Beltway City, a Massive thing that stretched from Bakersfield in former California all the way to Atlanta in former Georgia. In some places it ran ten miles north-south, and in others over a hundred. Almost 3 billion souls called it home.

I stepped through into a room straight out of Mid-Class Metalpunk. Holo-screens already trying to sell me a hundred useless things. I didn't have an ISLC (Information Super Layer Connection), nor did I have a control fob, fortunately most tech can respond to voice commands, Just in case. A lot of this World's engineers believed in redundancies. Back ups to back-ups. I respected that.

"Screens Off." Blessed silence, well, not really. The walls here were good ceracrete, a gray-blue ceramic impregnated concrete, but faint noises slipped through both the front door and the almost Floor to Ceiling Window. The door probably of any one of the low grade alloys produced from space mining. The Windows were probably glas-steel.

Speaking of the Window, what a view. ATs (Air-Transports) moving about at crazy speeds, Two Huge ARC (Arcology Resource Collective) buildings blocking the rest of the City from sight. They were awe inspiring. ARCs are Massive self contained Towns unto themselves, they generated their own power, food and water. Processed their own waste products, recycled what they could, burned or dissolved what they couldn't. The specifics of how, I didn't know.

Over a thousand screens, of all sizes and shapes, all over the ARCs, snatched at my attention. Their over bright neon hyper colors seared into my brain.

There was a 8 lane highway visible about ten stories down from my floor. Whether they had tires or were hover models, car zoomed by in their countless masses. Looking like the march of crazy ants, searching for food. As they weaved around each other.

My Info Dump had told me I was in the Texas ARC 10-C. I had been looking at 10-A and 10-B.

Apt 10052, which meant I was on the 100th floor of the possibly 300 floor building. The first Floor of middle income housing.

It was setup so that floors 1 - 25 were low income commercial district, floors 26 - 99 low income housing.

Then floors 100 - 174 were middle income housing and floors 175 - 199 were the middle income shopping district.

Hmm, my Guide Info didn't tell me how the upper Floors were arranged. Classism at it's finest.

There could be thousands of apartments just on this floor alone, that was how massive ARCs were.

I was just another blob of meat amongst billions of other. It would do me well to remember, that despite how comfortable life could get here, especially outside the lower sectors, it was cheap, recyclable. No one would mourn my death here, and I didn't have the connections to watch my back.

My Apt had a Living Area, Small Area for a Fridge and Microwave both smaller I'd like, A separate bedroom with a built-in Wardrobe and the Bathroom Shower Area.

The vibe of it was industrial-cozy. Just comfortable enough to take your mind off how you were being screwed.

Nothing was made of plastic, the great Petroleum Phage incident of the 2060's saw to that. Everything is metal or glass or silicone. That's why the setting was called Metalpunk in the first place. There did exist some cellophane type substances but they were purely plant based.

I threw my hiking pack on the bed. I really needed to sort my gear situation. Shrugging, I checked out the bathroom.

The sink and shower both had signs with the water usage rates. 1 NB (New Buck) per minute cold, 2 MB per minute hot. And the sturdy steel toilet. 1NB per flush. Oh, no.

Hahaha, They gave you the business, while you were doing yours.

Oh, seashells. Huh, so that's how they worked. They're buttons, one flushed, one cleaned and dried your backside, and the last is the self cleaning function. Nicely labeled with little icons. (AN: Just my take, don't at me, DM fans.)

[ New World Quest Stage 1

Establish a Base.

Unlocks Integration, and Stage 2

You get 5 GC, 5 MC and 5000 credits. ]

So build up resources until I could drop a Base. Gotcha. How to do that in the meantime? They were a plethora of ways to get into trouble.

Something rang. A small device, 1 inch cubed, sat on a shelf by the front door. Ah, a Derp Cube, or really, an ISL Connection Bridge Device (ICBD), for people without implants.

Few though those are. Some people are just too worried about going MCL. (MICKLE, Metal InduCed Lunacy)

I picked up the ICBD, and a small holo-screen popped up. I saw a small guy's face and shoulders, he was obviously Tinkered Up, and even his eyes looked cybernetic. This was purely ascetic, it barely cost any more to get Metal that looks natural in this day and age. (Metal is a term used both for tech in general and cybernetics in specific.)

