Dive bars aren’t what you might think. In the previous age, they were small, privately owned bars well known for microbrew beers and greasy foods. But, once cyberspace became something more than data on the screen, the term dive bar took on a new meaning. Full-diving is when you plug your consciousness into cyberspace through a RAT Tail. Dive bars in the Age of Divine Knowledge are still privately owned bars with beers and greasy food, but they also have full-dive stations.
Let’s skip ahead three months. Over the course of those few months, I had been tirelessly busy. I had designed the best possible cybernetics I could conceive and built them with Lind’s guidance and help. My understanding of technology had grown by leaps and bounds under the man’s tutelage. The Elf was truly an unparalleled genius in his field of study. I worked under Lind in his shop for at least a few hours three days a week.
Over the course of those three months, I had crafted and refined several gadgets and pieces of equipment. I had learned several lessons and had several more ideas after everything that occurred in the Undercity and thereafter. I had even incorporated several of the features from my now-lost tactical gauntlet into my new arm.
I spent many of my days studying magic or training with Ferris, Kharmor, and even Demierra when I wasn't working under Lind or on my own projects. The Dracose had warmed up to me, if only just enough to actively seek out beating my face in with her spell focus gauntlets. The technical name for a Fury’s gauntlets is the Hands of Fury’s Wrath, but everyone just shortens it to Fury Fists.
In those three months, one of the first things I did after I got comfortable with my new arm was put Nennel back together. My sister wasn’t the same after that fight. Nel avoided everyone, including Ferris and I. She spent all day sitting in her bed reading one book or another. She barely even ate and almost never spoke. When she did speak to me, it was to snap because I was pushing her to do something healthy.
If I was worried, then Ferris was disturbed. Obviously, he wanted to help Nennel somehow but was scared of her wrath. He was almost always distracted and spent much of his time at his temple. Ferris had delved headfirst into his newfound faith.
I had also paid Skitter with some quality assorted goods to keep me informed on anything he thought could be related to either the Razor Wing gang or the Vartex corporation. That investment was well worth the price. In the past three months, there had been more suspicious deaths of Vartex agents tied to Operation Missing Sock. Two cropo-rats had died from Lethal Synaptic Feedback. One of them died in her apartment, and the other was at a dive bar when he was killed at his full-dive station. Another cropo-rat was shot in the street by a masked Elf. And still, two more Vartex employees had simply vanished.
The hacker also sent me some disturbing information about the Razor Wing gang. They not only kept peddling the poisoned Zyzivane, but there were rumors they had begun kidnapping people off the street to test tweaked variants of the drug. I checked with Bit, Byte, and Gig and they confirmed that the same rumors had been passing through the slums.
I should also mention that my home life had taken a drastic turn with the removal of my medication. I might have had a few manic episodes a week that had me looking like some mad Mystgenist making a Prometheus Monster, screaming “ITS ALIVE!” every time I finished building a piece of gear. However, everyone else in the house said that I was difficult to handle. I honestly didn’t notice anything strange, but everyone had made at least a few comments about me flying into rages at failed projects, breaking down sobbing over what they called “nothing”, and what they said were daily manic fits. I’ll admit to throwing failed projects at a trashcan with… we’ll call it fervor. I also may have broken down into tears because of particularly emotional moments in books, games, and holo-vid movies and shows. I also may have taken to random cleaning campaigns that took me into people’s rooms without permission. But at the time, every action felt justified.
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Where I pick the story back up, I was studying the notes on the gang for the dozenth time. That day, I was going to take action against the Razor Wings. That night was the gang’s initiation trial. I would have to act with or without Nennel. In the previous days, I had set up backup plans and contingencies with Ferris and Kharmor and reviewed everything with Navor. I hadn’t asked Demierra, Zynna, or Ozwald to take part in this operation, in part because this had become a personal project, in part because I didn’t know just how much I could trust them (Ozwald especially), and partly because I didn’t want to risk any more lives than was strictly necessary.
I closed the window on my therra with a flick of my hand and stood from my desk to leave the room. With a spontaneous thought, I redirected my route to the bathroom. I scrutinized my appearance in the mirror, leaning in close.
I wore a ratty pair of jeans with threadbare patches and a black T-shirt displaying a distorted smiley face caught mid-motion as it swallowed colorful pills. I also wore the latest version of my Pacer Shoes, which had some strategic machine grease stains. Over the T-shirt, I wore a scuffed leather jacket with a hole in the left elbow. At my waist, I wore a utility belt with a large pouch at my back.
My eyes met my face and locked onto my horns. I still hadn’t gotten used to their look, even if I had adapted to the additional weight and new balance. I gave one horn a disdainful flick before getting back to the inspection. With a quick shrug, I sloughed off the jacket to fall to the floor behind me.
