Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 66 - A Mile of Shit (Patreon)

At this point, fear feels like a constant companion. I’ve never been so afraid. Not when I decided to get rid of Jeremiah. Not when the tribal wars broke out all over Nova City. And not when facing down the Enforcers who conveniently insisted that I take their protection. I think I created a monster.

Nora Lancaster

I sped through the streets of Nova City, the scheduled rainstorm coming down in a steady pour. Night had fully taken hold of the city, and it was awash in the familiar glow of a million holographic signs. A few pedestrians remained, all hefting neon-rimmed umbrellas or wearing slick ponchos, but the mass exodus had hit the Garden harder than anywhere but Algiers. So, the crowd was much thinner than it should have been. Still, traffic clogged the streets, and I was forced to weave between the slow-moving hovercars as I made my way toward the megabuilding that doubled as the Specters’ headquarters.

I saw a couple of Operators here and there, but if they recognized me as a high-value target, they didn’t give any indication. Instead, they were engaged in petty crime, mugging the few civilians who happened to wander down the wrong alley or boosting a hovercar whose owner forgot to engage the vehicle’s defenses. Such scenes had once been ubiquitous, but now, the incidents were scattered and diffuse – a symptom of the war I’d started. With most of the civilians having fled the city, the independent Operators had no one left to victimize.

Overall, the falling rate of petty crime was probably a good thing, but the lack of such a familiar part of Nova City’s atmosphere left me feeling curiously regretful. Odd, how quickly people could adapt to even the worst situations and how wrong things felt when the familiar faded away.

In any case, the eerily empty city sent a chill up my spine that had nothing to do with the cold water trickling down my back.

The trip through the Garden wasn’t a long one. Not at the speeds my hoverbike could reach, at least. However, it did afford me an opportunity to take full stock of my condition. And it wasn’t good.

My ribs were still broken, and the healing had been constantly interrupted by my acrobatic antics. One or two might even have to be replaced, once everything was said and done. At some point, I’d picked up a severely sprained ankle that, despite my Regeneration and Pain Tolerance, as well my copious use of med-hypos, sent throbbing spikes of agony up my leg with every movement. My once-dislocated shoulder had swollen enough to become almost completely immobile, and a few of my bruised internal organs seemed on the verge of rupture. Finally, I felt positive that I had a slight concussion that, without my prodigious Mind attribute, would have probably rendered me completely loopy. As it was, it barely slowed down my cognitive abilities.

In short, I needed a couple of weeks’ worth of downtime before I would even approach full strength. Once again, I considered retreating to one of the safehouses I’d told no one about, so I could rest, heal, and plan, but I rejected that idea without giving it much more than a cursory examination.

The fact was that if I gave Nora time to prepare, there was every chance she’d use that to shore up her defenses. Or worse, she might flee. Once that happened, it could very well be years before I found her, if at all. The world was a huge, disconnected place, and trying to find a single person – even one as recognizable as Nora – would be an exercise in futility and frustration.

But even more, I just wanted it to be over. I wanted it finished. I needed to kill Nora and put Nova City – and my past – behind me where it all belonged. Until I did that, I knew I’d never be able to move on with my life.

However, that plan took a bit of a hit when the Specters’ megabuilding came into view. I was still almost a mile away, but even then, I could see enough defenses that I had little choice but to pull to a stop and rethink my approach. Before, I’d intended to sneak in, much as I had a handful of times while doing my reconnaissance over the past few months, but, after seeing the forces arrayed just on the lowest level, I had no choice but to discard that plan.

Hundreds of Enforcers, with plenty of Banshees among them. A barricade. A full-power Mist shield. A mobile camp with a full-fledged command center, complete with a mobile bunker from which the specialized Enforcers could pilot their drones and robots. In short, the building had become a fortress.

And that was just the ground floor.

I could only imagine what else I would have to go through to get to Nora.

