>> Master Of Puppets

## WARNING! IMPLANT DETECTS CRITICAL SECURITY BREACH! ##

## CORE SYSTEMS COMPROMISED BY :: [UNKNOWN]!

## PROTOCAL ACTIVATED :: [PROTECT NEOSOVIET SECRETS]

## SELF DESTRUCT :: [Activated]

##....

## ERROR! CANNOT SELF-TERMINATE!

“Uplink stable.” Intones the vast weight of The Machine Mind, analysing my brain with a clockwork eye. I feel the pulses of data thread through it - burning my entire being. My rewired mind plugged, directly, into Building Security via my complex network of implants. And, through it, my awareness spreads to fill the bar. Chasing along cables. Filling electric nodes. Its cameras become my eyes. My mouth, the shutters and the doors. My tail the…. menu board? I waggle it, changing all the prices.

Huh, neat.

Oh, yeah. And there’s one more thing….

Five heavy turret-guns crack their EMP shielding, punching directly through hidden panels in the ceiling. They form a rough circle of the room. One by the loos, one near the bar, two by walls, one above the shutters. I twist my body, and they shift like a five-headed hydra.

A few thugs notice - eyes bulging wild. Mouths opening. But half a second before any can react, I line up the shot - and fire. Punching a magnetically-driven steel-core slug through Chrome’s right arm - cleaving it off at the shoulder. Shattering the table behind it. Burying that slug deep in a gouged crater of tiles and dust. The cyborg turns, slowly, as sparks and glowing fluids rain from his stump. Shock burnt into every micron of his bullet-scarred face. Slowly, a lump of scrap peels free from a thread of synthetic skin - clanging to the floor. He stares up at my humming weapons, and I glare back with my many - many - eyes.

“Oops.” Hisses every turret. Every camera. Every speaker in the bar - all at once. “I missed.”

Chrome steps forward, as internal valves seal the metal wound. Cold fury eating his former dismay. “YEH THINK YEH CAN GANK ME IN ME OWN BAR!? YEH FUGGIN' HACKER FREAK!?” He roars at triple the volume a human could reach. “SO! WHO ARE YEH!? WHO ARE YA, THAT YE DARE GANK ME!? KING O' THE KINGS O' OLDE!? WHO-!?” Another massive slug explodes the table beside him.

“Run.” I suggest. And it echoes from every machine.

“Run.”

“Run.”

“Run.”

“Run.”

“KILL DA TURRETS!” Chrome yells even louder - stabbing his good arm at me. And I got no eyes to widen as a literal cannon unfolds from deep inside his massive forearm. And I got no chance of repeating that earlier stunt - I was aiming for his dang ass! A pulse of mind, and I pull the trigger - but too soon. The turret’s power-bank was barely cycling up. It dents Chromes chest, and bounces off. Right as the cyborg fires, and my turret’s internals explode.

Shredding my mind with mad chaos and feedback.

But it ain’t enough.

A millisecond after, I open up with every other weapon I have. All four gauss guns at once, aimed square at his chest. Exploding panels and from every direction at once. Chrome falls to one knee - metal spine exposed. Most of his chest just gone. Which is near-as-damn nonlethal on a monster like this.

But the bar utterly loses it.

Some fire back, charge the door, or join the heck in - cause why not? Others take cover - or open fire at the armoured bar, assuming it's the owner. Which just happens to put us in the line of fire.

I panic.

We’re really exposed under here. If they see Demon shielding me….. Or the spike in my skull…. No time. Don’t let em think. "GUESS AGAIN, INSECTS!" I chatter, unleashing pure and total chaos. Firing at tables. At walls. And right through the menu. Whoops.

“FIND DA HACKER! KILL DA GUNS!!” Chrome bellows as he struggles up. Cogs and actuators falling loose. Servos groaning in metal agony. A fleshy human would've been torn in half by now - but not ole titanium asscheeks over here. He grabs a table, forcing himself toward me. Or, rather, the turrets…..

But turrets were just part one. And I got other toys.