He looked well groomed, his dark hair slicked back. The troubled look on his face worried me. I looked around, despite being in my own apartment. Habit I guess.

If I had MetEyes, my screen would only be visible to me. As it was anyone could check out my business. Have to keep that in mind.

This was Saul, a Spider. (Spiders arranged jobs and moved stolen goods. Named such for their web of connections.) He was one of my three contacts. Ah, I got how this is going to work.

According to the lore setup, I helped him out in a bit of biz gone bad. He had been grateful and set me up with milk-runs now and then.

"Hey Comp," (Comp/compi short for Accomplice, used towards friends or friendly acquaintances, if you wish to use it derogatorily, you would say Lice, mostly a gang term.)

"I got a problem. Got some fools, maybe Scrappers who nabbed a girl, Towertop family, maybe a Cyc job, maybe for Scrap, maybe for ransom."

So a Rich Girl, grabbed for theft (Cyc-Recycle), Ripping out her Metal (Scrap), or to get NBs from Mommy and Daddy.

"I follow. Why call me?" He had plenty of Heavy Metal Shadechasers or Shades (People who "try" to live outside Corp or Gov control) who could handle this.

"You got no Metal, but are as strong as some Fulms. (Full Metal/Full Metal Jacket - Full Conversion Cyborg) they'll have a hard time seeing you coming. Plus, everyone's buzzlocked (Tied up in Biz)." The real reason came out, but there was still an edge to his voice, something else was up.

"What aren't you sayin' Saul?" Fishy. I don't like caginess.

"BWPD (Belt Way Police Dept.) has a grudge with with the family. Might try to null(Kill) you. Will probably slow you down either way. Might not show up at all. Don't know, can't get a read on their situation. You ready for the big time?"

Tangling with the PD was a quick way to gain a rep. Or get your body dumped into recycling.

This could go so wrong. Eh, it was a path to follow, a way to get my foot into better places.

"Okay, location, time-frame, and estimate on numbers." Whoo, nervous. Some guns in this world are so hardcore, there might not be anything left if I get hit, armor or no. They weren't common, but they did exist.

On the other hand, I really want some of those. Blazing away as they tried to null me. Invigorating.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Low Sect 8-D, floor 30 but not sure which Apt. They are using SCTR. (Sensor Confusing Trace Reduction-Scatter) They grabbed the Girl just over an hour ago. About 20 Slag(Wasted Metal/Melted Metal) Brains." A picture of the Girl, Purple hair bob-cut, no obvious Metal, Blue eyes. Skin a cinnamon tone. Just the name Sarah. No visible metal, so why her?

"You got this?" Saul seemed desperate, almost pleading. There was more he wasn't saying, but I needed a place to start collecting resources.

"Yup, I'll handle this. I get full salvage on the Gang?" Sweet, sweet loot. He can call in a salvage team after I'm done, to collect anything worthwhile. I probably won't have time for that.

"Always. Call me when you have her." Saul closed the connection.

No real info, no backup. Sigh. Day in the life of a Faded Shade. I'd better get use to it, I might be here a while.

I had to go down to the 50th floor to cross to the garage. My Gear on, spear and guns ready. People giving me a wide berth. No one smart, get's in a geared up Shade's way.

My ride was called an Anky. Squat boxy van, the driver's seat had been modified so my giant Ass could fit. It was...inexpensive. IT looked kind of slap-dash but in a charming way.

Cars were, for the most part, named after Dinosaurs and AT were named after Birds. No Clue why, just the way it was. I hopped in, used my ICBD to start the car and headed out.

It took thirty minutes to get to ARC 8-D. All I'm going to say, is that driving in this fucking City is insane. The closer you get to the ground level the worse it gets. I'd rather square up to the H/H crew with just my mitts.

My GPS was the only reason I made it at all, everything was so twisted and tangled, never would have found it myself.

I entered on floor 20, I figured I'd try to sneak up and scout it out, pick off any stragglers.

This floor was a food court, everything was mostly heavily modified corn, potatoes or kelp, with vat grown proteins, not really looking forward to trying any of it. Who knows what they will do to me.

It was quiet, hushed, even more some when people saw me. Many just ran, they knew the score, nobody'd care if I nulled them.