I looked down at my new right arm contemplatively. The limb appeared seamless and formed from dark metal. It flexed and shifted like an organic arm and had the same degree of tactile sensitivity as my original limb. But with a simple thought, it could change shape.
I willed my arm to change into tactical mode. Within seconds, the densely compacted nano-material expanded. Claws grew from my fingertips, and layered plates developed up and down the limb in an intimidating design. I reached into the large pouch at my back and pulled out a component. I pressed a long, flat, rectangular device against the back of my cybernetic hand. The material of the hand shifted to integrate the device. As soon as my hand subsumed the box, spikes extended from my knuckles. With a flex of my hand, the spikes extended out further. With a slight gesture of my fingers, those spikes bloomed to reveal the true function of my Shock Bites. Two more small hand motions and the bites closed and retracted back to the smaller extension length. The Shock Bites were one thing I had not changed, but only one of few.
I systematically pulled out each component device that I had designed to function with my arm and set them in a neat line along the bathroom counter. Two different shoulder pieces with mounted iron-glass vials, an arm-mounted Squid Hook 2.0, an arm-mounted launch system, a collapsed tech shield, a compact myst-fuel welder, a chem/gas projector, my new Mimic Facade module, and a mental command control module. Each piece was carefully designed to integrate with my new arm. While I had yet to give my new arm an edgy name, I called the pieces of equipment Loklinks. Each Loklink was built to function and activate with simple mental commands. Some, like the shield, only had commands like ‘expand’ and ‘retract’. Other Loklinks, like the chem/gas projector, had standard settings to allow for simple commands like ‘activate’ but could have additional variables inputted to alter the results.
Methodically, I mounted and integrated piece after piece. The collapsed tech shield took up most of my forearm. Next, I mounted the extraction pauldron and triggered the empty vials to slide into the device and lock closed. Following that integration, I attached the mental control module in the outer side of my upper arm, the small box sinking into the limb completely. Next, I mounted my new Squid Hook 2.0 to the outside edge of my forearm. Lastly, I attached my new compact Mimic Facade module onto the back of my hand, only mounting to the surface.
Quickly, I packed away everything else that I did not attach back into my hip pouch. I stepped from the bathroom and left my room, only stopping to pick up my new mask. I stepped into the common area to find Kharmor, Ferris, and Nel standing around a side-by-side pair of folding tables covered in a crisply organized layout of gear. They all turned to look at me, each of them with an expression just as intense and hard as the one I wore.
I marched forward to stand in front of Nennel. “I’m happy to see that you’re up and moving, Nel. But are you ready for what needs to be done?”
In answer, she picked up a pistol and slammed a magazine into place. “I’ll do what it takes to get answers.”
“Even if it takes spilling blood?” I asked.
“I’ll spill as much blood as necessary. I’ll spill gallons, if that’s what it takes to know they won’t hurt anyone else.”
“What changed Nennel? Just yesterday, you hid from the world and escaped into books.”
Nennel looked me in the eye without saying a word for a long moment. She turned away to set down the sidearm on the table before turning back to me. “It was Ferris and Master Navor. He told me this morning what you were going to do and said that I should join. I may have snapped at him… Okay, screamed at him… and threw a book or two in his face… Okay, I might’ve thrown several books at his face. The Master heard the screaming and talked me down. Then she put things in perspective.”
“The whole ‘when ashes fall, Heroes rise’ thing?”
“Yeah. We had a long talk, and she told me I couldn’t just live in fear. She convinced me I had to face the fear and fight. You know, for such a crude woman, she can be shockingly poetic and eloquent.”
“It’s honestly kinda scary that a woman who seems to spend half of her time drinking whiskey and reading trashy romance novels can be that well-spoken.” I said before stepping past her to the table. “How did everything turn out Khar’?” I asked as I eyed over the array of tools and weapons.
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“Yeah. Most of it was it was pretty simple. I was happy to put my mechanical and alchemical skills to the test. I filled all the Capshells with what you asked. With your help, I whipped up special ammo for Fer’, Nel, and myself. I also managed to coble together a few spare pieces that I thought might of use. But that sword… Iver, you’re insane. That design was some serious mad mystgenist work.”
I wore a manic smile as I picked what I was hoping to be my new main melee weapon. It was a single-handed sword, stretching almost four feet. I designed the weapon's shape to be completely unique from tip to pommel. The hilt was wrapped in a variation of rein-synth fabric to wick moisture and ended with a spike-tipped pommel. The guard had four limbs, two horizontal like a classic guard, and two angled to shape a V around the base of the blade. That blade was segmented into eight arrow-tip-shaped parts with a single seam down the blade's center. The actual tip of the blade was a much larger arrow-tip shape with sharper angles. I based the design of the weapon on the form and function of the Serpent Sword weapon type, but this was much more complex. I called this strange-looking weapon the Devil’s Tail.
