“We’re such strange creatures. We can be driven by so many things: love, pleasure, ambition. And yet, there is one universal rule that makes all humans productive. It is punishment. We fear pain, but we fear failure more. What’s stranger is that even success brings punishment sometimes. How? You should ask a mother. Or maybe ask the successful—the ones who’ve tasted triumph only to find it bittersweet, burdened by the weight of expectations and the pressure to surpass themselves.”

— A quote from Marjorie Dunn, the CEO of the Global Unified Forces who served from 2240 to 2303.

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The meeting I was guarding turned out to be a calm one. At least for me. The three people who gave their ‘reports’ to Miss Morrison were struggling; burdened with astounding amounts of stress. I’ve seen such levels in soldiers being shot at, not people dressed in white and silky blouses. Who would have thought that you didn’t need a gun to shorten someone’s lifespan with dangerous levels of cortisol and adrenaline?

Regardless of all that, nobody threatened each other, no hands were thrown, and I was able to accomplish the first night of the contract without any problems.

At the end of the meeting, when Miss Morrison’s guests - or employees - left, I was informed that next Friday I should arrive the same way and at the same time. The code phrase would change, but she’d send me a new one sometime next week.

Considering how in a hurry she seemed when the last person departed, I decided against mentioning that she should probably increase or change her security measures, which seemed like they were limited to me and a man that stood in the entrance hall of this building.

Maybe, I would mention it some other time.

As I stepped inside the borrowed car, I checked the time. It was very late, but not like the last time I went back to the HQ. Maybe the roads would be a bit more busy then.

I was able to easily and without hitch drive out of the parking lot, as it seemed the other cars had already left before me.

And just like I estimated, the road was slightly busier, with a couple of cars that passed me. It would probably change dramatically when I reached the other part of the city. One where chrome and glass were less popular.

So, I drove towards the HQ.

As I passed one skyscraper after another, the Upper District soon turned into a less populated area, where high-rises still ruled over the topmost part of the city, but places with more variety were visible near the ground, where people walked day-to-day.

I thought about how little of the megacity I’ve seen. I’ve only moved sporadically from one place to another without a moment to think and look at a place that held so much history of humanity and synthoids.

It would definitely look nicer from above. I could almost taste the sweet pressure of a high velocity aircraft as it surged above this glass and metal empire. But ultimately, I would have to settle for Sludgy’s car. I felt a slight choking feeling deep in my core. I categorized it as disappointment. I wondered if I would ever fly again.

When I stopped on a red light, I decided that maybe I should take a detour. It wouldn’t be too prudent of a move, of course. But considering that the car’s windows were tinted and that I haven’t been accosted by Fran-Mili in quite some time, it might not be as risky as one might think.

As the light turned green I turned right instead of left. There was one part of the city that I wanted to see. Gabriel mentioned it once, that he was able to see it on one of the contracts he did with Moose. That job had taken them to what was once the Central Park. Well, it was still somewhat of a park. In a way that there were trees and greenery there, but they were unavailable to the public.

When I turned another time, there it was before me. A massive glass structure that almost reached the highest skyscraper. The Central Park Greenhouse.

Under that rectangular glass dome resided plants and trees, and biological greenery that was rare these days in the world of silica, steel, and neutronium. It filled the dome to the brim with its luscious leafs and I thought that I’ve never seen this much green color in one place.

And as Gabriel said, it was a very intriguing view. Plants were almost non-existent at the Antarctica base. There were some vegetables at the buffet and Jack had a fake plant on his desk, but of course, such things couldn’t compare to the sheer volume of plant matter visible before me.

I wished that there was a parking space nearby, but the closest spot for me to park was around twenty minutes of walking distance from the Central Park Greenhouse.

I decided that if I were to be brief with looking at it nothing would happen. It was a well-populated area and even if Fran-Mili were to notice me from the cameras’ footage, it would still take them a couple of minutes to actually send a team for me. If they were still inclined to do so that is.

