“Shit.”
The portal winked out behind Nestra as she took her blade out. Someone had been there. She looked around the empty factory. No one in sight. No sounds. Only her panicked breaths.
Near her bag, someone had placed a small chair with a rudimentary screen. A camera aimed at the portal entrance now only showed her. She approached the screen, curious.
The screen was glitching hard. It only showed panicked lozenges and streams of light where she was supposed to be, as if her very existence could not be captured. For a moment. she watched the kaleidoscope of strange shapes before placing her mask back on. As expected, her human face showed normally.
That could be useful.
There was another envelope on the chair. She opened it.
“Well done! Quest reward: grew a little stronger.
Next quest: grow even stronger!
Bring your gun.”
Another set of coordinates followed. Nestra could guess where this was going and she didn’t mind, although she hoped she would get more answers. The little game was getting tiring. She wasn’t six.
“Hey, any chance you could show up?”
No response.
“Come on. I know you’re out there somewhere. Can we just have a chat like responsible adults? I… I want to know what I am. And you must know what I am. Please? I want to know if I’m not alone.”
Silence.
“No? Ugh. Nevermind then.”
Nestra sighed and packed up. Her suit of armor was a little damaged and would need patching up where the acid had touched the outer layers. Otherwise, everything seemed fine. She had a look at the two mana stones. It was a good haul for a first assault. The worst ones went for six hundred credits and the other was D-class so probably around two grands depending on supply and demand. That was the lowest end for D-class portals. Most made ten to fifteen but she wouldn't complain. Now, she only needed to find a way to sell them as she had no use for them herself, at least not now. Mana stones were a fantastically efficient source of clean energy, not to mention only they could charge up advanced mana tools. It would be of no use to her so long as she couldn’t afford even the most basic of items.
Nestra considered taking the screen with her but she reasoned that the person helping her probably wanted it back. With her mask in place, she just walked back to her car, fully aware that the bag felt just a little lighter on her shoulders.
Nestra checked her phone before she drove away. There was a message from Mazingwe of all people.
“Nestra. It pains me that you would not come to see me before leaving. I acknowledge that the circumstances were difficult, however I believe we need not part on such a tragic note. In fact, we need not part at all if you need a GP. Come and see me sometimes. On another note, I received an unofficial answer as to why your request to be near portals was consistently refused. Although they do produce mana, portals also emit powerful radiation of an unknown nature called, for lack of a better word, zeta radiation. Prolonged exposure kills baselines more surely than gamma rays do. Even users are advised not to linger. I would recommend pursuing alternate ways of satisfying your mana cravings.
Yours in friendship.
Dr Mazingwe.”
“Huh.”
***
Nestra was dreaming.
The core chamber stood as empty as before but she knew there were two spots to check. Her steps first led her to the rotating planetoid room, the small spheres hovering over the deep blue puddle. Two others had activated though they remained fairly weak. The first tasted of strength, of domination. It was the push of a hand, the grab of a collar, breaking free, crushing. The second was taste, smell, a movement at the edge of one’s vision. It spoke of attention and careful listening. It spoke of vigilance. She liked both but they were still budding. Weak.
Her steps next led her to the armor corridor. A new shield had activated, this one made of glass covered in a translucent substance she recognized as acid. It had the right smell.
She closed her eyes, satisfied with her progress.
***
Electricity arced between Nestra’s fingers. It was gray and ominous, seemingly absorbing the surrounding light. Then, she put on her mask and tried again. She could feel the mana react and pushed harder, getting a single arc that tickled her index. She waved her hand around out of habit.
Needed to try something else.
She wasn’t stupid enough to test what she guessed was poison resistance. There was, however, the armor, and she knew what it implied.
Nestra moved downstairs to a kitchen to grab the chef knife. It was a nice knife. It was also completely unneeded since she had a cooking robot like most people but she still did like to try new recipes on her own. It was sharp. Very sharp. She placed the tip against the skin of her arm and pushed gently. Pearling blood stopped her. It… didn’t feel different.
She tore off her mask and tried again. Her gray skin resisted though there was a little pain. She pushed harder.
