Chapter Twenty-Seven - A Good Job
“Fashion, the ever-changing monster. Trends come and go all the time, but there’s no doubt that the current meta involves integrating the tech necessary to living into your apparel. Accessories are the name of the game now.
Nothing encapsulates that more than the samurai, who by necessity, tend to be normal people under all the gear. So, of course, we emulate and copy that very same equipment, that aesthetic. “
--Coco Model, Memoires on The Changes, a 2045 autobiography.
***
“Gomorrah, I think I might need a distraction on the far end of this place,” I said.
The map with the path Gomorrah had given me was relatively simple. I had to take these people out of this place and to one of the rooms just down the corridor leading here. That would mean that for a good stretch of the way, anyone on the floor above would be able to see the kidnapped people, not to mention anyone on the bottom-most floor.
Then I had to blow apart a wall once inside that room, which would likely wake anyone who wasn’t already up. The noise of dozens of people moving by wouldn’t help.
While I considered my options, I moved over to the nearest door and looked at the padlock keeping it shut. It was a big thing, all heavy steel with a metal loop as thick as my thumb. I’d need something to blow it up.
“That guy has the keys,” Shaun said. He was pointing to one of the Sewer Dragons who was busy twitching on the ground behind me.
“Oh, that’s nice,” I said. I scooped the keys out of the guy’s jacket pocket, and then fiddled with the lock. “Alright, Shaun, I need you to keep an eye on everyone here. You’re going to stay in this room for the next five minutes or so. If any of you know how to handle a weapon, then there’s two shit guns on the floor there. A bit dirty but I’m sure they work.”
“Where will you be?” Shaun asked.
“Me? I’m going to be just down the corridor doing a bit of remodelling. If you hear gunshots and explosions, that’s because it’s working.”
“Alright?” Shaun said. He didn’t sound entirely onboard with everything. He was probably a bit too normal to be used to the speed at which samurai worked.
The lock came apart with a satisfying clunk and I tossed it to the side before walking over to the other side. The women were climbing to their feet, some of them helping the others. There was an air of cautious optimism. “We’re saved, oh thank the saints we’re saved,” one woman was muttering to herself while worrying her hands together.
I undid the last padlock and let it fall. “Okay. Everyone, follow Shaun over there. My partner and I, another samurai, will be making a lot of noise. When I come and get you, move fast, and keep your heads low.”
I moved into that little room at the entrance of the enclosures while turning on my invisibility. I caught a few gasps as I disappeared, then the sound of the gates opening and people shuffling out, slow and cautious.
“Gomorrah?” I asked as I headed over to the bulkhead. The two who entered had closed it behind them.
“I’m standing by the entrance,” Gomorrah said. “I’ve glued down your chronic masturbator friend. He decided to return to his post.”
“He’s not my friend,” I said. “Just someone I met one morning, you know how it is.”
Gomorrah snorted. “Sure. I’m ready to make a scene.”
I shoved my Trench Maker away. “Alright. Let’s see what kind of trouble we can cause.”
I pulled the door aside and stepped into the corridor, my Icarus rising as I pulled it out from under my jacket.
John was standing nearby, staring at a tablet next to some other Sewer Dragon.
They got to see my gun for all of a second before I lined it up with John’s head and fired. The canister sailed through the air and smashed the Sewer Dragon in the nose before bursting apart and sending a cascade of foam across his front. The second canister I fired burst apart against the other Sewer Dragon’s chest.
“Two down,” I said.
Someone screamed from above, and I heard a powerful whooshing sound. A bit of pure-white foam spilled down through the catwalks above. “That’s one here,” Gomorrah said.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
The screaming started about then, which did wonders to wake up the Sewer Dragons that were still asleep. I nailed one of them while he was only halfway out of his bed, gluing him there for a bit while I moved deeper into the corridor.
“Feds! It’s the feds!” someone screamed.
Not quite right, but I gave them points for trying to warn the others.
I considered glueing the door to one of the rooms I passed shut. It would have locked a few Dragons in, but they could shoot out of those rooms and that might put the civvies at risk.
Best to let them run out and put them out of the fight for good.
Screaming idiots burst out of side rooms, some waving guns around, others with long knives sticking out of their prosthetic arms. A few of the faster ones took potshots in my direction, but they were poorly aimed, and trying to hit the only part of me they could see, my gun. It wasn’t working out all that well for them.
I winced as a Sewer Dragon tagged another in the neck and he went down gurgling. Tight spaces, with fire coming from every direction meant that everything was going to shit real fast-like.
“Upper floor is clear!” Gomorrah said. “I’m foaming up the passages here. That should slow them down.”
“Nearly done here,” I said. I was already past the room where I’d need to plant a bomb, I just had to take out the last few idiots. I fired a last round from my Icarus, clicked on empty a couple of times, then pulled out my Trench Maker.
The last two Sewer Dragons were hiding behind some crates. They were bringing their guns around and firing wildly above the boxes, which meant that they weren’t hitting jack.
I walked past the crate and fired twice, sending them both to the floor as squirming messes. “I think we’re clear below,” I said. “Can you keep an eye on the corridor? I'm going to go renovate us an exit.”
Gomorrah came down the stairs two at a time, then searched the passage for things to shoot at. “I’ll keep it safe,” she said.
I nodded as I swung past her and into the room that was soon going to get an expansion. It was an office space, of sorts. A few computers here and there, a small bookshelf with old-school paper books. Lots of spectacularly terrible wire management, with cords strew across the floor.
“So, the back wall,” I muttered. A glance at the wire-mesh map showed that there was about ten centimetres of cement between the wall and a room on the other side, one that was a bit higher up than this room. “Myalis, I need something that’ll blow this wall apart.”
You can’t imagine how many options that leaves you with.
“Ah, let’s go for something old-school?”
Certainly.
New Purchase: Remote Detonated Plastic Explosive
Points Reduced from... 10,881 to... 10,880!
“Cheap,” I said as I picked up the little box that appeared by my feet. There was a small disk inside, with a plastic-y thing in its middle that had a few small lights. My augs connected to it and gave me a new menu with a few options. I toggled on the ‘click to detonate’ then pressed it to the wall. It stuck fast.
I decided not to stand next to the explosive as it went off, because I liked my remaining limbs and Lucy would be miffed.
Stepping out of the room, I moved closer to Gomorrah’s side. She was next to the bulkhead door. “Is it done?” she asked.
I glanced back, then selected the ‘detonate’ option on my aug’s menu.
The ground shook and there was a nice bassy bang. Dust shot out of the doorway leading into the freshly renovated room. “It is now,” I said.
I kind of regretted not being able to see that, but I could imagine it well enough.
“In that case,” Gomorrah said. “Let’s get people moving. We still have quite a few people unaccounted for.”
“I think, for those, we’ll need to find Doc Hack and ask him some questions. The fun sort.”
“That can wait until the people we can save now are safe,” Gomorrah said.
I glanced around at all the Sewer Dragons currently stuck to the floors and walls and to each other. One of them had their arm sticking out of the white foam, so they gave us the middle finger. “I love my job,” I muttered.
***