Chief come to find YOU, you don’t come for me. At best you can run a little company, nigga at worst I could run a whole country. - Jidenna,Long Live the Chief
“San’s name speaks for itself,” I said to open the talks and gestured about. Cut off from the world, in the lower level of a hive of scum and villainy I felt like any wrong move would land me in someone’s crosshair, but somehow I felt at home. With the countermeasures in place keeping my powers at bay, I was handicapped pretty significantly as far as my ability to gather information went. That said, no better way to learn something about someone than to ask a simple question. “Who are the rest of you?”
The girl with the minigun on her back and, now that I could dedicate my fake eye to focusing on her and discreetly scan her, several other biometrically locked weapons hidden on her body spoke up with humor in her voice.
“I’m Jenny,” she opened up with a chuckle. “Nice to see the techno-boogeyman in the flesh.” Something about the toothy grin and stalk wide eyes gave me the creeps. Worse, the two girls she had come with were just as unhinged looking. One of them had a warhammer balanced over her shoulders, and a cursory glance showed it had a rocket attached to the back. She was heavy set and shorter than Jenny, unlike her much taller cohort. A lanky woman with a shotgun precariously hanging by an extended finger. The trio looked somewhere between demolition derby and SWAT team and my somewhat overtasked brain still registered far more tech hidden on their persons than what was reasonable.
“I’m HBIC of the Wrecking Crew. If you need something blown up, beaten down or broken out we’re your gang.”
“Yeah, I’m familiar with your work,” Jericho said, and I caught that bit of respect in his voice. “Shame we couldn’t see eye to eye on that little altercation.” Jenny flicked him a shrug.
“Yeah real shame Jericho,” she mocked with a fake sad face. “Your boy recovered from the rocket to the face?”
“Watch it,” he replied, holding up a finger and she snickered like a goblin. Story for another time, but it was starting to become ever more clear that the degrees of separation between all of these people were small, if existent at all.
“I’m Gaz,” the next up introduced himself, and unlike the other two he was wearing his body mods and tech like accessories, breaking up his dark skin like reptile scales. “I’m reppin the Scrap Pack, don’t give a fuck if you’ve heard of us or not, we aint here to make friendly with you fuckin stuck up pricks or the little fish.”
“Little fish?” I asked, already deciding on how I’d tear the man’s fake eyes out of his head… or rather how I’d talk Prodigy into it. The literal orbs in his eye sockets were bright red, and the fangs in his mouth glowed the same shade. He bared them at me, and I watched as the core in the center of his chest flared up threateningly, visibly increasing his body temperature.
“Yeah, little fish. As in you don’t fuckin matter,” he growled sounding like he was speaking through a microphone. Behind him the woman wearing less clothes than her body was metal plates and edged weapons extended a robotic snake from her mouth that hissed. I almost flinched, but I held my ground and Marauder lifted his gun at him before she could have taken a step.
Things got tense for a second, and I couldn’t help but to smirk. He or whoever put the security system in his operating system didn’t have as good of a grasp on how to fight off invasive programs as they thought, and even as bogged down as my mind was I gave even odds I could deploy a virus into his cyber tech before he could rush me and Marauder down.
“Put down the weapons,” San spoke, and his own tattooed body glowed with bioluminescence just enough to make the threat clear. Behind him, Geomi didn’t move a single millimeter.
Everyone relaxed enough that he didn’t interrupt further.
“A few more of us could arrive any minute now,” Another commented. “Some invites went out to parties who wouldn’t be well received even under a parlay, and Halogen wanted to make sure we all made it to the table.” Unlike the tattooed Wrecking Crew and the modded out cyber-freaks of the Scrap Pack, he looked starkly normal. I recognized him, vaguely, but once he said his name it fell into place.
Fuck,I thought and deeply meant it.
“Firewall’s the name,” he spoke. “Independent mercenary.”
