One Hundred and Twenty Years Later
Andvari stood huddled behind the corner of a liquor store. Stray droplets of rain pelted his Centurion-issued combat suit and drenched his cloak as he waited under the awning for his source to show.
I don’t like this, he thought, tapping his elbow with his arms crossed, he’s late.
A streak of lightning arced across the cloudy sky, painting the area in a flash of white. And then the man Andvari was waiting for arrived, standing under the awning across from him. He pulled his hood down, then gestured for Andvari to join him. Andvari glanced to his left, then his right, and walked through the heavy rain to join him.
“You’re late,” Andvari said as he stood beside the man.
“Things came up.” The man was older, in his early fifties. Grey flecked his scraggy beard and curled brown hair. He wore an old, tattered cloak over his engineer’s smock and was missing an eye. He sniffed and rubbed his beard.
“Do you have the chip?” Andvari asked, his patience worn thin.
“Aye, I have it.” He reached into the pocket of his smock and Andvari stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“No funny business,” Andvari warned as he gestured to the holster compartment of his suit. In the holster was a pistol strong enough to punch holes through steel. An experimental weapon developed by Centurion, only licensed SPECTREs were allowed to carry such weaponry. People like Andvari.
“It’s as I said,” the man hissed with a hint of nervousness. He carefully plucked a small data chip from his pocket and extended it to his left, toward Andvari.
“Don’t move.” Andvari pressed a switch on the side of his helmet. His visor lit up and a series of graphs and energy readings appeared on screen. The suit didn’t pick up any anomalies. But Andvari did. “Let me see that,” he said before snatching the stick out of the man’s hand. Rotating two of the buttons on his helmet, the visor switched to a visual where he could see a copy of the chip. It was an easy thing to miss, but a groove at the end of the chip didn’t match the one in his banks. Andvari dropped the chip and crunched it with his heel as he pulled the pistol out of his holster. The weapon’s generator hummed to life, and he stepped back with his weapon on the man. “Where’s the real one?”
The man gasped and held up his hands. “W-What do you mean? That is the real one. You just broke it.”
“Keep your god damned voice down,” Andvari warned. “I wasn’t born yesterday. You switched the chips. Why?”
The man swallowed. “I… well, that is—” The man started, when Andvari heard a click. A split second later, a hole appeared in the man’s remaining good eye, offering a visual out the back of the man’s skull.
Andvari spun around to see a man in a trench coat with his weapon on him.
“Shit,” Andvari hissed as he took cover behind one of the cement walls. Another click followed, and a bullet tore a hole through the support of the awning behind him. The awning crumpled to the ground. “Shit.”
Company Grade silencer. Designed to make as little noise as possible, undetectable to the average person, and completely untraceable. His attacker had planned to ambush him from the start.
“Come out of there so I can put you to bed,” the man warned. “I’ll make it quick, I promise. Don’t make me turn this area into a bloodbath.”
“Why don’t you come over here instead? This isn’t a great way to make a first impression,” Andvari said as he took notice of another awning on the second story beside the man. He pushed the nub on the side of his pistol and turned it to its side to confirm it had switched to Pinpoint Mode.
“I’m comfortable where I’m at, thanks.”
Andvari poked the edge of his visor around the corner, then reeled back when he saw the man adjust his aim. The bullet hit the corner of the wall, creating a perfect hole in the cement.
“That’s enough of that,” he whispered as he took aim at the awning. One shot and that thing would come crashing down. Several shots in a short period of time and he’d overload the generator that offered extra punch to his ammunition. That was fine. One shot was all he needed. He pulled the trigger, and the windows on the side of his gun lit up. The bullet soared with purpose and struck the support to the awning.
Andvari’s attacker gasped and turned. The awning folded in on itself and fell atop him.
Now’s my chance!
Andvari followed his instincts and sprinted toward the man as the awning tangled him. Holstering his gun, Andvari veered to the side in anticipation and swept at his attacker’s legs just as another bullet left the barrel. The stranger fell with a yelp and Andvari leapt on top of him, pinning his wrist to the ground and batting the gun out of his hand. The weapon slid across the ground through the puddles of water and Andvari swung his hand against the man’s face, knocking him senseless.
Pulling the tarp off of him, Andvari gripped him by the collar of his coat and pulled him close. “Who sent you to kill me?”
