Chapter 17

In the end, with nothing better to do, I’d gone back with Lizzy to her apartment and had gotten in my first guitar lesson with Abby. Seeing their apartment with pictures on the walls, random clutter on the kitchen counter, actual purchased furniture beyond what came with the apartment, and cabinets filled with random knick knacks made me realize how spartan and unlived in my and Sara’s new apartment really was.

It’d been an interesting experience. Rather than teaching me various chords or techniques, Abby had simply taught me the first song she’d taught herself, or she’d taught me the backup guitar part at any rate. The backup part was very simple and consisted entirely of four power chords. Once I’d gotten a handle on that, she’d started playing the lead guitar part herself, which was substantially more complex. It was kind of awesome just hearing the way the two parts harmonized as we played together.

I really hadn’t expected it when Lizzy, who’d been chilling on the couch, started singing along. She had a hell of a voice I learned, as she belted out the entire song without hesitation or a single missed lyric. All we needed was a drummer and we’d officially qualify as a decent cover band. Though, not having heard any of Dread Knot’s other songs, I had doubts as to whether that was something I was interested in. Their song Rotting Corpse was cool and all, from a purely musical perspective, but its lyrical content left something to be desired in my estimation. I’d much prefer to record songs from my past life and pass them off as my own. If nothing else, I’d miss my favorite songs. If I ever wanted to hear them again, I’d have to write them myself.

The lesson had also proven exceedingly useful for leveling up guitar. I wasn’t sure if it was because I had someone skilled at the guitar actively teaching me, but I ended up getting no fewer than six XP alerts for Rockerboy, getting it up to Level 1, and for some reason I had finally gotten my first two XP alerts for Cool. I had no idea what I’d done differently to get the Cool XP that I hadn’t been doing when I’d practiced by myself, but I’d take it.

After my lesson, I headed home with 5 more hours to kill while I waited for ChemCo to finish making me my poison candy. At some point Sara had woken up and headed out to do who knew what, so I found myself bored in front of the TV, absently playing with my guitar. Noir City TV hadn’t improved in my brief absence, and as much as anything I found myself trying to ignore it to focus on the guitar.

Maybe it was because I’d been having more fun playing with Abby, but the time really seemed to drag, and not only did I only net two XP alerts for Rockerboy, I didn’t get a single XP alert for Cool.

I did make one odd discovery during that five hours. Apparently I could now read Japanese. I’d simply been going to grab one of the remaining cans of tea out of the fridge, and the moment I looked at the can it’d been clear as day. The blue script didn’t suddenly reform itself into english or anything, it was simply legible to me. A single glance at the can and I read that it was AraAra brand BluBerry Tea. I could only imagine it was some sort of effect from my IA now being active. It made me wonder if it would work for any other languages, or if it just had Japanese built in due to being from a preeminent Japanese Corporation.

But that could wait, the timer on my poison’s receipt was nearly complete. It was time to go murder a bunch of kids.

==

The crowds of people out shopping had thickened considerably compared to this morning, and I found myself waiting in a good sized line at the counter back at ChemCo. The line was moving along with alacrity, until the man in front of me got to the counter.

He was wearing a beat up VR headset and was probably the fattest person I’d ever seen walking, or waddling, on two feet. His lank greasy hair had a distinctly matted appearance, and the musty odor emanating from him indicated a distinct lack of personal hygiene. I stayed a few steps back to minimize how much of that scent I inhaled. He proceeded to harangue the same clerk behind the counter that had been there earlier this morning. The gist of his issue was easily discerned due to his vociferousness. Apparently the diet pills he’d purchased weren’t working. The clerk calmly explained that, though the pills would make him feel full, it still required him to not eat as much as he had previously in order for the weight loss to occur. The clerk was incredibly courteous, especially considering the intransigent nature of the mouth breathing tub of lard accosting him.

Finally, the fat fuck seemed to lose what excuse for patience he had remaining and slammed his meaty fists on the counter as he yelled at the clerk. “Bitch, you’ll give me my money back, or I’ll hack your shit so hard you kill yourself to make the pain stop!”

The clerk never lost his cool for a second. “I’d strongly recommend against that, sir.” A clank above us, followed by a whirring noise, pressaged the appearance of a mean looking automated turret that had descended from the ceiling above the clerk and was now pointed directly at the belligerent customer. The turret was making a somewhat disturbing whining noise that to my uneducated ears seemed to indicate it was powering up. I took a long slow step to the side to put myself out of the line of fire. “Have a nice day, sir,” said the clerk as he gestured meaningfully at the exit.

