“So, did Berzerker live up to her name in bed?”

I chuckled as I looked over to Twilight. It was the next morning, and we were in Babydoll’s van, driving towards Bellevue, where Mel Cozi had his home. Babydoll was driving, of course, and Shadowgirl was in the passenger seat, with Twilight and me in the second (and only) row bench seat. Twilight had done some digital scouting the night before. Nothing major, just enough to get the address.

“Now, now, Twilight, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.” The technomancer sputtered, but I didn’t give her a chance to respond. “But she does give off that impression, what with the name and her love of heavy weapons, doesn’t she?”

Babydoll grinned. “So, what, was she making a play for Sexkitten’s name instead? Or mine?” Then she blinked, in that way people did when they were reading a message in an AR window. “Oh, wow. Apparently, she’s gushing to Sexkitten. Something about you making her your sub? You got that far in one fucking day?”

“Without confirming nor denying, I’ll just say that she’s a bit starved for a strong male presence in her life, out in RL. Despite everything that’s happened, some girls like the old stories of the big, strong man to come in and take charge, make them feel safe and secure. Plus, since she’s the ‘tank’ of the group, who can wade through fire and resist most of it, while not feeling the rest? Letting herself go, in a safe environment, is self-care.”

Shadowgirl turned to look at me. “You a therapist in real life, Iceblade? Because that was some grade A psych drek.”

I shrugged in reply. “Not a therapist. Gone to more than a few, though, both in real life and in game, during the Beta.”

“In game?” Shadowgirl asked. “Wouldn’t the RL filters catch that? Make going to them worthless?”

“Most of the therapists? Yes. But there’s a dedicated section where RL counselors load in. They don’t advertise it directly, because mental health issues still get everyone touchy, but if your biometrics go too far out of line, or someone already in the program recommends you, then the admins will send you a message, telling you where to look to schedule an appointment, without logging out.”

“Huh,” Babydoll said. “Wonder why they did it that way.”

“Liability issues. Shadowmen isn’t like those other games where you just go around murdering the other faction, or the like. When you’re doing professional criminal things, chances are you’re going to run into some nasty drek, and maybe have nasty drek done to you. And when you already have the risk of virtual addictions and phobias from negative qualities? Company wants to catch any bleedthrough between reality and the game (either way, but especially from the game to reality) early on, so they don’t get hit with lawsuits. So, therapists in the game world, who can talk to people who might not feel comfortable enough to actually go to a therapist’s office in the real world.”

Twilight seemed to have recovered from my shameless not-quite-acknowledgement of sleeping with Berzerker. “Mind me asking what you were seeing a therapist for? If you’re ok talking about it, that is.”

“Eh, not exactly hiding it, though I don’t go spreading it around, for obvious reasons. And I don’t mind you sharing with the other two, Babydoll, but not outside the team, yeah?” She nodded, so I continued, “I told you all I was a product tester for the long-term immersion medical pods, right? It is basically the same as the normal pod, but beefed-up life support functions to prevent muscle atrophy and other such things. Well, the reason I was picked as a product tester is because I was in an accident, about two years ago, now.”

Twilight frowned. “What kind of accident?”

“Car accident. If you count a tank rolling over your car as an accident.”

“Wait!” Babydoll gasped. “Two years ago? There was a big story then! It was all over the news! Some girl got pissed, stole a tank from the National Guard, and took it on a joyride through the city! There were something like fifty people injured, and three dead! But the stories only mentioned three men in the whole thing. One bystander who lost his fiancé, one of the injuries, and one of the dead.”

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“That would be it,” I nodded. “One of the three dead was some poor girl who got run over when a car swerved to get out of the way of a tank. Can’t blame the driver, either. I’d have done the same. The other two were my parents. We were celebrating my eighteenth birthday. Some celebration, eh? Dead parents, and my legs gone just above the knee.”

I took a breath, going through one of the exercises the therapists had given me. “I was a mess, obviously. The lawyers handled most of the estate stuff, and the settlement. I was the poor pitiful man who lost his parents and was going to be in a chair the rest of his life. Few months after the accident, MetaTech approached me. They already had the pod everyone uses, but were developing a long-term one, for people with conditions like mine, or worse. I heard that I would get to walk again, and signed on. Going to therapy was part of the deal. Can’t have their tests being thrown off by a bad baseline, yeah?”

