I hadn’t realized how hot I’d been until I stepped into the cool air-conditioned interior of Motel 18. The wave of refreshing air also made my current sweat-drenched situation more apparent.
“Axel Garcia, this is a reminder that, unless you extend your stay, your check-out is tomorrow.” The droid spoke out as she waved at me. “Would you wish for some refreshing water?”
“Yes, please, and thank you.” I nodded along, breathing a little more heavily as I put the wrecked drone on the floor. The thing had to weigh at least as much as I did, and lugging it around under the blazing heat had not been fun at all.
+Strength: 5+
. .∟Endurance: 5
+Senses: 5+
. .∟Hearing: 5 5+ -> 5+
[26%] -> [34%]
5+ -> 5+
[00%] -> [09%]
At least I’d got something out of the workout.
Aside from drone-scrap.
“Here you go, Axel Garcia.”
I stared at the metal cup.
“This water is… blue.”
“Yes.” She chirped back, blank camera eyes staring directly at me.
I stared back.
“Uhm…” I gave it a whiff, there was a very faint sugary scent to it. A slight sip and it had cranberry flavor. I glanced over at the poison stat, but it did not waver, so I took a slightly bigger sip and… “This is surprisingly refreshing. What is it?”
“Water, approximately.”
Better not stress the poor thing too much. She looked like she was a decade overdue already. “Well, thanks for the drink.” Another slow sip, poison durability didn't twitch. “I’ll… be going to my room now.”
“Take care, Axel Garcia, and have a good day!” She waved me off, unblinking, head swiveling to follow me as I hurried along.
Chair against the door to make sure it locked well, and off to shower and review my life choices. First I'd finish the Kali message, and then I'd go through the remainder of Moreau's lessons.
----------------------------------------
“I know you are meguca Sahara, I respect that, and…”
And just like that, my earlier confidence popped like a soap bubble.
Why was it so hard to bring this stuff up? Right, it wasn’t as if she’d kept that secret going, working as cashier and taking needless abuse from customers for years. Or me. God.
Deleted, try again.
“Miss meguca Sahara, Kali? Whichever you prefer, I guess. My encounter with doctor Moreau was brief, but I came out of it convinced to move to the big city. Terry, my former classmate, helped with that, something about wanting to make sure my life as a guard would be a living hell. Anyway, the doctor dropped me off and I am trying to get a fresh start. If you are ever in the area, I’d be up for meeting again. Sorry for the abrupt departure, things got a bit too hectic.”
There.
I closed the social media app, and brought up Moreau’s “lesson”.
“You’re finally back.” The AI-Moreau rendering pipped up. “Continuing where we left off, first rule: don’t trust the internet. Click skip if you already know-” I clicked. “-it was a trick, there is no skip option. The fact that it took you this long to test it out is commendable.” She cackled. “Anyway, keeping it brief. You know the rules, anything and everything you say and do, someone is likely going to be watching. Nowadays, everything has some degree of interconnectivity, even your gun has RFID embedded into it.”
The Bulstra sat innocently on the nightstand. I patted it gently, I knew she wouldn’t betray me.
“Keeping a layer of anonymity is beyond what you can do on your own. Hence the Sewer Saints. They have a techie you could almost call a wannabe protégé of mine.” She crossed her arms. “Don’t needlessly antagonize them. Little brat is extremely protective about their pet-project drone thing. Don’t make fun of how silly it looks, that kid can hold a grudge. And you don’t want the person keeping your online ass covered to have a grudge.”
My eyes wandered to the drone wreckage currently sitting by my doorstep. The lonely dead stealth-droid was lying in an almost unrecognizable heap, but there was one detail I did notice: the word “CCL14” had been painstakingly stenciled into every single rotor-blade… those that were left.
“No, don’t tell them about the monster thing, or anyone.” AI-Moreau continued. “I’m serious on this. As of right now, no one must know that you’re a magubo, yes it's the official term now. If someone finds out, they need to die. Let me repeat that, anyone finding out needs to die. You might feel strong, but right now you're nothing but a Max-tac team away from becoming a lab-rat, so for the love of everything you hold dear, don't allow anyone to tie your monster form to your human one."