It was safer to assume they were.

With that thought in mind, I decided to do something for myself. To see that dome up close.

I turned and was able to park on a quiet little street that was only so narrow to allow only one lane for movement. From inside the car, I was able to see that the street was full of vehicles, but empty with people. I took the gun I left on the passenger seat and stepped out.

When I closed the car and started to move towards the greenhouse, overhead I heard a familiar buzzing sound. My core’s energy flared in preparation and jumped through all the parts of the body that increased physical performance.

I was about to be shot at, I knew. So, I started to run.

I chose the direction of the busiest avenue I’ve passed when I drove here and dashed towards the end of this tube-like street.

When I looked above, I was greeted with a familiar image of a drone. It was of Fran-Mili make. I was able to tell instantly based on the build, colors and buzzing sound of its propulsion system.

I would have never thought that they would send out machines instead of another execution squad.

Were they following me since I left the building? Is that why I wasn't able to see or hear them?

I could detect them coming closer, so I grabbed my Colt with a firm grip and risked looking behind me. There were only two there, but they were catching up to me. Even that pair was an amount difficult to get rid of. I tried to suppress a strange tremble coming from within my core.

Maybe the city’s landscape would be too complicated for them to navigate. These were big-bodied combat drones after all. I could only hope since shooting them down would be impossible with the weapon I had in hand. The materials that built them were too tough to penetrate. Maybe an HPP rifle would be of some help if I got close enough, but that wasn’t the case right now.

And Rin said I wouldn't need to use one. I shouldn’t have listened to her and somehow got that rifle.

I could hear and see from the corner of my vision some odd movement coming from one of the rushing drones.

I jumped to the side, but even then, I felt a shocking pressure hit my back.

I tumbled into one of the cars parked on the street. The vehicle started to beep in distress for a couple of seconds but was suddenly quietened. The drones had some good technomancy it seemed.

Fran-Mili really didn’t cheap out on this attempt.

My arms were squeezed alongside my body. They hit me with a net. Clearly their goal was not to get rid of me, but to capture me. It provided me with some leeway as to my next action.

The drone that shot at me hovered in the back, while the second one flew closer to me. A single mechanical arm stretched from the center of the machine and held out a clearing collar.

I thanked Gabriel for his caution and myself for installing the hardware as soon as I could.

I calculated scenarios that I could use to get out of this situation. There were many options with varying degrees of potential success. I could start screaming for help and perhaps the drones would take it as too big a risk of an exposure, and go. This seemed to be a residential area after all.

I dismissed it. They might quicken their attempt at apprehending me if I were to do so.

I could also allow them to go with their plan. The clearing collar wouldn’t do anything to me at this point and in the process of transporting me, I might be able to find new means of escape.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

Although, that plan relied heavily on a possible opportunity. Not a certainty.

I tried breaking through the grip the net had on my body, but it was too tough and elastic. The only way of getting out of it was to cut it with something really sharp. I didn’t have a knife on me, which I realized was idiotic and something that I would never overlook back when I was in service.

I scolded myself and watched as the drone kept approaching me.

Then there was only one option left. To go with their plan and search for an opportunity later.

How come there weren’t any people aware of what was going on this street? You’d think that a sound of a drone rushing through the air would wake someone up, but apparently not.

As the mechanical arm came closer to me, I saw the sharp edge of it and a new plan rushed through my logic pathways.

When the edge of the arm came above me, I activated my antigravity field and watched as the net got cut on the edge of the mechanical protrusion as my body floated toward it. Just one nick compromised the integrity of the net.

When I pushed my arms sideways as strongly as I could, I heard the net snap. I was free to move once more. Before the drones reacted, I grabbed onto one of the wings of the drone that still held the clearing collar. Up close, I might be able to do some damage.

I would have to be quick, though.

Whilst my antigravity field was active, providing me with some freedom of movement, I threw my body on top of the center of the drone. I used a strong grip onto its wing as leverage. The attachment made a sound of suffering as it was getting crushed in my grip.