I slipped down a side street before any of them could see me, and then turned into an alley, where I dismissed the Cutter. I was already wearing a new face courtesy of Mimic, but I didn’t want to tempt fate by remaining out in the open. Who knew what kind of abilities the Enforcers might bring to bear? They weren’t the elite fighting force I’d always thought them to be – my encounters with them had cemented that knowledge in my mind – but they were still capable enough. And the Banshees counted plenty of truly powerful warriors among their number.

If I was hesitant to engage the mismatched army of Operators that had planted themselves between Bywater and the Garden District, then I would’ve had to have been an absolute idiot to directly assault the fortress the Enforcers had established.

The key word there was directly.

It was a good thing, then, that I’d spent years living in that very building, and I knew its layout like the back of my hand. More importantly, I knew a way in that I was sure they had overlooked. Even Nora had probably forgotten it simply because few people would choose such a route.

When I was younger and I’d stepped out of line, one of my uncle’s favorite punishments was to send me down to the sub-basement to work on the megabuilding’s filtration systems. In truth, I got in the way of the legitimate maintenance workers more than I helped, but that wasn’t the point. Instead, it was meant as negative reinforcement. Do bad things, get sent down to fiddle with the foul-smelling muck.

Of course, its effectiveness was always short-lived, so I was forced to endure repeated visits. However, even if it didn’t always accomplish the goal of keeping me in line, it did provide me an opportunity to inoculate myself against all things disgusting. Without that dubious training, my life since would have been much more difficult.

But that wasn’t the benefit that prompted the memory. Instead, that distinction belonged to the fact that I’d always been a curious girl, and once I’d gotten over my disgust, I’d aimed that curiosity at the filtration system itself. To date, I still had no idea how it really worked, but I did know the ins and outs of the system’s layout. Or more importantly, I knew that it emptied into city’s sewer system.

That knowledge did come with a couple of caveats – one minor and the other far more important.

First, the access point I intended to use was absolutely tiny. My shoulders were fairly narrow, but I knew it would still be a tight fit. Exacerbating that was my recently dislocated shoulder, which meant that even if I did fit, it wouldn’t be without significant pain. Still, pain I could endure; after all, I was well-versed in doing just that.

The bigger issue – at least in my mind – was that the access point was, by its very nature, disgusting. I could flush it out before climbing through it, but that would do nothing for any residual filth. And there was always the smell to contend with. As used to it as I was, there was still a point where any strong odor exceeded a person’s ability to ignore it.

Whatever the case, I would forcefully cancel Observationif I chose that route.

First, though, I wanted to test the Enforcers’ defenses. After all, I’d just killed one army – who was to say I couldn’t repeat that feat by infecting the Enforcers with Time Bomb? To do that, though, I needed to get close, which meant that I had to spend an hour gradually creeping from one shadow to another. Still, I’d been forced to develop quite a relationship with patience, so even if it was tedious, it wasn’t nearly as frustrating as I might have expected.

Eventually, I drew close enough to touch the Mist shield, and attempted a Misthack.

Almost immediately, I jerked my consciousness back. The shield was equipped with a Mistwall that made the one guarding the aural sensors outside the Rift look like the product of a talented child. Hundreds of security nodes, each a complex tangle of equations and logic puzzles, barred my way. I knew the defenses weren’t actually solvable equations or puzzles; instead, they were strings of alien code that, in their raw form, were incomprehensible. My [Mistrunner] skill, combined with my interface, did quite a lot of heavy lifting by turning the defenses into something I could understand. But even then, my tech and abilities could only go so far, which meant that overcoming the higher-grade Mistwalls required a lot more user input. In this case, it would take a lot more skill than I possessed, and even then, breaking through would take hours of work.

No - bringing down that Mist shield was a fool’s errand.

So, I moved on to the closest Enforcer, hoping to repeat the massacre over which I’d recently presided. To my shock, though, the moment I tried to access his system, two things happened. First, I was entirely rebuffed. I never even saw his Mistwall, which told me that they either possessed some sort of jammer or had employed someone with a skill designed to counter my abilities.

