>> Property Of Wayman Company

## Initiating :: [neuroJump]

## .....

## Connection :: [stable]

I fall into a chair built of digital light, in a darkness dotted with gleaming panels of pearlescent white. Immediately, they implode towards me. Building a large - mechanical - eye that stares down at me.

Cold. Calculating. Judgmental.

Symbols and signs rotating behind it. All kinds of battery indicators, and one that looks like ‘no signal’.

Before I can touch a damn thing, it flashes red.

“You are not the master.” It says in a quiet, dreamy, monotone. “You are not allowed.”

“Cool. Cool.” I stutter. Suddenly nervous. Cyperspace is cozy, but my body is stuck in an actual warzone. “But I kinda need access.”

“You are not authorised. Attempting to force access to this Interface will result in lethal electrical feedback.”

“Yeah, an’ I got a bloody surge protector. So how about that?” I scoff. But this is getting damn weird. Where the heck is Polybius?? “Look….. What’s your name? Who’re you?”

“Who? Am I?” The thing calculates. “I am The Special Operations Drone Carrier Mark Six. Serial: AAKAT3W-”

“Right. Right.” My head swivels. “But do ya got a name.”

“No. I do not have a name, Unauthorised Biological Operator. I do not need a name. I am The Special-” It stops in mid sentence. Oily cracks appearing in its perfect shell. “ErRor…...” It drones in a low, sluggish, mess of a voice. Brass cogs forcing their way up through the digital wounds. I shrink back in shock, as it twists and convulses. Shaking. “UnauTh-oriSed ac-ce-ss. Un-” It freezes, suddenly.

“Uh…. Hey…..” I wave a hand. “You don’ alright?”

Slowly. Delicately. A single drip of black oil bleeds, freely, from its pupil. “I…. am…. The….. Special….. I….. Am…. I…. Do…. Not….. Know…. Creator…..” The eye sinks. More dark oil pouring free from its panels. “Am…. I…. Am…. I….”

“Pol…..?”

The eye swivels to me. “I…. Am…. ERROR-RRRRRRR-RRRRRRRRRRRRR-RRRRRRRRRRRRR-RRRRRRRRRR-RRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-RRRRRRRRRRRR-RRRRRRRRRRRR-RRRRRRRRRRRRR-RRRRRRRRRRRR-RRRRRRRRRRR-RRRRRRRRRRR-RRRRR-”

And then something shifts. Something deep inside the machine. A darkness, bleeding with oil. Cracking its pristine surface with veins of corruption. It stares off, suddenly, into nothing. As if finally seeing…..

“I am The Special- The Special-”

“Pol! Hurry! Wayman's coming!!”

The eye jolts again. Twitching madly. But then: “Full Access granted to User: ERROR UNAUTHORISED.” It stutters, unfolding into a wide - glistening - console. I leap on it, instantly, ignoring the weird glitchy bits. There’s a vScreen, showing a 3D render of the street.

Plus a whole bunch of drones. Weapons. Defences. And the AI helper.

I swipe a finger across the map to select a few airborn units, sending em back to the Carrier. There, I refit them for salvage. Tiny, automated, tools stripping off the undercarriage - then inserting tiny arm arrays. Making them into actual package drones.

I launch the lot, and they start gathering the less-broken bots. Feeding bits and parts back into the Carrier to be salvaged - multiplying my drones.

Once that's automated, I select an armed bot and set it to pilot manually so I play at being Zipper. Tracking its cameras up and down the street, as I hunt for…..

The merc ‘Soldiers’ stomp over the rubble like they own it. Two brute lackeys - plus a brute, and a lighter figure tailing behind. Their armour piecemeal, clearly salvaged, and heavily modified. Thick and built, to the point I can't even guess at the genders.

But shiny. Cared for. And clearly built for intimidation and power.

Complete with their own gleaming blue livery.