I rolled my eyes I nodded along. Yeah, I had no plans to reveal myself or become some sort of icon. I just wanted to kill monsters and help people. I didn’t need anyone knowing my name or anything like that. Honestly, the whole “Shush-monster” was already unnerving, and the sooner the media stopped focusing on it, the better.
“Oh, and you’re the last known person to have been with me, so sooner or latter someone might think you know where I'm at. The Sewer Saints should help with that pesky little problem once it pops up, but do feel free to kill whatever merc shows up if the chance presents itself, ok? Also, instructions on the sample drop-off are attached. No rush, wait a week or two first.”
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
The video, which supposedly still had three hours left, closed itself.
I blinked at the thing.
"That's it!?"
Frowning, I began to fiddle around, finding the 'attached instructions' had a lot more than just how to "safely drop off" the samples. Letting out a sigh of relief, I began taking notes. Moreau had been thorough, not just mentioning what steps to take, but why each step was necessary. It was like peeking behind the curtain and spotting a lot of things I'd been vaguely aware of but that had now been brought forth in an unnerving new context. For example, though I knew ad services were data hoarders, I'd never thought to consider that the data was also readily sold to corporations that had purposes other than selling a product... such as how to spot prospective megucas before they developed their powers fully, a concern I now had to keep in mind as well.
Geesh.
At least it was something I wouldn't need to be concerned about for the foreseeable future.
After what felt like a few hours of "studying,", I made myself a priority list. Once I had some measurable income, my first big purchase would likely have to be proper combat-protective gear. Also, get something a bit more “take down non-lethally” than having a baton to conk someone over the head.
For now, though, food.
----------------------------------------
“CECILIA!”
Jostling a little from the tablet, I closed the app-list with data-requests I planned to have downloaded once I got back to the internet-shop. My ears strained as I heard approaching footsteps.
Then a rattling of the door.
“CECILIA! I know you’re in there!” Picking up the Bulstra, I rotated the cylinder so the dum-dum bullet was ready. The rattling got more intense, a fist hammering against the door. “Open up, you bastard! I know you’re in there! Grills told me!”
More rattling.
“I am the only person here. I am not Cecilia, nor I know who Grills is.” I called out. “Step away from the door or I will take defensive actions.” As soon as I finished speaking, I quietly lowered my body flat against the floor, keeping aim on the door. At least this way, if they opened fire through the closed door, I’d be less likely to get hit.
No one spoke, but I faintly made out the breathing of three people.
After a second, there was a knock, a different voice spoke up. “Cecilia is the drone, Grills is the receptionist.” The voice was strained with exasperation. “Look, the doc sent us, we’re the Sewer Saints. Green eyeballs.”
“The last time you said that, you tasered me.”
First voice glowered, the second voice sighed. “Think of it like a rite of passage.”
“Mhm.” I answered, unamused. “I don’t know how you mega-city folk work, but I don’t think tasering strangers is very friendly.”
A long pause, voice number three spoke up, this one sounded younger than the other two, a young girl, maybe? “We wanted to bring you to our base, but we couldn’t do that if you were conscious. Because we’d be risking you revealing the location,” she said. “Could you open up?”
I carefully weighed the options. They did sound sincere… “Fine.”
Shuffling up to my feet, I removed the chair and opened the door.
Then immediately shoved back the meter-and-a-half kid that had tried to surge past me and into the room. They stumbled backwards, falling onto the carpet. “The fuck are you made of?”
Rather than answer, I took a moment to acknowledge the visitors.
Three figures, all of them wearing full weather-acclimatization gear, basically large off-white bulky hoodies and pants, with their faces covered by opaque gas masks. It was the super-cheap stuff a corporation would throw at a bottom-rung employee if they had to send them out during wet-bulb weather. This trio, however, had customized their gear, here and there they’d added mouse-themed stickers.
The robe-wearing kind of mice, sub-gang number three, then.
“The hell they feed you?” The middle of the three asked, raising her head to look up at me.
