Turns out, fights weren’t that common, neither was gunfire, but when it happened, it was deadly. Karla began to think Delta’s thoughts on inner-city fashion were correct. Everyone looked either armed or wore obscuring clothing like Karla. There were vending machines with pistol ammo, clothing stores that sold armor and bullet-proof masks, and shops that looked almost out of a medieval rpg, with racks of hand weapons available.
Karla ran her hand over a rack that held swords, daggers, axes, and spears. “They really have everything, huh?” Karla asked.
Delta nodded. “I’ve always liked daggers. Small, easy to keep out of the way.” He inspected a particularly tactical-looking knife with too many bells and whistles packed into its handle. “What do you like?”
She chuckled. “I have never used a weapon like that. Though, I fenced in high school, so maybe a rapier would be the most similar?” She picked up a rapier with a long, thin blade. It felt good in her hand, but like every other hand weapon, it lacked a handguard.
“Why is that?” Karla asked. “What if another heatblade slides down? Wouldn’t you lose your fingers?”
Delta laughed. “If two heatblades hit one another, neither would slide. One would win, and it all depends on which one lands its edge more directly onto the other.”
“Would it just cut through?”
“Yeah, or both could be damaged and just turn into semi-sharp metal. Feel the edge.”
Karla ran a metal finger over the blade. Her fingers were a lustrous steel of some kind, but she could still get a sense of the sharpness. It was nearly dull. “Why?”
“Heatblades melt through things instead of cut. If you had a sharp edge, the blade would cook until it was rounded like that, maybe even damaging the metal. Some people carry simple blades they don’t have to recharge, but heatblades can cut through basically anything given enough time. Flesh basically evaporates, and metals and ceramics gives way eventually.”
“Know all that from experience?”
He put the knife down. “Uh, no. Magazines and such. Some TV I suppose.”
Karla placed the rapier back onto the rack. She made her way through the shelves, admiring the variety of shapes, but was surprised by large stack of crates on one side of the rack. “Why are there so many Daos in here?”
She picked one up. Large, single-edged swords of Chinese historical origin laid in piles inside the crates. Each looked functional, if a bit cheap.
“Ah, imports from the Warring States. Non-rechargeable and the blade cooks when you use it, but effective. Popular amongst some hitmen for their disposability.” He picked one up and frowned. “Not the best, and sometimes unreliable. I’d go with a name-brand.”
“Warring States? You mean China?”
He nodded. “Part of it is, yeah. When the second Upheaval came, several civil wars erupted all over Asia. It all crossed borders and kinda merged into one big mess.”
“Oh. Do they not make good swords in the warring states?”
“No, they do, really good ones, but they don’t export those. The constant fighting has kind of made the entire Asian continent a mecca for large-scale combat development. If you ever want to make lots of money as a mercenary, the warlords over there pay top dollar.” He scratched his chin. “Japan also have some really good tech apparently, but they’ve long shut their borders and stopped trading with anyone. Who knows what’s going on over there now. I heard they have a way to cloak the whole country, prevents anyone from looking inside, even by satellite.”
“So how do you know they have such good tech?” she asked.
He pointed up. On a high shelf, far out of reach and behind glass was a long katana. Its blade was bi-colored, with the edge a dark red, and a bright steel backing it. “Those are sharp, and stay sharp even after heating. Those cut through metal just as fast as flesh, and will win every time against a regular heatblade. If you see someone with a katana, either they are fabulously rich and stupid to be carrying it around, or they bought a fake.”
Karla looked it over. “Why doesn’t someone just take it apart?”
“Trying to disassemble an authentic piece only results in a broken sword, something changes when it’s opened up. Nobody can replicate it. Seeing that one on display, it’s probably broken from someone attempting to open it up.”
“Can Olivia not figure out what’s inside?”
“She can modify metal as if it’s clay, but she can’t see inside an already complete device. She tried opening one up before and it fried as soon as she got her hands on it. They are shielded against scans too. Dunno why but they are super careful with their technology. Hand-held firearms out of Japan are pretty sub-par compared to African or American firepower though.”
Karla looked up just in time to see a tall, broad-shouldered man step into the shop, his skin artificially dark as if it sucked in the light around him. A group of masked guards escorted him, spreading out between racks and shelves. They wore shining metal plates over their shoulders, and their bodies were carved and curled, an intricate gloss black metal that integrated with the skin of their necks. The man looked around, his body bulky and dangerous looking. He spotted the sword overhead and spoke quietly to one of his retainers. The guard made her way to the counter and began speaking in a muffled voice to the shopkeeper.
“Speaking of, those guys are probably NAA.” Delta whispered. She cocked her head. “North African Alliance. Though these days they call themselves the New African Accord. Their body modifications are something of an art form. Many would kill to get their hands on one.”
One of the guards snapped his head at Delta’s words. Delta jolted then backed away from the attention. The unmasked man turned to them, his eyes and smile standing out like stars in a dark night sky. It was unnerving, but he didn’t look threatening, at least not at the moment. Karla met his stare with one of her own.
