Matt pulled out of there shared bed and smiled as he looked down at the sleeping woman next to him, her hair in a golden and blue halo around her head. He looked at the clock on the desk across the room and cursed. They only had an hour before there shift started, with a sigh he pulled on his clothes and woke Monica up, she sat up groggily and winced as muscles she had never used and stretched before cried there protest to last night's vigorous activity.
She was extra careful when she got out of bed to not use her muscles in any way that could cause the ache to come back, but soon she was dressed and ready. By the time she had stepped out of the room he had some toast and coffee for the two of them. After a quick breakfast, it was into work for another 10-hour shift for the two of them. Thinking about it now it was quite helpful that they were assigned to the same work shift, that meant that no matter what they would have very similar work hours, making going into work much easier.
“Matt, I don't think I can ride that thing,” Monica groaned as she saw matt’s bike, he who was already straddling the thing looked back at her and smiled.
“I’ll drive slow,” he said, but she shook her head.
“No, no, not that, well that too, but I don't think I can get my leg over the bike, to many sore muscles on the interior of my legs.” she blushed when she said this, and Matt said nothing as he dismounted, though this was mostly in an effort to not laugh at her discomfort out loud. He scooped her up and set her side saddle in front of him.
“I’ll go slow,” he said softly, and true to his word he did indeed go slow, causing the two of them to get into trouble for being over a minute late on the clock in..
***
Simon Tralo opened his eyes, a thick crust had glued them shut but with a swipe of the back of his hand he removed the film and opened his eyes. The smooth waves of texture that were his ceiling looked back down at him, a bright white in color. Dotted with patches of dust he was sure his wife would have him clean one of these days on one of those honey-do list she was so fond of.
He sat up and felt the room swim about him.
Gods he had just the worst headache, it had developed some time yesterday, but he could think of nothing that would have caused it. He hadn't eaten anything that he was allergic to, nor was it pollen season, or anything else. In fact, the only thing he had done was log into N.E.O. to see if there was an update on the progress of the caravan business, and much to his surprise there indeed was, even if almost half of those never got to their destination. And the majority of those that went missing had that one raider written all over them.
When he thought of that man a spike of anger cold and really not like him coursed through his system. Serotonin, Low cerebrospinal fluid flooded his system, though there origin was not actually from the cerebrospinal area, they originated from his caser.
I should kill him.
A voice spoke in his head and Simon’s eyes opened wide. It was his voice, in his head, had he actually just thought that.
I should maim him.
No, Simon was not a violent man, he had only been in one fight in his life and that was when he was still in high school, and he had always been the defender, never the aggressor, this was not like him.
Have to find him.
A splitting headache showed up again, he rubbed his eyes and stood up, staggering to the counter of his bathroom and pulled out two aspirins, downing them and using his hands at the sink to scoop up some water to wash them down.
Maybe I should go find him, he thought to himself, and almost instantly the splitting headache was gone, replaced by endorphins that calmed and soothed him. “Damn,” he said looking at the white blue and red pill bottle. “These things work fucking fast,” he said, and shrugged, he guessed it was time to contact that spiky hair weirdo.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
***
Matt sighed as he slipped out of his work jumper and got dressed again, he was wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday, seeing as he had spent the night over at Monica’s and had no clothes stashed there.
Yet.
He smiled as he walked out of the room and found that Monica was waiting for him at the exit and that she was not the only one. A tall man, mid-thirties was there, and he had his hand clasped around Monica’s upper arm and she did not look too pleased with it.
“What’s going on here,” Matt growled, and stepped forward aggressively, the thirty-year-old man turned to look at Matt and smiled a feral grin.
“Ah, so you were lying to me,” he looked back at Monica, who he still was restraining with a hand on her arm. And with his other hand, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a knife. He slashed it at Monica. The blade flashed silver and read and she cried out in pain and fell backwards, Matt leapt forward, an anger cold in his stomach, the fear however icely gripped his chest making it hard to breathe.
He had to check on Monica.
He had to deal with this asshole.
He grabbed the knife hand as it descended down, turning his body so his back was to the man’s chest as he brought the elbow down onto his shoulder. There was a loud sound of bone breaking and joints dislocated as the man’s elbow snapped over Matt’s shoulder, he could feel the point of it digging into his deltoid. The knife clattered to the ground out of the attacker’s hand, and still holding onto the man’s arm he kicked out with his foot, catching one of the man’s knees.