The man spit on his visor. “Go fuck yourself,” he chuckled.
Andvari punched the man square in the nose. He felt it break from the impact and shoved the man back to the ground, where his blood mingled with the rainwater. He moved to pull his weapon free, then hesitated. “Where’s the chip?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the man mumbled.
Andvari rocked his lower jaw, then unholstered his gun and pressed it against the man’s forehead. “Don’t think I won’t do it. Now, tell me where the hell the chip is.”
The man swallowed, then grunted. “The Black Tavern.”
A bar a few blocks down. Reputed for its hard clientele and high crime rate. There wasn’t a day that went by that there wasn’t someone dying on its corner.
“Who?” He pressed the gun harder against his skin, and the man groaned. “Who has it?”
The man sniffed. “Mantis. The guy’s name is Mantis. He’s a real tough fucker, a—”
“I know who he is. Where is he right now?”
The man paused. “The Dancing Mermaid.”
Andvari returned his gun to its holster and rose to his feet. “If I find out you lied to me, I’ll be back.”
“I’m not lying, dickwad.”
Andvari swung his heel against the man’s chin, knocking him over and spilling a couple of teeth from his mouth. The man continued to groan and growl while Andvari walked over to where the attacker’s weapon had flown to. Picking it up, he noticed it was a grade of weapon not unlike his own. Experimental, highly volatile, packaged with a high energy generator. There was no way he got this through normal channels.
“I’ll be confiscating this. Hope you don’t mind,” Andvari said.
“Do I have a choice?” he sputtered.
“No.”
Andvari pulled his hood back over his helmet and began to jog. It was only a matter of time until someone came to check out the ruckus, and he wasn’t going to be here when it happened. Under normal circumstances, he would make a call to Centurion Headquarters to have the man imprisoned for questioning. But due to the sensitive nature of the mission, it was absolutely paramount that no one knew about Centurion’s involvement. Such information—in addition to the chip that Andvari was on the hunt for—could damage Centurion’s reputation beyond repair. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
When he fell upon the bar, two men were already standing outside, enjoying a couple of cigarettes. They wore vests over their hairy chests, pointedly jabbing at one another’s mother and girlfriend. Andvari rotated a disc on the side of his helmet, and the thermal vision came online. There were at least a dozen bodies inside the bar. Sneaking by wasn’t going to happen. Not through the front door, anyway.
A heat signature was on the roof. It was human-shaped, under the weather. An easy takedown and a clear indicator that there was a scaffold nearby. Considering the potential for error, he took careful steps around the back in hopes that he could get in through the back door. He stopped at the corner, then carefully peered around the bend. One man under an awning, a camera, and a back door. Unlike the man on the roof, however, this one was larger and was a head taller. He would be more difficult to remove. Thankfully, the rain would grant cover.
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Glancing behind him, he rotated the disc on the side of his helmet until he came to the Frequency Disruptor—the FD, for short. If he could locate the correct frequency, he could disable the camera. It would be a temporary measure, as most cameras were designed to adjust, reroute, and reestablish their connection within seconds, but it would give him the time he needed to knock out the man in the corridor and hopefully retrieve his key without arousing any suspicion.
He heard a subtle whine down the alleyway. It was now or never.
Sprinting down the alley, he withdrew his gun. The man pushed off the wall, threw out his cigarette. As he opened his mouth for help, Andvari whipped the butt of his gun against the man’s temple, sending him to the ground with a thud.
“Y-You fuck,” the man groaned, his eyes barely open.
Andvari kicked him across his face, and the man went silent. He fell to one knee and patted him down for a key. Reaching into his front left pocket, he extracted the slip of plastic and threw the man’s arms over his shoulders. Moving a man of this size would’ve normally been a struggle, but with the help of his C5-Grade suit, moving him was no more difficult than lifting the average man. The heavy man’s feet dragged across the ground and Andvari threw open the top to the garbage container.
His breath hitched when he heard the camera whirring back to life.
Pouring every ounce of his strength into the maneuver, he shouldered the man into the container shut it. He ran to the door, sliding the card through the reader and mentally preparing himself for anything that might be on the other side. He pushed the door open and quietly shut it behind him just as the camera came back online.
“Hey, Fred, what—” An older man—with brimming muscles—who was leaning against the wall of the corridor on his left started.
