At first, I spent some of my day of rest just staring at the wall opposite my mattress. Taking stock took a backseat to my navel-gazing. By the fifth time my eyes scoured the wall, I had memorized all the small oddities in grooves and discoloration amongst the metal plates… but had also come to a realization.
My life was due to become more complicated in short order. Unavoidable.
The cryptic message from Boss had me eager for more details - up until the point that he delivered them. Now I wasn’t sure what to think - which was unlike me. I twirled the empty nutrition cannister between my fingers and I ran my brain over the contract once more.
Simple on the face of it. Someone with sticky fingers had taken something he shouldn’t have. Said victim was paying handsomely for the recovery and implied eradication of the thief. Even before I hit the end of the message, I was wondering why they didn’t involve law enforcement or the League if they knew the location of the target.
Devil was in the details. The item that had been stolen was some kind of encrypted drive with League of Heroes information on it. Didn’t specify what kind of data, or that the ones footing the bill was the League… but even a casual connection was enough to have me on the back foot.
Best not to think about the bigger picture. I was paid for the simple process of completing the contract as asked. With a sigh, I shook my head out. Fair to say that I was still reeling from the woman next door. Had me second-guessing my work. But no. This would be something simple for me to dart in and out, get a decent pay and continue on.
Location was a good distance counter-clockwise around the city, in one of the warehouse districts. I’d need to wait until dusk tomorrow to set off and get there by nightfall. Or…
I flexed out my hand and observed it. Did I need the extra rest? Muscles were still stiff and aching as I recovered from the flechette injuries. Boss might cut me off if I turned up to the target on a day they weren’t there. Shouldn’t bite the hand that… provides the necessary tech for me to live. Not that I could bite.
A whirr from my filters as I sighed. I would be patient. It was best to take a calm approach. My eyes went over to the stacked crates. Might be time to see what fun I could have.
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My decrepit excuse for a car slowly ground to a halt. Lights went off, and I stepped out. The air was cool tonight and there was the occasional breeze that rustled through the sparse trees dotted every twenty-five feet along the sidewalk. Made the Warehouse District 4 look like less of an industrial hellscape.
That was the intention, anyway.
Waiting the whole day and a half to get started on this mission had been almost torture, but I couldn’t allow boredom to dictate how I approached my work. Roxy had kept to her word, and we hadn’t crossed paths. Not that such a thing was likely when I spent all my time inside my house rearranging my ammunition storage and repairing my clothing.
Rushing into things was dangerous, so I had chosen to stay the course and work things out as designed. Over-thought about what I might need for the venture, but had decided to travel light.
Only one target, after all. As much as the drum mag was a mainstay of my twilight activities, any solo job like this that needed even half that capacity would be a losing battle from the outset. I left it in the car, just in case Boss came in with an updated itinerary at the last minute. Better it here than back at home.
Instead, two ten-mags. One with High Explosive Slugs. The other with Tazer shells. Not only would they be useful if there were any unexpected non-targets on location, but there may be robotics or electronics that needed disabling.
I avoided the street lights as I skirted around the next building to find the one I would find my target in. Pretty nondescript, even if seen during the light of the day. In the darkness, it looked abandoned. Around the side and I found that the bottom of the fire escape stairway had been obscured by a dumpster and discarded boxes.
The second step gave a warning of a creak before I paused. Would have to take this slower than anticipated. While my boots were designed to be as silent as possible, I was a substantial amount of weight - both due to my height, plus my augments.
Nevertheless, I ascended. Gradually, ensuring not to let the metal beams give away my presence. Three doors at various points up the gray brick wall. Different workshop or office layers, I assumed. I ignored them and rose to the pinnacle. The roof.
Up here, the breeze was a lot cooler, unrestrained by most of the other buildings in the area. I turned my eyes further toward the outskirts of the city, the wasteland barely visible under the light of the greater moon. Behind me, the city grew large and expansive. Tall buildings dotted with the lights of illuminated windows. Billboards and signs in their neon glow. Never cared for it. Still, it was a better place for a normal person to live than the border to the wastes.
I furrowed my brow and shook the thoughts of the insufferable hero from my head. It had no bearing on tonight. The data drive I was recovering might as well be from somewhere else for as good as speculating on the contents would take me. Perhaps it wasn’t the League plying Boss with the cash for the job. Could be someone else who wants the data for themselves.
My eyes went over to the rooftop doorway that led back inside the top of the warehouse. Target was staying in the top floor offices. Armed, and there would most likely be some security measures. Brought my small toolkit for this one, taking up the space on my belt where my drum would usually sit.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Nothing too fancy. Something for cutting wires, drilling locks, and different forms of adhesive. Useful for when I couldn’t kick my way through every door, in case I blew myself up, or I let the target know I was on my way.
In saying that…
I stopped before the metal door. The small awning over it did little to protect it from the elements, and the meager fluorescent light was barely clinging on to life. Still, it did help me with one thing. I kneeled down to observe the tripwire running just before the door. Ran through a small hole in the wall to whatever mechanism that it was ready and willing to set off.
Couldn’t risk finding out if releasing the tension would be safe or not. Already my toolkit was in hand. Drill-pins out, one near each side of the wire. Clamps at their heads containing the wire. Not exactly silent, as the pins screwed down into the stone tiles of the roof - but once in they held the tension in place, they allowed me to snip the middle of the wire. It dropped slack. The pins held. I was safe to proceed.