Stage two - I open the shutters. Blinding the whole bar in the light of the ganger rigs outside, and throwing our spot into shadow. More guns light up. Goons diving for the walls or tables as I help light up the others. Kami, under cover of panic, punting my smokebomb right into the back of the room, where it erupts like an angry cloudbank. Choking the thugs. Obscuring the cameras. Filling the air with its bounty.

I flip cameras to heat mode, and I start firing at bloody nothing - like a total maniac. Ripping up the ceiling. Blasting out tables. Pirates and gangs go freaking running. Some out the back, some out the front. Another turret dies - my mind fried with colour and sound. But I’ve won. The invasion flipped into a sudden expulsion as all three gangs yeet themselves out - with regulars in tow. Leaving nothing but smoke. And bodies.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

And Chrome.

And us.

He punches a turret through the wall - and I do mean through. Turning his broken body to the bar as rage lights his bright metal eyes. “Meybe. Meybe I was wrong. Meybe...." He takes a step toward the bar - plus my actual body - and every fibre of my being goes 'oh shit'. "Meybe..." He chuckles again. "Meybe me own barkeep got it out for me. Huh?" He laughs, and it's almost joyful. Like he worked out the big trick....

A thing of triangles and ticking eyes materialises in cyberspace. "Spook. While I have no issues with you dismantling a murderous gang-leader-"

"COME ON DEN! YE WANT ME DED!?" Chrome smashes his gun-fist into his chest, taking another slumping step toward the armoured bar. " WELL DEN!! LETS GO! EH! COME ON! GET YE WORTHLESS MOTHER-FRUKIN’ ASS OUT HERE AN FIGHT ME!!!" Another step. Fist swiping at smoke. A table smashed aside. Rocket-bullets blasting through the windows - unheeded, and unfelt. "COME ON, LIL BARKEEP!! AFORE I CRUSH YA FLAT IN YA OWN TIN CAN!!!”

“Guess again, metal man.” I sing through the staticy speakers - twisting my voice back, closer to normal. “Hear that? The song o' bullets. The Reaper is calling your name.....”

“A kid??” He snaps.

“Hackers are a right beedin' bitch, ain’t they? Could be right behind ya. Could be miles away....” I sneer in relief, modulating it back to keep the doubt on high. Don’t want the barman ganked, but I don't want him zeroing us neither. “Better run, little man….” I trill as he starts trashing the whole damn world looking for me. My last guns firing randomly, through the smoke. A lucky shot to his hip - and he falls. Still fighting. Still firing. But now he’s using cover - acting semi smart. Ish. So I draw him towards the back - and he staggers that way.

It’s now or never.

I screw up all my aim-settings, flip the turrets to auto-target, and-

Everything explodes into static as Polybius ynaks my brain right out of the network. Spitting it back into my sweating, jerking, convulsing body under the table-

Wait, no, Demon is carrying me?

I’m outside?

Panic hits as smoke and neon darkness whirls around me. Bright signs. Broken lamps. I start to struggle, and he veers off the road, right as I flip clear out of his arms. Landing hard on my…. coffee machine? No, wait - my face. Urrrgh…. I grab his leg with my autoGuns. “Bar had cofffeeeeee.” I groan, like this is critical need-to-know information.

“Hah. Yeah. Used to be a diner, mate.” Zip smirks wide, flickering back into being.

“And now it used to be a bar.” Kami drawls as little explosions pop the air. All shapes and smoke shot through by blazing, rainbow, light and beams of dancing halogen. Shadows and shapes whisking past our alley. Trails snapped in the smoke by bullets, bikes, and bastards with guns.

“Yah. Super….” I groan as everything blurs back to together, bit by bit. “Grawwww. Did not jack out properly….”

Kami flicks up all six titanium arms in a shoulderless shrug - which does weird things to her cloak. “Got rough. Had to yank it. So? We going or what? C’mon!”

“I’ll…. gimmie….” I groan, trying to remember what legs are for.

“Bad to be waiting!” Demon's tail flicks, fretfully, as guns flare with fire in the smoke. Bullets bouncing down our dead-end alley.