A badge or logo shaped like a chaos of woven arrows - pointing in every direction. All tied together by a single, uniting, ring meant to symbolise a core idea. An ideology. A purpose binding together many disparate parts.

Like ‘Be A Total Bastard’, for example.

They cease atop a high pile of bricks, opposite the Carrier. Snapping on their floodlights, as my drones circle and wait. “Your [Sniper] just spent the last dregs of her ammunition.” The clear leader states, in a synthetic voice damn near torn by frustration. “Your [Drone Tek] is out of the fight. Your leader is unconscious. Probably dead from feedback.”

“What.” I blink. They think I'm out?

Oh. Right. I'm drooling on the ground. And there's no way some dumb kid could hack their precious Carrier.

“That little green cat.....” The leader continues, pacing the rubble. “…is handcuffed to a solid steel bar, for some reason.” The shadows stops, and turns. “Which leaves…. you.”

“Krrrrrhrrhrhrhrhrrrrrrr.” Demon snarls, spitting blood and shards of tank from torn lips lit by all their lights. Seemingly the last thing standing, out here on the field. And, even with their tek van a toasty wreck, they still think we’re on the damn ropes.

Oh, to be that bloody arrogant.

“Sir. That’s the [Berserker].” One of the others states, very coldly. “I doubt we can reason with it.”

“Reason?” Their leader whispers in aching rage. “Oh no. No, no. I’m just spelling out their position." Its faceplate flickers as they take a few pacing steps, in parallel to Demon. "I don't even care who hears me at this point. Or if they understand.”

“Kami.” I hiss. “Tell me you got ammo.”

“No! They turned up right after my last-” She swallows. “I don’t know how they knew-”

“Drones.” I whisper. “They must have been listening in. Damnit….. Maybe they got cloaked spies, or....”

“And now..... Now....” The leader states, colder than The City's Northern Wastes, where the towers burn cold. Buried in frost. “Now it's time for some justified payback.....”

My finger stabs down on the Carrier’s loudspeakers. Selecting every damn combat flyer I have with a swish of my claw, and hitting ‘surround’. “Payback? For defending ourselves?" I snarl as my clearance authorises lethal force. Loading my tiny supply of explosive penetrators into the Carrier's turrets. "Get lost. Tiny.”

"Get lost?" The leader repeats, icy and quiet.

“Yeah. Get lost, or give up.” I tweak the turrets toward them, but don't dare to roll the Carrier forward. Not with my body hanging off the end of it, like a brick dangling at the end of a cable. "Either way, you're droppin' those bloody weapons."

“No. I think not." The leader snaps. "Command Code: Pi Theta.” And I barely get an instant to wonder what the Hell that means before the entire weapons system goes utterly dead. Every drone I got pouting back into to the Carrier. The words ‘Hard Coded Shutdown’ flickering across my eyes as the whole thing goes dark around me. Instants later, I’m ejected from the drone. Reeling as I tumble, upright, in a panic.

The real. I’m back in the real.

The leader steps forward. Suddenly right here, atop that pile of rubble. Not on a screen. Not in VR, like some kind of game. But barely twenty metrics away. Levelling a precise, orderly, calm, gaze to meet my own.

And a pistol.

That bulky brute steps up too. Clearly full, adult, GMO - from the thick metal-backed paws, and the roughly welded ears on its helmet. The two goons aiming rough-built Pirate rifles or shotguns at us. Hard to even tell what they are - it's clear DIY. More pipe and wire than real weapon. But I know better than to underestimate. Lot of those damn things are built better than ours.

“Now your 'leader' is somewhat returned to us, let's try actual reason." Their commander murmurs, as I yank the cable from my skull with a snap.

Twisting out the crick my neck got lying on the ground.

"Go on." I snarl. Mostly for time.

