Vitali Zhang's Story

Earth

August 6th, 2075

3 AM

Lumaire

Nansoko R&D Center

The rain poured while the maglevs churned around the city. The Nansoko R&D building stood in the middle of a group of skyscrapers in Lumaire’s west side. A Nansoko VTOL approached the twentieth story rooftop landing pad.

VTOLs had become a staple mode of transportation. The corporations used them heavily to ferry equipment and personnel to avoid the unnecessary ground traffic.

Three NanSec guards waved the ship in with bright searchlights that lanced through the rain as a giant holo-board in the background displayed a large face singing viciously. NanSec, short for Nansoko Security, was a private security subsidiary of the larger Nansoko Corporation.

The VTOL’s descent began as the nacelles turned horizontal.

The lead guard walked up to the side hatch as it slid open, “We weren’t expecting anybo-“

He fell over, cut down by several bullets to his head. The other two guards raised their weapons just as soon as smoke holes burnt through their skulls. They fell limp like sacks of meat.

The man that stepped out of the VTOL holstered his automatic pistols. He had olive skin which suggested Mediterranean ancestry, and he stood taller than the average man wearing a black trench suit with multiple straps unbuckled while a pair of round rimmed mirror shades covered his eyes. He wore a black beanie and his jaw had a stubble.

Upon approaching the entrance into the interior of the building the system asked for security clearance, which he answered by pulling one of the dead guards’ palms up to the biometrics scanners. The system approved and the door’s lock clicked. He slid into the building.



Dr. Marcus Laitinen was an elderly man, but he looked nearly three decades younger with curly brown hair and an incomplete beard thanks to aesthetic implants. His mind remained sharp, so he was practically the same man as he was in his youth. Though, in his youth, he was a scientific prodigy who burnt through much of the grants after several personal tragedies left him a burgeoning alcoholic. He loitered many years on the tailcoats of more prominent researchers and scientists.

Nansoko soon picked him up and put him to work in their R&D department. After a couple of reshufflings, he landed at Nansoko’s Lumaire offices. On this night, he was alone save for one or two interns and a contingent of Nansoko Security personnel that always patrolled the grounds as though it were a prison. Though, that would soon be rectified.

He worked quietly in a laboratory with sterilized flooring and various chemical instruments resting at nearby workstations. Different screens were scattered about the room. He heard glass shatter outside followed by spurts of gunfire and stood up on instinct.

He adjusted his glasses and rushed to the communication module at the center of the lab, “Security, what’s going on?”

“Doctor Laitinen, there’s an intruder in the building. We think he’s after you.”

“Shit!” Laitinen gasped and rushed to one of his monitors.

He popped a wire from the system into one of the ports behind his ears just as he heard gunfire approaching closer. He tapped some keys and the download began. Once it had finished, he released the wire and turned to meet a man with round rimmed sunglasses and a beanie.

Laitinen froze, “Who are you?

The man spoke with an Italian accent, “My name is Leon. I’m an extraction specialist. There is a VTOL waiting on the roof, we must hurry.”

Laitinen’s eyes narrowed, “You’re with NanSec?”

Leon nodded.

Laitinen pushed his glasses up and, despite brief hesitation, followed him. They took a lift to the roof and made their way to the VTOL hovering a few inches off the landing pad. The doctor climbed aboard after moving past the guards’ corpses. Then a NanSec guard burst out of the roof entrance and fired several bullets that all hit Leon dead in his chest.

Leon looked at the holes, and then smiled at the guard. In a blink, Leon closed the gap between himself and the guard, a sharp blade extended from his left elbow, and, through one quick stroke, he decapitated the guard.

Laitinen saw the NanSec insignia emblazoned on the decapitated man’s uniform, and then he looked back at Leon.

“Good night Doctor,” Leon said as he injected a solution into Laitinen’s arm.

The scientist collapsed unconscious on the VTOL’s cabin floor.

The man in black then climbed aboard, shut the side hatch, and made a call, “Murad, I have Laitinen.”

“Excellent work Leon, meet us back at Site 13.”

The VTOL departed from the Nansoko R&D center.



August 7th, 2075

6:45 AM

LSP Armory

Coen Kejong Yoon aimed his J6 at the hologram targets. His contact augs traced after the moving targets as he fired several rounds. Each hit their foreheads. O’Malley, the quartermaster, sat on a bench nearby cleaning out a T77 submachine gun.

“Excellent shot, per usual. Maybe you should use the test guns, save you some bullets,” O’Malley nodded to the duds left behind from a previous target practice.

The sergeant exhaled a sigh as he stared at the holograms, “Just doesn’t feel as real…”

O’Malley scoffed, “What feels real anymore? Anybody can shoot with auto targeting augs linked to their guns, makes things a walk in the park donnit? Like the Academy physical exams?” the quartermaster chuckled, “You should see these kids nowadays, either all pumped or replaced with parts. Makes ya wonder why we still need physical evaluations.”

“They still need them for the ones with blood and guts legs.”

“Yeah, but then those kids burn through their first paycheck for some metal ones. Funny, right?”

Coen shrugged, “I’ve never been too partial to replacements. Losing an arm or a leg is permanent, and people should wait for when that time comes,” Coen fired several more rounds then reloaded.

O’Malley spoke, “It’s the disruptors that makes things complicated. One second your arm can get you through walls, and the next it’s bricked. It’s a liability.”

“Well…you could always litter them with tungsten rounds. As for nano-fibre muscle augments and grafts, I can get behind that. I still get to bleed.”

“Still get to be human.”

“One of the few things that still matter.”

O’Malley continued cleaning out his gun, “Y’know, after Bamoko, a buddy of mine decided to replace his left arm. Then he goes and chokes his wife to death. Seems like all the problems with kids these days are the mentals.”

O’Malley saw that Coen was staring at his right hand and said nothing more. Coen never applied fake skin, but he always chose to wear long sleeves on his right arm. Then a ping alerted him, it was from Tia.

“C.K. I got something.”

“Tia, what’s up?”

“Not much besides a report, what about you?”

He picked up one of the duds, which were linked to the range’s computer systems, “At the-“

“-Firing range,” she intercepted, “how predictable.”

“Hit me,” as he shot phantom projectiles that hit their marks.

“One of Nansoko’s labs on the west side was hit, several guards were killed and a Dr. Marcus Laitinen was abducted. This is what I’m getting on their channels. The chatter is nuts.”

“When did they report that it happened?”

“They didn’t. Nansoko and its keiretsu are keeping this one in-house.”

“What’s the captain’s call on this?”

“He wanted me to consider it anyway, too many officers waiting in the break room for something to happen.”

“Details on the abducters?”

“Abducter. From the available security footage, there was only one individual. He’s not flesh and bones, I’ll give him that. He’s a ferryman, but I’m assuming he had some outside assistance.”

A screen overlaid Coen’s vision field as he stopped shooting. A time-laspe played of the intruder gunning down several NanSec guards without breaking a sweat.

“Assuming?” Coen replayed the footage.

“For starters, his tech support managed to shut all the cameras down two minutes in. Whoever is helping our friend is packing the kind of heat that can cut through Nansoko’s ICE at a major research center.”

“Any ideas?”

“Plenty. We might be looking at the start of another zaibatsu war. Only major corps and the military have that kind of gear.”

“Christ.”

“Or…”

“Or…?”

Captain Mountbatten pinged for a meeting to both.

“I’ll tell you after.”



6:45 AM

LSP Headquarters

“You’ll have to stand down, Captain,” Chief Motoko Kyung marched through the corridors of the LSP headquarters to her office.

She was dressed in a grey pant-suit and a tight white turtle neck with a slit that left her throat exposed. Several important figures trailed behind, first was Helene Laurent, she had short brown hair that reached her shoulders and crystals for eyes, she was the Head of Internal Affairs. Then there was Captain Mountbatten, an apparent robot who did not bother disguising the fact with fake flesh. He preferred his long rectangular strip of a blinker over a pair of silicone eyeballs. He was the head of MCU. On his flank was his second in command at MCU, Lieutenant Alexandra Paris, a woman who had seen many things that she wished she never saw. Lastly was the Titus Gretien, who was a thin gaunt man of African ancestry with a bald head and piercing eyes. He was highly educated and chose his words well, which was why he headlined as the LSP’s Public Relations Specialist.

“Are you sure about this chief?” Mountbatten asked.

Kyung paused, “Nansoko has made it clear that they want to manage their own affairs. If it took them this long to get the report out to us, that means they don’t want us to get involved all too deeply, or maybe not involved at all. This is standard procedure for them and us by now.”

“If we don’t do anything, it won’t be long before nothing but security contractors patrolling the streets,” Alexandra protested.

Gretien spoke, “Lieutenant Paris, while I am inclined to agree with your assessment about the necessity of action, there are bigger forces in play that we are dealing with here, if you don-“

Kyung interrupted, “Titus, it’s okay. I think you have some statements to prep, you should get back to that.”

Gretien glanced at Paris, but nodded and split off to his office to prepare.

Kyung continued, “…And lieutenant? If you haven’t noticed, we’re already past that point. Now we’re just trying to find a buyer willing to scoop us up and pay us forty cents to the dollar an hour.”

“You…you can’t possibly be serious…,” the android winced.

The chief glanced at the captain, “Figure of speech, captain. Point is, we’re not to interfere with them, at least not until we know more. It’s bad enough that we’re on security detail for the Nansoko himself. Their board of executives thinks that the heir to the Nansoko fortune isn’t as important as one of their scientists who they’re willing to protect with…” Kyung paused as her DNI searched through the information feed from one of the analysts, “…Jesus Christ, twenty contractors from NanSec? Who is this guy?”

“Dr. Marcus Laitinen,” Mountbatten scrolled through the data that Tia had sent him, “One of their people in the pharmaceuticals and cloning research department. A rather talented and tragic individual, I might add…”

“What else is new…?” Kyung entered her office which would have had a decent view of the Lumaire skyline on a sunny day, but rain still poured since last night.

The chief took a seat at her desk, and Helene remained silent as she took a seat in the back of the room.

“Or maybe we’re doing important work by protecting this kid and they don’t want us to worry about some poor labcoat,” Lieutenant Paris suggested with a quirk of a smile.

“Maybe, but highly unlikely,” the chief turned on the main screen in her office, which had been preset to LTV news.

Javed Mukherjee, one of the lead anchors for LTV appeared, sharply dressed as usual, “…major riots continue throughout Lumaire as…”

The chief lowered the volume and shook her head.

“How goes riot control?” the captain asked.

“We’re thinned out,” Kyung steepled her fingers on her desk as she watched footage of crowds and fires and violent confrontations, “Which is why we need to use what we have available, sparingly,” and after a moment, “We’re done here, dismissed.”

Captain Mountbatten and Lieutenant Paris both nodded to the chief and left the room. Alexandra exchanged a glance with Helene before she left.

Once everyone had left, Helene spoke, “There are two trails in your department, Chief. One is corporal Gafarov, and the other is somebody in MCU.”

Motoko Kyung looked at Helene.



7:05 AM

LSP Headquarters

Mountbatten strode past the many detectives, officers, MG pilots, and support agents tapping away at holographic keyboards and entered his office where Lieutenant Paris, Tia Marie St. Cloud, and Lieutenant Ioanna Nikos waited.

Mountbatten offered his greetings, “Paris, C.K., Miss St. Cloud,” and then took his seat and did a double take when he saw Ioanna Nikos, “Miss Nikos, I thought Chief Kyung assigned you to riot control?”

Ioanna spoke with a noticeable accent that was a mix of Slavic and Greek, “Was that a question?”

“No, I just…”

“The chief reserved 2nd squad for MCU in case you needed heavy support. Detectives are rather squishy, aren’t they? It’s a pity. She knows how much I just love sitting in reserve.”

“Sarcasm, quaint. You’re well cared for here at MCU, lieutenant Nikos.”

“I prefer to shoot first then ask questions, but you do things differently here, yes?”

“Naturally,” Mountbatten ‘smiled.’

“I’m also here as oversight for Sergeant Luciana Chavez-Alesci. She’s one of my pilots, but she’s now a probationary officer for MCU.”

“Another probie? Lovely,” Lieutenant Paris muttered, “C.K. you want to take the rookie out for her test drive?”

Coen shrugged, “That depends, is Lieutenant Nikos ready to give piloting lessons."

The lieutenant smiled, "We're considering it."

“How’s Vez doing?” Paris asked.

“He’s…transitioning…decently,” when Coen saw Paris’s look, “What do you want from me? You know I don’t write evaluations.”

The lieutenant rolled her eyes.

Mountbatten glanced at Paris, “All of this is part of the chief’s plans to integrate the various units. Eventually the distinctions between MGU and MCU won’t matter. We’ve already merged with narcotics and cybercrimes. It’ll be better for us long term as the point is to get rid of red tape. Anyway, you may begin Miss St. Cloud.”

Tia used motion controls to send one of the screens she saw in her augmented reality into plain view before the others.

Coen spoke first, “We’ve got several items on the docket. First off, we got a tip that a new illegal drug has appeared in the underground scene. The drug is called YX7. Our agents are telling us that a chemist by the name of Bernard Choi is manufacturing. It’s been running the circuit for weeks now, and we’ve only gotten news about it now.”

“He probably has a distribution channel set up already if he’s weeks ahead of us,” Nikos noted.

Mountbatten muttered, “That can’t be good.”

Tia continued, “Next item, Naima Khedira, she’s a hacker and thief.”

“Right then, what’s the case?”

“She owns a flower shop in the northwest side. Several million creds swindled from passers-by on the streets, but we’re looking at possible ties to NTS.”

“Neo-Terra? Good god.”

“Unconfirmed, but the signs are pointing that way.”

Nikos smirked, “If she’s with Neo-Terra, you’ll need some of our guns. They don’t mess around.”

Coen leaned back, “I never pegged you as the type for flowers lieutenant. Ready to lose a few creds?”

“Stargazer lilies are my favorite, and if I lose any credits, it’ll be for repairs once I’m through that place.”

Lieutenant Paris spoke, “The last one we have is a report from early this morning. Two androids were found dead in a back-alley south west side near the Omega41 club. This is the fifth one these past two months. Definitely not gang-related…”

Coen shook his head, “Emmett will be disappointed.”

“It’s the same as the others,” Paris noted, “Mutilation, same cuts. We’re looking at…”

Tia interrupted, “Captain…”

“What is it Miss St. Cloud?”

Tia let her neural interface put together the pieces, “Captain, they found Abikiwe Nansoko dead in his penthouse.”

“What?” the android stopped.

Chief Kyung appeared on one of Mountbatten’s screens, “You got what you wanted captain, I’ll send several squads to cordon off the Nansoko penthouse. Lieutenant Nikos, you’re to secure the air space and keep an eye on anything suspicious.”

“Already on my way,” the lieutenant bolted out of the office while entering another comms channel, “This is Nikos, 2nd squad suit up. Tag-alongs welcome but don’t expect us to baby-sit you.”

“I’ll have some of my people on the case,” Mountbatten stood up.

The chief nodded and her face blinked from the screen. The captain took a moment to compose himself.

“Right then,” the android stated, “This looks like it might be a big one. Miss St. Cloud send out the briefs to other the field agents. It seems we might be urgently needed. Lieutenant, you’re with me. Sergeant Yoon, you take point on this Nansoko murder case.”

The detective nodded and they all departed the captain’s office.



-

Breaking Even

Target – Bernard Choi

Information –

A new drug called YX7 hit the market weeks ago, which shows you how late to the party we are. Those of you who came from Narcotics, now would probably be the best time for you to lend your expertise.

YX7 is a psychotropic that sends the user on a mind trip, but we’ve got reports that it also sends them into a cyber psychosis, which runs lethal for our more “cybernetically-inclined” citizens. In a city where almost everyone has interface or augmentation, we’re looking at a city-wide threat. This isn’t even considering whether it’s traveled into international waters.

YX7 has become popular in the underground and club scenes in Lumaire though. A couple of cases of vegetable brained clubbers have cropped up. Worse yet, YX7 is near identical to the already popular, and legal, drug Yatsa.

Several independent informants have identified the source as a man named Bernard Choi. Augmented, obviously. Former chemistry teacher turned clandestine chemist. Sounds like something out of a teledrama to be honest. He’s in deep with loan sharks, and that might be why he’s trying to make some creds on the side. He’s got a son and a daughter living separately, wife passed away.

We’re assuming Choi has a dealer or distributor of some sort that has allowed him to penetrate the market so well in a matter of weeks. We can’t stop the drug from spreading, but we can stop production. If we find Choi, we can find his operation and his dealer. Bring him in alive, otherwise…

His last recorded place of residence was Almagen Court apartments in the 8th Arrondissement. It’s a pretty run-down place. The acid rain storms did a number on it, so it’s mostly abandoned except for the gangs that operate in the area.

Recommended agents – 1.

-

Flower Girl

Target - Naima Khedira

Information –

Naima Khedira is a small-time business owner who moonlights as a cyber thief. Early to mid-twenties, no doubt augmented. She’s never had a felony, which means her record is clean. But she’s not as smooth as she likes to think since our analysts have collected a digital trail on her. She’s gotten away with several million in credits from people she passes by on the streets and those who enter her shop via a passive decryption software for digital wallets and bank accounts. The crafty lass sells flowers. Her shop is in the north-west side near the corporate plazas. Her customers are most often sararimen types who forget anniversaries. We’re thinking she’s probably spent several hundred grand on defensive augmentations and more Net goodies to keep her little operation going.

This could have been a simple bagging, but this is where things get complicated. We think she might have ties with Neo-Terra.

For those who don’t know Neo-Terra, short for Neo-Terra Syndicate (NTS), is a criminal organization that commits terrorism. They’re as bad as the NLF. If there was ever a war between Earth and its colonies, you’ll know that these guys started it. They don’t talk because they’ll grease anybody whose policies they don’t agree with.

We believe her business is a front for NTS operations in the city. She’s siphoning a percentage of her profits to them, and they’re using her warehouses as staging points. Footage of people with ties to NTS, both current and previous, can be seen entering and leaving one of her flower warehouses in the port district.

She’s likely to be in shop right now if she’s going to keep up her appearances. If she’s not there then check her apartment in the west side. I suggest bringing backup and maybe some heavies as she’s likely to have NT muscle disguised as delivery boys. Our initial recommendation was to bring in the MGs, but they’re away on more…pressing matters. Don’t worry about NTS, she’s the target.

Recommended Agents – 1.

-

Omega41 187

Information –

Two cyborgs were found murdered in a back alley in the southwest. The bodies were apparently mutilated after death, but we managed to ID one of them. Damien Legrand was the brother of Mathieu Legrand, the politician, a member of the Lumaire Assembly. The other was a woman, probably a rimbo, hired as a body guard because the politicos get paranoid. She was mangled beyond all recognition, but she was armed which gave us our first clue.

As you know, this is the fifth cyborg homicide case this month, and it’s probably going to get worse with the way those are talking.

However, we’re thinking this one is related to the previous cases. They’ve all been killed the same way. No discrimination in gender. It only matters that they’re cyborgs. Precision cuts followed by mutilation. It could be a master swordsman, shit, how many of those are still left? And if they were in the city, we would have been fucking notified. That might be something worth thinking about.

Damien Legrand and his girl were returning from Omega41. Omega41 is a popular nightclub in the southwest side of Lumaire. I’ve never been myself, but I hear the place is quickly becoming one of the hottest spots in the city.

Some backstory if you didn’t know, Damien Legrand was a faculty member at Bamoko Prep, and was a large opponent to cybernetics, contrary to his brother’s own position right now in advocating the cloning bill. Damien nearly died following the Incident if it hadn’t been for his brother’s decision go ahead with the full-body replacement surgery. I’m guessing their relations didn’t really improve after that.

Seems Damien got over it quick as he was out celebrating his twenty-first birthday. Our boy finally got to drink, and, of course, something like this was bound to happen. He seemed like an innocent kid with a future in academia or politics ahead of him, but he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. We don’t get to decide who lives and who dies.

Get down there, have a look and see if you can find anything that we might have missed the first time around. Talk to any of the locals for leads, this one’s up in the air at this point.

Recommended Agents – 1.

-

Abikiwe Nansoko KIA

Information –

This is a big one. As of 7:13 AM this morning, Abikiwe Nansoko, heir to the Nansoko Corporation and fortune was found murdered in his penthouse suite located in the south-west side of the city. Nansoko Corporation is one of the big three that runs Lumaire besides Hayworth and MHC. They practically rebuilt the city, so they practically own parts, if not all, of Lumaire. They’re big in cybernetics, pharmaceuticals, software, and of course biotechnology. After all, Captain Mountbatten wouldn’t be here without them.

So, in some ways, we owe them more than just a favor, but this was a fuck-up, and a really bad one.

The report came in from one of our officers who heard the screams of a woman from inside the apartment. We don’t have many leads at this point, and it’s too early to speculate.

Notes:
First, some of you already know that Nansoko had asked us to maintain a security detail outside the prince’s home. If anything, this will come back as a public relations nightmare for us, as if we needed more of that. Don’t worry about the reporters, Titus can handle them.

Second, don’t be surprised by the fact that Nansoko is full on cyborg. Not people seem to know this, but they’re surprised by this fact. I don’t think anyone in the Nansoko family is ‘human’ anymore, at least not in the biological sense.

Detective Coen Yoon is already headed to the penthouse. We need one of you to join him on site, and he’ll brief you with what he’s found once you get there.

Recommended Agents – 2.

Report in to me whenever you can, I’ll keep you posted with anything that I can find. Good luck out there. As always, the warrant data will be on file by the time you get there. Courtesy of yours truly.

- Tia Marie St. Cloud

The hotel was crap. Anyone who had dared to stay there could tell you why, and each would have a different reason. The dragon-lady smoking at the receptionist desk, the nearly-empty vending machines that ate cash like cheap noodles the caustic smell, the spotty electricity, the dangerous location, hell, even the carpet was blamed more ruined vacations and clinic visits than a particularly feisty STD. It was miracle anyone stayed there at all, even though the owner had desperately lowered the rates to prices even the most scragged-up baka could toss down. Those who did stay for a full night willingly were either scum who needed to lay low or someone looking for safe place to fix, and Lady Ma had no illusions about where she worked. She had watched more sani-crews spritz some greased fei wu out of those coffins than butts in her ashtray. In her twenty years working the desk, she’d seen more fluids than a forensic detective could see in six generations. She never had more than twenty people at any given time, and there was always one who ended up leaking or spewing or splattering up and down those rat-infested corridors. Today was no different, even though the majority of the trash had already hauled itself to the curb. Right now, she had eight stiffs-to-be cramming themselves into those plastic shitholes for the collective price of a cheap protein bar, and she knew that not one would be around by the morning. Well, the ones that made it through the night, anyway. There was a ninth customer, but Ma didn’t really think he counted. She was loathe to admit it, but the bot had become the closest thing the place had to a return customer. The gaijin, with whatever the fuck that accent was, had been here for three days now and hadn’t complained once. It was unthinkable. Ma didn’t know whether to get him committed or give him a trophy. What she did know was that he had paid in full and had actually tried to engage her in conversation that didn’t immediately devolve into a request for sex and drugs (In Mandarin, no less!), so she wasn’t complaining either. Not out loud, anyway. In fact, she did the opposite. Maybe it was the reprieve from decades of serving idiots, maybe it was the human interaction that wasn’t an exercise in abject stupidity, and maybe, and she would see herself strung up by her tendons before breathing a word of this to anyone, maybe it was that he didn’t look half-bad, but Ma felt her professionalism crawl it’s way back into her routine. She had swept the hall enough to keep the mites off of the carpet, restocked the vending machine that had that spicy ramen he always seemed to get, and even washed his mattress. Well, sprayed it with cleaner, but the laundry room had flooded years ago and she wasn’t tangling with that mold colony again any time soon. Stubbing out her cigar, Ma lean back in her chair behind the reception desk and sighed. She watched the acrid smoke drift up and scatter as it hit the ceiling fan, thinking about how she was up too early.

The figure sprawled out in Coffin 141 couldn’t have agreed more, which was why they were nearly comatose. A solid week of waxing mixers and dropping stims had done a number on them, mostly due to Lady Ma’s deep-discount booze rack. Tough as they were, a gallon of cheap Maotai mixing with a half-dozen various chemicals and substances was not a healthy decision, even though it had done an excellent job of testing their toxin filters. So, the tiny coffin was silent and only lit by the flickering light of the TV, which had been left on after the power button had fallen out. Until, of course, a call came in. A little orange light shone from the pocket of the tenant, thrumming insistently they finally patched themselves into their phone, unmoving.

“Hello? Agent Zhang? Vitali Zhang? Hello?” The voice that woke Vitali was young and irritable, desperately attempting to hide the fact that they were exhausted. He shifted, leaning against the back wall of the coffin, detritus from last night's blow-off settling around him. He held the phone to his ear, silent. He refused to speak to anyone on the phone before they made it clear they were with the LSP. He had seen enough false-flags to know otherwise. “This is Agent Patel. Minna Patel? I’m supposed to be your assistant, remember?” Vitali nodded to himself.

Of course, the girl. She was, ostensibly, his assistant, someone who could teach him the ways of the LSP, get him info, and general be an asset for Vitali to use in the field. They both knew that wasn’t really true. While Minna had proven herself as a helper, she was meant to be more of handler, someone who could reign Vitali in and stop the newbie from flying off of the rails. So far, she had done a pretty good job, and actually seemed to get along alright with the enforcer. They had only known eachother for about a month, but Minna had a pretty good idea what to expect from him. “Well, if you’re not going to talk, I’ll start. I’ve got a job for you and it’s too early for this cloak-and-dagger crap. Are you up for it or not?” Vitali let out a small grunt, gathering his things with his free hand. On the other end, there was clacking of keys, a muffled crash, and a hiss as something hot was knocked over.

“Fuck. Alright, that’s my morning shot. Listen, there’s someone we need you to bring in. You know the deal, keep him breathing and at least try to make sure he can talk. Kill him, and it’s both our asses, but mostly yours. Scan?”

Vitali keyed the call into his headset, freeing up both hands and quickly assembling his kit in the confines of the capsule. It wasn’t the easiest, especially because of his weapons, but Vitali had done it so many times by now that it was practically rote. So, it only took him a few minutes to slide out of the capsule into the hallway. It was dim, lit by one clouded fluorescent valiantly attempting to keep his section of hall bright enough to see. Despite the relative darkness, Vitali could see that the other tenant in his hall had already left, leaving the whole floor to himself. Good. It gave him a minute to sort himself out. He rolled his shoulders, shifted on his bent-back ankles, hopped in place slightly, and generally did everything he could to exercise his augmentations and whatever muscles he still had. There was a reassuring chorus of clicks, whirrs, and humming as everything settled into place, priming him for whatever it was Minna wanted him to do. It left a light tingling in his limbs, little more than an indication that they were there at all, but he still sighed quietly as his talons sank into the filthy, threadbare carpet. Even though he couldn't really feel it, it felt good to stretch out. He knew his chrome wasn’t the best, and if he didn’t take the time to warm them up they might could bind up on him when he needed them, or worse. Thankfully, Minna knew to wait. She had seen him in full when he got ambushed in the shower after another UC had blown his cover and he had opened a video link to her right then to warn the LSP. She hadn’t quite vomited, but she hadn’t complained about him taking time to keep himself working since.

“Yes. Scan.” Vitali responded, mind clearing as he felt the subtle vibration of his synthetic organs and chemical filters kicking into high gear. Christ, he hadn’t cut that loose in a long, long time. The clipped sigh on the other end confirmed that Minna knew that as well, likely due to the messages she had to read before making the call.

“Good. First order of business: Hold off on the Jade Crew work until we get this done, alright? You’ve done plenty enough as it is and the coroners are beginning to ask me uncomfortable questions. They’re down, Vez, stop kicking them. Literally, because evidently you have fucking knives for feet.” There was more clacking of keys as a files were pulled up, a burst of decidedly adult noises, a hasty keystroke, and a frustrated sigh. Minna would later swear that she literally heard one of Vez’s eyebrows raise.

“Listen. I’m on my home laptop today, I’m in my pajamas, and my coffee just redecorated my carpet. There’s an all-hands scenario going down at HQ and I got dragged out to help deal with the boots we still have on the ground, scan?” She didn’t wait for an answer, continuing out of a red-faced mix of embarrassment and impatience. “So I need to you to nab me some brewer called Bernard Choi. Apparently he’s the guy behind that fake Yatsa, YX7. Sure you already know it, but just in case you didn’t already drop a kilo of that shit, it’s those little orange triangles. Yatsa is yellow, but if you’re in a club, you probably don’t know or care. We’ve got people going chrome-crazy because of it and we want him and his operation shut down. He’s got a dealer shifting his candy, too, but don’t lose sleep if he ends up not seeing a cell. Sending everything your way now.”

There was a beep as the dossier was sent through his phone. If there was one thing Minna was good at, it was dossiers. She might not tell Vitali everything herself, but she could dredge up enough info to set him up. Pictures, contacts, histories, affiliations, locations, personalities, she could take someone or something and collate into a little orange file as easily as someone writes their own name. She knew it, too, which was why she didn’t bother to give Vitali time to look through it before plowing on.

“Right. Before I can get my ass out of here, I have to ping you. Higher-ups want to know where their people are, at least right now. Your signal sounds like it’s coming from a public toilet, so I’m assuming you're in one of those flops you insist on staying at. As long as you hose yourself off before coming back, I couldn’t care less. Just give me a name and address.”

Vitali didn’t know why people hated these places so much. There were high-end joints on Silicon Boulevard and elsewhere that were nicer than most apartments. Granted, he never stayed in them. He hadn’t seen Minna’s apartment, but he imagined it was pretty damn good. She didn't seem like to type to deal with messes. Certainly didn’t like managing his.

“Yes. I’m at the Hakka Rose, in the Five-Foot-Way. Across from Three-Bone Shen’s?” Vitali had to concede that the noise of astonished disgust coming from the other end was warranted. If he could still get parasites, he would have probably burned this place down as a public service, but he had stayed at far worse places in far worse cities. At least he didn’t need a geiger counter to see if the toilet was safe to use. Probably.

“Shit, seriously? You do remember what happened to that CI last week, right? They couldn’t get the brain fluid out of the throat mic and had to scrap it.”

“Yes, that’s how I got his room for so cheap.”

“Oh. Oh. Just... Shut the fuck up. God. You’ve got the info, I’m going home to try and salvage a night of passion and rest, whichever comes first. Don’t die.”

Vitali chuckled as the call went dead, flicking through the info he had been supplied with. She’d get him back, somehow. That’s just what they did. If someone had seen them talking on the street, they’d be mistaken for close friends, maybe even a couple. Work wasn’t much different. Nobody cared if you were close on the side as long as it didn't interfere with work, and there was running pool on whether they’d end up together. It wasn’t going to happen, though. They had their own reasons to keep it strictly platonic. Didn’t stop them from placing bets against themselves on the sly, though.

Vez walked down the cramped stairway, made to the lobby, dropped his key on the counter, thanked the lady for the stay, and made his way into the street. It was a bit abrupt, but he wanted to get this job done so he could focus on whatever it was that caused the station to go critical. Lady Ma was a bit hurt, but she found later that he had cleaned his capsule and let his garbage in small bag outside the door. She would, in the end, call him a good person.

Vez looked up as he walked out of the hotel, door sliding closed behind him with a hollow pinging sound. He couldn’t see the sky, not this deep in the city. The only thing lighting the glorified alley was the slowly blinking sign of Three-Bone Shen’s and the cage-lamp fastened above the hotel door. Above him was snarl of wires, pipes, tarps, and sheet metal that blotted out all natural light. He was used to the ad-hoc style of utilities common in the poorer areas of Lumaire, the Ural Shanties being a prime example of ingenuity in the face of abject poverty, so he knew what to look out for. See, the Five-Foot-Way got it’s name because that was the walking space you had before you stepped into open air. It was deep in the urban sprawl, but it wasn’t ground level, being little more than a connected series of balconies connected by walkways and ladders. Getting across the street meant navigating homemade bridges and the occasional leap. Stumbling usually meant you went tipping into the abyss for about sixteen stories. It used to be twenty, but the trash had built up enough drive out the lower tenants and make the landing a little softer. This was literally what Vitali was built for, however, and it didn’t take him long to get where he needed to be.

The 8th Arrondissement had seen better days. Vez hadn’t been in the city before the acid storms hit, but he could see the signs of the damage even before he entered the district proper. It was the type of urban decay he had seen in Russian mining towns that bordered the Red Zone, places that had been left empty and rotting until somebody decided to move back in. The place was still caustic, small pools of corrosive liquid fizzling away where the rain couldn’t wash it down into the sewer, filling the air around them with toxic vapor. Anyone living here had maybe ten, twenty weeks tops before their lungs dissolved. A plume would probably kill in minutes. Vitali was working his way through an old traffic tunnel, lightless and jammed with the rusting hulks of hundreds of vehicles. The gangers probably didn’t know how dangerous this place really was, which suited Vitali fine. He had already seen a few of the stupider ones, curled up in acid-bored pits, clutching their melted throats in dark places, face-down in acidic puddles and turning to mush. Vitali guessed these were runners who didn’t make it to their destination, as most were younger and had mobility-based augmentations. Whatever they were carrying would have been picked up by whoever came next, but there were a few Vitali had found that were out of the way enough that they likely would never be found. Their own brothers couldn’t even loot them, but Vitali had no trouble sifting, literally at times, through their remains. A lot of cheap weapons, bad drugs, and petty cash, except for one runner who had managed to wedge herself into the wheel-well of a moving van. She was clutching a duffel-bag to her chest, and was in good enough condition that her tattoos and colors were still visible. Yellow clothes with lots of eagles, the sign of the Talons. They were a low-key, low-status group that farmed themselves out to the larger gangs by doing all of the legwork no self-respecting gang would do. Vitali bet that there were a few of them down here, rotting with all of the other upstarts and washouts. Wrenching the bag from the corpse, Vitali zipped it open and was greeted by hundreds of orange triangles. Zipping it closed, Vitali threw the back over his shoulder, nodding to himself.

A lucky find. The girl, judging by the shape she was in, had been dead for a few days, meaning that the gang that had called for her had likely put out a call for a runner who would be making his or her way down here to get that pack. Vitali knew he looked worse than most of the people who would likely be sent, and the gangs wouldn’t be surprised at a freelancer shifting the drugs if they were used to throwing fresh meat at the problem. As for where to go, Vitali figured it out once he left the tunnel.

People didn’t like to start over, and gangers didn’t like to do more work than they had to. When Vitali emerged from the sagging mouth of the tunnel, he wasn’t surprised to see the district dark. Utilities would be shot, and anything here would either be tapped from the surrounding Arrondissements or produced on-site. It wasn’t hard to notice, then, the one building nearby that actually had the lights on. It was an apartment building that appeared to have held up nicely, fortified overtime by gangers looking to secure their turf. Someone had built a crude portcullis out of sheet metal and dropped it over the double-doors, watched over by a half-dozen gangers. They were older and tougher than the teens Vitali had encountered in the tunnels, all tattooes and gold-plated augs. Fairly well-armed, as well, cradling police-issue weapons boosted from an abandoned police armory somewhere in the district. They didn’t react as Vitali approached, wordlessly opening the gate as he showed them he had the pack. The portcullis was dragged up the side of the building with a metallic screech, and Vitali walked through the double doors into the lobby.

Vitali didn’t expect the lobby to be so nice. He had expected graffiti, joygirls, urine, maybe a gun emplacement, but not Art Deco. Someone, for some reason, had taken the time to improve the place and make it look...quite good, actually. There was even a chandelier. Granted, Vitali hadn’t seen a interior like this that wasn’t bombed out, but it seemed like a close approximation. The gang members who crowded him as he walked through seemed to ignore it, seeming slightly annoyed at the decoration that was undoubtedly against their chosen aesthetic of bodily fluids and stabbing weapons. The someone responsible for all this stopped him at the elevator, and Vitali was entirely unsurprised by his character. A thirty-something mobster wannabe in a shitty stolen suit blocked the way, smirk plastered on his greasy face.

“You like it, runner? Did most of the work myself. Art Deco. Know what that is?” He had a voice like a Danube wharf-rat, low-class but still incredibly smug. Vitali shrugged. Never hurt to play the part, even though he hadn’t been entirely sure what it was himself.

“Yes, now. You where this needs to go?” The chorus of chuckles behind him wasn’t a surprise. His accent was strange, even by the standards of Lumaire. Slavic, Siberian, a tinge of Mongolian. He was proficient in English, near fluent, but he could quote Shakespeare and it would still sound oddly broken to most ears.

“Yeah. Poor fuck before you didn’t do so great, huh? Who are you with, Comrade?” Another wave of laughter, another shrug.

“Cossacks. Ataman sends his regards.” Vitali nodded, shifting the pack slightly on his shoulder. The Cossacks didn’t exist, but Vitali knew that the dealer, who Vitali was pretty sure was right in front of him, had contracted from so many different gangs that the name didn’t really matter. If someone skipped out with the pills or tried to cause trouble, retribution would come later, likely involving the offender and everyone they knew and loved being fed into an auger. Such was their way.

“Sure, Comrade, good for you. Choi’s up top, sweating bullets. He better be glad you came when you did. Egghead’s tellin’ me he’s got to step on that shit himself. Holdin’ back on me, can you believe it? Close to steppin’ on him, eh?” More laughter issued from the mob of gangsters as they forced themselves to enjoy their dealer’s joke. The dealer stepped aside, sweeping his arm at the elevator. Vitali stepped forward and the dealer quickly stepped back into place, placing an arm on his shoulder.

“Hold up, commie. I’ve been hearing some- Christ, you smell like shit. I’ve been hearing some concerns with our product there, causing our select clientele to go a little funny in the chrome-dome, if you get me. Seems like we could use a test.” The gangers stepped closer, and Vez wordlessly let the bag fall the to the floor. It was a test, one that the dealer fully expected to kill him. The fuck didn’t need to pay dead men, and Vitali wondered how many augged runners had been tossed into the street foaming and twitching. Vez was different, though. He knelt slowly, quietly unzipped in the bag, and picked up a handful of pills. The little orange pills tasted strangely of chocolate, and Vitali felt the colors begin to shift and breathe, the chemicals sinking into his genes, and then....darkness.

Vitali didn’t remember much of what happened. He had gone cyber-psycho before, and all he knew then was raw, unbridled violence. Splintered bone and pulped organs. Screams torn from collapsed lungs. Red, pulsing vision and that keening shriek filling his head like a devil’s laughter. He saw flickers of faces, before they were smashed against the walls like rotting meat. Some were crying, some were defiant. He thought he heard one praying before his spine snapped like dry straw. Dull thumps broke through the haze, gunshots from automatic weapons filtered through a fog created by enough narcotics to kill ten men. He could feel them whistling by his head and cracking against the steel plating of his augmentations, his own guns forgotten as he tore through the building with claw and talon. He smelled smoke as someone tried to throw a firebomb that uselessly crashed to the floor when the wielder was impaled on a broken railing, the heat building as the flames began to spread. His world was fire and blood, and he feasted and slaughtered and reveled in the psychosis until finally he felt a needle work it’s way into his neck and then...

Sanity. It was like a bolt of lightning, shocking him back to reality. His vision cleared to a pinkish mist, the roar in his head subsiding to a ringing whine. He was in a room, a lab. It was destroyed, reeking of chemicals and carnage. There were two corpses, one that was covered in shards from being slammed into a rack of glassware, the other had a disruptor rammed into his eye socket. He still had his hand attached to it, thumb desperately fishing for the button as it was torn from his wrist. It took Vitali a few seconds to process that there was a living person in the lab with him, likely the one responsible for the auto injector sticking out of the back of his neck. A small man, older, huddled in a corner. He had wet himself. Vitali looked at him before looming over him, still twitching from the stimulants coursing through him. It was difficult to see from the artifacts distorting his vision, but it was Choi. He grabbed him and threw himself out of the building, scaling the wall of the neighbouring structure and navigating the rooftops until they were a good block away.

Vitali had placed the brewer by an AC unit, which he had cowered against like it was his mother. The enforcer knelt down, augmentations whining in protest as he tried to get them to move. He couldn't go any farther, not after what he’d done. He could see the bullet holes in his augmentations where the armor had given out, struggling against the the resistance where the internals were binding and warping from damage and heat. He’d need serious repairs, and medical attention. He could feel that his eyes were bleeding. Smacking the side of his head to get his commlink working, he called Minna.

“Yeah? You get Choi?” She sounded better, well-rested. It was still dark out, likely around four or five in the morning by now, but she was a master of the power-nap. That didn’t last as she heard Vitali’s voice.

“Yes. Choi is with me. I need an extraction.” His voice was rough and angry as his filters lurched under the strain, desperate to clear out his system. His crude accent was digitally distorted from the damaged commlink. He sounded...well, like a monster.

“Christ. Yeah. I’ll get you one, just stay put, alright?” He heard a frantic conversation take place, an affirmative, and the line was closed.

Vitali sat quietly on the rooftop, leaning against the same unit as Choi. The doctor was immobilized with fear, so Vez didn’t feel the need to restrain him. He watched the building burn in the distance, just now feeling the ash drifting from the sky, cooled by the frigid weather. It wouldn’t spread, but it would do a good job of disposing of whatever had occurred in that filthy place. Hundreds, maybe? At least a few dozen. He didn’t even know what gang that was called, if it even was just one gang, hell, the dealer’s name. It didn’t matter now, he supposed, not with it all burning to the ground. So he sat, in the darkness, quietly letting his filters do their work as his mind slowly cleared and his body began to shut down.

Choi sat, staring at the sky. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him now. The Morley and his gang was dead, his business was destroyed, his family would likely be killed. That thing had just torn him away from the one chance he had to save himself and the people he loved. He knew it was over. And yet, when he felt the hum of the VTOL approach and found himself blinking in the spotlight, he found himself crying. He had been crying before, but this was different. When it lurched upward and carried him into the shuttle like a child, coating him in blood that was not his, he knew why. It was over.

And he was going home.

Epilogues

August 6th, 2075

11 PM

Site 13

The lights flickered in an abandoned warehouse where old parts and machinery rested like ghosts of the past. Pools of grime and chemicals had coalesced with murky water. All the windows had been blacked out by tinted shade frames. Leon stood underneath a single light with Laitinen bound and gagged.

“That wasn’t part of the agreement,” Leon said.

Marcus Laitinen opened his eyes, dazed. He saw Leon in his round rimmed glasses standing next to him. He pieced together several shadows in the darkness before him as men.

“I brought you Laitinen as you wanted,” Leon said, “Where is the girl?”

One of the shadows spoke, “Leon, that was excellent work, but our situation has changed. The girl is safe. We just need you to do one more job for us.”

Leon flicked open his suit and held an automatic pistol at Laitinen’s forehead.

“Really now, Leon? Is that necessary? We’re only asking one more favor and then you and her are free to go. That’s all. Just strap that bastard to a bomb on the LR Line. We’ll give you the time and date. Once that’s done, all debts are paid off. We both walk away.”

Laitinen’s screams were muffled.

“How can I be sure?” Leon asked, “You’ve crossed me once already.”

“Scout’s honor. Leon, you’ve been a very good associate of ours. There wasn’t anyone else we could entrust with such a vital task. Your skills are why we asked for your help.”

Leon holstered the pistol and disappeared into the darkness.



August 7th, 2075

7:30 AM

Nansoko Penthouse

The Nansoko penthouse sat secluded from the rest of the nearby high-rises by a winding driveway. A small garden surrounded the exterior even though the trees were not tall enough to blot out the skyscrapers in plain view. At the main entrance of the complex was a landing pad for VTOLs. The hologram police line cordoned off the entrances while a set of officers stood in a ring around the building’s exits to enforce the line’s significance. A small crowd of reporters had already arrived on scene waiting for details outside. A car shaped like an obsidian shell pulled up to the police line. A hologram of credentials blinked on the driver’s window for one of the officers to inspect. The officer waved the car through the line.

The car’s butterfly door opened and Coen stepped out while wrapped inside his black trench coat. Upon entering the building, he took out a cigarette and flicked open the lighter. He saw three women adorned in colorful lingerie, sitting on the couches, and smoking. Their eyes shifted about and their feet tapped unsteady on the floor. Their arms were crossed and they looked ready to leave. Two LSP officers stood in the lobby lounge talking to one another before one noticed him and approached him.

Coen tapped his wrist unit and his holo credentials blinked into existence, “Detective Yoon, MCU.”

The officer sifted through the screen of data and then glanced back at the three women. He introduced himself as corporal Gafarov.

“What do we have here corporal?”

“Well, the Nansoko is definitely dead. Sliced up, according to Wayne,” Gafarov stated.


“I thought it was a cleaning woman that found him?”

Gafarov pointed a thumb back at the three women, “They’re the ‘cleaning women.’”

Coen nodded and took a puff of his cigarette, “Did anybody else see anything? Cameras?”

Gafarov shook his head, “Nope. Abikiwe didn’t allow cameras to be installed because he liked his privacy. We only have cameras for the complex’s perimeter. You can see why,” he glanced back at the women again, “We also had several officers on duty including myself.”

The otherofficer offered the women bottles of water to which they warmly accepted despite the traces of fear running down their faces.

“Who was the first on scene?”

“Myself and Corporal Morris over there. We found no evidence of forced entry or exit of any kind. I mean the only other possible entrances would be the balcony.”

“You sure one of them didn’t do it?” Coen nodded at the three joygirls.

“Our boys had the doors covered the entire night. They came this morning and found him when they came in.”

“Who was on security detail last night?”

Gafarov nodded at Morris, “Myself and Corporal Morris. Nobody came in or out except for Abikiwe.”

“Where’d he go?”

“One of the c-stores for vodka and rum around six last night, came back within half an hour.”

“Did anyone accompany him to the c-store?”

“His chauffeur.”

“Besides his chauffeur, what about security?”

The corporal cleared his throat and shifted his feet, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Well, sir, he always goes for a vodka run every night around that time. We didn’t think it would be any different.”

“Why didn’t he ask someone else to get him the vodka?”

The corporal shrugged, “Nansoko has a penchant for drink I guess.”

“I’m going upstairs. Keep an eye out for these ladies yeah?”

“Mr. Wayne is up there already.”

Coen stubbed his cigarette in one of disposal units by the elevator lifts. He arrived on the floor of the Nansoko’s suite where officers went in and out. More police tape, but for the most part the hallway seemed untouched as though a murder had never happened. The place probably ran for several million credits on a bad day in the market.

Coen entered the suite where he saw the living area in front of him. The balcony was beyond that with tall plexi-glass walls that probably gave Abikiwe a decent view of the Lumaire. Wayne, a forensics specialist, and scientist android, collected samples around the room, but mainly around the dead prince. Wayne had the likeness of a human being with kempt blonde hair combed as though he had a mother who groomed him. His smiles were a constant source of jokes. Wayne claimed that the facial gestures of his model were not of importance to the development team at Sans Limites at the time. He was made to be a straight-faced researcher, but he found smiling as a better way of interacting with associates and coworkers.

Abikiwe sat on his chesterfield couch with a bottle of rum in one hand and vodka in the other. His head bent awkwardly back on the neck of the sofa. His face looked as though he died pleasantly in his sleep, drooling while dreaming. His chest had been split open in various parts, leaking hydraulic fluids of all sorts that stained the couch in alien colors. Cuts, probably by swords, no bullet holes.

To Coen’s left was the kitchen area, though few would have expected Abikiwe to cook for himself. He had a personal chef that came in and out to cook him meals. Housemaid bots usually cleaned up after him because being the heir to a megacorporation allowed one to sit on their ass with a bottle of vodka every day. Neither the chef nor the housemaid bots were around when Abikiwe died. The chef was due to make breakfast at eight. The housemaid bots usually came around at five in the afternoon, or so the intel suggested.

Coen approached the android who recorded everything through his oculars.

Wayne smiled at Coen, “Detective Yoon, good to see you again.”

“Wayne,” Coen nodded, “I thought we’d agree you’d work on your smile. So, it looks like he was sliced up bad. Any ideas who did it?”

The android stopped smiling, “Not particularly. The blood hasn’t congealed yet, leaving the time at approximately within an hour ago.”

Coen looked at the body, “He looks like he was sitting down and not exactly expecting it. Otherwise there’d be signs of resistance or attempts at escape.”

“Indeed,” the android noted and continued surveying the body.

Coen glanced around the suite and saw the hallway to his right which led to Abikiwe’s bed room. His field of view became slightly distorted before he determined an outline usually generated by a cloaking device.

“Hey you!” Coen drew his pistol at the same time as the cloaked figure realized he’d been discovered.

Wayne noticed the commotion, “We need officers up, there’s an unauthorized person in the crime scene.”

Coen activated the recording in his contacts and fired several shots at the phantom outline all of which missed as the figure turned left. The detective ran after but he stopped at the doorway to the Nansoko’s bedroom. He could see a large vanity mirror placed at an angle that allowed him to catch part of the reflection. Through the mirror, he saw the transparent drapes leading to the bedroom balcony move.

Yoon spoke into his throat mic, “This is Yoon, suspect is heading out bedroom balcony.”

He turned the corner and spotted the individual de-cloaked.

Coen caught two seconds worth of visual details before he fired a round at the woman, “Stop right there!”

She had a pair of swords, katanas, sheathed in sayas mounted on her back. She appeared decked out in a full muscle suit. Her face was covered with a visor. She returned fire with an automatic pistol with high velocity rounds that cracked and punctured the walls. Coen activated his shield, but he retreated several steps back into the hallway as splinters and debris flew into a small cloud of smoke obscuring his view.

Coen turned the corner again to see the cloaked outline leap from the balcony balustrades. The detective ran to the balcony, his eyes scanning the premises before spotting the outline flee into the small forest surrounding the complex. Even if he jumped, she already had a head start on him. He slowed his heavy breathing and noticed a dull pain in his shoulder. He looked down to see a hole and blood seeping out. He realized that his personal shielding system had not activated in time. He fell back against one of the walls and passed out.



Up in the air, two members of 2nd squad were en route in their mech suits. The suits resembled headless bodies with three cylinders for a claw-like hands. The cockpit was concealed entirely behind a bulletproof carbon frame. Visual data was acquired via interlinked exterior cameras. Machine guns and missiles were the primary weapon systems, while thrusters were the primary propulsion system.

“Viper to HQ, we’re circling the penthouse now,” Ioanna Nikos spoke into her comms inside of her mecha.

“HQ to Viper, maintain visuals on the surrounding areas. It’s possible the suspect may have just escaped from the crime scene. Be on alert.”

“Understood HQ, let me know if you find anything.”

The unit pulsed ahead followed by the other mech piloted by Farwell. As they pulled closer they saw through their cams Floreal Marat’s mech already maintaining an altitude above the penthouse.

“Viper to Lily, see anything?”

“Nothing yet, I’ve got infra on.”

“Viper to Frost, head to the other end of the complex. Maintain positions and report if you see anything.”

“Aye chief,” Farwell responded.

The mechs maintained a triangular formation around the complex as they surveyed the LSP officers on the ground.

“By the way Lily, Hammer got you coffee this morning.”

“That’s nice of her, tell her I owe her,” then Marat caught movement out of the corner of her cameras.

Coen’s voice entered their channels, “This is Yoon, suspect is heading out bedroom balcony.”

“Copy that Yoon, this is Lily, I’ve spotted the target, in pursuit,” Marat engaged her thrusters to the other side of the building.

She spotted the balcony just as soon as a woman landed on top of her mech and threw off her balance. The individual leapt off and recloaked.

Nikos and Farwell followed quickly behind. Marat spun around and activated the infrared vision system as she chased after a red form on her screen moving through the forest. Marat pulled the trigger in her right-hand controls which sent the mech strafing some rounds at the ground near-missing the target’s feet despite the dense foliage. The target then spun around and fired something at Floreal. She wove away from the blast, but then her IR visuals shut down. The red form on her screen vanished.

“Lily, this is Viper, my IR is out, are you still following the target?”

Floreal magnified her optics and continued along the same direction as the target was running, but realized it was no use.

Floreal closed her eyes, “This is Lily, I’ve lost visual on the target.”



8:07 AM

LSP Headquarters

Titus Gretien sat in his office with a giant display in front of him. The faces of many journalists and press correspondents were on screen. Gretien held a livestream press conference regarding the death of the Nansoko, which had spread quickly even if the LSP had not offered a public statement until that moment. The affair had evolved into a public relations bomb. Gretien was merely the bomb squad.

In another section of the screen, live footage of LSP officers outside the Nansoko penthouse played.

“That’s all the details we have right now as the investigation is pending. Thank you all for your time.”

The faces and screens began to shut out one by one except one that remained, Kelly Pahlavi, a reporter for Lumaire News Network.

When Gretien saw her, “Kelly, I swear to god…”

“You guys really fucked this one up by letting the murderer get away, and I thought you were an atheist?”

Gretien clasped his hands before his mouth and listened, “Kelly, listen…”

“Titus, please don’t beg me, it’s pathetic. I’ll cover your ass this time, but you owe me a favor.”

They had known each other for a long time. They were in an on again off again relationship before Gretien started working for the LSP. Though, that was assuming that sleeping together was enough to be labeled a relationship.

“What is it?”

“I’ll come to collect when the time comes,” Kelly continued, “You know, normally, we’d have something when you guys don’t. But we’ve got nothing, this one looks bad. I’ve been hearing from my contacts at Hayworth about a presumed merger with Nansoko to break the power-lock with MHC.”

“That’s nothing new.”

“So, you think it’s an inside job?”

Gretien rubbed his eyes, “Frankly, that’s all speculation at this point, but they’ve been saying that for years. What makes you think this one to be any different? They never cared about the Nansoko in the first place.”

“But you guys do…” she paused before changing the subject. “You look tired.”

Gretien looked away when she commented on his appearance, “Stating the obvious won’t help.”

He looked back at her again and saw she had that look in her eyes. The look that would have resembled a come-hither hand gesture.

“Kelly…”

She chuckled, “Not even lunch for old time’s sake?”

Gretien smiled, shook his head, “Maybe another time.”

“Suit yourself.” She smiled and disappeared from the screen.

As soon as her face disappeared, so did his smile. He exhaled and reclined in his seat.



10:15 AM

“C.K.’s been injured?” Captain Mountbatten leaned forward in his seat in his office.

He sat in front of a screen with Alexandra’s face on it.

“He’s in critical condition. The bullets went right through him before he could activate his shielding,” Alexandra responded from the cabin of a VTOL taking a quick tour of the city.

She preferred to be out in the field early in the day, so she could lend support wherever it was needed if she was on the move. Though, she was no netrunner, so the only support she could provide was with a gun.

“They’ve managed to stabilize him for now. We lost the suspect. She was using a cloaking device, probably military grade thermoptics. They disabled one of the MGs’ infrared vision systems to escape.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Mountbatten paused, “Did he manage to capture an image?”

“He’s putting it into the report right now in the hospital. I’m heading back to MCU, do you want me to grab you anything, donuts? Tea?”

“Tea, preferably.”

Alexandra turned off her comm. She wondered why Mountbatten still drank tea before she ordered her pilot to take her back to LSP headquarters.



1:15 PM

La Boheme Restaurant

La Boheme was an upscale restaurant located on the top floor of the Stockman Tower in the northwest side. The restaurant was praised for its collection of wine and ribeye as well as its magnificent view of the city. The rich and famous often enjoyed dining there. On this afternoon, the rich and famous that dined there was Mathieu Legrand, a Lumaire assembly member.

He dined in solitude save a few bodyguards on standby, but he sat alone by the windows. He was neither gaunt nor portly. He looked several years younger than he really was without surgery of any kind. He had a few graying streaks of hair over his brown at his temples, and his eyes resembled steel. Mathieu did not look like the type to smile often.

One of his bodyguards walked in as he finished wiping his mouth on a cloth napkin.

“Sir, your brother was found murdered. Is there anything you want us to do?”

Legrand set the cloth napkin on the table and shook his head. He gestured for the guard to leave him. He stared out of the window as he clenched his teeth.


2:05 PM

LSP Headquarters

Minna Patel stood in Lieutenant Paris’s office, but she may as well have been standing in front of a firing squad. The agent was to answer for anything that officer Vitali Zhang did and did not do on his assignment. After Agent Patel had reported the results, the lieutenant let the silence engulf her. Alexandra decided she would lash out against the intern in lieu of railing Vez because the latter was not present.

Alexandra stared directly into Minna’s eyes, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Mountbatten walked in, but, as soon as he heard those words, he walked back out. The intern had her eyes to the floor because she couldn’t keep up with the lieutenant’s gaze. She would have done anything to get the captain back into the room because at least he could have been of some comfort and maybe shield her against the lieutenant’s wrath.

“Ma’am, Agent Vez was certain the flames wouldn’t spread.”

Alexandra fumed, “And if they did? Who did you think was going to pay for those infrastructure damages? We are officers of the law, not bounty hunters. He could have easily called in a drug enforcement team to confiscate all the evidence necessary to put Choi away for years,” she massaged her temples, “Do either of you know how reckless that was of Vez?

Alexandra took the agent’s silence to press on, “Why didn’t you stop him?”

“We have an arrangement. I give him information that he needs to apprehend suspects, but I don’t have any say as far as his methods. It’s how we’ve operated for a while now, and we’” Minna cleared her throat, “Ma’am.”

“Riveting,” Alexandra’s brow creased further.

Minna continued, “From what he told me, the dealer made him try the YX7 to test if the contents in the parcel was legitimate, and that was where things kind of got…out of hand.”

“Out of hand? He takes the drugs and ends up slaughtering all of them during a drug-induced rage. Then burns the entire lab as well as the bodies, which, trust me, does not look good from any angle. I suppose he did us a favor by burning the bodies to cover up the fact. Do we look like action flick heroes to you?”

“No ma’am. He was under the influence only when he killed off gangers, but, in his defense, what’s wrong with killi-“

Alexandra raised a palm, “Agent Patel, you are to remind agent Zhang that there is a book that we play by. That’s the only thing that separates us from them. I trust that the both of you will try better to observe that in the future. This is Lumaire, not some fuck-all shantytown in Eastern Europe. There’s a level of respectability that must be maintained.”

Minna remained silent for a long time before conceding, “Yes ma’am.”

Alexandra looked at the intern up and down again before her face relaxed and she pivoted, “How is he?”

Minna glanced at the lieutenant, she had to process a moment before responding, “He’s…fine. He has some painkillers. No major injuries, the parameds patched him up.”

Alexandra nodded, “Dismissed.”

The intern left the room with her ears burning red. The Captain waited outside.

Mountbatten stopped Minna as she walked by, “Don’t mind the lieutenant, she’s just got a lot of paperwork,” he paused, “Good work today Agent Patel. I’m glad the LSP can count on men and women like you and Zhang.”

Minna looked at the captain for a moment, “Thank you sir.”

Mountbatten nodded. Minna walked off, unsure if she needed to have the ‘talk’ with Vitali. The kind of talk that might ruin their otherwise stable work relationship. The captain entered the lieutenant’s office but stopped in the doorway. Alexandra saw him watching her.

He cleared his throat, “I believe you may have overcooked the poor intern.”

The lieutenant rolled her eyes.



7 PM

LSP Headquarters

“I swear I was just in there for flowers!” Avinash sobbed uncontrollably even as LSP officers shuffled by staring at him.

Tia and Alexandra exchanged some uncomfortable glances, while also hoping the other would say something to stop him.

“My wife would kill me if she found out I didn’t get her flowers! I’ve already forgotten her birthday!”

“I am not dealing with him right now,” Alexandra walked off to Mountbatten’s office.

Tia raised her palm up to pause the man, “Hey. Shut up. Okay? We know you’re innocent of any wrong-doing…”

“I don’t know who those men were, please, I don’t want to go to jail,” he wailed.

Tia cleared her throat, “You’re not going to jail. Just let us take care of some paperwork and we’ll let you go soon. Sit tight and not another word.”

Avinash sniffled.

“You want anything to drink? Water, coffee?”

“Coffee, cream, no sugar, and lactose free milk. I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Do I look like a fucking diner to you?” Tia stared at Avinash, “Besides…can’t you get like a replacement intestine for that?”



7:35 PM

Captain Mountbatten was in his office when officer Chavez, MCU’s newest detective-to-be, entered with a lively stride. No doubt she radiated confidence after successfully nabbing the thief, which, Mountbatten supposed, warranted some level of pride.

“Good work probationary officer Chavez, with a couple more like that, and you might be turning that probationary badge in for a JG detective’s badge. We’re proud to have you with us whether it be MCU or MGU.”

She told him about the details surrounding the events that occurred within the flower shop. The mention of Cael Meint was significant. Mountbatten’s visage would have darkened had he owned facial implants. His chrome exterior provided the benefit of a poker face. Meint was involved in several Neo-Terra related incidences and operations. He became whatever Neo-Terra wanted him to be for the organization as a whole. His appearance anywhere was significant.

While a flower shop seemed surprising, it was located within the northwest side near many of the major corporate offices. The mention of the black woman caught his interest, but he dismissed the probationary officer before probing further about the woman, as he felt such information was on a need-to-know basis.

“I’ll start questioning Khedira soon about anything she knows regarding NTS. I’ll let you know what we find regarding this mystery woman. Off you go sergeant.”

The captain tapped into a separate channel once Chavez left, “Miss St. Cloud, Officer Chavez mentioned a woman was present alongside Cael Meint in the flower shop. Can you find me any details on that woman?”


8 PM

The day ended with one less member present than it started in Captain Mountbatten’s office.

“So, looks like Emmett is saddled up for the long haul regarding the Omega41 murders of Damien Legrand and a Melanie Monroe,” Tia swiped along her screen, “But, without a doubt, it is the same person. He’s thinking it’s a cyborg. Mangle believes that to be the case as well.”

“It’s certainly better than nothing, I think you should give him access to the files for the previous cases,” Mountbatten offered.

“I wonder what Legrand’s brother will say. This is a pretty high-profile murder,” Alexandra noted.

Tia nodded, “It seems like the Bernard Choi situation was wrapped up nice and tidy…” she glanced at Alexandra.

Alexandra rolled her eyes and sighed.

Tia continued, “I’ll make sure everyone keeps an eye open for Meint. I heard about what happened to C.K.”

Mountbatten paused, “Yes, he’s stable for now. Thank goodness…”

“Any ID on the suspect?”

Alexandra crossed her arms, “We know she’s a woman, and we could assume she was behind Nansoko’s murder, but that still doesn’t answer the question as to why she remained at the scene.”

“We should ID her first before we start thinking about an MO,” Mountbatten suggested.

Tia nodded, “I’m turning in for the night.”

Mountbatten waited until she left to turn to Alexandra, “So…do you think he’ll consider it now?”

“He wouldn’t really have as much reservations as before, but I could be wrong.”

“I’ve noticed that he’s been rather uncomfortable about the idea.”

Alexandra mumbled.

“I don’t blame him. Being a tin-can is about as dull as it gets,” Mountbatten laughed.

“I’ve never said you were dull.”

“Didn’t need to.”

Alexandra scoffed, “Anyway, Captain…”

Mountbatten cleared his throat, “I was going to ask if you were interested in grabbing dinner with me some time?”

Alexandra took a step back, “Are you…are you asking me out on a date?”

“Not exactly.”


11 PM

A Dark Room Somewhere

Chong Yi Petrov replayed the security feeds on multiple screens. He watched the unidentified man consume the YX7 and fall unconscious, only to awake in a few seconds and enter a blind rage. Petrov’s eyes narrowed as he watched the man dismember everyone present including Bakhtin. Then he watched the unidentified man take Choi and burn the lab. He knew his boss wouldn’t be happy to find Bakhtin dead, Choi taken, and the new YX7 operation trashed.

He sighed, and began to make a call, “Hey, let me talk to Lucky Lin. I got some bad news.”



August 8th, 2075

7:05 AM

LSP Headquarters

Chief Kyung sat in her office watching the reports that filtered into her feed as well as news streams about incidents occurring around the city. LTV anchor Javed Mukherjee, with his famed jawline, delivered his prompter lines on one screen that Kyung decided to listen to. Even as Mountbatten, Nikos, and Alexandra entered her office, her attention remained fixed on the story.

“…talks continue at the Chicago convention as several other cities call for the revision of the first proposed draft of a new constitution. However, Tukana and Nueva Miami have announced their withdrawal from talks for the time being. This comes just days after Martian representative Julius Baltar of the Martian Neo-Socialist Party announced his North American visit culminating with his arrival in Lumaire, where he will remain for two weeks. Representative Baltar has been noted for his efforts to broker stronger relations between Earth and Mars…”

Without looking at either of them, “The mayor gave me a call earlier.”

The others looked at one another.

Kyung continued, “He wants us to help manage security for that guy,” she referred to Baltar, “…when he comes to town. I honestly wonder if he’s seen the news today,” without missing a beat, Kyung looked at the two of them, “What happened?”

The captain spoke, “The suspect escaped from the penthouse grounds, managed to injure one of our agents, but not before he acquired a visual recording of their appearance.”

Nikos continued speaking where Mountbatten stopped, “During the suspect’s escape, they jammed the infrared vision on our mechs during the pursuit. The suspect also used a cloaking device. They’re certainly well equipped.”

“We’re lucky the news hasn’t leaked yet. Jesus…having the Nansoko’s assassin slip out from under our grasp,” Kyung assessed the data coming in, “We’re on the defensive right now.”

Kyung changed the channel. LNN came on the screen with a story regarding the Nansoko homicide reported by journalist Kelly Pahlavi. Chief Kyung gestured for the system’s volume controls to increase.

“The death of the Nansoko comes as a shock to many. Some believe that he was assassinated in his penthouse. Details surrounding his death has yet to be confirmed or dismissed by the LSP. Meanwhile, the Nansoko Board of Executives has yet to issue a formal statement regarding the matter. Though many already begin to wonder, what will this mean for the Nansoko Corporation?”

“Jack shit,” Alexandra muttered.

Chief Kyung glanced at Alexandra, “Tell me that any of you have good news?”

Mountbatten spoke, “The lead on Neo-Terra was confirmed. The girl, Naima Khedira, had affiliations. Cael Meint was present as well.”

“Cael Meint? Jesus-fucking-Christ. Who was there for that one?”

“One of our new probationary officers, an MG pilot.”

Nikos smiled when she knew he was referring to Chavez.

“How did she escape?”

Mountbatten glanced at Alexandra, “Her shields, from Chavez’s account, handled all the small arms fire that Meint and his goons directed at her suit as she carried Khedira and the civilian out. Call it miracle.”

“Meint spared her. She didn’t bother calling in backup? We could have nailed the sonofabitch.”

“Apparently, the area was a communications dead zone. It wasn’t until after she escaped that HQ received her calls for backup, likely the courtesy of Meint and NTS. Based on Chavez’s multiple vision systems, she didn’t detect any other signatures besides Khedira and the civilian before she entered. That means they have technology that covers them from IR and x-ray. It seems they were planning to kill Khedira and end their business relationship for good.”

“Really? That seems really timely. Meint shows up to kill Khedira as soon as we send someone out to arrest her. Where’s Meint now?”

“He vanished,” Mountbatten took Kyung’s extended silence to mean they were dismissed, “We’ll update you if we find anything.”

Kyung stopped them before they left, “Also, what the hell happened in the 8th Arrondissement?”



7:30 AM

Mountbatten tried to inhale the aroma of his earl grey tea, not that he could. He could only partake in the appearance of inhaling his native beverage. He was about to pour some down his digestive receptacle, that is, until he was startled by a chime from his communicator.

“Bollocks…” he muttered, as it was a call from Miss St. Cloud.

“Yes, Miss St. Cloud?”

“Captain? You wanted information regarding the woman present with Cael Meint in the flower shop?”

Moments later Tia paced in Mountbatten’s office while Alexandra looked out the clear skies of the day.

“From Officer Chavez’s reports, this is what I found,” Tia blinked a screen before Mountbatten displaying a black woman.

“Zora De Vries, she’s an arms dealer. She mainly deals in small arms, light weapons, and…disruptors. She’s based in Tukana. Her clientele is strictly high-profile, which includes mafia and yakuza crime families, the triads, and, as of our discovery yesterday, NTS. Our independent informants believe that she’s here to conduct a sale. We have a plausible time and location already.”

“What have you found regarding the Laitinen abduction?”

“NanSec combed the R&D center clean, so I’ve got nothing to go off right now. Still trying to ID the abductor. I’ll let you know when I find something.”

“Anything else?”

The screen changed to show two faces with colorful hair and a variety of tattoos.

“One of the street cams caught the Dominguez siblings playing a little rough. They shot and killed someone. Pfeiffer’s Seven had the two in custody until they managed to break out and escape. So they’re on the loose now.”

Mountbatten returned to his cup of tea, “Very well, and the briefs?”


“Already on their way,” Tia smiled.



-

Omega41 187 (Cont.)

To Detective Tigron –

I am granting you access to case files regarding the four previous cyborg homicide cases since you believe they share the same suspects. Wayne has determined that the Nansoko’s cause of death fits the same characteristics as the other cases. You can visit the penthouse to comb for evidence if you wish. Wayne will be down at the morgue with the body if you need to see it. I’ve also scheduled a meeting with Damien’s brother, assembly member Mathieu Legrand, maybe he might know something regarding Damien’s murderer.

- Captain Niles Mountbatten

The Lady of War

Target – Zora De Vries

Information –

Yesterday morning, one of our officers found a woman accompanying the notorious Cael Meint of Neo-Terra to buy some flowers. This woman was later identified as Zora De Vries. She’s an arms dealer based out of Tukana, and it’s a wonder how she managed to get into this city undetected.

She deals mainly in small arms and light weapons like assault rifles and rocket launchers. However, she also has her own home-made, patent-pending, disruptors. These babies sell for a hefty tag. If you’re chromed and have ever been hit by one of these, you know how much they sting.

Our informants tell us that she’s in town to make a sale. The deal is going down in the port district as we’ve determined that her goods are coming in the old-fashioned way, by ship.

Also on the market today is a Republic of South Africa Z74, a military grade hardsuit. We don’t know how she managed to acquire that, but we’re not surprised. Maybe someone in their military is selling her the newest R&D schematics. This thing packs a punch, but we’re thinking it’ll be cradled in packaging so it won’t be a factor.

The other party is believed to be Akihiko Ishimura, representing the Ishimura-kumi, a prominent yakuza family. If De Vries’ appearance with Cael Meint means anything, expect NT goons to be present and armed.

We’re deploying a full task force with 2nd squad in support of this operation. Bring in De Vries and Ishimura, and secure the contraband.

Recommended Agents – 2.

Dynamic Duo

Target – Benny and Cha Cha Dominguez

Information –

Benny and Cha Cha Dominguez are wanted for murder. The cameras pretty much caught all the action in the south-east side when they gunned down a man named Danny Leitch. They didn’t even bother hiding it, but they quickly figured out the deep shit they were in. They head a small gang in the 8th ‘s southerly neighborhoods called the Rabbits. They’ve been at this since they were in their teens. Their gang runs a protection racketeer on the residents living in that area.

We put up a warrant for their arrest and a small private recovery firm, aka bounty hunters, called Pfeiffer’s Seven managed to arrest the two. Unfortunately, the Dominguez siblings didn’t remain in their custody for long. While the bounty hunters were waiting for an LSP extraction veet to take Benny and Cha Cha in for processing, the Rabbits struck and killed several of the recovery agents. Benny and Cha Cha escaped and went into hiding.

So now they’re wanted for more than just one count of murder.

You’ll know it’s them when you see the colorful attire and hair, that’s just how they roll. Bring in Benny and Cha Cha alive.

Recommended Agents – 1.

- Tia Marie St. Cloud

The Lady of War

By Haze and Dae Mec

---

Luciana stared at the after-mission briefing, uncertain whether she should be pleased or disappointed. On one hand, she’d captured her target and saved a hapless civilian. On the other, it was now obvious that the bastard terrorist Cael Meint had deliberately let her go. Damn, wasn’t that a blow to her ego? And Luciana had thought it’d been her fancy flying that saved the day, though it made sense in hindsight.

She scowled, sipping her cup of coffee, but perked up at the thought of her next job. Luciana had been assigned a mission to take down the mystery woman who she’d seen in the flower shop: Zora De Vries, the arms dealer from Tukana. Maybe she’d have some answers. Plus, beating up a bunch of nasty goons would be great stress relief. She just had to wait for her partner, the man who’d also been assigned to this. (What was his name again? Vitamin? She’d check her implant when he arrived.) Having only recently been transferred over to be a detective, Luciana still wasn’t familiar with everyone.

---

The call came through, a jingly chime drowned out by mechanical noises. Vitali answered it wordlessly, popping a face up on a screen in his cramped apartment with a small gesture. He didn’t have to look, he knew who it was. The little gasp that came after confirmed it. It sounded sore. Whoever it was had been crying, and was now inhaling to prepare for a rant. He knew that sound. He had heard it only once before, and it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. Vitali held up a hand to stop them, eyes fixed on his left arm.

“You’re going to tell me that I fucked up.” His voice was quiet, but cold. He felt bad for her, but he needed to focus. “It was not the plan, I want you to know. I did not mean for this to happen. I am sorry.”

“Vitali, you can put your arm down. It’s not doing anything.”

“What? Why?” Vitali turned his head to face her, confused. He saw Minna, gaze averted. Which was odd, because he still had his hand up.

“Because I can see through it, Vez. Christ, what did they do you down there?”

Vitali looked at the gaping holes blown through his arm, metal charred black where gauss slugs had punched through it. It moved, but the internals were slagged and he could see the fractures spread across the outer plating he hadn’t pried off.
“Oh. Yes. They had good weapons. Police issue. Most of my mods will have to come off. Sorry about the mess.”

Minna shook her head, forcing herself to look at Vitali. Fucking hell. “Look. It’s...It’s fine. We’ll talk later. Just get down to HQ when you’re ready. We’ve got another job. You know Luciana? She’s new, like you. I’ve got some info on her, but I think I would be best if you met in person.”

Vitali nodded, prying some sort of bolt out of one of his legs and dropping it in a bucket full of burnt electronics. “Give me an hour. I will be there. Why am I meeting this Luciana?”

“Oh, because you’ve been assigned to work with her. I recommended you get some team experience down. Sending you the mission details now.” Vitali turned his head, about to say something, before the call was cut and a ping came from his phone.
Damn. She had gotten him back. The enforced chuckled to himself, hauling over a box of armor plating. He’d get himself fixed up, read the dossier, then head down. Who knows? Maybe it might actually work out for him.

He hadn’t been to the station all that much, and it took a bit to get himself where he needed to be. The break room was simple, but nice. Empty, too, save for the woman he was going to meet. He didn’t know how he was supposed to introduce himself, so he walked up, hands in his jacket pockets. Vitali wasn’t trying to be rude, he just wasn’t one for ceremony.

“Agent Chavez-Alesci? Luciana? You’re the agent I’m meeting here, right?”

Luciana blinked, startled out of her perusal of the latest Mixed Martial Mech gossip. She dismissed the program and grinned at the man. Wow, he had some serious mods—his feet didn’t even seem to follow human anatomy—and weirdly enough, Luciana couldn't begin to place their origin.

“Sure am,” she said after a moment, realizing that she'd been staring at his kick-ass bird-feet. “And you're… uh,” Luciana double-checked his name, knowing that she would butcher it, “Vay-tah-lee?”

Vitali nodded. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t even know how his name was supposed to be pronounced. The original
Russian pronunciation had been lost after decades of linguistic rot. He had always just gone with ‘Vih-tah-lee’, but he had heard just about every way it could be said, and wasn’t in a hurry to correct anyone.

“Yes. That is close enough. You are Agent Sha-vez Aleshi? I do not know how I am supposed to say it. Is Mexican? Yes?” He hoped that wasn’t offensive. He had run through every culture he knew to be ‘Latin’. Other than the Spanish refugees from, well, Spain, he knew exactly one other.

Luciana grinned widely, stretching the skin around her cybernetic eye. “Wow, I didn't actually expect to get it right. Well, my name’s both Cuban and Italian, bit close enough.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Besides, I don't really care about formality. Lucy or Luciana is fine, but if you gotta call me by my last name, Chavez or Chav is good to. Whichever is easiest for you.” She'd heard his accent, and from her skimming of his file, he wasn't a native speaker. His English was still pretty damn good.

Vitali smiled slightly, exposing his too-white teeth. Obviously fake, gums too shiny. Dental hygiene, or any sort of hygiene, wasn’t his greatest concern. He wasn’t even sure he could still get infections. Still, he had at least made a token effort to appear somewhat presentable. His shower wasn’t all that bad, and he had actually made sure his augs weren’t dusty. He had learned pretty quickly that first impressions counted for a lot more in Lumaire than the Urals. There, it usually started and ended with gunfire. Here, it was just a likely possibility.

“Chavez. I can say this easier. If it was not obvious, I am not one for ceremony either. Is why Minna said I should work with you.” He paused, not sure how to continue. He didn’t want to seem unreliable, but his escapades in the 8th Arrondissement had already made the rounds at the station. Probably not the best idea to try and spin it into something positive. “She is very good at her job. Said you were excellent pilot.”

“Why, thank you!” Luciana paused at the unfamiliar name. “Is she your… supervisor or something?” she hedged. Back in the mech unit, the only person she worked under was good old Ioanna Nikos, so Luciana still wasn’t about the structure of the MCU. She raised her cold coffee to sip before blinking (or winking, since only one eye was capable of it). “Oh, right. Want some coffee?”

“Oh. Yes. Coffee would be good. Keeps the heart rate up.” He pulled one of the folding chairs ringing the table back and sat, mods whirring as the motors and drives spooled up. He had to break them in, given their age. As for his heart rate, it wasn’t the best model, some forgotten Czech biotech firm had churned them out before Prague got atomized. Sure, it was durable, but it needed a bit of a ‘higher charge’, so to speak. Coffee or light stimulants generally did the trick. Vitali was pretty sure he could replace his synthetic vitals with tech that didn’t require biological kickstarting, but he was perfectly fine with what he had. Besides, he hadn’t crawled through a Romanian drainage tunnel for nothing. “Is nice, coffee. Instant, mostly, for home. Tea most days, though, easier to get. Here, though, coffee is better, not old. Fresh beans.”

She moved to grab him a cup and top her own off. Unfortunately, the pot was a couple hours old, so it was likely lukewarm and too bitter. She held a styrofoam cup to him with wry smile. “Yeah, Lumaire gets pretty good coffee, but,” Luciana sipped hers and grimaced at the sour aftertaste of dirt, “the MCU doesn’t really get the good stuff. Or even the decent stuff. Though not as bad as instant,” she added in agreement.

Vitali accepted the cup, tentatively flexing his fingers before taking the coffee. No use crushing it by rushing things. As for the taste, it was somewhere between ground medication and burnt tree bark, but that suited the enforcer just fine. He took a large sip, settling into his seat. “Better than nothing. And instant. Definitely better than instant.” He smiled again, wolfish and seemingly devoid of mirth. He couldn’t really help it, not with that mug. “Minna is my supervisor. Handler, more like. She is new, like me, makes sure I do not fuck up too badly. Good at intel.”

“Been a lot of new people,” Luciana commented distantly, her focus entirely on his arm. What make was it? Part of it looked like old—well, all of it looked old, but it was a hodgepodge of what seemed like a partial old Russian casing and vaguely identifiable bits and pieces from other companies. A few sections had the dull silver sheen that suggested recent additions. Was it entirely custom? “Look, I know we should probably go over the case, but I gotta ask… where did you get your mods?”

There was a series of clicks as Vitali moved his arm to get a better look at it. It wasn’t easy to answer that question, seeing as he didn’t know that information himself, most of the time. But, he had just installed most of the pieces today, so it was still fresh in his mind. “Ah. Found, mostly. Red zone for the shell, Grom Vz. 4 Hydraulic Clamping Apparatus. Used in car factory, very strong. For rest of the parts, they come from many places. Kublai Assault Vehicle, from New Khanate. Kazakh Combat Endoskeleton. I do not know Japanese but some parts come from there. Most pieces are hand-filed. We make them from railroad ties from old Trans-Siberian line. Very good steel. Repair with what we have. It is our way.”

Luciana nodded along, also checking the ethernet for descriptions of each part.. (Weirdly enough, some people were incredibly secretive about their mods because they thought it was embarrassing or something to safeguard, though that never stopped Luciana from prying.)

“That’s… insane,” she said, admiration clearly present in her tone. “Talk about hardcore and long-lasting.” Luciana paused. “Wait, did you say a Grom Hydraulic Clamping Apparatus?” She remembered working on those old parts with her dad years ago. “Those are near unbreakable, but they tend gunk up and freeze, especially in smaller machinery. Seems like it’d be annoying. Why don’t you swap it out?”

Vitali chuckled, coarse and low, as his arm chose that exact moment to make a sickly grinding sound and fling open his hand. He felt a jolt somewhere along his spine as his reflex enhancers kicked on with an audible electric crackle, other arm blurring out to nab the cup before it could fall to the floor. “Yes. It has this problem. But, I do not remove it, because I can do this.”

Vitali set the cup down on the table, and curled his working arm into a fist, driving it into his other arm with a metallic crack. The twitching limb whined and lurched, before smoothly picking the cup back up. “I have survived many things because of that. The new limbs, they get bricked, are no good after that because they must use expensive tools to fix them. Not these.” It was true. His limbs, while functional, were almost entirely mechanical. Any electrical components could be bullied into some semblance of functionality through good old percussive maintenance. He had seen enough designer augs get their users killed to appreciate that.

She smirked. “All tech deserves to be smacked around sometimes, but some of the newer stuff can’t take it.” Before, when earth was still recovering, everything was substance over style. Nowadays, companies could afford to be pretty… even at the cost of functionality. Her stuff didn’t have that problem, of course, because besides being expensive and fancy, it had also undergone the Luciana Treatment. Speaking of which: “If you ever do want an upgrade or tune-up, I’d love to take a look.” Luciana cleared her throat, regretful. She could talk about mods and mechs all day. “Ah, right. The case. We should probably get to it.”

“Yes. I will accept this offer. I can only do so much with car repair kit.” Another smile, gone almost as fast as it came, replaced by his usual serious expression. Time to talk about work. “We are supposed to bring in the arms dealers? This De Vries and Ishimura. Selling a...hm.” He grimaced as he flipped through his dossier on his phone. He hadn’t even heard of that type of armor before. “A mech from South Africa. