The next few hours were a blur. Grabbing a coffee, switching into our all-black field uniform, throwing on my bulletproof vest, and having to shelve my trench coat for the time being. Fuck policy, but we're supposed to look uniform while we're on detail. Ups the intimidation factor, and I'm not about to make sure I brought enough trench coats for the whole class to share. Not on this salary. Especially with the four bozos on this team.
First, we have Sully. Stereotypical pretty boy. Kind of hard to avoid the label when you're an elf, but he's the second best driver we've got. Second, Khez. Absolute unit of a dwarf, and one of the station's anti-hacker intrusion experts. Third, Saba. An ork with cyberware up to here, formerly with our special tactics team. I'm assuming she might be on this assignment as some kind of punishment for breaking someone's jaw with an elbow while the media was filming. Bozo number four happens to be me, and I'd rather not talk about myself right now.
Four guys mounted up in the precinct's pride and joy, the Leonetti Road Dominator. Six wheels of armor, bulletproof glass, anti-intrusion countermeasures. The works. I still think it's a huge-ass waste of our funds to make sure the thing has a perpetual new car smell and real leather seats, but what do I know?
“Eyyy, Sabs. I heard that Chambers is on the market again. You're single, right, famalam?” Sully calls out from the driver seat. I'm already regretting every moment of this assignment.
“Aren't you single, Sully?” she grunts in response. Considering she's hunched over, with her frame barely fitting in the confines of the vehicle's front passenger seat, I don't know why he's picking a fight that's going to end very unfavorably for him.
“That I am. Chambers. Wanna go for drinks after?” Again. Picking a fight that's going to end unfavorably for him.
“Go fuck yourself, Sully.” I didn't skip a beat. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Khez wisely keeping himself out of this, screwing around with his communicator.
The vehicle falls silent, with the low thrumming of the engine and the wheels on pavement being the only conversational partners. The punctuation between the two being the occasional pothole causing the tires to dip and the vehicle to jolt. They can't even be bothered to maintain the roads outside the nicer parts of town.
“I didn't mean to hit a raw nerve, Chambers,” the elf speaks up again, after a long enough moment to make it awkward. “Just thought you'd take it the same as the other boys.”
“Just pay attention to the road, Sully,” I grumble before doing my best to make like Khez, pulling up my communicator to thumb through random junk on the matrix to pass the time. One extrovert, and three introverts who want nothing to do with him. I can only hope that he shuts his big mouth when we get to the pick-up.
“Just trying to make you feel involved ‘cause, you know, you're always sitting at your desk looking like you're brooding over something. Least Ole Khezzy and Sabsie—” He's cut off by an annoyed grunt from the amazonian ork sitting beside him. He doesn't get the message. “At least these two know how to talk the talk.”
Despite the fact that neither one of them were actively talking. As if on habitual cue, all three of us grunt at the same time. First time in weeks I've managed a near genuine smile. Sully's going to open his mouth in a few seconds and ruin the moment, but at least I can enjoy it for what it is.
“It's a party, and everyone's invited except me.” Sully laughs, checking his shoulders as he pulls into the turn-off towards our destination.
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Highton Square. The last place I want to be tonight. Or at any point in time. Skyscrapers, some of them nearly a hundred storeys tall, blotting out the horizon. Wall-to-wall of corpos wearing matching suits. Cheap ones at that. If they took it any further, they'd all have identical hair.
Scratch that. Most of them have identical hair.
We silently disembark the vehicle, trying our best to look professional. An easy task, as long as Sully keeps his mouth shut. Though, on second thought, Khez's two foot long beard might knock the image a little.
All of us are going through the motions that we've done dozens of times before. Walking in unison as a group, eyes straight ahead. Anything else is grounds for a citation, not that any one of us wants to do anything besides get our pay and go home.
Straight towards Donehal Plaza and through a set of automatic doors, into a stereotypical utilitarian lobby that most front-facing corp offices are known for. Drab grey walls with polished steel accents, and the faint scent of the most non-offensive yet nondescript air freshener. Enough to make you feel welcome, but not so much, discouraging you from overstaying. I let out a sigh of relief the second I notice there's nobody else in here. Normally the rapid transit elevator is being hogged by a bunch of middle management drones.
For once, a trip to the near-top floors was actually rapid, as the elevator's name implies. Though, the combination of Saba's frame and Khez's wideness made the ride a little bit more than uncomfortable, what with all of us trying to avoid breaching each other's personal space.