“You know, in my country, anyone who looks upon me is put to death.” The man’s voice was powerful, a king’s voice that demanded respect and inspired fear.
Karla had lost both feelings long ago. She cocked her head at him. “So am I to die then?” Delta panicked, feebly grabbing at her sleeve.
The man laughed. “We are not in my country! But I like you Americans. Every person is a king. Every man takes his life into his own hands. I saw several entertaining fights on my way through the city today, each more frivolous than the last. But all had one thing in common.” He raised a hand, seemingly organic. “You will kill for honor. You will kill to survive. You will kill for the sheer sport of it! You sell your lives so cheaply, yet fight so viciously!” His hand clenched shut with a loud snap, his fingertips breaking the sound barrier as they formed into a fist. “You live every day! So alive! I wish to live every day. Not a breath wasted, not a moment idle!” As the case was brought down and handed over, the man laughed and strode out, his group following him.
After a few moments, Delta let out a breath and began panting. “What the hell Karla! Those guys were the real deal! They could easily kill us!”
“He seemed nice. Who was he?”
Delta wiped sweat from his face. “I dunno. Some prince? There are many princes of the Musa dynasty in Africa. It’s said the three brothers who conquered the continent each had a hundred wives. Not that I believe that, but nowadays there are a lot of princes about, each gathering power and fighting for favor.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
After looking over the rest of the goods, they left the shop and made their way through the streets to where Delta needed to visit. The African man’s words seemed to resonate with the city. People mostly minded their own business. Those that didn’t either paid for it or got whatever they wanted. It was a city where bullies ruled and perished. Where every person’s survival was in their own hands. City Security Forces would always arrive too late to prevent anything, their job seemed to entail cleaning things up, not preventing or protecting. The streets were a lawless wild zone. And as the prince said, the streets were alive.
No wonder people stay in the habs, she thought. She kept out of other people’s business and they walked without encountering any trouble. After an hour of walking, Delta seemed to finally calm down.
“Is it different than when you lived here?” Delta asked as he glanced around.
“Yes. It wasn’t this… big.” She glanced up at the seemingly never-ending buildings as they disappeared into the fog above. “Where did all of these people come from? How was everything built so fast?”
Delta shrugged. “The wars in Asia and Africa brought over a lot of people once the Americas were liberated.”
“Liberated?”
“Ah, uh, that’s the term the Church uses for when they dissolved the governments. I think there were bombs in the US, assassins in Canada, and general mayhem in Mexico. After that, they claimed their position as rulers, imposed a tax, and then mostly left everything alone. Since there was no restrictions on immigration, the Americas kind of became a safe haven for refugees.”
“But, there are monsters in the central areas, right?”
He nodded. “And in the oceans, that’s why the cities became a safe hub for new arrivals. The Church didn’t restrict it at all, in fact they introduced technologies to build larger and faster. They were the ones who built the first habs. Ah, we’re here.”
Karla glanced up at the hab they’d stopped in front of. “In there?”
“Yeah. We just have to deliver the bag to the guards at the gate to the central palace. All the way in the middle, where it’s darkest.”
“I thought you said to stay out of the underneath areas. The, what did you call it?”
“The mazes, and yeah, you should. But this is under the control of the Digital Snow Clan, look.” He pointed up onto a pillar where four stylized flames in white were stamped. “This should be safe since it’s under their care. It’s just… this place, you see… it’s a bit…” Delta trailed off.
Karla walked in as the boy stuttered behind her. After the first street, the entire area under the hab was black like night. Red lamps hung over doorways and inside windows. White lamps illuminated small bits of the paths that weaved their way through. She stopped in front of a window where several women stood, each in clothing that covered nothing, only there to decorate the flesh that was on sale.
“It’s a brothel.” She looked around. “A big brothel is what you were trying to say.”
“Uh, yeah…” Delta caught the eye of a dancing woman, she pressed herself against the glass and he jumped away. Across the street, a man in similar, revealing clothing gave Delta a small wave. Delta shook like a scared rabbit. “Uh! Can we go now? please!”
Karla laughed. “Just stop looking at them, you’re getting their hopes up. Unless you want to go in. I don’t mind, I’ll wait outside.”
“No!” He shouted, his voice cracking and shifting an octave or two upwards.
Karla ribbed Delta every step of the way as the red lighting hid the bright red blush he’d managed to cultivate. Eventually the white lamps lead to a central grouping of buildings. A large compound sat directly under the tower. Surrounded by walls and guards, the building looked like a palace compared to the rest of the city.
She looked it over. “So, here, right?”
Delta nodded, worn out from protesting his innocence so feverishly. She walked up to the main gate and was stopped by several guards wielding heavy assault rifles, the largest firepower she’d seen in the city.
“Halt there. Do you have an invitation?” said a large man with glowing eyes.
“Yeah! Here!” Delta held out a letter to the man. “We’re only supposed to drop this bag off.”
The man looked over the letter, then his neck lit up. It pulsed for a few moments. “You’re to head inside.” He gestured to the gate, and the other guards opened it for them.
“Uh, inside?” Delta hesitated, but Karla strode in, not waiting for the boy to make up his mind.