The blade bent.
She stopped immediately. Chef knives were expensive.
“Ok. Ok. That’s good.”
Her armor protected her for now but natural resilience was definitely what made raiders survive the incredible amounts of punishment monsters could dish out. Interestingly, there was no wound when she put the mask back on. Her scars were still there.
Idly, Nestra wondered what would happen if she just stayed like that for ten years. Would her human self become increasingly older while the gray version stayed the same? Idle thoughts for now. Maybe her mysterious benefactor would have better answers.
She was stalling.
With a sigh, Nestra picked up her visor and found Gorge’s contact information. No matter how she looked at it, he was her best bet.
The fact he knew her presented a major security risk. Ideally, she would find a buyer anonymously then use a dead drop. The problem was that she didn’t know of a way to find them safely. The net was filled with bait websites set up by TPD’s AIs for suckers trying to dodge taxes thinking they were smart. If Nestra got caught trying to sell mana stones, a fine would be the least of her worries.
Gorge was safer. He was a known entity. He was an absolute rabid asshole but he was an asshole with a code, of that she was sure. It would have to be enough.
Sighing, she called him. It took maybe four rings for him to pick up.
“Are you butt dialing me now, Palladian?”
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“Hope I’m not disturbing your beauty sleep. Look, I got two things to ask. First, can I get bullets for your revolver?”
“Sure. Four hundred a pop.”
“You’re fucking joking,” she blurted.
“Nope.”
“The fuck is it made with? Crushed mana stones?”
“Yes.”
Nestra swallowed her saliva.
“You’re not joking.”
“Look, there is a reason I got through corpo-grade combat augs. Those bullets? They’re hand crafted with enchanted material. You want some? You pay the price but I assure you, they’ll pierce through anything.”
“Anything?”
“Don’t try them on high gleams, you psycho bitch. You won’t even get to pull the trigger. Tell you what, buy the full complement of four and I’ll shave off a hundred. Fifteen hundred. A bargain.”
“Yeah thanks, that's just half of my monthly salary.”
“Safety has its price.”
“And uh, another question. Do you… also buy stuff? Like… raw material?”
Nestra could hear Gorge breathing on the other side as she bit her lip. Riel, that was so fucking awkward. She really wasn’t cut for the mafia life.
“You coming to the service?” Gorge finally asked.
“Yeah.”
“See you there, then.”
Right. That was clear enough. Nestra sighed and went to dress herself. The weather was nice today, with early summer warmth. Meeting Kim meant she had to dress the part. A strategic choice had to be made between a long dark top over jeans which was pretty much the female cop uniform, or a more civilian choice. It was a mask over her mask, which was funny in a weird sort of way. She decided to pick the civilian one because she had a nice dress gifted by Aunt Claire, some low gleam designer stuff. That would set her on an equal social footing with Kim while the cop persona placed her in the same hierarchy, though much lower. No matter what, she needed makeup.
Thus armed, and after taking her funeral suit with her, she was ready to go.
***
Kim was already there when Nestra showed up. The place she’d selected was a Sichuan food restaurant, a weird one a little off grid and that forwent advertisement. Dark limos dropped suits on and off as she went in, their eyes following her in her light blue dress. A waiter guided her to a decorated private room. Kim stood up when she arrived, an unexpected show of respect. Contrary to Nestra’s expectations, Kim wore an embroidered gold dress and sunglasses, looking more like an affluent businesswoman on her day off than a rat squad mook. She even nodded at Nestra’s garments.
“Good. Your mind is more flexible than I feared. This is a good pick.”
“Good day. So, shall I call you Kim sunbae?”
“And to you too. Just Kim will do when we’re in private. Sunbae is fine in any other setting. I appreciate you making the effort, by the way. Your file let me believe that our current meeting might be more… adversarial. Please, come and sit.”
A robot dropped two bowls of rice and a variety of reddish dishes, including grilled bullfrog legs in pepper that emitted a small trace of mana.
“Monster meat?” Nestra asked.
“Surprised? This is a government restaurant. Sometimes, we get scraps off of the gleams’ tables. It also gives us some privacy, which we will need. Eat while it’s hot.”