The drone started to spin and shake trying to get me off, but I held fast and deactivated the antigravity field to pin the machine with my weight. It flew a couple of meters over the ground and buzzed with a strain of my ballast.

Now I needed to search for a weak spot. Maybe a joint between the wing and the body, or a gap in a panel somewhere. Simply punching through the tough armor of the machine would be possible but at a great cost to my arm’s integrity.

Then, as the drone continued to spin rapidly one more time, I saw an opportunity. There was a small gap in between the wing and the central body. I took my gun from behind me and positioned the barrel as close to it as I could. I risked shrapnel damage with this, but there was no other option as destructive as shooting the weak spot at point-blank range.

And then I shot. The drone immediately started to spin towards the ground. In a second, I reactivated the antigravity field and floated just a little over it, as to not receive the impact damage as its inevitable crash to the surface was seconds away.

The machine broke against the tough surface of the narrow road and I turned my attention to the second one flying near me.

Just in time, too, as a new net flew past me as I evaded with a tumble behind one of the vehicles lining the street.

It wouldn’t offer me protection as the machine could easily fly above the car, but it would still give me at least a couple of seconds of deliberation.

And as the buzzing sound grew nearer, I decided upon the best course of action my logic pathways could spew.

I gripped my Colt strongly in my hand, just so the barrel rested along the outside of my hand. With such a grip, I could produce a powerful punch. And when I saw an emerging body of the drone, I flexed my legs and jumped. More like shot from the ground, but still.

My fist connected with the underbelly of the machine and a resounding screech sounded through the street as my plasteel knuckles ripped through my synthskin and scratched at the tough armor.

The drone flew rapidly up, and I followed by adjusting the strength of the antigravity field.

My core strained with the energy demand, but held strong. I flexed my arms and prepared to grab one of the wings. The gun was still in my hand, which reduced the potential strength of my grip.

The drone slowed its ascent and I found myself to be able to reach it. I grabbed the wing and positioned my legs around the center mass.

I deactivated my antigravity field and pulled at the wing with all my strength while making sure I leveraged the hold my legs had on its body. Even a small deformation would prevent this machine from doing precise maneuvers.

As I heard a vicious sound of bending metal and carbyne that build the machine’s exterior, a pressure exploded at my right shoulder. I risked seeing what hit me and saw that the first drone that I crippled was able to take out a gun from its center. I didn’t notice that compartment.

I shut down errors that popped up in my ocular implant and tried to bend the wing some more, but my arm’s integrity was compromised, and I wasn’t able to execute enough strength for it.

I needed to climb on the top of this machine to get out of the firing range of the one laying on the road.

With nimble movements, I transferred my gun to my left hand and pushed myself swiftly on top of it. The drone protested, but I was still able to hold strong. It didn’t shoot at my legs or at my abdomen thankfully. Then it would be an extremely different situation.

On the top of the drone, I deactivated my antigravity field and tried looking for a similar weakness in this one’s construction.

They were of the same make so it wasn’t difficult to spot it. I did the same thing with this one as with the last and positioned the barrel of the gun against the weakness and shot. This time shrapnel did injure me as it burrowed into my face with slashing force. My eyes weren’t damaged, but the feeling was definitely uncomfortable.

My core trembled and error after error kept jumping through my vision. I needed to finish this quickly now.

As the drone I was on top of crashed to the ground, I jumped quickly away and hid myself behind a car. The machines were grounded so this time it was safer.

I let myself take a second to consider the escape. I looked at where Sludgy’s car was in relation to me and noticed that I parked it much further into the street than I was currently at. The exit from the street was closer in the opposite direction.

Terra, calculate the faster route to the closest subway station.

I waited for her to respond and listened for any odd movements. There was some screeching metal sound coming from where the second drone crashed and then a piercing sound of a mechanical rifle echoed. Then the salvo hit the car I was hiding behind.