He was a particularly nasty short ranged pyromancer, former FORGE hitman turned freelancer who once headed their security wing. This man was known for shutting down cyberattacks, anyone attacking particularly well defended forge strongholds had to have a plan to deal with him. It just so happened he also was trained in anti-psionics as well and had worked to develop some of the tech that was consistently deployed to defend against psychic attacks.
That included technopaths.
Which is his specialty.
He’d split with the FORGE amiably, a rare occurrence, and started offering his services to anyone willing to pay top dollar for him and his people. The important thing to keep in mind about that, though, was that Firewall was the architect of so much of the FORGE’s own security that they could hardly work against him and more often than not bought him out themselves. My only run-ins with him were in working around the presence of his influence. I caught him giving me an odd look, and it could have been my eyes playing tricks on me but it looked almost like something about seeing me was painful.
He turned his uncomfortably sharp gaze to Jericho.
“Jericho, y’all know me and the fam,” he spoke. “I run the Daywalkers for the uninitiated.”
“Upgrade, Technopath extraordinaire… still thinking of a team name.” That got a few chuckles.
“Choose fast or someone will for you,” San offered not exactly kindly. Almost like he was chiding me. “Now that we have gotten introductions out of the way, I would like to offer each of you a chance to leave the city without incident.”
Right to the point.
“There is a non zero chance of that if you got the money to-” Gaz spoke but San didn’t let him finish.
“Adults are talking, boy. Be silent, or be without your head.” Gaz looked like he’d been slapped but he didn’t answer back. Smarter than I would have thought. “I offer nothing but an oath of non violence until business in Detroit concludes. There will be more than minor bloodshed on the table after this week’s parlay ends. Halogen intends to suborn you all, bring you into the FORGE’s sphere of influence or pay you to act on her behalf.”
“And you think, honestly, that I’d take any parts of that?” Jericho asked incredulously, and his good eye locked on San.
“No. I believe, whole heartedly, that you will rally against the tide as you always have. The offer was meant for Jennifer, Upgrade and Firewall. Your best chance is to leave now and not involve yourselves in this. Many others are gathering for tonight. Bludhawk is representing Haven, the Queen Anne Smugglers have sent an ambassador, and several other names are likely already here, in other parts of this compound awaiting our time. You will, inevitably, be swept up in the same tide Jericho will one day drown in if you don’t take this advice.”
“You’re making some kind of play aren’t you?” I asked him.
“I have plans. You all would be in the way at worst, and at best you’d be blips on the radar, skidmarks in the road. My recommendation is that you do not join this war.”
“Wasn’t the point of all this to keep war from breaking out over whatever’s goin down?”
“It is to get as many of you out of the picture as she can. Unpredictable or antagonistic elements to the FORGE, specifically. War will happen. The scale is the only question.”
“No one here will leave before the talks, San, or else they wouldn’t have come,” Firewall spoke. His face was keen, features that could be Wall Street or Hollywood, and he carried himself like both. “I’m here to see how much Halogen’s gonna pay me to fuck off, how much more to protect her, and how much someone like you will match. Make an offer, like Gaz said…” he trailed off with a mean smirk.
“Nah, fuck that, it’s a zero percent chance now,” Gaz growled.
“Do not say you were not warned, then. My next word of advice is not to trust a word out of her mouth that doesn’t come without a threat attached. The White Spiders are not here to make friends. It’s up to you if we make enemies.”
As if that was all he needed to say, he walked away from the gathering closer to the edge of the dance floor, and with scarcely another glance our way, Firewall, Jenny and Gaz all bowed out the same distance. The latter smirked at me, and it took a lot not to flip him off. Gabe walked over to me, still looking like he wanted to shoot something, but otherwise relaxed. Miles and Millie gathered, and I caught the former running a hand over his forehead.
“Everything alright?” I asked him, and his eyes flickered up from the ground to meet mine.
“Yeah, just a little warm,” he lied, and I nodded. For him and Millie, their part was the one taking the most concentration. This plan was a risk to start with, but getting them to agree had been well worth the verbal beating I had taken. Even with the smiles and nonchalance, I knew the second we weren’t in hot water they’d give me absolute hell.