The handle moved silently in the grip of my left hand, and the door opened inward. There wasn’t a second trap or device, so I was probably dealing with an amateur. Of course, few would expect someone half proficient to waltz into a random warehouse at night. A glance at the tripwire’s connection told me that releasing the tension would have set it off, just the same as increasing the tension. Whether it was an alarm or something worse wasn’t really here or there - I didn’t have X-ray vision.
Down the set of stairs, and then I was on the upper floor of the warehouse. Not much different from what you’d expect from an office-block, really. Prefab looking walls in a drab off-white. A deep blue edging to the panels. Gray speckled carpet. Depressing in a way I didn’t quite understand. Something from my past? Or was I just empathetic to the plight of those who toiled away their life for the crumbs of the fat cats who…
I stretched out my neck. Probably the latter. The disadvantage I had here was in not knowing the layout that well. If I made him jumpy before I could introduce him to my shotgun, then he might have an easy escape. Didn’t have the resources to block off the known exits - not without alerting him. Usually not a problem, but I felt a little on edge. Something I couldn't place, still.
A doorway at this side of the corridor, and then one further down near the metal staircase that descended to the floor below. I decided against the closest doorway. I’d much rather chase the rat up to the roof than further into the bowels of the warehouse. Kept my eyes along the floor and wall surfaces in case there were any other traps.
Gave the door a once-over, and that seemed clear too. Shotgun already primed with a Tazer, which would be enough to do the job without needing to switch to the HE Slugs. A shame to bring them along for the ride to sit idle, but sometimes that was just how it went.
I pushed the door open, a soft click sent out into whatever dull hell lay before me. Chest high walls separating desks with computers. Cubicles for the office workers. More interesting than this drab maze of corporate imprisonment was the glow of light from further down. An office, properly walled off from the rest of the worker spaces. That door was slightly ajar, and there was the murmur of a voice coming from within.
Regulating my breathing, I moved against the wall and walked carefully toward the room. Another tripwire. Easily stepped over, but I probably wouldn’t have seen it if my goggles weren’t tinted an odd hue. My footwork became even more cautious as I reached the outer wall of this side office. The sound was clearly my target talking… so I paused.
“…how it is. Second buyer dipped. Can’t trust goblinoids for shit… no, that’s not racist that’s… fine… alright, alright, send over the details.”
The gaps in the conversation signaled he was on a call with someone, rather than there being more people in the room with him. I kept silent - no use letting the other person know what happened to him by being over-eager to share my ammunition.
“…yeah, I got it. Fifth on Heron… that’s what I said. Yeah… okay, well, I gotta check out my cameras - they’re having trouble. Of course I’m safe… alright, talk soon.”
A few moments of silence other than the target murmuring a few choice curse words, and he didn’t then start yapping to someone in the room. Instead, muffled clicks and the shuffle of a mouse. It wasn’t the first time I had been thankful I had a camera jammer built into me. Technology these days allowed recording devices to be small enough to be almost invisible to the distracted eye.
Target distracted and calm. I was satisfied enough. It was time.
Three short steps, and the doorway was mine. Arm led me in as he swiveled on the office chair. Fumbled for something, but it was too late.
With a blast, his body lit up with arcing blue energy. He convulsed and slipped to the floor, dropping the hastily grabbed pistol. Something energy based rather than conventional. Shoddily made, as well. I stepped over and crushed it beneath my boot. Did the same to the squirming man, the crack of his neck drawing a silent curtain over the room. Save for the hum of his computer, at least.
I wasn’t a detective, so the normal questions didn’t really matter. Who he was, what he was up to, where he intended to sell the drive of whatever information. Asset retrieval wasn’t really one of my specialities, but once the empty shell had hit the floor, it was only a matter of looking around.
Empty drawers. Shelves of mundane folders and ornaments were on the walls. Whatever the usual occupant had left around or needed for their work. Around the back of the computer - an external drive that had been plugged in. He was accessing the info already. Perhaps perusing what he was intending to sell off.
I wasn’t paid to read it, so I didn’t. Putting your nose in places it didn’t belong just meant more shit to wade through. I’d had enough of that as of late.
Ejected it safely to maintain data integrity. Rather nondescript. Could be for anything - there wasn’t a League of Heroes logo embossed on it, or anything so cliche. Even the small panel that probably held manufacturer specs or a serial number had been scrubbed blank. An oddity, but something I knew little enough about to ponder over further. It went into a side satchel on my belt.
And then I left.
Part of me expected Rockslide to show up, or even a different super who had some skin in the game. Boss tended to vet the contracts pretty well and he wouldn’t allow me to be set up as a scapegoat. Although, I supposed I didn’t know that for sure - but didn’t see what was in it for him.
All things told, I assumed I was a good money-maker.
Now that it had been acquired, it was a simple matter of dropping the drive off in a designated mailbox, letting Boss know, and then I could drive home. Job done. Simple. Straightforward.
But if that was the case… why did I have a bad feeling in the back of my mind? More than a feeling, the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. Some manner of sense long developed during my work. Not so straightforward, after all.
I stopped in the middle of the offices. Slowly removed the Tazer mag to replace it with the HE Slug one. My eyes went over to the side as I racked the shotgun mentally, placing the new type of shell in the chamber as the unused Tazer cartridge bounced across the thin carpet.
A pair of glowing yellow eyes sunk back behind one of the divider walls at the far end of the room.