Once inside the walls, a woman in a long dress with panels of white and silver metal scales greeted them. “You must be Karla and… Donald? Or would you prefer Delta?”
“Y-yes!” Delta replied.
She smirked. “Delta and Karla then. Miss Olivia has already arrived. I will lead you to her.” She turned and glided down the path. She looked like she was floating, with the dress only softly billowing from her speed, never disrupted by her movements.
The pair followed through several courtyards, all clad in a deep red wood and lit by warm lamps and luminescent plants. They eventually passed through a wide door into a large, empty meeting room, and then around the side where another door opened into what appeared to be private chambers. A woman laid on a table face-up with Olivia standing over her.
“Mrs. Rhodes. I have brought the visitors.”
“Ah! Thank you Holly. You may go now.” The woman waved her away. “Miss Karla, would you be a dear and come closer so I can take a look at you.”
Olivia turned to the pair. “You’re late. Did you bring the materials?”
Karla held out the bag. It was snatched out of her hand and soon ingots were being pulled out and formed under her practiced hands.
“Your mask, dear. Can I see under it?” The woman on the table spoke up. Karla glanced at her and realized the woman didn’t have a complete face at the moment. Small mechanical arms flexed and tilted, but it seemed like portions of her outer skin was currently missing. Karla removed the mask, her metal skull on display. “Oh how wonderful! You’ve taken the steps of getting rid of the face you were born with. Is that why your master brought you here? To get something new? Attractive? It would go along well… with…” She eyed the Karla’s torso through the gap in her jacket. “You look… very artificial actually. Is your body…?”
The woman looked at Olivia who nodded as she worked. “Full Cyborg. Organs and everything.”
Rhodes seemed disappointed. “Ah, I see. Still quite impressive. Most people are too scared to replace everything. I’m one of them. I keep my blood and organs as they are, though I have reasons to not go fully mechanical.”
Olivia shook her head. “Charlie, she’s a cyborg that still maintains their gifts.”
“No!” The woman looked back at Karla, a grin on what remained of her features. Despite her face being a mess, she still had plenty of veins and muscles hidden away behind the mask.
“They’ve weakened, but I’m hoping to find a way to bring them back to full strength.”
The woman laughed. “You are a wonder my child! You take such brave steps where few have survived! To think I’d see a full gifted cyborg! How far has science come!”
“She’s older than you are. By around two hundred years.”
“Really?” The woman wiggled and moved, much to Olivia’s annoyance.
“Stay still or have a face that bends in the wrong damn direction!”
The woman took a deep breath and thought it over. “So… you weren’t one of Olivia’s projects, and you would have been around before the first Upheaval, were you not? But then… how did you get to… all of this?” she gestured with a hand at Karla. Thankfully Olivia answered for her.
“Stoke.”
The woman froze. “You’re fucking with me.”
“Nope. One of his pet projects I believe. Her brain is intact, with nothing too invasive, and the small subsystems outside the casing are all just inputs for visuals and coms, all of which was inspected, don’t worry. But none of that affected her brain. She’s pure human inside her head, but nowhere else.”
“Is that how she maintained her gifts?”
Olivia shrugged. “That’s what I want to find out.”
The woman couldn’t hide her uneasiness. “But, what was she for? Just hidden away? How did you find her?”
“She wasn’t hidden away. I’m surprised none of the Clans told you.”
Rhodes huffed as Olivia placed the final pieces back into place. Her face now moved and slid together into the visage of a beautiful woman. There were small grooves where the plates fit together, but they were nearly invisible under the dim lighting.
Rhodes stood and walked over to a mirror. “The other families are all girding themselves for a new war. They seem almost excited to fight and are all tight-lipped about it. But you aren’t going to keep secrets from me? Right, Olivia my sweet?”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve probably seen her before, but under a different name. She was known as the Witch.”
There was a pause as the woman took that information in. She blinked as she looked Karla over. “Darling, are you sure? She’s not exactly the ten-foot tall murderbot I seem to remember.”
“Delta over there pulled her out of her busted harness himself. What is interesting is how he controlled them. The Inner Circle? I think they were all cyborgs. Full Cyborgs like Karla over there.”
The two seemingly young, but definitely old women endlessly chatted about cyborgs and Stoke and Clans. Karla’s attention began to wander. She thought about this entire trip of theirs. Was it all just to modify this woman’s face? Her own face was a mess, she knew it looked rather strange, but the woman had almost praised it. Many people in the city wore masks, and she blended right in like Olivia said she would.
Karla slipped the mask back on, but she couldn’t get away from the feeling like she should have a face. Perhaps she wanted to emote and express herself. She thought over her face, and her eyes, the small nicks and damage her faceplate had, the little sensors spread out over the mask…
She didn’t see these things. She sensed them. The slightest touch of her old gift, something she had missed and tried for weeks to ignite, suddenly reappeared. She stretched her feeling out, and found it only reached down to her neck. If she could grin, she would. If she can get this much, she can get more. If she can get her gift of perception back, she could get her gift of telekinesis.
As her imagination ran wild, an explosion shook the building.