But we had to live first.
Where we were, this particular dancefloor, was only one of a few in a room that was large enough to get lost in, but it was evident when a door opened and a light too bright to fit the vibe shined through it. “Right on time,” Miles commented, and Millie handed him a 20. “Better luck next time.”
“Are you two still betting on the future?” Marauder asked as another pair of brick walls stepped out and flanked the entrance.
“Can’t help it, we have a problem,” Millie grumbled, clearly miffed she’d lost while Miles just smiled amiably. “And here she comes, right on time.”
Not for nothing, Halogen could certainly command attention. Any patrons present who weren’t keyed in to the truth of her offered her waves, fist bumps, happy little greetings one and all as she walked. Every step was graceful, almost aloof. The mocha skin offset an all white bodysuit and blood red heels perfectly, her nails were pristine claws, and her hair was a controlled mess of curly black. Every part of her look and demeanor? Curated. Precise. A facade as easy to believe as it was entirely false.
In that head, behind the dark brown eyes and flowing below the surface of her calm and friendly disposition was a monster. I’d known about her before the dossier. Few people didn’t know of Samantha Sims, even outside of the art world. Few knew of Halogen, and those that did knew not to say it three times in a mirror. The public thought she was a darling, new money benefactor in the creative world and any evidence to the contrary was refuted and removed thanks to Sway and his army of reporters and social media influencers. As she approached the loose area we’d all gathered in to wait for her, with Jehricho’s eyes and mine all aglow, she smiled warmly.
My skin crawled.
“Well. Isn’t this quite the reunion. San, Jericho and Firewall all under my roof,” she called out louder than a woman of such small stature should have been able. “Come on, don't scowl at me. It’s been some time since we were at each other’s throats, let’s keep it civil. Besides, we all have a lot on the line, whether you know it or not. Ground rules, so listen up everyone. Especially the new blood,” she went on melodiously. “I know it would be a lot to ask the Scrap Pack to remove their weapons before they come back, so I’ll be fair and allow you all to keep your weapons. They stay holstered.”
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“Yeah, you can’t holster a roided out techno zombie’s arms,” Jenny spoke up. “If I gotta sit next to them, I’m keeping at least a knife in hand.” Halogen turned her head to look at her with a snap the second she spoke and I watched her shrink over the course of speaking like she was being crushed. A flicker of red went through Halogen’s eyes and spread through the veins on the outside of them for a second.
“Would it make you feel better if I told you I have an army of roided out techno zombies?” she cordially continued, notably strained. Jenny didn’t answer, just put her hands up in surrender and smiled. Smarter than she looked.
“Good then. Rule number two, this is a neutral place, at least until an agreement is reached and the conversation concludes. Whatever you all do when you are off my turf ain’t my business. While you’re in my house, keep violence off the table.” Jehricho crossed his arms.
“Yeah yeah you’re house your rules,” he bit out.
She held up a finger. “Don’t be rude, now. I’m almost done. Last rule.” She smiled a demon’s smile and every vein in her body visibly glowed. “If you want party favors, I’ve got my rates on the table inside. Let’s have some fun now, don’t be hum and drum,” she offered, and spun on her heels, expecting us to follow behind.
I looked at Jericho, who shook his head. “I have always hated that fucking unstable creature,” he said and let San go past first before following.
“Let me head in first,” I told Marauder. Gaz shoved past, just barely close enough that I moved an inch and he didn’t touch me.
“They got in your head about still being a Daywalker didn’t they jefe?”
“Tal Cual, mi pana,” I responded. “It’s a little bothersome. And now we’re gonna be clearly waiting so we aren’t seen as linked but-”
“But you wanted to be recognized from the shit we've already done. Don’t stress it. After tonight, and what’s coming up, I don’t think anyone’s gonna be sleeping on us. If I had my way, I’d blow this whole spot up…” he trailed off as Jenny and the gang passed us by.
