a puddle, the contents of which I didn’t want to contemplate. I took only a second to gather my wits before I realized that, though I’d killed the trio of Operators, the explosion and gunfire would surely bring more running. I needed to move.

As I climbed unsteadily to my feet, I realized that whatever healing I’d managed to promote during my brief respite had been completely undone. Pain lanced through my torso with every breath, and I had a dislocated shoulder to add to my agony. Tears in my eyes, I repositioned myself and slammed my side against the wall, wrenching it back into place. After a brief spike of pain, relief flooded through me.

I took a second to test it. Thankfully, the ligaments and tendons seemed to have held together. If they hadn’t, my arm would have been useless. Even with them still intact, I couldn’t count on full range of motion. The only solace came from the fact that it wasn’t my dominant arm.

With the weight of an impending response from any Operators in the area bearing down on me, I summoned my Cutter, mounted, and tore down the alley. Thankfully, no enemies barred my way, though, with Observation, I could hear them coming. I vacated the area just in time to avoid being buried under an avalanche of gunfire.

It just reaffirmed my intention to take the fight to Nora as soon as possible. Barbie’s skill might not have been developed enough to completely nullify my own ability to hide, but it had pointed her in the right direction. Going to ground seemed like an even worse idea.

No – I needed to get to the Garden, head to the Specter’s megabuilding, and kill Nora. After that…after that, I could reevaluate my options.

But it didn’t look good. I didn’t think the other tribes would just give up the hunt, and I wasn’t so arrogant that I thought I could kill them all. I’d deal with that when the time came, though.

Either way, the first step was clear, so I raced toward the Garden. However, when I came within sight of the ramp, I pulled to a stop. The mass of Operators – even more multitudinous than the horde outside the Dome – loomed before me, barring my way. They hadn’t seen me yet – I had the advantage of Observation on my side, while they didn’t – but I knew it would only be a matter of time.

So, I dismissed the Cutter and dashed behind cover.

There was no way I could kill so many. The BMAP could take out quite a few, but I’d run out of ammunition before I made an appreciable dent in their numbers. So, if I was going to get through them, I had only two options.

First, I could try to infiltrate their ranks with Mimic. If it worked, I could get through and into the Garden without any trouble. The problem was that I had no idea what kinds of skills or tech they might have at their disposal. For all I knew, they had the ability to see through my disguise. Gunther had, and I wasn’t so naïve as to believe he was the only person who’d gained such a skill. So, that route was rife with hidden danger.

The second option seemed more attractive.

But it would take a lot of concentration as well as Mist, and I’d have to get close if I was going to make it work.

Still, it seemed the better of the two options, so I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, embraced Stealth and Mimic, and crept forward. I moved incredibly slowly, lest I give away my position, and I did everything I could to use whatever cover I could find. Whether it was a parked hovercar, the base of a monorail platform, or a pile of refuse, it didn’t matter. I used everything I could, and gradually, I closed in on the mass of Operators.

The closer I drew, the more my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. The group was huge. At least a couple of thousand. Maybe more. It was as if the tribes had put aside their many differences to focus on a common threat. And they’d pulled out all the stops, committing everything they had.

Sure, there were quite a few Operators who hadn’t shown up. Some were independents. Others were doubtless held in reserve. And still others were out and about on different tasks. Still, it was an intimidating and unprecedented show of force as well as cooperation.

Thankfully, the tribes hadn’t completely forgotten their previous enmities, and as I crept closer, I could see that it wasn’t a cohesive unit arrayed before me. Instead, tensions were high, and in more than one case, I saw that the situation was on the very edge of boiling over. I was thankful for that, because otherwise, I’d have never gotten close enough to enact my plan.

When I was only a few dozen feet away from the mismatched army of Operators, which was the edge of my range, I used Misthack. The moment I did, the familiar menu appeared on my HUD:

Initiate Misthack? [Yes] or [No]

I chose the first option, and that menu was predictably replaced with the next step of the process:

Misthack Successful. Options:

· Reboot System

· Overcharge

· Disable Cybernetics

· Upload Ghost

I didn’t hesitate to choose the fourth option, sending me to the final menu:

Upload Ghost. Options:

· Time Bomb (MK. 2)

· Seizure

· Confusion

· Blind

I chose Time Bomb (MK. 2).

Then, with nothing else to do, I retreated to my previous position and settled in to wait. It would take a while for the Ghost to spread, but once the wave started, there would be no stopping it. And the closely packed mass of Operators had presented an absolutely perfect environment for the infectious Ghost.

It was then that I realized what an advantage I had as a {Mistrunner}. To even get the class as an option required a multitude of skills, including ones dedicated to combat, infiltration, and, of course, Mist manipulation. By contrast, most people with that last ability – like my one-time mentor, Helen Stone – were specialized and ill-suited for combat. I had no such limitations, and because of that, I could employ my {Mistrunner} skills to much greater effect.

Never was that more obvious than when I used a single Ghost to take down an army.