“Chow.” I crossed my arms, unamused, Bulstra in hand but aimed at the ground. “Who of you was the one driving the drone?”
“Its name is Cecilia.” The one I’d shoved complained, the shorter of the trio. “And it’s-WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?” they tried to rush past me again, but I just body-blocked the shorty. “You brute! You absolute shlop-brained brute! You killed her! Look at what you did to my Cecilia!”
“Back off.” I stated flatly, temper flaring. “You want the drone, you owe me two hundred bucks.”
“Are you insane!? You broke her! Can your caveman brain even comprehend how much it’s going to cost me to repair-”
With a sigh, I swung my gun arm and pointed the firearm at the drone.
Everyone became very very still.
“You tassered me, you cost me a .507 standard bullet, and I dragged that thing all the way here through hot-box weather.” I stated, unamused. “You can either pay me two hundred bucks, or I will use it for stress-relief until I grow bored and sell what’s left for parts.”
“That’s a big gun.” Middle-one spoke, whistling appreciatively. “I’m surprised so much of the bot survived.”
“Shut up! Give him the money, Vesper!”
The taller let out a long sigh, fishing into their hoodie and pulling out a cred-chip. “Two hundred.”
“Thank you very much.” I holstered the gun, then stopped the brat from entering again. “My room.” I closed the door, marched towards the drone, carefully picked it up, then marched back, opened the door, and placed it on the little-one’s waiting arms.
They nearly fell over from the weight.
“What has he done to you!?” The kid wailed, pulling the drone away as they started to inspect it. I would’ve felt a little bit sad about it, and I did feel a tiny bit guilty, but he’d tasered me.
“Now.” I turned to the other two, offering a hand. “Let’s try this again. I am Axel Garcia.”
Middle-height approached in a hurry. “Isia.” She took the hand and shook. “The shorty is Quinn, and tall and pink is Vesper, she’s a lesbian and has a girlfriend.”
“Nice to meet… you?” I tentatively glanced at Vesper, who in turn had been looking at Isia. Their faces were hidden behind the weather-acclimation suits, so I didn’t have a good read. But it did feel like there was something else going on there.
“Ignore her,” Vesper declared. “The doc told us you’re looking to join.”
“Apparently so.”
The opaque plastic mask stared at me, if Vesper noticed the strain in my voice, she didn’t show it. “What’s your count?”
“Count?”
“Monsters.”
“Three E’s, five F’s, and a few dozen G’s.”
She nodded firmly. “I’ve seen people with a bigger count and slower reflexes. You’ve been trained? You look trained.”
“Really?” I guess I didn’t look malnourished anymore?
Isia instantly pipped up. “With arms like those? You go to the gym?”
“Never could afford a membership.” At my comment, both of them looked down at the gun strapped to my hip. I flustered a little. “Meeting Moreau was a bit of a windfall.”
“I’ll bet it was worth every credit.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Ignore her.” Vesper snapped, sparing what I had to assume was a glare. “What’re your augs?”
And suddenly I realized they were communicating. They had neuralinks, they were plugged into the internet, they were chatting with one another. They could be streaming this to dozens of others and I wouldn’t be able to know.
“None.”
“You’re shitting me.” It was Quinn who’d spoken up, focus finally leaving the remains of their drone. “You ignored an electro-plast bullet. And that reaction speed… you’ve got to at least have a-”
“My body doesn’t respond well to cybernetics.” I cut him off flatly, leaning my head to the side and raising my hair to highlight the lack of a neuralink port. “It’s part of what caught Moreau’s attention in the first place.”
It was annoying. Feeling the silence as their body-language shifted, it made their silent conversation that much more obvious. Meanwhile, if I wanted to look for content, check a video, or even just read up on the news, I’d need to physically march to a terminal.
“I’m sorry if this comes across as rude, but are you going to ask me about my blood-type as well, or can we move on to whatever comes next?” I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you have work? I’m not exactly flush with cash.”
Vesper and Isia shared a glance, another long silence that seemed to only affect me. Finally, with a sigh, they spoke up. “Yes, we do have work.”