The resounding crack echoed in the small alleyway behind the store and Matt allowed the man to slip out of his grasp. Without looking he kicked the knife away and ran over to Monica.
“Is she ok?” Willow asked, her voice echoing the frantic question that ran through his head. She was sitting up and holding a bloody piece of cloth over her chest. Slowly he knelt down and pulled back her hand with shaking fingers. Under was a small wound, about four inches long, and it looked like the blade had glanced off of her collarbone.
He had tried to slit her throat.
It hadn't worked.
Thank god it hadn't worked.
“Oh my god!” A voice cried out, and Matt looked up to see a horrified Christa standing in the doorway, she was still wearing her work clothes and had likely come out to see what all the commotion was about. Matt placed her hand which he had pulled away from her to see the wound back over it, allowing her to press the torn cloth against the wound to staunch the bleeding. He then turned to Christa.
“Get her up,” he growled and turned back to the man. He was not out cold, or anything but was rather attempting to drag himself across the pavement to the blade. Matt casually walked over to the man, and gave him a good kick in the head, halting his progress cold. He closed his eyes and breathed in a calming breath, the scene of Monica being slashed at playing over and over in his head.
“Matt,” Willow whispered in his head, “I am going to have you jack into him, something is wrong with this man, he didn't grunt in pain, no scream, and you broke multiple bones in his body.”
“Drugs?” he asked.
“Could be, but the caser is designed to counteract the effects they have on the mind.” she responded softly, “Listen, we need to know, let me check, please.” he sighed and pulled out his vidcom, unplugging the jack from the port in the small device and instead crouching down and plugging it into the back of the man’s head and then into his own. He felt a cold rush as the two of them linked, and something else, an external warmth that seemed to flow from him, leaving him feeling empty and cold. It was only briefly gone, and then it was back, and with it was a curse from Willow.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, feeling deep within his gut that he would not like this.
“It would seem that she had taken a different approach.” Matt dug through the man’s pants pockets and pulled out his wallet, before finding his ID. Peter Muthelen, the name read, and he looked down at the man’s face, attempting to see if he recognized the man.
“He is a guard for one of the caravans that we appropriated in N.E.O. ” Willow said, Matt, looked at the man better and found that he vaguely remembered the man. Vaguely. “Its bad Matt,” she said.
“Who is she, and what is bad?” Matt asked, looking over at Monica, who had this knowing look on her face. She had obviously realized he was talking to Willow, but Christa just looked freaked out as she held Monica close.
“I was created as a copy of an A.I. the one that runs the game N.E.O. she created me when there was an issue in your caser, allowing her to slip me inside, I was to give her all the data I got, all of my experiences, I, however, decided I wanted to keep the more personal ones, well personal.”
“Understandable,” he said with a nod.
“To you, yes, but to her it meant I was faulty, ” her ghostly figure appeared before him and began pacing back and forth. “It would appear as though she has found another way to get that data, she has cracked this man’s caser wide open and there were almost a thousand programs and files that were not supposed to be there.” she stopped pacing and looked back at Matt, “I wiped them clean, but he was being controlled, not fully, but she was planting subliminal messages in his head, thoughts, and she was using the caser to alter his chemical composition in his brain, causing emotional responses,” she sighed. “Anyone he contacted with, anyone he called or emailed or anything could have the same virus.”
“How do we stop it?” he asked, he really was not the hero type, but he would not allow this A.I. bitch hurt anyone he cared about, and sometimes it took an asshole to hurt an asshole.
“First things first, we need a safe place to go,” she said, and he repeated it out loud, it was Christa who spoke up.
“I don’t know who is after you guys, but my uncle is a member of the ACHT, and he has a safe room in his house, he's out of town I have the key.”
“ACHT?” Willow asked.
“Anti Cyber Hacking and Terrorism unit, it is a government-run anti-terrorism unit that deals with cyber terrorism. ” Matt explained, he stood and Monica moved to walk to him but wobbled, without a second thought he scooped her up, one hand under the knees and one hand against her back. “Lead the way Christa, after we get Monica patched up we have an A.I. to purge,” he growled.