He barely got the words out before Andvari lunged forward and swiped his gun at him. The man reeled back to evade, lifting the shotgun that’d been hanging from his right hand. Andvari threw the keycard in his face, and he yelped. With him distracted, Andvari swung his left foot against the barrel of the gun, knocking it to the ground. As the man recovered, Andvari closed the distance and pushed the barrel of his pistol against the bottom of the guy’s jaw, cocking his head back.
The man’s hands went up.
“Not a word,” Andvari warned. “Cooperate and I won’t put a bullet in your head.”
The man smirked. “You won’t,” he whispered. “If you could, you would’ve killed me already.”
The bastard was smarter than he looked. Clicking the generator gauge back, the energy within the weapon began to hum. “You want to test that? I’ve got nothing to lose.” It wasn’t true, but none of these lowlifes would know that.
“What do you want?” he asked after a pause, the corner of his eye twitching.
“I want to know where Mantis is. He has something I need.”
“You and everyone else.” He flicked his shaven head to a room on his left. Andvari knew that trick all too well. He wasn’t about to take his eyes off him. “He’s in there, pleasing a few little toys.”
“Well then, lets go say hi.”
“I don’t think you should—”
Crack!
Andvari felt something crack as he whipped his weapon against the person. A low groan escaped his lips as he slumped against the wall, but the signs were obvious. He wouldn’t be coming after him.
Once that was settled, he tilted his gun to one side to better observe it. If the shit hit the fan, he’d need something accurate and fast. He flicked the small lever on the side until it switched to Skirmish Mode. It would strike the perfect balance of speed, power, and accuracy without overheating the generator.
Moving toward the room the goon informed him of, he paused at the entrance where beads hung from the arch like makeshift curtains. Veering to his right for a better look, he saw that the room was covered in violet neon lights. Curvaceous women danced and moaned in various arrays of dress and undress to the beat of club music, the bass overwhelming the room with an intoxicating blanket that thrummed against the eardrum.
“Christie,” came Mantis’s familiar voice, “why don’t you come over here and show me what else you can do with those lips?”
Somewhere to his right. Andvari reached for the disc on the opposite side of his helmet and turned it until the Centurion Sound Modulator—known as the CFM—came online. An intricate system, it could detect not only what the sounds were, but predict with high accuracy where they originated. The system wasn’t foolproof, but it was accurate enough to help him plot a plan of attack. Especially if the only male voice in the room belonged to Mantis.
“Mantis, dear, you haven’t even finished your drink,” a woman in black lingerie and blonde pigtails cooed. Her heels clicked against the tile of the room, and she fell to her knees on a pillow at the center of the room. She crawled forward on all fours and giggled. “Be a good boy and finish your drink. Then maybe I’ll reward you.”
As Andvari’s helmet recorded the myriad of sounds, the security of the room became clearer. Metal walls installed with compartments of weapons and sex toys. Speakers designed for high bass. A pair of false walls behind Mantis’s voice. Barring the equipment behind the false doors, the visor wasn’t picking up any hums or residual signals that resembled those of cameras or automated weapons. The turrets would still need to be armed. With the occasional stray pistol or rifle within the walls being the exception, the room’s purpose was clear: pleasure.
Time to put an end to your evening, Andvari thought, leveling his pistol beside his face.
Andvari emerged from the corridor, his gun on the frivolously dressed man known as Mantis. Gasps and squeals filled the room, and Andvari threw his arm to one side. Christie was on her feet in an instant and stumbled backward over a table. “No one moves, no one gets hurt.” He flicked his head toward Mantis, gesturing for him to stand.
“Who do you think you are, interrupting my personal time with these lovely young ladies?” he asked, standing up with both hands raised. The man was garbed in a thick purple robe with black hems and leopard print. He was older, in his late forties. Due to extensive surgery, however, he bore the appearance of a man in his late twenties. The only clear indicator were his deep laugh lines, which looked too pronounced, too concave when one considered how rarely he laughed.
“You have something I need,” Andvari said, glancing at Christie. Two of the other women were already helping her up. “A chip. You know which one I’m talking about.”
“A chip?” he frowned. Tilting his head to one side, he squinted. “I am most sorry, but you will have to be a bit more, ehm, clear on what chip you are referring to. As I’m certain you are aware, a man of my prestige finds himself in the possession of useful materials and information a daily basis.” He smiled. “You can be more specific, yes?”