“Save it just a bit longer. We gotta get through this tonight, and then the rest of the week.”
With that, he patted my back, and we followed at the back of the group.
Another threshold, another change in the general atmosphere. It was quieter the second the door closed behind us, like we were suddenly a few buildings down the road and not next to the nightclub. Sure enough, it looked like this one room was linked to several others in the compound, and I really was jealous. The Garage was huge, but it wasn't underground lair huge. And it was mostly empty too, how the fuck had someone built all of THIS without raising eyebrows. I’d been annoyed about that since the first time I looked at the floorplan that showed only a fraction of how extensive this place really was.
“Welcome one, welcome all,” a man near the opposite end of the room hollered out, full of charisma and familiarity. “Time to get the show started!”
Sway wore a green two piece just dark enough not to be gaudy, but that same notion was gone when the gold chain with a microphone on the end and diamond cufflinks sparkled into my eyes almost half as bright as his smile.
“Loud as always,” San grunted.
“Would I be me if I weren’t?” he offered, turning down the volume and radio personality along with it. “I’ve been down here for four hours waiting.”
He leaned back in his seat as everyone took theirs. San sat at the opposite end from where Halogen’s seat, closer to a throne, honestly, waited for her. They sat, and the rest of us did the same without much fanfare. The table was round enough where the two dozen or so present could see each other even with a clear “head” position for Halogen. Once we were situated, each of us was presented with champagne by wait staff that came in through doors that only opened from the inside to make them seem like parts of the wall. Bludhawk, mentioned offhandedly earlier, was immediately across from me. Another unassuming man if not for the Haven pin on his shirt. Beside him, a well dressed man I assumed was the rep from the Queen Anne’s smugglers. Everyone else was either a player I’d never heard of, someone I had just met, or too big to even be recognizable. Jericho was to my right, between Miles on the far side and Millie directly beside me. Marauder put himself between some nonames and myself.
It dawned on me again how much fire power, literal or otherwise, was now crammed into a room together under the auspices of peace, or something pretending to be. The murmurs were low, but otherwise it was quiet in a way that made me anxious. Deep breaths and a sip of champagne once Millie was certain it was safe helped me not show it. Marauder just leaned back in the chair, fingers tapping on the table.
“Alright,” Halogen began, leaning forward, and the murmurs stopped, everyone turning to look. “I know some of you hate each other, I know some of you hate being summoned, and came from all over the world, so for that I appreciate your time. In the interest of saving some, I won’t go through the who’s who. I bet half of you barely even know who the others are. That’s okay, because the common thing you each have is your interests in the FORGE. Be they monetary, antagonistic, supplementary, or otherwise, each of you will hear about what is coming one way or the other, and I’ve been tasked by some very powerful folks to keep the peace as well as I can. So, let’s get transparent.”
Another security guard entered and made his way inside of the circle with a box in his hand. A 3D projector, and another subtle flex about how many men were here, waiting in the wings. Once it activated the lights dimmed slightly, and an image appeared, a microchip, except it was about 6 inches long and half as wide. “This little doozy is a PsyPro. It’s proprietary shit,” she started sounding irreverent. “Everyone in the world, slowly but surely, is upgrading their way of life. High end prosthetics have gone from science fiction to reality in just a couple of decades. Weapons and medical tech have gone leaps and bounds, all thanks to my benefactors, and now they have taken another massive jump. The answer to mortality. The PsyPro, or Psychological Preservation Operating System if you’re boring, is capable of removing the consciousness of a person, their memories and learning, their very soul, and saving it on this tiny piece of technology. Your entire being, taken out of a broken, obsolete husk and capable of being uploaded into a database where you live out your afterlife in peace.”
You could hear a pin drop.
“Testing has shown that the personality, the soul and experiences, once taken, are in fact one and the same. You can remove the mind, what makes you, YOU. And put it somewhere else. Even into someone else, if need be…” she trailed off, and that was it.