“Right. Right. Think I’m-”

Four horns cast a sharp shadow above as he grabs me again. “Kah-kah-kah!!” The foreign boy snarls in a staccato rush, ripping claws across his impish fox-mask. “Z’tat des un’ja-”

“OH SHIIII-!!!” Kami screams as a huge wall of floodlights, metal, and great big wheels comes hammering past our alley. Three tons of DIY madness crashing through stalls, lampposts, and onlookers alike. I hear it skid to a stop - and a massive yell goes up. Dozens of crazy punks thumping off the sides to run literal riot. Demon pulls me over his shoulder - jamming horns in bits I'd rather he didn't. Thankfully, most of it armoured.

Before I can yell, everything blurs backwards - hyperspace fast. I fend him off as we explode from the alley, bolting - on all fours - across gritty brick and slick stone. A sky of iron three stories above us - right where rooftops meet the ceiling. Ganger rigs roar with light in the smoke as the others chase. Every shadow a spiky whirl of cubs and chains, rocket guns, DIY shotguns, and even a freaking sword. It's a blur of madness and monsters and things in the dark. Animal shapes leaping off walls in a mad flurry of claws and teeth. Mutated 'Gone Wrong' gangers whipping tentacle arms, soaked in eyeballs and stingers.

We slink into a row of jetBikes parked along an armoured pirate shopfront. Barricades dropping in layers to seal away illicit prizes. We crouch low, beneath the holo-sign. Hearts banging. Peering beyond the last bike at a world still little more than but dim shapes and colour. A mad dream of violence, with precious little cover. “Zip, are we gonna have air support!?”

“Bout a minute, maybe? I got hostiles.”

“What? That far out?” I blink.

“Mate. It’s a Pirate Tower and, like- CRAP!” Zip yelps and flails. fumbling off an attack I can't see.

“.....nevermind. C’mon.” I swipe his illusion aside, and catch the wild yellow eye Demon flips at me. "Yeah, m'head's screwed. You take 'point'." I concede, and he nods. Trailing that slither of tail as he creeps to the end of the row.

Beyond it - mayhem.

I poke the ass-ornament, and he rushes onward - bounding off a wall, as some clown-masked ganger wangs a bat at him.

We chase after. Dodging fists - hurling elbows.

A huge shape barrels at us, and I kick off his chest - stumbling him back. Kami nips past, ramming fists in his gut. I bounce to the side, and everything goes hyperspace as I try to kick him in the head. Missing by metrics.

He stumbles back, but we’re already gone.

Skirting a burning rig. Two more guys take casual swipes. A metal-faced woman flailing a taser-barbed whip at my face. Demon ducks round me - tanking the damn hit. One arm punches a forearm into hers - knocking the whip away. The other jabs a palm to the face, shoving her off. She hits the wall, and I wind her with a kick. Rolling to duck her boyfriend - and throwing myself to freedom. We’re halfway off into the mist before the tires scream again. Headlights chasing over the bomb-proof armoured grills they call windows.

We duck at the pop-pop-pop of rocket guns.

But nothing to do with us, so we freakin’ leg it. Kami a thundering avalanche of hobnails, well behind our whispering pads. We skid into a stop - waiting for her to catch us at the corner. She flicks my fuzzy ear as she passes, and I yelp. Chasing her in a toothy fury as Demon’s metallic claws clash sparks off the bends. Tails snapping the air.

A shout, far behind, and a massive BANG rocks the air. Like a pimped-up ganger rig smashing its way through jetBikes. Welded armour screeching. Some punk yells an overly-complicated warcry, and-

Boom-bada-boom!

The bombs begin to shout. Rocking the world behind us. Buildings and signs streaking around us in a whirl of sight, and sound and smell. Hideouts, Laboratories, Dens, Shops, and disassembled airShips blending together into a hyperspace corridor of light. Ripping open the night to reveal the glory of the Pirate Enclave - our little refuge far from the eyes of the Corp, and the law.

And whoever else might be looking....

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