That kind of soured the conversation. It always did, but the therapist said that, if I was comfortable talking about it, actually talking about it, not just inflicting the information on someone, then I ought to do it. Shadowgirl, the quiet one, was the one to break the silence. “So, you must have thrown yourself into the Beta, yeah? Any tips and tricks for us?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, glad to have a change of conversation. “You should all have at least one point of the Edge stat. Save that shit, don’t spend it blindly. You really screw something up, I’m talking crit glitch while holding the bomb and it goes boom, would spread you all over the street? You can spend a point of edge to downgrade that to a regular glitch. You’ll still screw up whatever you were doing, but maybe not in a way that’ll kill you. Also, if you get dead, I mean dead-dead, you can burn a point of Edge, losing it permanently, and live. Probably still be messed up like hell, but you won’t be going for a reroll.”

Babydoll nodded. “Something to keep in mind, then. All right, everyone, we’re passing by Cozi’s place on the left. Right now, we’re projecting like we’re a canvasing crew campaigning for the Governor for the upcoming election, so people won’t look too close. Anyone that does start looking, I’m sending them copies of the Governor’s actual campaign bulletins. Twilight, Iceblade? You need me to stay still?”

I shook my head. “No, I’ll be able to zip back easily enough, so long as you don’t suddenly go off to Vancouver. I’m just going to go out of body and scout the area.”

“Same,” Twilight nodded. “I just needed to be close enough to confirm that the node I checked out last night was the one I need to hit. I’m going to go slow on this one, don’t want to spook the security.”

“Right,” Babydoll nodded. “I’ll launch my spy drone. SG and I’ll look at the feed, see if anything about the situation sticks out to us.”

I nodded, and leaned back, getting comfortable. “If you need me back in a hurry, poke my hand or something with a knife. Just enough to draw blood. Otherwise, I won’t be able to hear you unless I’m hovering nearby.”

I disconnected from my body, and transferred my consciousness to the astral plane. Only spirits, Magicians, and some dual-natured creatures could see this world. It was like looking at the negative of an old film picture. Anything solid and unliving was a shadow that didn’t truly exist in this world. Of course, existing or not, a pane of glass was the same as a brick wall when you were trying to cast spells that relied on the astral to hit people. You couldn’t ‘see’ the target, so you couldn’t hit them.

Everything living, however, lit up. Some more, some less. It was based off your life force, or essence, and how much of it you had, as well as what kind of magic you were slinging. Rat was dimmer than a healthy adult, naturally, but they might shine brighter than someone so augmented that there was barely any human to them. Anyone that was really ‘present’ on this plane, like spirits or, gods forbid, a dragon, stuck out like a spotlight, unless they were powerful enough to control how much they stuck out.

The big thing about astral projection, which is what I was doing right now, is that only a few kinds of security could even detect me, and fewer could keep me from looking around, if I wanted to, and all of them were either rare, expensive, or blatantly obvious. Those same kinds of security would be problematic if we walked up to the house not expecting them, however, which is why I was doing this bit of surveillance. Better to confirm things than be surprised.

No wards. Those would have been like a big, translucent forcefield in my vision, clearly visible, unless he had the kind of clout to hire a heavyweight to do his wards, and was willing to spend the creds on it. Given the quality of his hit squad, I doubted that.

Iceblade’s Assensing check: 4d6 = 2 Hits, 1 Miss. (Success)

Iceblade’s Assensing check: 4d6 = 1 Hits, 0 Miss. (Success)

The home was what some people called a McMansion, generic “I have money” two-story building, plenty of rooms to show off wealth and entertain guests. I started on the second floor, because I figured that was where important people would be. And I hit paydata.

Two people. Both mundane humans, male and female. It looked like someone was having an early ‘lunch’. Guy was healthy, but cybered in the eyes and ears. Normal otherwise, except for the fact that he looked to be faking his enthusiasm for the nooner. Oh, not that he wasn’t enjoying getting laid, but this was more business for him than anything. An escort, maybe? Or a bodyguard doing a special job of guarding his principle’s body?

Either way, the woman was also healthy, though intoxicated somehow, couldn’t tell if it was drugs or alcohol, though. Either way, she was deeply in lust, and full of satisfaction at her ‘conquest’. Possibly the wife, deciding that if Mel could step around, so could she?

Iceblade’s Assensing check: 4d6 = 3 Hits, 0 Miss. (Success)

Iceblade’s Assensing check: 4d6 = 2 Hits, 0 Miss. (Success)

Iceblade’s Assensing check: 4d6 = 2 Hits, 0 Miss. (Success)

Downstairs, I found three more people. All human. One man, in the kitchen, unaugmented, nonmagical. Probably the cook, or a live-in servant? Not an issue.

Two others, though? Humans, mundane, augmented, like the one upstairs. More guards, probably, given how one was patrolling the ground floor, while the other was sitting, maybe watching security footage? Either way, that looked like an office.

I didn’t see any other auras. No spirits on guard, or anything like that. Given the quality of the guards, he probably wasn’t expecting a major assault on his mansion. This was just to keep random thieves out, and give his ego some security.

We could work with this.