I turned the blade from front to back three times as I inspected each part of Devil’s Tail. “You’re welcome to call me mad if you want, but Lind has taught me so much that my perspective of mystech design was turned on its head, burned down, and built back up with new fundamentals.” I gathered the sheath designed for my new weapon, mounted it to my belt, and sealed Devil’s Tail inside. “The work looks good, though. I’m glad the pieces I gave you worked out. And thanks for all the help these past few weeks. I’ve had a lot of projects I felt had to be done by today. You’ve been a massive help, Khar’.”
Kharmor put an affirming hand on my shoulder before picking up an infusion dagger he had made with my designs. The Half-Dwarf picked up the blade by the tip and flicked it into the air to tumble end over end. He snatched the dagger out of the air by the hilt with deft ease. “It’s not a big deal, bud. You were willing to share your designs without a second thought. You could’ve sold any one of them for a weighty purse. Besides,” He sheathed the blade in his hand at his hip. “It was good practice.”
We loaded up with everything we thought we would need while still keeping it easily hidden. To help hide as much of our gear as possible, I made Ferris and Kharmor their own lesser Mimic Facades, just like the one I had made Nennel after she was first attacked. Just like Nennel, I also made them dual-element Personal Sanctum Guards.
Everyone who was coming with me and even I wore compact armor under what looked like standard street clothes. After everyone prepped and holstered their weapons, I double-checked everyone’s armor. Ferris double-checked my armor after I was done with everyone else’s. When we were all ready, we activated the Mimic Facades.
Nennel turned into a normal-looking girl with brown hair, dressed in jeans and a navy blue T-shirt with an abstract purple design. Ferris looked as he always did with black pants and a moss-colored tank-top marked with a black skull. Kharmor looked like Kharmor but dressed in brown cargo pants and a black shirt with a blue bear's face.
We climbed the stairs, one after another, with dedicated steps. We marched through the house, only splitting apart when we came to the kitchen's entry. I stepped into the dining space with Nennel behind me while the others passed through the front door. Waiting in the kitchen was everyone not coming with me on this quest.
Navor sat at the table across from Demierra. The master was sipping at a glass of whiskey while reading a trashy romance novel. The Dracose Fury was digging into not one but three plates of food. Ozwald sat beside Demierra, toying around with his therra through simple hand gestures. Zynna stood at the stove, cooking a pot of what smelled like spicy curry.
Navor set down her book and glass on the table to look at both me and Nennel in turn. “You ready for what you’re about to do?”
“Yes.” I spoke in a hard tone.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Nennel said simultaneously, with a voice almost as hard as my own, but I could hear a note of fear in her words.
Navor stood and walked out with us, lighting a cigarette as soon as she was clear of the front door. She took a long draw before letting out a thin jet of smoke between pursed lips. “Don’t forget, regardless of what happens, even if you don’t get the info you want, you need to come back as whole as possible. No more chopping of body parts.” She locked eyes with me. “Am I heard?” Her tone was stern.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I answered, embarrassed, as I rubbed the back of my head and looked at the ground.
“Good. Also, remember, when ashes fall…” Navor started, trailing off for me to finish the line.
“Heroes rise. I know, Ma’am. I won’t hesitate.”
“And?” Navor pressed.
I dropped my head in shame and closed my eyes. “And I will think my actions through before causing another disaster.”
“Good. You’re already labeled as a terrorist, and we don’t need any more heat coming down on anyone in the party for being seen with you. Now, put on that illusion thing of yours. We don’t want anyone recognizing you.”
Without another word, I mounted my new mask and triggered my mimic facade. Within seconds, I was no longer a Darkling with a strange skin pattern. I appeared as a Star Elf. My skin was lavender. My eyes had silver irises and pale green sclera. My hair was short and spiky, with a color matching my sclera. The clothes on my person still appeared the same, aside from my utility belt, which looked like a standard belt.
While my physical appearance had completely changed, I still wore a metal mask that covered the lower half of my face to act as an extra level of obfuscation. The mask was angular in design, made from an interlocked series of vertical plates with breathing holes installed at the front of the mask and along the bottom edge. These vents passed air through a filtration system to protect me from any toxic gas. I also treated the metal to be acid resistant so I would not have a repeat of my mask melting like when we were in the Under-city.
Nennel, Ferris, and Kharmor were all waiting for me beside the street where a familiar AV cab waited. We all climbed in, and I gave one last look over my shoulder at Navor before the cab door slid shut. The Master continued to puff on her cigarette as she gave me a two-finger solute.
