“Chelsea…Chels. Hora is probably dead.
I can’t accept it. Hora was on the outside like the rest of us, no way Maghora got caught in that mess!
Look, as you and Menet were arguing over company politics, Hora went off to repair the main circuit…They were in the middle of that crowd…I’m sorry Chels, I really am.”
* Overheard in the Killalot Safety Zone five minutes ago.
***
The hike to the connection doors to the other sectors was uneventful. Or at least as uneventful as one can expect from an incursion. A model four tried to murder me but the Hammerhead had time to dry and I used normal 10 mm rounds to turn the ceiling hugger into a pin cushion.
The connection doors were massive circular things that were constructed to connect the almost modular sectors of the arcology while it was still being built. Now they stood as a huge portal to the next sector which could mean a chance at a different life.
Each sector acted as its own city with its own production, economy, and culture. It was hinted that it wasn’t always so but when various corporations or Samurai held the most influence in a sector then they would help shape it into something closer to their visage.
I heard a rumor that Sector 1 had Nursery, the field medic Samurai, in charge. Because of this it was supposed to be full of medical support systems from childcare to retirement facilities no matter the floor number. Of course the quality would change by the floor but they were overall much better than the other sectors on health.
The other Samurai focused on their own things, like Sky was very focused on the media and making everything a little brighter and entertaining.
The others I wasn’t sure about but if I could hand these over to Bushido then I’d be set. Everyone knew of his over the top code of honor. It should be fine to leave these with him, after all his weapons were probably more deadly than these.
Myte had some questions now that we were talking more openly and without having to be overall careful as I was apparently moving away from the outbreak. There would be more people about if I entered any private area but I just took one of the main highways to the connection door to Sector 9.
I learned that Myte was relatively young for an A.I. and this was her first assignment. She wanted to know about the difference between friends and lovers. As I mulled over how to explain that particular answer I saw the door in the distance.
“Friends are people you like. You could like their presence, their personality, heck you could even love how they go about things. People make friends by interaction and shared interests. Sometimes it is through shared trauma. A bad boss or incursion, you can bond over almost anything. The hard part is maintaining those connections.”
Thinking carefully how to explain the second half of the question I idly thumbed the safety off of the Hammerhead…just in case.
“Lovers are typically people that fulfill something you desire. For some it is sex. Others it is being fulfilled or being loved in return.” I hoped that my explanation worked because I didn’t often explore that route. Romance was…something. And I didn’t find it overly interesting, more drama than it's worth…I think?
I hadn’t noticed it as I thought about my answers but when I reached the massive circular door, it was very closed.
I hadn’t ever seen it closed before. I heard that they closed it for riots and contaminations but that wasn’t…wait. Did they close it for the Antithesis?
“Fuck.” This isn’t going to be easy.
“Fuck,” Myte said. “I can’t access anything outside this sector. We are walled off, I didn’t notice it but I haven’t been able to contact any other A.I.”
“They just sealed us in? What the fuck?” I moved to look at the control panel but it was five meters up the wall.
So I sat down on the motorized crate and started poking at the tablet and…that’s not good.
The internet is disconnected from the rest of Macroon and the outside world. We were completely separated. We couldn’t call for help.
Thinking through our options I noticed something on the side of the massive door. Sponsorship!
I looked carefully through the many ads until I found the company that built the door itself. There it was, Hesu Construction. Searching Hesu gave me insight on their many projects, mission statement, reliability report, blah blah blah. Here we go, parent companies.
I found that Hesu had the same parent company as RuCorp, perfect! It didn’t sound like a very important thing but I knew something very interesting about how RuCorp operated after hacking it so many times.
They had offices in Meshspace. In those offices they had the keys to any door they ever worked on. Meshspace security was far tougher than regular networks because to hack in, one must go there “in person”.
“I need to go to Meshspace to open this. I know they severed the internet but the Mesh is still live. It’ll take far more effort to destroy access to something a group of Samurai built!” I said excitedly. I needed to get my meshsuit and then…fuck.
“I will be unconscious while I hack this…I will need someone to watch my back.” I said despairing.
“I can watch but I have no influence besides warning you. I have no body.” Myte said mirroring my tone.