“You mean you can keep your ‘benefactors’ backed up and keep giving them new lives forever,” I said, and a few of the slower ones present seemed to only then pick up how heinous this could be. “Fucking hell.”
“Not forever, no. There’s only so much we can extract and maintain, and only for so long, but functionally… yes we are capable of extending lives far beyond what’s natural.”
“Okay, so you got new shit you don’t want us hijacking, fine. Why did you call us here?” Firewall spoke up, leaning on one hand like he was bored. When he got incredulous looks, he cleared his throat and sat up. “Oh get off my back, I’ve seen this shit tested before myself. I worked for these people in case you forgot. This isn’t news.”
“I called you here, you rude fuck, because Kento got sick a year ago, and modern medicine failed his body.” He paled.
“No way. That old fuck finally croaked?” he asked.
“Who the fuck is Kento?” Gaz asked, not wanting to be left out on all the fucking, obviously.
“Kento Yamada was one of the 3 directors,” Sway said. “Head of R&D, and holder of a great many dozen, country destroying, secrets. Quite the loss, frankly.”
“Don’t suppose he was allowed to peacefully pass into the afterlife,” Bludhawk commented from across the table. Getting a good look at him, with his chiseled jaw and jade eyes piercing into the projection, I could gather he’d been around the block once or twice. The way his suit was lighting up even louder than the signal jamming in my second sight clued me in as well.
“His mind has been saved where his body could not,” San spoke sagely.
“Got it in one,” Halogen cooed and the wicked smile belied a dark sense of satisfaction as it dawned on everyone. “And that PsyPro is currently being held here in my heart of hearts, lovely New Detroit.”
I frowned, gritting my teeth. San had been one step ahead when he assumed she had a plan here. Halogen was going to get us here and lay out exactly what it was, dangle a prize in front of anyone with a grudge against the forge. The question was why.
Why go through the trouble of getting us to agree to a rough armistice like this?
Except, looking around this room, here, I felt like I’d arrived on exactly why. We were all either imminent threats, or ones she could count on to be antagonistic, or easily bought. Big and small players from all over the world, sure, but also ones with a history with her or the forge itself. If someone here didn’t fit those parameters, like Gaz, it was because they were opportunists and easily maneuvered. Jericho and his Daywkers wouldn’t let this shit happen without an answer. Between himself and the Twins of Terror, not to mention the rest of his gang… yeah maybe trying to get out ahead of him was smart. San had the resources and army to stand up to the FORGE in an open, if controlled, hostile campaign. Admittedly, he had a better shot at it than even Jericho. The thing was, he hadn’t used those resources to that degree in ages, and had taken a less hostile role against the FORGE on the global scale lately. If she was worried this getting out could turn him back into an enemy that would be bad. The Queen Anne Smugglers, The Wrecking Crew and Haven were neutral at worst. The Smugglers could be paid to move anything and anyone in a myriad of ways. Haven was a business competitor, one of few big corpos that could say as much.
So she would have us all here, tell us what we’d find out anyway, get us here with her rep and a promise of peace and a bit of ground rules set, and dictate what happens going forward. Ballsy, and if she were anyone less well known for mass violence I’d think this was insane. For now, each person present, myself included, was in stasis.
“So, now you know it’s here, and can probably guess where. Let’s get to the dirty business.”
Another dramatic pause as we all tensed and the lights undimmed while the image remained.
“I’m willing to pay you to fuck off, right here and now. Leave the city, stay gone for a couple of months and restrict any and all activity within the city limits while this… situation is handled.”
“How much, Halogen?” Jenny asked bluntly.
The projection switched and, in the center of the round table facing her, a number in emerald green shined bright. $2000000 just to leave.
Shit that was a lot of damn money and Jenny made no effort to hide her interest. “Now that’s a good start, but I could make triple that if I signed on to help make life hard for you.” Playing hardball with the most ruthless gangster of our lifetime was… well it was stupid but they seemed to be cut from one cloth. The number went up 4x.