“So. We didn't draw strings for who was supposed to talk to the client,” Sully remarks, folding his arms behind his back. We all knew what he was getting at. Saba wouldn't have the patience, I've never heard Khez talk, and I perpetually look how I feel on the inside.
“Nobody wants to rub elbows with the rich prick 'cept you,” Saba pipes up, her voice husky with a hint of agitation. She said what we were all thinking. Hell, I would've said it if I wasn't busy thinking about all the other crap I could've been doing besides standing in an elevator.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Of course the elevator feels the need to incessantly chime every floor we pass. Either I go insane focusing on the forty more storeys we have to ascend, or I go insane listening to Sully trying to rationalize why trying to get buddy-buddy with a corpo is a good idea. Neither is an appealing prospect.
“Hear me out, Sabsie. I don't think the Chief got his cushy position by being good at his job.” The elf gesticulates vaguely upwards as he cracks a dumb grin. “Why would you promote someone who's good out on the field to sitting behind a desk and doing nothing besides raising his voice?”
“Because if the criterion was being good on the field, I'd be Chief,” Saba grunted in return. I'd laugh, but I don't want my jaw dislocated right before we meet the client. I don't think Khez was listening. But Sully snerks.
I wait for him to get clocked in the face. He almost does, considering I can see Saba lifting her fist out of the corner of my eye. I don't think anyone is going to bother to save his dumb ass until—
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The elevator dings one final time and the doors swing open. Saved by the literal bell.
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Once again, in near unison, we all step out of the elevator. Straight into a lobby far gaudier than the one we entered the lift on. Crystal chandeliers, intricate gold trim all along the walls. If this guy was going for the ‘rich douchebag baron’ aesthetic, he nailed it right on the head.
And this is only in his lobby. The guy must be important, because he has an actual flesh and blood secretary. She's got blonde hair—obviously dyed, I can barely make out the brunette roots starting to grow in—porcelain skin, and the stereotypical get-up that most corpos have their close personnel dressed up in. Low cut blouse, miniskirt. I hate corpos.
Cue Sully. I'm not even sure how this guy ended up being a cop in the first place. He slips in like someone would slip into your personal messages. It's almost like he glided across the floor without moving his legs, but that's the closest thing to smooth he was.
“Evening, Miiiiiiiiss—” he leans back, probably looking for any form of identification for the secretary. I can tell from back here that there is none, but he keeps up his futile search for just a bit longer. “—Black Wolf Security. Can you inform Mr. Geschke that his security team has arrived and is prepared to escort him to the banquet when he is ready?”
A massive hand reaches down to tap me on the shoulder. Saba.
“Just making sure I didn't misread the dossier. The banquet's five floors down, ain't it?” she asks in a soft voice, a real switcheroo from her usual rough tone.
“Same elevator and everything.” I exhale. I must've had a confused look on my face, because she responded nearly instantly.
“I'm not gonna ask friggen Sully unless I want to get teased, and I don't even think Khez speaks Common.”
“That's an entirely valid concern. I don't want to talk to Sully unless I have to, and… I don't want to interrupt Khez.” I pause to lean back, looking in Khez's general direction. The guy is still face down in his communicator. I just figure that he's anti-social, being that's a running theme with most of our matrix countermeasure team.
Normally we wouldn't have someone like him on deck for security detail, but Team Triple Threat has been rather active lately. Especially against most of our clients. Triple Threat being a group of hackers. Celsius, Hoax, Fokken. We only know them by their matrix handles, and that's—
“—Chambers. You lost in thought? You're doing that thing again.” She snaps her fingers in front of my face. A little unprofessional, but I guess I look a little unprofessional myself when I've got a thousand-yard stare equipped.
“Ah. Sorry. I was—Yeah.” I laugh to myself. I don't usually get called out when I'm doing that.
Sully loudly claps his hands together, catching all of our attention. Part of me is glad, given that I'd rather not be making small talk with a coworker.
“We're supposed to be waiting by the lift until he's ready.”
“And how long is that gonna be?” Saba mumbles, apparently caring less and less by each minute she's forced to stand around.
I cut in, deciding to try my part at being the extrovert for once. “Look at it this way, it doesn't matter if he takes his time. We're only scheduled on until the banquet ends.”
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Little did I realize that we'd be waiting in that lobby with nothing to do for the better part of four hours. I felt like eating those words. Leave it to a corpo to pay a security team to meander around in the lobby and bored out of their skulls, while they do gods knows what. Sully looks like he's about to fall asleep. Khez is… still on his communicator. Saba's been doing handstand push-ups. I've been pacing. The secretary long since packed her bags and headed home.
And then something snaps us out of our stupor. Gunfire, coming from the room adjacent. Usually I'd just write it off as some eccentricity of a rich bastard at best. At worst, probably some sick crap he's into that's none of my business. But we're all bored. I'm not thinking straight, and I can only assume the rest of the team is on the same wavelength as me. A likely thing, considering the moment I draw my revolver, I can hear the rest of the group unclasping their holsters.
I was the first one in. I should've let Saba take the lead, but my adrenaline was already pumping. At least the doors are motion activated, so we don't have to bother kicking anything down and getting a pay dock for damaging property. The confusing part was that all of the lights were out in the suite. Couldn't be that our client was slipping on his power bills like I was.
“Khez. Jack in, get the lights on. Sully, cover Khez. Saba, you're with me,” I call out.
Shit. Looks like I've accidentally taken charge. My dumbass mouth decided to work faster than my brain. I guess on the bright side, Khez and Sully are well trained enough to do as they're told, with the dwarf sticking back and jacking into the maintenance panel outside the room.
Enough of looking over my shoulder. I take a few steps into the pitch blackness ahead of me, pistol at the ready. I can tell from the streaks of neon light peeking in that the window shutters are closed. All except one at the far side of the room. With the harsh breeze cutting through and the crackling of smashed glass underfoot, either that glass panel traveled far or our client is also short a fancy glass table.
The lights turn on with a loud clunk. I can see that the glass I'm treading on is also intermingled with blood.
Our client's blood.
He's face down in the middle of an expensive Asharian rug barely four paces from me. Well, not so expensive now that it's covered in probable dead guy. Fuck. I wouldn't be surprised if there was someone in the market for rugs that a corpo died on, though. I accidentally kick a few discarded brass casings out of the way in my rush forwards.
“Saba. Clear the place.” I didn't even need to tell her. She was already in the midst of it by the time I opened my mouth. Time to see how much the chief is going to chew us out for this one.
I roll the poor bastard over and go to check for vitals. A shot clean through the forehead, and two in the chest. Yep. The probable dead guy has been downgraded to actually dead guy. The chief is going to have our asses, at minimum.
“—Khez just said all of the outbound communication from this floor has been cut,” Sully calls out from the hallway. “We're being blocked in by a firewall.”
I flip open my communicator. No connection. Something fucked is going on here. Did someone just hit us with a cyberattack? Or was it for Mister Corpse in front of us, so he wouldn't call for help? Maybe I should've knocked on wood when I was internally monologuing about those hackers. This… doesn't seem remotely close to their modus operandi, though. The briefs always made mention of data thefts and ICE cracks. Nothing about murder. Still, things can change.
“Clear,” Saba calls from across the room and then takes a few long strides towards me. “Guessing the perp got in from the window. Probably jumped out there, too. I didn't see any kinda vents or ducts someone could've squeezed through.”
This is one of the last things I needed to happen this week.
“Okay. Active crime scene. Nobody touch shit.” I hold out my arms to indicate the room, even though Saba is the only one who can actively see me. “This is technically not our jurisdiction, so I'll go and round up whatever poor minimum wage security bastard they have on hand to cordon it off. After that, it's out of our hands.”
After getting the nods of approval from the rest of the crew, I make my way out to the lobby. Finding what floor the nearest security hub is on is going to be a pain without any kind of external communication. Hell. Are the lifts even going to be working?
The lift nearest to me chimes, the display indicating that it'll be arriving at this floor in a moment. I didn't call for it, and I know for damn sure that the rest of the crew didn't push anything because they're way back in the dead bastard's room. Something about this makes me reach back for my holstered pistol, tightening my palm around the grip.
I doubt the perp is coming back up unless he forgot his wallet, but this all seems a little too coincidental. The voice at the back of my head, the reasonable one, tells me that it's probably just one of their maintenance workers coming up to investigate why the hell there's a communications blackout. You know, that's actually almost kind of a—
The doors to the lift slide open, and the first thing I'm met with is a guy in full tac-armor. The butt of his rifle is kissing my forehead before I can even open my mouth. The rest is kind of a blur. Serious head trauma will do that to you.