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The tension in the cab was so strong that you could have played it like a string instrument to the tune of a dirge. It did feel like if any song was going to be played during this trip, it would be a mournful melody foreshadowing our untimely demise.
We all fidgeted in some way to control each of our own nervous energy. Ferris was reviewing his collection of spell coins he had talked his Reaper Master into making for him. Kharmor was double-checking his weapons, gear, and ammo to make sure they were all in functioning order. Nennel was nervously rubbing her cheek where her scar would be, with the side of her finger while clearly deep in worried thought. Meanwhile, I was reviewing the information on my therra node yet again.
Kharmor was the first to break the silence. “What should we expect going in?” he asked.
I flicked my therra node window closed before turning to everyone in the back seat. “We are going to a dive bar known as the Robins Red Roost. We are meeting a Human ganger who goes by Valletta. But we don’t walk up to her as soon as we spot her. We have to order a Blood Wing cocktail from the bartender. That is the code phrase to let them know we are there for the trials. Valletta will approach us and take us to dive pods in the back room. After that is when things get difficult.”
“What do you mean?” Nel asked.
I scratched at a horn with a single finger as I explained. “Well, they change the trials every time. They’re always done in full-dive, setting us into simulated scenarios. But the challenges and goals always vary, while keeping the same general themes. First, we have to display complete loyalty to the gang. So no talking to Regs, no backstabbing a gang member, no giving away gang resources without both permission from a higher ranked ganger and getting paid for it in some way that would benefit the gang. Next, you need to be ruthless toward anyone outside of the gang. If they tell you to break into somewhere and steal something, you do it. If they tell you to break someone’s knees, you do it. If you are ordered to kill someone, you do it without questioning. Those are the big things you need to keep in mind. In short, be a villain. Be the worst kind of bad guy you can imagine, and remember that none of it is real.”
“I’m really not going to like this.” Ferris said in a tired and disgusted voice.
“Are any of us going to enjoy this?” Kharmor asked sarcastically. “Ferris may try to be a badass, but he’s a total softy.”
“Hey!” Ferris complained, but Kharmor continued.
“Nennel can’t stand seeing anyone in pain, even if she does have an attitude that could scare off children and the elderly.”
“Rude.” Nennel replied as she defensively folded her arms over her chest and pouted.
I leaned forward to give the Half-Dwarf a curious look, a single brow raised. “And what about me?”
“Ives’, you’re the worst of all in this situation. You act on impulse, jumping into bad situations, making them worse while trying to fix them, then proceed to beat yourself up when things are over. You are one hundred percent the kind of guy that would help an old lady cross a busy road or feed random stray animals.”
I opened my mouth to deny his comment until I realized he was completely right. So I closed my mouth and shot him an annoyed look.
“Oh yeah? And what about you, mister I-know-everyone-so-well?” Ferris accused.
Kharmor gave a slight shrug and said, “I’ll do what needs to be done. I’ll feel bad about it later, but in the moment, I’ll do what needs doing to get me where I need to be.”
It was then that Teefa spoke up from the driver's seat. “Listen up, kids. This dreck you’re about to step into is serious trouble. It might not be ‘being chased by murderous Regulators’ bad. But I learned all too good that you all are the kind of trouble magnets that I should spend as little time around as I can. That means that I’m not swooping in to save your butts from a hot zone. I will only pick you up when the coast is clear.”
Now, that was a kink in the plan. I was planning on Teefa pulling us from the fire if things went sideways. I would need to compensate for this development in almost all of my plans I had set in place for this mission and every mission moving forward.
I lowered my head and rested my forearms on my knees as I replied with a dejected, “Right.”
“By the way, kid. What’s with the mask? I know you’re Iver. Terra informed me that you would be moving in disguise from here on. So why wear a mask when no one will recognize you in the first place?”
“I, uh…” I stammered before trailing off. I wanted to say, ‘It’s a disguise for my disguise’, but that sounded moronic. I needed to find a response that wouldn’t sound so stupid. It took a few moments, but I collected my thoughts and gave my answer. “Yes, wearing an illusion would normally be enough. But the mask plays two factors. First, it is an extra layer to hiding who I am. If things go wrong, they will be looking for a Star Elf and not even know what face to look for. If my illusion fails and I’m revealed, I am still somewhat disguised. Second,” I pointed to the vents in my mask. “I installed filters into the mask to protect against poisonous gas.
“You might think that you’re being clever, but if you ask you, you’re only muddying the waters.” was all that Teefa said in response.
The rest of the ride was made in heavy silence. An hour after we started the trip, the AV started its descent. As I felt the dropping altitude, my stomach clenched, my heart rate spiked, and breathing became difficult. I was about to step into a very dangerous situation and my greatest protection would be maintaining my cover as a fledgling ganger.