“Consider me a ghost,” she agreed after a moment of deliberation with her contemporaries.
“See you soon, kid. You’re cute, and I like your scrappy nature so I’ll give you a bit of free advice,” Halogen said as the three of them got up, and her words stopped them cold. Cold, like the tone that pervaded the words she spoke next. “Don’t push your luck like this the next time someone extends a hand to you. I know some folks that would have you swallow a bullet for mouthing off the way you have been. Under any other circumstances that would be the PG version of what I’d have done to you. Now, get the fuck out of my club, I know where to send your change.”
If Jenny had an issue she didn’t make it known. A door opened, and they were ushered out.
The ambassador for the Smugglers stood up next. “Same deal for us?” He asked. She turned to him and nodded.
“I won’t lower the offer, no. Take it as a token of friendship. Same accounts as always, Dimitri?” He chuckled.
“Friendship, right. You got it. We won’t be in touch for at least as long,” he grumbled. “Good luck.” If you blinked you’d miss it, but the second he was done speaking his body flickered once and then faded out of view like an after image.
Sometimes I forget I’m not the only person with a cool superpower.
No one else immediately spoke so Halogen continued. “Bludhawk. Haven’s arrangement will be maintained. I’m willing to contact your employers to either contract you out or have you recovered from the city safely.”
“Understood, Madame Sims. We will be in touch.” One more empty chair, one more person who I could maybe have leaned on to work against her. Gabe tapped the table repeatedly, his face going from neutral to frustrated - clearly thinking the same.
Dammit. I had nothing to counteroffer these people with. What’s worse, I couldn’t even guarantee I’d be able to pull off taking her down anymore.
She spoke up and I had to watch as my plan to turn this meeting against her crumbled further. “For everyone present, I assume simply leaving is off the table. That was to be expected. Now, let’s talk even dirtier. I’ve got a lot of precognitives that work for me. Augurs and Clairvoyants aren’t cheap, and the future is muddy so it makes them unreliable on their best days and useless beyond that in the long term. But I had a close friend and confidant take a peek in her magic crystal ball or whatever and a little birdie told her that a few of you are planning on turning this meeting into a bloodbath.”
Not a soul moved an inch. “My my, so quiet. San I expect was one until he learned of papa Kento passing. Jericho is a possibility but he wouldn’t do it without some pushing. Gaz, babydoll, you didn’t take my money to leave and I’m willing to bet I know why,” she cooed. He chuckled.
“I ain’t stupid. There’s a whole second set of deals on the table,” he spoke. “San tried to talk me out of it but he got all uppity on me so I got a vested personal interest in slighting him now.”
Fuck. My. Life.
“That leaves…” she trailed off looking at Firewall, who rolled his eyes. “Upgrade.”
When she said my name I chilled, and her gaze fell on me. Everyone’s did, but the way she lowered her head to look at me like she was sizing up prey…
“No shit, the little fish has a plan?” Gaz taunted.
“Relax, kids,” she went on and then crossed her legs, still giving me some sort of knowing expression. “I’d have done the same. Fuck, I have done the same. I just needed to put the cards on the table for ya.”
It was stupid not to account for her own people being able to gather information and get ahead of me. Not a lot can be ascertained for certain about the future but knowing possibilities ahead of time by even a few hours could make a big difference. It’s why Millie and Miles dabbled, and why we all used to make it out alive so much.
We don’t have a monopoly on the trade of clairvoyance, though, and knowing the FORGE was reaching out to those kinds of assets and subsuming them was bone chilling.
“So, let’s continue negotiations,” she smiled warmly. Another number
$100000000.
“Anyone who agrees to fold into my service for a year, gets a smooth hundred million. If not, I’d say take the 8 and run for the hills before my hospitality runs out.”
Firewall, Gaz, and San had suddenly turned into possible liabilities, and the chances we got out alive despite her promises to the contrary shot down.