The man seemed somewhat stunned by the appearance of the turret that pointed unerringly at the center of his chest, but after a few seconds seemed to decide that discretion was indeed the better part of valor and made his escape, slowly waddling his way out of the shop. I noted how the turret rotated smoothly, never taking it’s aim off his center mass until he exited. The moment the shop’s front door slid shut behind him, the whirring noise recurred as the turret folded itself up and leapt back into the ceiling with a loud clank.

With the disappearance of the turret, I walked up to the counter. “Ah, Mr. Reynolds. A pleasure to see you again. Your order is ready for you, unless you have any other business?” This guy really is a master of customer service.

“Nope, just my order would be fine.” The clerk nodded and pulled out a large cardboard box, labeled prominently with ChemCo’s logo, from beneath the counter. It was a bit smaller than I expected, being about three feet long, one foot wide, and only inches high. “Do you mind if I check the contents quick?” I asked.

“Not at all, sir, please feel free. Actually, I’m seeing a note on the order from the specialists that created this product.” As he spoke I quickly pulled open the box to find a series of smaller flat boxes about a foot high and half that wide. Pulling out one of the smaller boxes I opened it to find bright red wafers laid on their side like poker chips in a rack. Ten rows of what appeared to almost be thin red cylinders laid side by side. “It seems the lab techs found that we don’t currently have a product like this on the market, and they do indeed believe it to be marketable. As such they were wondering if you, as the customer who came up with the idea originally, had any thoughts as to names for the product. They are currently referring to it as VCX911. But, as you can imagine, that isn’t a name fit for a product on the market. I’m being told that if the name you come up with, or some derivation therein, ends up being used, ChemCo will be offering you a 10% discount on all purchases for the next fiscal year.

That raised my eyebrows, that was a not inconsiderable discount, even if it had a time limit. “Hmm,” I hummed thoughtfully as I pulled out one of the thin wafers and examined it. I gave it a quick sniff. Nothing. Totally odorless. Then I shrugged and popped it into my mouth. The clerk’s eyebrows raised high enough to put wrinkles on his forehead as I crunched it up and ate it. Just tastes like a sugar cube.

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Poisoner Skill Learned

I felt a smile growing over my face as I swallowed the sweet tastiness that was radioactive poison. I was pretty damn sure my nanomachines could take care of it. And, if not, just sleeping for 8 hours should remove any status effects and heal me completely. So it should be fine…probably. “How about The Candyman Special?” I suggested to the clerk.

“Ahem…Very good, sir. I’ll pass your recommendation on to our marketing department. You should receive a message from ChemCo if they end up using it. Is there anything else I can help you with?” He asked politely, quickly getting over watching a customer purposefully poison themselves right in front of him.

I just put back the box I’d removed from the main package and threw the larger box under my arm as I gave him a wave and made for the door. “Nope! I’m quite satisfied with my purchase. Have a great day!” Before he could say another word I was out in the main hall and headed back to my apartment. Just needed to prep these boxes, throw them in my inventory, and I’d be ready to go.

==

As I entered the elevator, my IA automatically selected floor -10 for me with scarcely a thought on my part, until I received an error message. ‘Error: this floor has been designated as an unsafe location and cannot be selected.’ I was instantly informed by a red lettered message from the elevator. Well, shit. Guess you lose enough elevator loads of tenants, you have to do something, but it’s annoying that it inconveniences me personally. I thought to myself as I selected -9 instead with a sigh. Guess I’d have to take the stairs for the last bit.

The farther down I traveled the more adrenaline I felt coursing through my veins. After the third time I caught myself checking my guns in their various holsters, I forcibly pushed my hands into my pockets and told myself to keep them there. Hunting random bad guys on the streets of Noir City hadn’t been this nerve wracking. With them I’d known a lot of uncertainty as to when and where I’d run into potential targets, to the point that it was almost a surprise every time. With this gig though, I knew exactly where my targets were located and could estimate almost the exact moment in time I’d be running into them.

A short while later, I stepped off the elevator onto sub 9 alone and took a deep breath to calm myself, as I turned towards the nearest stairwell and started a new vid recording. A short walk later, the stairwell door slid open at my approach, and just as I was about to step down onto the stairs I heard a high pitched voice from below. “Fuck you, Chops. You never been wit’ a girl neither, so don’t act like ya did.” A voice immediately responded, “Fuck me? Fuck you! You’re so ugly you’ll never get a girlfriend, so shut your mouth and pass me that bottle.” I slowed to a halt and pulled out my silenced MilSec CrowdController as I stalked quietly down the stairs. Pausing at the first landing I came to, I peaked out down the second set of stairs that led to sub 10. A half a dozen young hoodlums were lounging on the stairs, passing around a bottle of some kind of booze as they snarked at each other incessantly.

