I woke slowly, a feeling like a hot needle sliding out of my brain as the nerve block was removed. Suddenly, I was assaulted on all sides by the world again.
Screens flooded my vision as my RI rebooted, connections testing through the brain mod and out into my body. Data connection charts flashed up. Numbers that meant nothing scrolled across, and behind them? Data dumps from the various mods inundated me.
I lifted my arms slowly. The carver backed away quickly, a datapad in one hand, holding it up where I’d have to focus to see it, even as he held a veritable cannon down by his side, almost—but not quite—out of sight.
“Kabutt, you there? I need you to connect to the pad and read the verse for me,” he ordered.
I nodded, clearing my throat and coughing before reaching out with a data request, then started to read. I glanced at it, then snorted, seeing what was going on and making a point of ignoring the tube of shining nanites that sat on a table next to me.
“On the breast of a woman called Gale was tattooed the price of her tail, and on her behind, for the sake of the blind, was the same information in braille,” I read, then snorted. “Seriously?”
“Hey, you think a specter’s gonna give a shit about that?” he replied, grinning, and put the pad down and picked the nanites up. “Seriously, anyone who’s on the border of specter, even if they’re not all the way gone yet? A container of pure nanites that close means they’re not gonna be able to focus on anything.”
Even as he spoke, he kept hold of the gun and moved the tube constantly, watching my eyes.
“There must be a better way to test for it.”
He shrugged. “There’s hundreds. Ask any carver and they’ve got their own, and there’s the corpo methods as well. But seriously? The estimate is seven hundred specters created a day. Some merc outfits hunt them, handing their corpses in to the government for a bounty. If they weren’t doing that? I don’t want to imagine it.”
“Well, whatever.” I sighed. “Now, you mind?” I gestured to the gun, then up at myself, making it clear I wanted to test myself.
“Yeah, no worries.” He smiled. “You’ve got half an hour, okay? After that, I’m charging you rent.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off, lifting my left arm and looking it over.
It was only a tier two, yeah, or “basic” as most people figured it, but Nemesis made good quality shit. The arm was matte black, made seemingly of steel, and with a hand that gleamed softly in the subdued lighting in here.
Three red lines ran from shoulder to elbow, then spiraled around the lower arm, ending at the wrist.
Turning it over, I noted the hatch on the inside of the wrist. I mentally ordered it to open, watching as the plate unlocked and slid up, letting me slide my fingers in and open it fully.
As it wasn’t being used currently, the mod slot was simply empty, and just in case, I slid one of the three medikits on the table next to me into the gap. It fit, but rattled around, and a second later the carver was leaning in, offering me something that compressed like foam, but expanded to fill the space when I released it, cushioning the kit.
He shrugged, stepping back. “We use it to fill internals.”
“I didn’t get your name,” I said after a few seconds of prodding at it, and he smiled.
“Lion.”
“Lion?”
“Yeah, like the old cat.” He smiled. “Parents were into the old world stuff, you know?”
“I’m Harry…”
“Kabutt,” he finished. “I know…had to jack into your Key, remember? That’s all fixed up as well, by the way.”
“Thanks, man.” I shook my head and looked around the room, stunned by the level of detail the eyes were giving me. “So, my eyes…”
“Yeah?”
“Ummm, my old eyes?”
“Here.” He moved to the side and lifted a narrow tube.
I took it, staring in mixed revulsion and fascination at the bobbing orbs, suspended in fluid.
“I thought you blended them?” I asked slowly, staring in wonder.
“Nah. I know some do…mostly idiots, though. There’s a market for them. People who can’t afford a replacement, be that cybernetic or credit cost, they still go blind, you know? Fresh set of eyes like this? Twenty to forty credits, depending.”
“That even cover your time?” I asked, and he shrugged.
“Not really, but that’s why I became a carver. Lost my parents to a wall breach. Grandfather raised me, and he went blind. Nobody helped him. If I’d been able to at the time? Hell, we could have raised the credits for this. All it takes is a few chips and a literal hair’s worth of nanites.”