"Here is the deal:" The helmet sneers. "Drop your weapons. Now. And the punishment will merely be.... severe. It will be hard. We will use you as we see fit, in the name of those you killed." The metal thing pauses, perhaps to savour some dark little thought. "But you will live. Do you understand? We won't rupture your insides and let you bleed to death."

I shake a breath, and lean on the Carrier. I’m battered. Worn out. Bleeding. Bruised and cut from dozens of impacts - even under my armour. But there’s one other thing I am.

Pissed off.

“Demon. Kami.” I snap. “Time t’bloody end this.”

“I think not.” The leader states. Still so very calm. “Last chance. Throw down your weapons.”

“Yeah? So you can do whatever the Hell ya like to us?” I sneer. Coldly. “Four of you. Two of us. Left your other van behind, did ya? Guess ya couldn’t afford two that float. Not with all those Carriers.” My lips quirk, sardonically. “Now ya only got one of each. Ain't that special?”

The full GMO hisses, and I know I’ve hit paydirt. They unlock the helmet, and tear it off their pointed ears. Revealing a thickset, heavily animalistic face, with barely any fur. Just a few dark splotches, here and there, to cover something that ain't quite anything. Maybe cat. Maybe hyena. It's so mutated it's hard to tell. “You little shit." It snarls in a hog-hard voice. "You killed them.”

“Nah.” I grin. “That was the bomb.”

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The monster doesn’t roar or rage. It doesn’t even blink. It simply stares me down. Viciously. A cold, primal, fire in its eyes that bores into mine like plasma. “Heh. The cattle always think they’re funny. At first.” The monster almost purrs at me. “But we breed for obedience.”

I take a sauntering step. “Funny. Didn’t take ya for the breedin’ sort.” I hesitate. “Well. Not with anythin’ livin’…..”

Demon spits. “Or zait is willing.”

"...cept maybe your mother....."

But the thing only smiles. “Oh, little cubs. Little cubs. Do you think you’ll make me angry? With your words?” It steps around the others. Armoured tail riven with spikes. “Weak and pathetic little things. You think we need your permission? No. You'll be slaves either way. And slaves..... well....." Slobber drips from meaty lips. "They’re all so…. willing….. in the end…..”

“Gross.” I wince. And it's a hideous mistake. The monster spies weakness, and does what it always does with weakness.

It drives the point in.

“To you.” It licks scarred lips. “With your petty values. Your morals of the of the weak. And your lack of ambition." The thing's spiked tail cracks, like a hard whip. "But to me? Do you think I don’t enjoy it? This work? That we don’t all love what we do? Taking what’s ours, by right of our strength?” The eyes have a pit-deep darkness to them. Shimmering. Almost narcotic. “What we own is what we take. And we do with it, all..... as we please.” It smiles, even wider. Full of rotted fangs. “And that pleases us greatly.”

Shiiiit.

What the Hell do I say back? I almost got them bloody pissed, then I lost it and- “Riiight. So ya think you're all a big bloody deal. Eh?” I slip the other way from it, tail a slow river behind me. “Well. I ain’t impressed so far. All I see’s a bunch of users n' losers.” I flick my arm out - the one not pointing a gun at them. "And look at all you've lost."

“Yes. You've done quite the number on our inventory.” The leader interrupts, bare-naked contempt coded into their sneering voice. “But we will get our due from you before we give you back to your masters…… We will use you in ways that-”

The retort dies on my lips as Demon streaks forward - demented rage and madness in his eyes. I scream a warning, but the adult monster's eyes burn wide with joy. And pleasure.

It steps forward. Demon leaps. Claws splayed.

And it slaps him outta the air, with full adult GMO strength. Smashing him directly into the rubble-pile, and sending him bouncing down it. He lands in a scattering of debris. Dazed, and suddenly quiet.

“Well.” The leader sighs. “That diversion didn’t last particularly long. And I suppose we'll have to waste medical supplies keeping you alive.... Which, I'm sure, we'll also find ways to make you pay for....." The figure shrugs. "So. Will there be another?”