I shrank back from the stairs and considered my options. If I took them out quick enough, presumably they wouldn’t have time to message an alarm to anyone, and then I could just chuck my poisoned candy through the door and hope it was picked up and eaten. But would leaving bodies clue them in to not eat it? I quietly took a seat on one of the stairs, well out of the view of the rag clothed wannabe gangers down below, and thought about it. Well there are a dozen stairwells I could try…but for all I know they have kids guarding every entrance. Plus, there’s only six of them, should be easy enough. I’ll just hafta risk it. Decided, I slowly stood back up into a low crouch as I moved to put the drunk children back into sight.

Stealth Skill Learned

I almost stumbled at the sudden alert, but immediately closed out of it. Kill now, think later. I was tempted to pull out one of my .45s and dual wield this shit. But A: I didn’t have a skill or a perk for that yet, and B: I didn’t want to make that much noise. It was unfortunate, I wished that this pistol wasn’t specifically designed to not allow penetrating shots that would net me multiple kills per shot, but… if wishes were horses, we’d all be eating steak.

I took careful aim at one of the two in the back, and fwip, fwip, fwip. My first three shots were perfect and punched holes neatly in the back of the kids’ heads. One of the kids in the front cursed as blood splashed on the back of his neck, and he was just beginning to turn when my sixth and final shot landed in his ear. Huh, that was like shooting fish in a barrel. They never even knew I was here.

+250 XP

+250 XP

+250 XP

+250 XP

+250 XP

+250 XP

+100 Stealth XP

I smiled. Gotta love those XP alerts, even if they are occasionally poorly timed… Looks like I get less XP for kids though. Damnit. Making my way down the stairs while still staying as quiet as possible, I did a quick search through the bodies. I found a variety of poorly crafted homemade shivs but nothing else of note. I left the shoddy knives where they were. Reaching the bottom of the stairs and finding myself before the door to sub 10, I went ahead and reloaded my pistol. I still had four rounds remaining, but my time playing first person shooters was screaming at me to have a fully loaded clip at all times if at all possible. Or are they called magazines? Fuck it, Gary called them clips, so I’m going with clips.

Fully reloaded, I holstered the gun at the small of my back and pulled out two open boxes of poison from my inventory. They appeared as if by magic in each of my hands. I’d taken the time to cut off the lids of the thin boxes and currently had one neatly balanced on each up turned palm. Just as I neared the door, it opened to show me a malnourished looking ten year old wearing torn up clothes, who had obviously been just about to walk through it himself. For a split second we just stood there, as he looked up at me in surprise and confusion. I didn’t think. I just kicked the little kid in the face as hard as I could. Even as the prepubescent shithead went flying backwards with a cry, I stepped to the threshold of the door and swung my arms across my body, flinging the box in my right hand up and to the left while the one in my left hand went to the right. The open boxes did little to contain the bright red candies, and they flew in wide arcs through the air like an odd crimson hail. I caught a glimpse of dozens of kids hanging out in the hall all around the door, looking up as they were suddenly pelted multiple times each. But, even as a cry of alarm rose from a dozen throats, I turned to run.

“Get him!” Yelled the voice of a male teenager. But, as I began bolting back up the stairs two at a time, his cries were quickly overwhelmed by the shrieks of younger voices screaming, “CANDY!” at the top of their lungs. By the time I made it back up to sub 9 and saw the door begin to open, the cries of “Candy!” “Candy!” “Candy!” had become all consuming on the floor below and there didn’t actually seem to be any pursuit.

I tore down the hall and took the first turn I could find to get me out of sight of any possible pursuers. I didn’t slow down until I was at the opposite side of the megabuilding. I came to a stop next to the next stairwell I planned to visit and leaned against the wall, with my hands on my knees, my lungs working like bellows.

I took a few minutes to catch my breath and let my heart stop hammering away in my chest, as I did my best to keep an ear open for anyone chasing me. Slowly but surely my breathing and heart rate slowed, and I calmed myself. Damn, that was clean…well except for that one kid. Fuck that kid especially. But other than that… I smiled to myself as I drew my silenced .38 back into my hand and stalked through the stairwell door. Just need to pull that off a half dozen times, and I’m golden.