I found a set of stairs, and climbed slowly up to 30. No one in the stairwell. Strange.

Long hallway all the same ceracrete gray blue. Green metallic doors every 40ft. A blister light above each one. Strip lighting were the walls met the floor and were they met the ceilings. Nothing really stood out yet. Other than a lack of people.

A small cleaning drone doing some tidying, off to my right.

Floors in ARCs are huge, there could be thousands of Apartments, and I had no time to search every one. The Girl, Sarah could already be nulled.

My Alfar ears came in clutch once again. Music with an aggressive beat. Quiet from distance, but it gave me a direction, off to my left.

After a couple minutes of following the noise, and the scenery started to change. Things were less clean, then disrepair, then what looked like intentional destruction. Like someone was tried to remodel, but had no clue how. A wasteland of former apartments.

My eyes detected no trouble, couldn't spot any sensors. No indications of traps. I didn't like it. Too easy.

I snuck closer to the music. Now that I'd heard it awhile, I was kind of digging it. Then again, unless you do it on purpose, it's hard to screw up a driving beat.

"Hey Comp, I'll gonna get some PET." (Personal Entertainment Taste- Street Name for a drug that locks your Metal and gives you good dreams)

Shit! I almost didn't notice them. They had been standing too still, too quiet, and I couldn't hear their heartbeats over the music.

The voice sounded like they'd been heavily Tinkered. Distortion, odd tonation. Didn't like it. Set my teeth on edge.

"Alright, keep it light, we gotta scrap that portabit, later." (portabit/abit/porta/port- gang slang for women)

This voice while more natural, still had an edge of something off.

So they nabbed a girl with no obvious Metal, for scrap. Something was not adding up.

"Kay, just need to take the jank (edge, jitters, stress) off. 15 minute zonk tops."

Then I peeked around the corner and saw the one slinking off for his drug nap. The other was watching something over his ISLC, artificial eyes blinking blue. They stood eerily still, lost to the world.

[ Metal enhance Human

Tier o

Stats: Physical 20 / Mental 9 / Social 5

Abilities: ISLC (Low), Zapped Nerves (Low), MetMuscle (Low)

Traits: Burnout I, Addicted I ]

Their Metal was cobbled together, all mish-mashed. A disharmonious kludge of brands and types. At least they had no metskin. Should be easy nulls.

These were rusted(poor/broke/defective Metal) and bottom of the barrel to boot.

How did a bunch of scum like this, manage to snag a Towertop girl?

I swept around the broken walls to creep up on blinking eye's six. My eyes moved into a pattern trying to cover every angle, it simply wouldn't do to be sneaking up on this Slag and get spotted.

5' close enough.

I extended the Spear pointed at his throat, and ignited the blade. His head tumbled to the ground. I quickly stabbed the head to make sure the still functioning ISLC, couldn't send an alert to his comps. Spear off, it makes a soft crackling noise, and as loud as the music was, someone's ears might pick it out.

It was good to remember most Metal has backup power and can keep functioning for minutes, sometimes hours, without a living host.

I looked dumbass over. Worse than I thought. everything was trash.

His blood was blue. Ah, he was a Cryo, A scrapper style gang, they used a special coolant in their blood to help with all their slagged up Metal.

I looked around this area, torn up walls, everything dirty, stained, hardly any tech. No supplies. They Scrappers were poor. Desperate.

Still, I can't see anyone like this, pulling this off.

I slowly stalked PET boy, finding him zonked out on a filthy mattress. Spear on and jabbed straight through the head. Twisted for good measure.

2 down, maybe 18 more. Gleam. (Gleam of Metal, Shiny- means good or great.) Let's start getting into character.

I found the girl, before I found any more assholes. She was in a closet, unconscious bound in Zip Tape.(Duct tape on crack) Still clothed, so hopefully they hadn't done anything to her. Other than drug her.

A low growl, slipped out. I locked that shit down not the time. Focus Victor

I needed to null the rest, if they start chasing and rounds start flying, she can't shrug it off. She had the best Metal, but it wasn't combat rated. Hell, I'd not be able to, if they had the right tools.

If I left her here for now, the closet walls could possibly help. Ceracrete can take a lot of damage, which makes this section of the ARC even more suspicious.