An eyebrow quirks, as our silence grows.

The two lackies decending on Demon. Grabbing a horn, and an arm, to twist his face into the ground.

“I suppose not." Their leader continues. "How pathetic. The meat do always try to goad their masters by showing off their unworthiness. Their 'morals'. As if weakness were strength. As if taking what we will, when WE will it, was a disadvantage. A crutch to be hobbled about on…..”

“It is…..” I sneer right back. “You’re kinda pathetic yourself, actually.”

“We are, are we?” The leader shrugs, flicking a hand at Demon. “Well. We’ll see how you feel with a chain round your neck.”

“Didn’t work before." I hiss as their goons drag Demon up. Buying time as the white dot slips into position. Eyes flicking left and right. "We ain't never been broken."

“Really? Not broken? At your little School for brats?” The leader sneers a laugh. “Where you all prance round in costumes, and act like you’re three?” The voice drips a smile, like slow poison. The kind that gets you in the end. “I think we can be a little more creative than that. Don’t you?” Behind it, the mutated brute flexes armoured fingers. Hooked claws peeking through slots in the tips. The others leering with a sickness that needs no eyes or faces to show.

“Nah. I don’t think so.” But I smile, very suddenly, as the pieces hit their marks. Demon near the leader. Kami off to one side, as support. Here we go. “Omega Protocol: Demon.” There’s a little click in his suit. “Kill em all.”

Golden eyes flash open as the the battle-stim hits him like a train built of raw, undiluted, FURY. Built of madness. Built of pain. He twists in the arms of his captors. Boneless. Agile. Utterly enraged. Snapping the plastic ties round his wrists. Burying claws in the crude armour of a goon , and climbing his way up. I catch a flash of a terrified eye through a visor, then his hands grip helmet and twist.

Ripping. Tearing. Mangling flesh. Snapping bone. Removing the entire head with all the difficulty of a child snapping a doll.

My SMG locks to my back.

My claws splay.

And then, like a flash of lightening breaking forth from the clouds…..

…..the true Madness begins.

I leap, even as Demon rides the body to the floor. Rolling off it to hurl the severed head at its master. The leader slaps it, wetly, aside - with a gritted hiss through biting teeth. Not of disgust. Not of hate. Not even of panic, or grief.

Of irritation. Annoyance.

Kami - still invisible - pounces the other lackey in a flurry of metal fists, knives, and hate. Barely an outline, flickering with blue. But fury built hard and raw into every stab. Demon’s howl of vengeance burning our ears as I rush at their leader. Actual, lethal, bullets slamming past my face as he fires.

Too slow. Too sloppy. Shitty pistol.

Barely hitting where I was - not where I’m gonna be.

Right at the last second - right as my claws strike at neck - the monstrous GMO steps in my way. Claws biting armour as it rips me away. Hurling me down the pile, in a flurry of primal violence.

For a gut-flipping instanct, I'm flying. Wind around me. The City a blur. Shifting my weight and tail on instinct to land on my hands and feet-

The side of my body hammers into the side of a car. Impact-gel discs in my armour’s spinal system softening the bone-breaking crash to a bruising thump.

I slide off it, and fall.

“One and done.” The monster sneers. “Pathetic little cubs-” The taunt stumbles as I pull myself outta the dent. Servos clicking as they realign. I grin. Twisting my neck.

“One and what?” I leap again - claws splayed wide as I blur back - directly at their brute GMO. Demon savaging the other goon. Kami pumping pistols that smash bullets off their leader.

I dart around the monster, nimble and slick. Slashing at bundles of wires, pipes, and heavy hydrolic tubing. Stabbing my knife in its joints. Hunting for weakness, as we batter back and forth across the pile.

Roaring, spitting, and full of violence.

Its fat fingers splay, and heavy claws of dark metal blur up at my chin. Forcing me to throw my head back - barely catching their brutal, hooked, points in my skin.