Wait…no body… “I might have a solution for that…” I said and turned the crate around and started towards the nearest elevator station. Finding an elevator available I punched in the button for floor four.
The elevator groaned under the weight but it was built for transporting a hundred at a time, just not all standing on the same spot.
The ride down gave me time to prepare my weapons. I threw the duffle bag onto the crate and then readied the blade in one hand and the pistol in the other.
The fourth floor wasn’t safe to begin with, hopefully the Antithesis would stick to the double digits for now. As the doors opened the light from inside pierced the darkness for the first time in a while from the looks of things.
Using a light source down here only attracted unwanted attention. I realized that my penlight was still dead and shrugged. I didn’t need it to navigate down here. The neon glow from advertisements and glow in the dark graffiti led me to a familiar district. Abyss Nexus. Where anyone can find anything for a price.
The slogan of the district sounded promising, but in reality, while you could get illegal mods and items. It was keeping them and living through the experience was the hardest and most expensive part of the transaction.
I just needed to skirt the district to find the outlet that would get me to Naught A Word: Bakery, the business one door down from me.
As I entered a blacked out alley I came face to face to a couple of the district sentries. They were as official guards of the place as any and they stared at my strange appearance. I was still wearing the t-shirt and cargo pants I stole from the fifteenth floor and while it doesn’t sound like much, the clothes had brand names and fine materials.
The two in front of me were in dirty discarded trench coats over black jackets, their respirators filtered out all the contaminants in the air, and their goggles reflected the low light like a cat’s night vision.
It was those goggles that allowed them to see the two weapons I held ready, one very human made while the other was alien.
They stared at me for a moment and then walked away.
The district sentries were typically recruited from veterans of the fourth and fifth floors and knew better than to start unnecessary fights or dying for no reason.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
But they were also ruthless in getting everything they could. The unaware could get robbed, stabbed, and harvested in a matter of minutes if the district sentries allowed it to happen.
And they allow it to happen to those who don’t respect the rules of the district.
I continued into the alley way, finding it almost clear of anything. Trash had a price down here and the used syringes that one might find on the sixth, seventh, and eighth floors were routinely cleaned and repurposed for something else.
Ah, how nice it is to be where the people cared about their environment.
I turned left to the sound of hissing oil and burnt doughnuts. Home.
Walking past the bakery I fished around for my keys. I usually hid them inside my toolbelt and… there!
Pulling out the small tool I popped the lock open and slid inside.
The apartment was exactly as I left it. A single half filled suitcase consisted my closet and the bedding occupied almost all the small space.
What was the most expensive and hard to replace part was the mesh suit, a full headset that would connect against the brainstem like a neuro augment but it wasn’t permanent or invasive. Throwing it and a couple hoodies and lab coats into the suitcase I then left the apartment.
Word was probably circling by now about my new looks and I rather not have to shoot another person today.
Heading back the way I came was risky but I trusted the district sentries to keep house around the Abyss.
Sliding through the shadows I was spotted but as a local and not a tourist. Life or death down here.
I found the elevator again but it had some people milling about. I fired once into a support pillar and the crowd dispersed rapidly but not in a panic. I felt dozens of eyes watching me board the elevator and pressed the button for the thirteenth floor.
I needed a workshop to finish this project.
I ran through everything I would need. A suit of some kind? Check, I was sitting on a case of armor plates that assembled into an armor suit.
A way to display sound and image? Check, the holo disc Sky gave me would solve that issue.
Speaking of what Sky gave me, I pulled the black box out. I was told by Myte that this would work when it was plugged into a server. I wasn’t exactly sure where I could do that but I kept it in mind.
Sky’s heart on the other hand did radiate power. I was sure I could use it in case I needed a power source but I would rather not use the heart of my first mentor.
When the elevator doors opened I hopped off the crate and came face to face with private Belleniachia Magnella. She jumped back in surprise and then smiled. “Hello Samurai!”
*************************************************************************************************************
***************************Private Belleniachia Magnella’s Point of View*******************************
*************************************************************************************************************
The cold crept through my weary self as I moved through the now painfully familiar hallway.