I nodded. Plan formed. I pulled the Avenger, spear in my left, I got moving.

I crept around trying to find the rest of the Cryos. I found two more in dreamland, and Canceled their Subscriptions. (Can/ to can - slang for kill, mostly used by Shades)

The whole time I'm getting more antsy, too easy. Something was wrong here. My instincts telling me this couldn't be the way it was going down.

16 left.

Five in a smashed up room ahead, they are armed, but nothing extreme. At least at first glace

They stood in a circle, facing each other eyes flashing. Same eerie stillness as before. Watching the same movie? Playing a game? Doesn't Matter. Their end was here.

I rushed them and a few hacks and thrusts of the spear later, five less Scrappers. 11 left.

I went over their Fire. (Fire from Firearms - general term for weapons.)

Hmm, I holstered the Avenger, and pick up a Puma CZ176, half decent condition.

[ Puma CZ176

Tier 0

Type: Rifle - Semi Auto or Burst Selectable

Ammo: .308

Capacity: 30 round extended mag

Damage: Critical to Extreme

Purline Short Scope / Lingon Muzzle Break / Shoulder Strap

Effect: Depends on Ammo ]

Heaviest Rifle here. It's former owner had an extra two full mags on him, now in my pockets. I couldn't figure out a good way to keep hold of the spear so I leave it. I'll collect it after.

Just as my mind was complaining once again but how easy it was, I heard stumping. A Cryo Fulm walked in. I'd already lined him up. I'd heard him coming.

[ Full Metal enhanced Cyborg

Tier 0

Stats: Physical 30 / Mental 8 / Social 3

Abilities: ISLC (Med), MetEyes (Low), Zapped Nerves (Low), MetMuscle (Med), MetSkin (Low), MetBones (Low)

Traits: Burnout II, Addicted III, Born to Metal I ]

"What the Fuck?" Three rounds dented his head, while he was dazed. Shit fucking Cyborgs.

I added another burst, finally got to the brain.

Didn't feel even a whisper of kick from the Puma. It made a modest cough, cracking noise. Nice, I like it. Now, if it only had just a touch more punch.

It hurt my ears sure, but less than you would have thought for a .308, and my Trollblood took care of my hearing real quick.

10 left.

Now, they knew I was here. I retreated, staying low. Best to pull back a bit, get the drop on whoever shows up.

Three reach the room and start checking their dead Comps. Two bursts nulled them but one managed a return shot, tore into my armor's left shoulder, I didn't think it made it through, but the round hit like a truck.

A quick pat and the round clinked to the ground. Good. Stopped. Didn't even make it through the outer resin layer.

7 left

I heard two trying to sneak around me. Turned toward the closest and caught one coming around a corner. Slammed her with the butt stock, stomping her face when she hit the ground. Crunch, and the squeal of metal deforming.

Huh, Amos was right, these boots did good work. Blue blood splattered.

6 left.

I got too distracted by my footwork and two rounds hit my back, hard.

I turn with a burst for them, missed. I ducked behind around a wall, dropped the mag and slapped in another. Another two rounds hit the wall next to me. I step out with a burst, advancing, low crouch stepping quickly.

They returned fire only to get tagged in the arm, dropped their piece. I canned them with the next burst.

5 left.

Something about this was caused my blood to sing. I'm sure I grinned.

It quieted down, other than the radio.

Ambush? The rest were high? I swept the area and turned up nothing.

Maybe they ran? I picked up my spear and backtracked to Sarah position. She was still there.

I let the Puma hang as I flipped on my ICBD and called Saul.

"I got the girl. Send a salvage crew, 15 bodies. No Clue, where or what the others might be doing." I felt cold.

"Maybe never existed. Sending the Coordinates for drop off. Crew's already on their way. Gleam work Vick."

I as gently as I could removed the Zip Tape, she didn't stir. She was alive, but whatever they drugged her with, must of been strong.

I placed her over my shoulder, and took off for the Anky. She weighed nothing to me.

A feeling of mild paranoia followed me the whole way.

Sarah was home within the hour, and I got 5000 NBs. I was back to ARC 10-C an hour after that, and the salvage team reported in with another 2 grand in NBs.

I checked my ICBD, I had 57000 NBs, slotted up. Time to get some food. Plan my next steps.

Good Day.