Andvari didn’t like this. As far as he was aware, no one was privy to the information. Not yet anyway. Disclosing the information would not only mean admitting what was on it to Mantis, but to the women in the room as well. He wished he could trust them, but if they could so readily offer themselves on a platter to a greasy slimeball like Mantis, then they were just as much of a threat as he was.
“Don’t play the fool,” Andvari said. “A man like you who who’s in the business of obtaining information he has no right to?” He neared the slimy playboy and steadied his aim, keeping a careful eye on the women. Any one of them could jump him, and all it would take is a moment’s hesitation to lose Mantis. “I’m not stupid. You know which chip I’m here for. Cough it up and I won’t spray your brains all over the walls for your girls to clean up.”
“My, my,” the man’s brow furrowed, “such barbarism. Come now, I’m sure we can come to some sort of an arrangement, can we not?”
Dealing with his type was a dangerous endeavor. Once you were in, there was no getting out. SPECTRE or not, men like Mantis had a way of worming their way back into your life. Even if you were working under an alias like Andvari was. But without the knowledge of the chip’s location, he wasn’t sure if he had much choice but to go along with it. At least, to gain Mantis’s trust. “You think I won’t kill you?”
“I do not.” Mantis lowered his hairy arms and put them behind his back, smiling with his full set of gold teeth. He shrugged. “For whom else has the information? You must listen to me.”
Look for a sign. Something. Anything. You can’t work with this man.
“I’m listening.”
“Atta boy, chap.” He gestured with his hands for the women to calm down. “Come here, my kittens.”
“No,” Andvari said as he came closer. A few feet were all that separated them now. A shot to most places at this range would kill him. “They stay back.”
“You heard the man!” He playfully shooed away one of the women who were topless. Her eyes were bloodshot and her makeup pale with contrasts of dark. She slinked away like a hungry animal, and the others followed suit.
“Stop playing around and tell me what the hell you want.” He messed up. His tone was angry, irritated. No doubt his body language reflected that as well. Focus. Don’t lose your concentration. He made to correct his tone when the helmet picked up something. It was subtle, but within one of the walls was another compartment filled with various chips and documents. “Change of plans. Turns out the chip I need is here.”
Mantis’s eyes widened. Andvari had him on the ropes. “I… do not know what you mean.”
“Save it.” Andvari gestured to the wall two booths down. “Open up the safe.” Each booth was separated by silken transparent curtains. They caught the light of the violet LEDs as Mantis shifted uncomfortably and started his way over to the locked safe. A bead of sweat traveled down the side of the man’s head, his lips pursed into a thin line.
“You will never get away with this?” Mantis hissed as he procured a small keycard from his pocket.
“Why don’t we worry about that later, and you can just focus on opening the safe? Come on, hurry up. Or I’ll put a hole in you and that safe. Makes no difference to me if the chip is destroyed.”
Mantis drew a deep breath, slid his card through the reader beside the compartment, and the cupboard popped open with a hiss. He pulled the drawer open, stopped when he reached inside.
“Ah-ah!” Andvari said. He flicked his gun to the side. “Move out of the way. I’ll get it myself.” Mantis did as he was asked, and Andvari took his spot. He glanced down to see a thin layer of chips in the drawer. Keeping his gun on Mantis, he used his free hand to pull up the image of the chip when he was speaking with his source. “Compare to the chips inside,” he told the program.
Analyzing, the system responded. While the system did its job, Andvari bobbed his foot while he and Mantis stared one another down. The man had lost all of the gusto he had from earlier, and he delighted in robbing that from one of the more powerful information traders in the city of Bastion. Complete.
A visual came up on his visor, indicating which one of the chips inside the drawer was the closest match. Andvari plucked the device from the drawer, examined it against the picture on screen, then slipped it into the socket on his helmet.
CENTURION BLUEPRINTS AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS, the chip read.
“Cancel read,” Andvari said, and the visor turned blank, putting the chip’s information into a sleep state in his helmet’s system. “A pleasure doing business with you, Mantis.”
“Just get out of my establishment, you swine,” Mantis hissed.
“Don’t have to tell me twice.”
Andvari wasted no time in leaving the room. He was slow and careful so as to prevent Mantis from firing upon him or calling for help, but he was out of the playroom and back in the pouring rain within seconds, chip in hand and mission complete.