That was troubling enough, but the second issue was even more distressing.

Because a second after I’d tried to Misthackthe Enforcer, the door to the mobile bunker flew open, and a Banshee came sprinting out, screaming, “She’s here! I just got a hit!”

That was my cue to leave.

As I backed away, taking great pains to corral my panic and take it slow, the camp erupted into motion. Enforcers and Banshees darted around, establishing a perimeter as impenetrable as the ridiculously durable Mist shield. But none ventured out into the open, which was both a source of annoyance and appreciation.

Annoyance because I wanted to discover whether or not the shield was what had prevented me from Misthacking the Enforcer. Appreciation, because I really didn’t want to engage in a fighting retreat.  If that happened, I’d be forced to abandon my plan of attack.

Thankfully, they remained hunkered down behind their defenses, which allowed me to slowly retreat out of sight. Once I was safe from scrutiny, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. If I committed to my plan, there would be no turning back. I had to see it through.

But there really wasn’t any other option, so far as I could see. Perhaps some great strategist, with the benefit of seeing things from afar, could come up with some foolproof plan, but with my time constraints and, more importantly, my priorities, I only saw one way forward.

With that surety in mind, I made a wide circle around the megabuilding, and I discovered that the Enforcers’ cordon extended all the way around the huge structure. I couldn’t imagine the resources needed for such an endeavor, and it was easy to imagine that the bulk of the city’s so-called peacekeeping force had been committed to guarding Nora.

Or more likely, they were meant to deal with the threat I represented.

After all, I had brought the city to its knees. I’d shown the aristocrats that they weren’t quite as insulated from the lower platforms as they thought they were. By assaulting the Silos and fostering war between the tribes, I’d not only directly disrupted productivity – an unforgivable sin for people who basically worshipped wealth – but the city’s mass exodus had created a shortage of workers to exploit. In short, I’d thrown a spanner into the gears of their well-oiled machine of oppression, and they were desperate to return to the status quo. Likely, they thought I was the only thing standing in their way.

Naivete, as far as I was concerned. The people were gone, and it would take years to get them back. By the time they managed it, the Integration would’ve arrived, and with that, everything would change.

No – I might not have set out to end their reign, but I’d definitely started the ball rolling. And I didn’t think it would stop anytime soon.

In any case, there were hundreds – perhaps thousands – of Enforcers between me and my goal, and I had no choice but to go around. Fortunately, I already had a plan for that.

To that end, I set out to one of the entry points for the Underground. I’d never known there were so many of them, but the map I’d stolen from the Coyotes was a cure for that ignorance. I had to wonder if my uncle had known how exposed his megabuilding had been.

Probably.

Jeremiah had never been infallible. That much was clear. But he took security very seriously, so it was hard to imagine that he hadn’t known the building’s every point of weakness. Perhaps he’d even sent me down to work on the filtration systems with the express purpose of exposing those weaknesses to my young mind.

Or maybe not. There was every possibility that I had chosen to remember him as far more capable and forward-thinking than he’d ever actually been.

Whatever the case, once I found the entrance to the Underground – which was disguised via a holographic display – I descended into the depths. The tunnel bore all the signs of disuse. The lights were inoperable, and there were no footprints in the muck that had begun to accumulate on the floor.

I ignored it.

Stalking forward slowly, I kept Observation flared to the point where the smells made my eyes water, but even then, I didn’t dare let up. There was every chance that Nora or the Enforcers knew about the Underground passages, and if that was the case, they would’ve placed some sort of defenses. But as I kept going, I found nothing. No cameras. No auto-turrets. And certainly no Operators or Enforcers. It was as empty as a disgusting drainage tunnel should’ve been.

After a while, I reached my destination.

The pipe was only about thirty inches wide, which meant that it would be just as tight of a fit as I expected. Countering that negative point was a bit of a bright side in that it was clear that it had been quite some time since the pipe had seen use. What little waste clung to its interior was completely dry, aside from the results of the ambient humidity so prevalent in the tunnels.