“So you keep the eyes you get in, put them in people for the cost of a few meals.”
“A bit more than that,” he admitted. “And organs and more as well. You’d be surprised how many gangbangers want to upgrade perfectly good organs. Once they’re out and cleaned? A little suspension fluid and boom. Someone who had issues and couldn’t afford the hospital is given another chance.”
“Damn,” I muttered, having never really thought about it before.
“So, you want them?” he asked.
“What?”
“The eyes.” He nodded to the container I held. “We didn’t strike a price for them, and considering the turnaround, I can’t pay you for them. So either you take them—and I’ll be charging you for the container and fluid if…”
“You can have them.” I straightened up and handed them back. “It’s fine.”
“Thanks.” He set them back on the side counter, and turned to me, hesitating before speaking. “Look, Kabutt, I know I was frustrated before, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Lucky about our conversation?”
“You’re fine,” I assured him. “Besides, I need a chop shop I can trust anyway and…”
He handed me a small note on a piece of folded paper, pressing it into my hand and shaking his head as I opened my mouth to ask about it.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
“Great!” he assured me. “I’d love the business, but you know, if you’re okay to move along? I’ve got shit to do today.”
“Yeah.” I stood slowly, and let out a long breath as my legs took my weight happily.
The constant extra effort I’d had to put in to just damn walk before now was markedly absent, and although I staggered a little at first, it was because I’d pushed too hard, not because my legs were slow in reacting.
A few steps, and suddenly I was back, feeling so much better it was unreal. I moved my left arm; a tension in my shoulders, a level of stress I’d not even known was there until now, slipped away, as my arm reacted as quickly and easily, if not more so, than my right did.
I sighed, holding onto the note, and slipped it into a pocket of my pants, before dressing quickly.
A handful of minutes later, and I was outside, squinting around at the brightness before my eyes adjusted. The world suddenly dimmed as if I’d slipped a pair of shades on.
I grinned, and as I headed for the nearest station, I brought up my details, taking a deep breath as they registered.
Identification: Harry Kabutt
Species: Human
Bonus: None
Mod Capacity: 19
Mod Capacity in use: 13
Stat
Current Points
Description
Mods
Quality
Dexterity
11
Governs agility and movement
Left Arm Mod: 2
Cost: 1 (Dex: 12)
Basic
Mental Power
10
Governs swiftness and fortitude of the mind
Brain Mod: 3
Cost: 2
Professional
Perception
11
Governs an individual’s senses and connection to the world around them
Brain Mod: 3
Ocular Mod: 3
Cost: 4
(PER 12 + 14)
Basic
Strength
10
Governs physical strength and damage dealt
Left Arm Mod: 2
Cost: 1 (STR 14)
Basic
Toughness
9
Governs the body and internal fortitude
Basic Organelles: 3
Cost: 3
Spinal Reinforcement: 2
Cost: 2
Toughness: 11
Basic
“Damn,” I whispered, seeing the difference in both my overall details and the individual. I was also at thirteen points of my predicted nineteen possible, though, seriously limiting my future mods. But that was fine. I’d survived till now with the shit I had.
Before I’d been mustered out, I’d had a full tier-three, top-of-the-range command module, costing me five points, and a full spinal tap, costing me another five. I’d not need to get that level again, but even if I did? Take off the five in use for the current spinal and brain, and I still had a single point. Hell, I’d probably just get cheaper-costing eyes and a lower-grade arm.
I’d be in armor most of the time, after all.
Regardless of all that shit, I continued to walk, zooming in on random things: a bit of trash blown along the sidewalk, a rat hiding in rubbish, a dead bum curled up in an alleyway I passed…the line on the ass of the girl ahead of me that showed her panties in a ridiculously sheer skirt, and…yup.
The lack of a similar line on the girl next to her, wearing the same outfit, and none of the underwear.
For a second, I checked her out, and her friend. Then I shook my head. I had no time for that. Despite the much more interested looks they were giving me than they would have been earlier, seeing the average mods, the shine of recent applications, and my heavily armed condition.