“Right to business?”
Kim didn’t immediately reply. Instead, she picked a small dark square from a fancy handbag, placing it on her napkin. Nestra obliged and tried the monster dish. It tasted… fine. Pretty good. Not exactly filling.
Her thoughts wandered while Kim’s eyes glazed over, a sign she was interfacing with something. Her true teeth were black and serrated which implied a carnivorous diet… but she’d never eaten something without her mask and didn’t feel particularly hungry. Just, never truly sated. Perhaps she ought to figure out what her diet was.
Please don’t let it be anthropophagy.
“Right. We are set. This is a jammer, just as a precaution. I will not use small talk because, let me be frank, your psychological profile shows it would be a waste of time.”
“Well,” Nestra replied, somewhat miffed, “I can appreciate it as a show of respect.”
“But you would be wary of me buttering you up.”
Kim sustained Nestra’s glare.
“What did the profile tell you besides that?”
“That you are an opinionated, persistent woman with strong principles and an instinctive distrust of those who have social power over you. That you have low interpersonal relationship skills due to emotional detachment leading to low cognitive empathy. You are, however, not cruel or mocking and you show respect to others provided they return it. Based off that, I am willing to be perfectly honest with you and I expect the same in return.”
“Most people who say they’re ‘perfectly frank’ use that cover to justify being assholes.”
“I did not drag you here to be an asshole to you. That would be woefully unproductive.”
“Riel. Thanks. I’m relieved.”
“I dragged you here because someone, or a group of someones, have fucked the TPD and the mayor’s office so incredibly hard the council voted unanimously to go after them. As one of the aforementioned fucked people, you may have an interest in seeing that justice be done.”
“What? Ok, you’re sending conflicting messages here. Someone from your office told me to shut the fuck up in my incident report.”
“The Internal Affairs’ first response has been and will always be to cover their own asses, especially when it exhibits the purple bruise of someone else’s boot. That doesn’t mean that we are happy about the whole situation.”
“Not going to bow to the corpo overlords?”
“Hilarious, Miss Palladian. Contrary to what you seem to expect, we do our best to live in harmony with the various corporations and the guilds that form symbiotic relations with them, for the good of all mankind.”
“Uhu?”
Kim smiled in the way a teacher would smile when dealing with a very slow child whose imbecility was slowing down the class. Not that Nestra was sore or anything.
“We need to give strong incentives to powerful raiders so they keep clearing portals instead of carving kingdoms like African warlords. That implies a certain amount of leeway, like the ability to carve a corporate kingdom so they can play kings without the city turning into a fucking warzone. Does that make sense, Miss Palladian?”
“Consider me schooled. Why are you telling me that?”
“I am telling you this because someone went and kicked the bullet ant hill. Now we have to retaliate or everyone else will get ‘ideas’ and we don’t want to bother Shinran with disciplining duties.”
Nestra frowned while Kim helped herself to some tea.
“I thought Shinran was a healer?”
“Shinran is A-class. It doesn’t matter what he was originally. Any A-class raider can and will take on a guild single-handedly. And you don’t want to bother him.”
Nestra remembered Shinran the one time they’d met. He was a bald Japanese man with strange, light blue eyes, and a pleasant smile. She didn’t figure him to be a violent person at all. He’d been very calm and empathetic when he’d told Nestra she was just as intended without a core. He was so kind she’d even felt a little better.
“You. Do. Not. Want. To. Bother. Shinran.”
“Alright. So. Retaliation?”
“You are wondering where you come in.”
“That’s what I implied, yes.”
“Have some tea. I was getting to it since it also answers one of your previous questions. The initiative to regain control of district fifteen will fall to Gidung and Hong Wang’s guild but while they are suited to fighting gleams and gangers, they are unwilling or unable to police baselines, especially baseline on baseline crime. For this, TPD will send newly formed groups of criminal investigators who will work in pairs. I am formally inviting you in.”
“What? Me?”