My headlamp illuminated the space with thousands of small reflective beams bouncing about that my augmented eye caught in their spectacular motion. And this sight did I pass, the paneled walls of the corridor.
At the end of my journey, les mortes dorment mise en scène un tableau vivant. Motionless and silent bodies depicting the massacre.
The phantasmagoria was set in reds, greens, and the slew of gray to black. The soldiers lay in crumpled heaps, their red and black visage bled into the dark colors of the Antithesis essence.
The play was over and the scene was done. And I, the dutiful stagehand, must make the scene anew, for another may soon begin.
My path, both thoughtful and brisk, cut through the route to and fro the dead scene and the elevators that led back down to the Purewater lobby on the eleventh floor.
The unimagined scene of blanc furnishings were tactfully perforated in a dollop of bullets, their brass casings set apart from the stillness and obscenity of the retro 2030s style.
A muse from a forgotten age may bleed and curse to such failure of culture and taste. But the bullets did give it something of a je ne sais quoi about it, I couldn’t put my finger on it… Dead millionaire aesthetic maybe?
Yet I, only a humble scout in all these things but must make my passage in edict to the director. Killalot won’t waste the equipment of the twenty that died. Nor do I fail them.
And as I passed through familiar scenes, between the elevators and massacre did I find my ear did twitch with ‘ere a motion in hearing did it find. A small cacophony down a leeway hall, the sound most unkind.
With resolve I stood with a readied hand upon my weapon. Thus, when the lanky dog did charge, I filled up with holes.
The Stingray spit its violent rounds and the Antithesis lay still, but not my breath in ragged heaps I did fill my lungs still.
There I stood with pause I did, and wondered if I should. Perhaps removed my kaleidoscope filter that made life just so.
Nay, I left it made. For what’s life without spirit? And reload the weapon that failed me a few hours ago.
My task was vile, a terrible thing
to loot the dead of their belongings.
And it was bile, my throat did fill.
To the side I turn and spill.
The taste still clung upon my mouth
And it will stand there still
For I had not a flask in hand to clear it out.
I guess the awful taste was ruining my mood and pace.
Or it was the cold I felt across my fragile frame. A husk in which I stood, less than human but what could I do in the face of obscurity. I was sent to and fro the friends I knew to steal their last memories.
I pondered the poor soul that would wear the garments of the dead. But here I stood in solemn vest of my commander.
O Captain! my captain! You were but a Sergeant but you did still save me. And here I stand with your vest on me as a constraint companion.
I feared that once my task was complete, I may be sent again into the unknown with new squad and new commander with ne’er experience had. Sgt. Cleff had led the squad with grime fatality that bespoke experience.
My vest I gave to the Samurai sent by Cleff, the last request of the good man.
The Samurai! The striking hero standing with ardent confidence against the deadly foe did pull me from the trap they laid. I could not fathom the power they wield with their A.I. companion in toe.
I fought the foe in ones and twos while they did it in the dozens. The difference between human and Samurai, those chosen by the Protectors to save humanity.
Oh, the drama.
And while the Samurai may do the task of plenty, I was tasked with the recon squad’s last mission. The job of twenty-one in the hands of one. C’est la vie.
The lowest ranking member of the recon squad…Poor Private Belleniachia Magnella the expendable scout.
No cool nickname or title.
Well, the ones with those were dead… and I was looting them for the company’s benefits. “No equipment left behind” as the saying goes.
Alas, not all the trade of war were recoverable. I stared at the licking flames that danced to the artificial air as the bait did burn. Brȗle cette merde. The traitorous things killed my squad.
The smoke waved its cheery hand my way as I left, I bid it adieu as I slipped back down the route.
While I trod my ears received the sounds of elevator yonder and I thought not of the disparity until I closed.
Merde!
What phantom called upon the machine?
I was situated near the doors as they pinged and opened. The chime of their arrival in contrast to the impending doom. Yet, as the heaven door did part, a familiar Samurai sat upon a throne of goods for n’er a second, descending to the floor in front of me.
Standing as a captive audience I roused my mind and greeted my savior. Surprise and then pleasure flooded back into me, making me feel warmer than I felt in hours.