I wasn’t that interested.
Besides, it wasn’t like I could take them to my goddamn apartment.
I took a seat on the mag-train. The hum of its acceleration from stationary to high speed was all that I felt, until a questing finger touched something, and I remembered the paper Lion had given me.
I pulled it out, being subtle just in case, figuring he wanted to hide giving me it, so…The words I read didn’t make sense at first, and then?
I crumpled the paper up into a tiny ball; then, just in case, popped it into my mouth and chewed. I didn’t need to reread it. The message was simple enough.
Tracker installed. You’re bugged. Sorry.
I stared out of the window blankly, seeing nothing of the city as it rolled past, my mind ticking over. It couldn’t be in my eyes, or brain. If that was the case and they could remote in and see everything? Giving me the note was pointless.
The spine? Yeah, probably, or attached to an organelle. The arm was fairly solid—putting it inside would risk too much, but alongside the spine, nice and safe? Or up under the lungs?
I accessed the RI, feeling a strange relief as it indicated readiness, and I fed it the parameters, much as I’d done for years.
A scan of my body had been included along with the warranty details to register the mods, and I pulled that up, telling the RI to search for unknown internal signals.
Nothing.
Not really a surprise. Although the signal would need to be reasonably powerful, most likely they’d not have it on unless there was a need. No, I was an asset to the gang now, and they were likely to have included more than just a tracker.
He’d not said it, but I was betting there was a bomb or something in there as well.
That was what I’d have done, at least.
Staring out of the window as the skyscrapers and slums, the arcologies and the megastructures rolled past over and over, I examined the situation from every side.
So, I was bugged. Probably also a bomb, because the gang didn’t trust me. That was fine, because not only did I not trust them, but I was actively planning to fuck them over now.
Once this was done? I had no doubt that Lucky would try to kill me and collect the bounty on Stinger. That was also why that was my last job.
They wanted a return on their investment, after all.
So, logic time. They wanted to make their money back, and then some. They had a chance to make a serious pile of credits off me, if I could take down Stinger, so until then? As long as I was working my way down their list of jobs, they’d leave me alone.
That gave me time to figure this shit out.
Lion? He warned me when he didn’t need to. I was betting that after the shit he said that he still hid the note. It meant either his shop was bugged, or someone was there, somewhere, watching us.
I couldn’t see Lion letting them bug his shop, too many potential issues, but having someone hide there?
I’d never even considered searching for them, but logically, between taking the money and getting the tracker implanted, that was the point of most risk for Lucky.
I stood, rolling my shoulders and stretching, checking the shotgun in its sheath, and then my handgun, making it clear I was getting off, before moving to the doors. I glanced around, acting like I was just idly curious.
My RI, acting on the parameters I supplied it—armed, cheap clothing, multiple mods, and within thirty meters—picked out three potential targets.
Two were making a point of not looking in my direction, while standing to leave.
The third…well, he was out of it. A trail of drool ran from the corner of his mouth, his cheap suit barely fit him, and the hand cannon in its underarm holster was secured.
Add to that, the goggles he was wearing and the bulging erection?
He’d fallen asleep on the mag-train watching porn. He was both very memorable, and instantly dismissible, making it unlikely he was here for me.
He was either exactly what he seemed—an off-duty merc or bodyguard on his way somewhere and flat out—or he was a great deal more professional than the gangbangers could afford and was hiding it well.
I waited until the train stopped, got off, then started to check my pockets, as though I’d dropped something. The gangers got off as well, then jerked to a halt and headed back to the train as I darted back inside. As they boarded and the departure alarm rang out, I scooted off again, pretending to have found whatever I “left.”
The gangers glared at me as the train pulled away, and I frowned at them, pretending confusion and not understanding what was going on. Best not to tip them off. For now, they just looked unlucky and dumb.
I changed platforms, two separate trains needed, then I was pulling up at Gunther’s, parading through the door, heavily modded and with the credits burning a hole in my account.