“Yes, you. I have a perfect partner in mind for you. Someone with a lot of experience but whose physical abilities have decreased over the years. Obviously, Gidung, sorry, I meant to say, whoever spent over fifty million credits in unmarked augs and weapons will want to control the land and the narrative. Your purpose will be to keep an ear to the ground and get me leads.”
“I’m sorry. Did you say fifty MILLION?”
Kim raised a hand. She took a bite of rice and bullfrog before continuing.
“Yes and no. Most of the corpo-grade equipment we found was low-end and defective or obsolete in many ways. Set for replacement, probably. It was still worth a fair bit. It must also have cost resources to erase all traces of origin, including in the softwares.”
“They were a little sluggish for augs,” Nestra agreed.
“And we are lucky it was the case. I didn’t want to do small talk because I did not wish to build a rapport before giving you the opportunity to fling that offer back into my face.”
“Riel. Is the file that judgemental?”
“No but my professional background leads me to always expect the worst.”
Nestra watched Kim, trying to gauge the woman as she took dainty bites of the dishes around them. Kim was not an enigma. Threshold was like one of the world cities of old, before the integration. It attracted the most talented scions of the fortress cities of the mainland like moths to the flame. Overachievers flocked to the banner, turning the mightiest raiders community in the world into a powerhouse of bureaucratic efficacy. There was a reason Nestra could live alone and safely, getting enough money for a balanced diet, fun, and a retirement plan. Threshold was a beacon of civilization in a torn world. The cradle of mankind’s future. Top achievers like Kim were both a dime a dozen and the best possible candidates at the top of the civil hierarchy, at least when it came to the municipality and some corps. Guilds were another can of worms.
So the conclusion was obvious. Kim was serious in her offer because she believed the cost of helping Nestra was worth the investment. She believed it enough to possibly put her future on the line because this was probably the hottest project of the year and if Kim fucked it up, she would finish her career managing school bus schedules.
That’s what Nestra got from the situation.
“What do you expect me to achieve on the ground? I’m not trained as a detective. I’ve never even set foot in district fifteen except for that operation.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just by being present and reporting, you are creating an environment where Gidung doesn’t have full control. You might pick up a thing or two as well while you’re there. Wait, let me rephrase. I expect your partner to pick those details, and I expect you to watch his back while he does so, because let’s face it, you do not have the negotiation skills required for the job.”
“So I’m what, a bodyguard?”
“A partner, please. Shinoda is, well, let’s just say his life expectancy will be fairly short without assistance.”
“What’s stopping the hostiles from just putting a high caliber round between my eyes?”
“They’ve already won, Palladian. They don’t want to start another game just quite yet. They need to make money from security contracts, and that’s hard to do if you kill your employers’ agents. Of course, they’ll probably try to intimidate you. You’ll probably be attacked by low criminals as well. That’s why you will be cleared for your whole gear, including your sword. Also, we will provide you with a, what was the term?”
“A ‘oh shit’ button?”
“Precisely. We will have users on standby to assist you. Go there, be visible. That’s all we ask.”
“Isn’t the place a death trap?”
“You were not in the hottest zone so it is difficult to express the bloodbath this operation turned into. The gangers were decimated. I am not exaggerating. We estimate that at least two in three died during the battle. The locals will see order return and they will be scared. I expect attempts on your lives but nothing systematic.”
“So it will be dangerous.”
“And that is why I requested you specifically. You have carte blanche on what sort of weapons you want to keep you safe. Just watch out for collateral damage.”
“Well…”
Nestra considered the question.
It was a risky job but, to be honest, she needed a cover. If she kept going around at night without an obvious source of income, maybe that would place her on a list. If she was a detective, however… They always kept weird hours.
Not to mention, she could learn a lot about who got her teammates killed. Who bought off Bard.
“Ok, I’m tempted. When would I start?”
“Next week for training, a bit longer before you actually go to fifteen. You keep the same salary. Consider this… hazard pay.”
“Fair enough.”
“And Palladian, don’t tell anyone about this meeting.”
“Yeah, of course.”
It looked like there was another path for justice, one that used the city’s resources. Nestra didn’t mind at all since her demon self had no way to find out exactly who was responsible. Afterward, well, she would see.