I scanned the vehicle, and it would hold for a while if the drone decided to shoot at me again.

Did the machines forget they were supposed to catch me instead of kill me? Maybe their priority changed.

It didn’t matter as they were grounded, and I received a response from Terra.

The closest station is five minutes away from your current location. Should I start navigation?

I reposed yes and dashed toward the exit of the street, while hiding myself behind the line of parked cars.

The car would be faster, but being in a crowded space might be a better option right now.

I dared to look back, just to check if there was anything I missed. An additional drone, or a suspicious car maybe but there was nothing. Nothing except a few people who dared to go onto their balconies. I zoomed on their expressions and FERS saw boredom and annoyance on a few of them.

I strained my hearing and heard things like this,

‘Another one? I really should’ve bought that insurance.’

‘It’s nothing, honey! Go back to sleep!’

Well, the attitude told me enough as to why there wasn’t anyone at the beginning of this commotion. This was normal.

What a strange city with strange people.

I turned onto the bigger street and dashed away. I stowed my gun in the back of my trousers and thought that I would have to repay Gabriel somehow.

This suit was ruined and my core flared with irritation at Fran-Mili’s idiotic insistence. Humans could really get too attached to things.

I wished that meeting with Jane would come sooner.

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The people at the subway looked at me with strange expressions. Most looked bored and some horrified. The contrast I saw between their different attitudes made me wonder if I understood human emotions correctly.

No one came up to me, but some took pictures, which was unfortunate as they would surely end up on the web for everyone to see.

I looked at myself and wasn’t surprised at their shock. There was a giant gap in my right shoulder and my face probably didn’t look any better. I could still feel pieces of shrapnel burrowed deep into my face.

The suit was torn in most of the places and the shirt I was wearing underneath barely held together. I must’ve torn it when I twisted one of the drone’s wings. My right hand was also no better as the plasteel knuckles were visible with their dark azure shine for all to see.

When I sat down on the subway, I also felt a strange sensation in my abdomen. Some of the recently recreated synthfiber and artiflesh must've been torn.

So, overall, I was pretty badly beat up.

My core buzzed with neutronium surges of energy as it wanted to fill me to the brim with power to enable self-repair. If I weren’t getting closer to the HQ, I would probably fall into a self-mending sleep.

The subway itself also didn’t help matters. I was sure that if it weren’t for the awful arrhythmic resonance of the train that my injuries would heal a bit faster. At least the surface ones.

But unfortunately, I had to suffer through the journey as mine’s and the train’s resonances clashed against each other.

Thankfully, the drive wasn’t that long and soon enough I was able to step into the street that would take me quickly to the HQ.

Since I’d just left the station, some people gathered around and moved in different directions. Even though my current appearance didn’t allow for a lot of subtlety, I still tried to blend in with the moving crowd.

I looked around me, trying to gauge if I was being followed, but no one seemed suspicious enough. The people around were mostly non-corporate, I could tell by their style of dress and attitude. They gave me passing looks, some lingered, but I didn’t find any of that to be of note. I wondered if I was missing something.

As I took a step after another, I decided to run a precise diagnostic. It would be prudent to know the full extent of my injuries.

I wondered how badly all of it would hinder me on Sunday, when I was supposed to stand for Gabriel in a fight.

Considering that Gabriel came out of the last fight alive, my opponents shouldn’t be too powerful or at near my combat capability. I was aware that mili-synthoids rarely gained the status of a SSU, so perhaps I wouldn’t have to fight anyone that’d match me.

When I was getting closer and closer to my destination, I received a ping.

[Full system diagnostics complete.]

I looked at the results and found them to match what I was able to observe on my own.

A puncture in the right shoulder, synthskin damage in the right hand, torn synthskin, synthfiber and artiflesh in my abdomen and to finish it off, a multiple puncture wounds in my face. With some sprinkling of slashes and slight deformations around my body.

The conclusion was that I was roughed up.

And that’s the punishment I got for trying to do something for myself.