“Hello Samurai!” I call out as a smile forced its way across my lips. I held back a Salut! in fear of sounding to brash or familiar to the celebrity.
Standing illuminated, the Samurai was in contrast with my persons in the shadowy lobby area and yet they reached a hand out to shake.
I fought my mind to settle, my internal pacing and tact to change sails to act normal. Out of habit I flicked through the filters again and the world blossomed into color. The kaleidoscope revealed the Samurai in all glory as I accepted the handshake.
Their confident demeanor told a tale louder than words. Dressed in a casual costume of a Louis Vuit™ t-shirt and loose cargo pants under their tool belt and holster displayed their weapons as if a hero was resting between actions.
“Great to see you in one piece, Magnella!” They said as a smile was hidden behind the alien respirator but it reached their striking yellow eyes. They were missing their hat which revealed their short almost spiky brown hair.
I stepped aside to let them through as they waved their crate forward without looking. As it moved the Samurai’s smile faded, “What are you still doing out here?” the concern evident in their powerful yet quiet voice.
Thespian at heart but never destined for the stage I was frozen to be addressed by the very craft I loved. “Eh.” I began my throat in troubled protest. Merde! Speak Belleniachia the idol stands awaiting.
“I am…” Forcing energy and the moment into my voice, I continued. “Completing my mission and awaiting reinforcements from Sector 7” My usual breathy voice is more bubbly.
I could see their wince behind the respirator. “Sorry to tell you this but we’ve been sealed in Sector 8. The connecting doors have been sealed and we have no access physically or electronically outside.”
Merde! My heckles rose and the chills spread, the sporadic beat of my heart bleed into my thoughts—
“Don’t worry,” They continued upbeat. “I’ll sort it out but keep an eye out for Antithesis until then.”
The Samurai’s unconcerned attitude did more to relieve my anxiety than the weapon I carried.
The crate moved with an electronic whine, the familiar plastic form that only Samurai could summon on command rolled past.
I was mesmerized in the moment as I swept close to the parade rolling down the hallway.
The Samurai fell in pace with me, portraying a walk through a park or similar set piece when a siren called with a haunting voice.
“Duck!”
In a moment the Samurai’s arm snaked out, grasping my shoulder and pulling as they dropped. With dazzling slow motion I watched a tentacle pierced the space above me, the vile spike was wet with alien fluids. The falling liquid droplets reflected light as they closed on my exposed skin.
Then came the thundering shots, the pistol’s hammer battering the bullets into the beast that hid in shadows along the wall panels. Pieces of the alien came in spittering spurts of green and black.
The saliva hissed as the Samurai pulled me under their form as they rose to fight on. I was shielded from the mess by the Vanguard. As it was.
“Ten O'clock!” The siren relayed, synthetic voice calm.
While the Samurai was still rising, they threw an alien knife and caught a Model Three as it rounded a corner. The corridor was once more illuminated by the muzzle flash as they threw rounds into any alien that appeared.
With a flickering of the wrist, the dagger flashed back to the Samurai as they closed on the deadly melee. Cutting the corner as a shadow would, the Samurai stood defiant as I heard the pounding of massive feet.
I rushed to assist, slow and cumbersome compared to the fluid motions of the battle hardened hero.
I witnessed a monster the size of the walkway charging at us, its bony spikes along its back scraping the ceiling as it pumped its six legs forward.
Merde! My lament was short lived, as unperturbed the Samurai threw the blade to the side of the beast as it was only meters out. Nothing happened as the knife embedded the wall but as the knife came flying back did the ceiling drop!
It wasn’t the ceiling but a security door crashing onto the head of the Antithesis, turning the brain into a paste all about. The momentum threw the body into the door and the bone spikes tore through but lodged as the rest of the body couldn’t follow.
Blinking up at the Samurai I felt my body grow alive again, one person just killed something a squad couldn’t. Adrenaline pumping through my veins gave my excited heart a reason in excess to run. I stared up at the Samurai with flushed cheeks and another smile that was truly genuine.
The flashing radiance of the figure protecting was beautiful as they stood in the gun smoke and blood as an avenging angel. Azrael made flesh!