It made sense, though. Most of the Specters’ Operators had remained in the city, but their support personnel, not to mention the civilians who lived in the megabuildings’ lower levels – had clearly experienced significant attrition. As such, there was nobody to work the filtration systems. Some of the buildings functions were automated, but every mechanical system required maintenance and oversight. Without it, things just didn’t work properly.

Nora had never really cared about the civilians who supported the Tribe, though. She was only ever concerned with the fighters. Jeremiah had always known better, but his attitude clearly wasn’t the one prevalent among most warriors. Clearly, Nora hadn’t learned from the man she had betrayed, and now, she was going to pay the price for that oversight.

First, though, I needed to prepare.

The last thing I wanted was to traipse through the megabuilding in muck-covered clothing. I had no intention of confronting Nora looking like I’d just climbed through a sewer pipe, either. So, I quickly stripped down, storing my clothes in my arsenal implant along the way. When I did so, I ignored my battered and bruised body; with the readout on my HUD, I knew precisely how bad of shape I was in, so a visual inspection was unnecessary.

Or maybe I just didn’t want to see it.

In either case, it only took a couple of minutes for me to undress, and once I was naked, I took a deep breath that I instantly regretted – as much because of the smell as the pain in my ribs – and climbed up the wall and pushed myself into the pipe.

As I’d expected, it was a tight fit. My injured shoulder screamed at me to back away, but I was far too committed to give that any credence. Instead, I fortified my mind and slithered forward, one disgusting inch at a time. As I did so, I tried not to give much thought to the composition of the muck. I also had to force myself not to think about the tight fit. Or more accurately, what would happen if the pipe narrowed.

I wasn’t claustrophobic, but the idea of getting stuck was horrifying enough to prompt a racing heart.

Even so, I endured. I persisted. And inch by inch, I dragged myself through the pipe. Soon enough, the inches turned into feet, and the feet turned into yards. I lost track of the passing time, and my mind shut itself off from unnecessary thoughts. It was the same tactic I’d learned during Hell Month.

One foot in front of the other.

Or in this case, one slithering inch after the last. There was nothing else. Just moving forward.

Like that, time passed. It might have been minutes. It could have been hours. I neither knew nor cared. In the depths of my stubborn refusal to acknowledge my own discomfort, I knew only persistence.

And finally, there was a light at the end of the pipe.

Desperately, I dragged myself forward until, at last, I tumbled free. And into a half-full vat of…

No – never mind. I refused to acknowledge what it was. Instead, after a brief moment of surprise, I managed to scramble to my feet. The muck was only about calf-high, and it was mostly solid, but there was no mistaking what it was.

After all, I’d worked the system often enough to recognize where I was.

I had to suppress the urge to wretch as I climbed to freedom. Fortunately, the chamber was completely empty, confirming my suspicions that all the workers had fled the city. Even more thankfully, I knew that the chambers were equipped with a series of showers meant for the workers’ use. So, I padded barefoot across the corrugated metal platform surrounding the vat and descended to the concrete floor before finding my way to the showers.

Over the next thirty minutes, I scrubbed every inch of my body, slathering myself with disinfectant soap as well as administering a few med-hypos loaded with antibiotics and anti-parasitic medication. However, as thorough as I was, even when I’d taken the equivalent of three showers, I still felt dirty.

So I kept going until a few minor abrasions had joined the multitude of bruises I’d acquired. Only when I knew I was doing more harm than good did I stop.

Finally, I stepped out of the shower, dried off with a towel I kept in my arsenal implant, and then got dressed. Thankfully, it seemed as if the combined efforts of Nora’s Specters and the Enforcers were focused outward, so I remained completely undetected the whole time.

After tying my hair back, I summoned my R-14 and began my climb to the penthouse apartment Nora had taken as her own. She had usurped my uncle. She had engineered his death. And she had stolen our home. There were thousands of deaths to lay at her feet, and finally, at long last, she was going to pay the price for her sins.