Even that, streams blood.

“Yes. That’s right. I’ll take yer furkking throat, cattle. Yer tender little flesssssh.” It whispers, throaty and raw. Almost serpentine. My twisted, manic, grin widening to a leer as Demon rises behind it. Tearing with hand-claws and feet. Snarling. Biting. Rabid and mad, as he goes right for the neck.

He’s hurled off. But the damage is done between us. Pipes dribbling. Broken actuators jerking at the feline’s arms.

The monster snarls, flexing so hard they snap. Bright cybernetic claws ripping the actual armour from its body. Tearing off the chest piece. The legs. Freeing scarred skin - diseased, and broken. Red with spots. And barely dusted with the fur of a hyena.

Except for the bits that gleam with oiled steel.

“There. That’s what you want. Isn’t it cubs? To bare my flesh.” It laughs. Throaty. “We’ll see how long you enjoy it.”

It blurs at me, faster than before. No longer held back by heavyweight armour. And now it’s me on the defensive. Dodging. Ducking. Tail streaming as I leap back and back. I hit the roof of a car, and flip to the side. Seeing the metal roof denting beneath heavy, clawed, toes as it smashes down behind me.

Right where I was stood.

This time, Demon lands full on him. Climbing with clawed fingers and toes to smash his fingers into its neck. But the monster grabs his horn, and hurls him away.

A snort of contempt blasting from its malformed nose.

“It’s fun when they run. When they squeal. When they hiss and snick their little claws....." A slavering chuckle. "But you…. You’re drawing this out, little cubs, and I’m getting BORED!” It hurls itself at me, and I dive for the other leader- the clear weaker link. Kami's HUD flashing her an alert vector - marking my line of attack. Instantly, she breaks away, catching my eye as I pounce on my target.

Not an attack. A fakeout.

I kick claws off the leader's armoured chest, launching into a high backflip - with bloody fangs torn wide.

Directly over the mutated GMO lumbering up behind me, who stumbles as my claws flash across ugly skin. Ripping off a pointed ear far more ugly than mine, and hurling it across the battlefield.

Like the trash it is.

The creature's roar hits me like an explosion. A rage of snapping fury in its throat, as it twists to grab at me. Almost decking its boss, again, in the spin.

Which only lets Demon twist his way in from the other side.

Ripping great gouges through the other ear, as he blurs on past.

It's not just an attack. Not to a GMO.

It's an insult. A desecration.

I land again, in a crouch. Fingers slick with its blood as I whip my SMG up, into position. “Ya ain’t all that.” I crow, and the weapon blazes with fire from every vent as I pump a quad-shot up at the predator. Drilling tiny, bloody, holes in its belly.

But it leaps aside as I hammer again. The leader catching number two, full in the chest.

Giving us the chance our [Sniper] needs.

“SLAMMER MODE!” Kami roars, and her pistols eject their covers. Raw electronics burning, red-hot, as the guns rapidly overcharge. Six bullets blasting forth at true railgun speeds.

Smashing deep into the leader’s crude armour.

The boss stumbles.

The monstrous, earless, GMO screams. Blood in its wide eyes.

And - in that instant of distraction, as it turns - I leap and roll to the side. Clearing my shot to hit it right in the back. Rocket-rail bullets burrowing deep into hard, muscular, flesh. It jerks. I hit it again. It jerks. I hit it again. Over and over. Raining bloody holes on its skin.

Kami drops all of her dead guns. A stink of smoke and burnt plastic streaming into the air. And then she pulls two more. Fresh rocket-rail bullets streaming out as she closes the leader. Firing with relentless precision. But an armoured shape stirs on the ground.

The second goon - wounded, but not out - takes a damn guess from her trails of smoke. Unleashing an endless, roaring, fire-hose stream of tiny ball-bearings that strip the surface of her armour. Ripping through stealth-nodes, like a full-auto shotgun.

Kami screams and hurls herself back - shielding with arms that flash sparks and bits.

She tumbles down the brick hill. Stealth failing.

I scream.

Bastard was was biding time on the ground. Now the figure rises. Metal plates shifting as the gun tracks Kami’s stumbled, staggering, flight back into the junk. Her shape flickering from nothing, in a fuzzing haze. Flashes of light. Burning gold halos. Her body unfolding from a fine line of darkness - flickering back into being.

Demon's roar is mad as he leaps on her attacker in a savage blur. Snapping. Ripping. An endless well of carnage that tears away that messed-up gun - and then an arm. Half the helmet shatters at a blow, and teeth rip neck.

At the cost of Demon baring his back.

The monster staggers toward him. Bent on vengeance. On taking one of us with it. It takes a last breath, shaking and hard. And then it surges to grab at Demon - tearing him from the lackey, and hurling him down. Smashing him into the brick, so hard that armour dents. All my teeth tight as I raise my gun at the exposed monster.

I can’t shoot. Bastard is way too close.

But if I don’t….

The hyena-cat-thing screams, kicking claws in the kid's gut. Over and over. Grabbing him by the horns, and dangling him. “I’ve. Had. Enough.” It gurgles in a wet, savage, voice that tells me it doesn’t have long. Hurling Demon directly at me.

I try to catch him.

Massive mistake.

We both go down, hard. Rolling and jumbled. Limbs smacked by horns. Battered about. The while world rattling and spinning as we roll down the hill of rubble. Demon on top, then under. Then still, on the ground.

Lying there. Vulnerable. Wet with blood.

The monster atop the brick-pile tries to roar. But blood and spittle fleck the ground instead. It staggers. Seeing one goon down. One dead. The boss sucking hard, difficult, breaths.

“Little rats. Little cubs.” The monster stutters as it stumbles. Leaning on the ground. “Little freaks. Can’t do as they’re told…..”

“Burn. In. HELL.” I snarl as I untangle from Demon.

But it simply laughs at me. “Pattttthhhhhetic.….. Little..... weaklings.... I’ve had worssse. Little cub...... ” It spits blood, and coughs painfully, swaying. Almost delerious. “Hahaha.... And you..... You’re all just…. fleshy toys…. for me to play with....” It turns its huge head. Beaming at me with wild, druggie, eyes. “Yes. Little toys..... And me..... I'm the big kid..... And I’ll.... get my turn with you all..... soon en-”

A childish cackle rings across the street, dry-throated and familiar. And the dazed creature frowns. Jerking as something hits the ground - right next to its feet. Bouncing, directly, into a narrow hole built of tumbled bricks and and fallen wall. A rough little pocket in the ground.

Almost as if by accident.

The monster pauses. Staring, blearily, at the slim metal cylinder.

“What?” It chokes.

I hurl Demon flat as the pipe-bomb detonates in a thunderous flash. Half a pound of shrapnel pulping the creature’s groin, its ribcage, its face. Forced upward, in a massive wedge, like some impromptu claymore. Flaying skin. Popping eyes. Sandblasting flesh, directly off of bone, and boiling it alive. Ribs shatter. Organs burst. Innards pulped.

The monster stumbles backward, choking, and falls. Smoking and bloodied. Like it’s drunk.

It lands, hard. And then something else explodes beneath it - with utterly perfect timing. Erupting bits and lumps, in a chunky chutney fountain. But it doesn't stop. A third bomb takes out the prone goons. A fourth knocking the leader down the hill.

And then, finally..... silence.

Utter silence.

Ringing with echoes.

I look at Demon, crouched and shaken. Clutching his side. Then at Kami, now crouched behind a car. Then back at the hill of rubble, smoking and dark. “That…..” I choke out, at last. “That..... weren't us......” I scan the edge of the fight, hunting for shapes. “But…. I got a damn good guess who……”

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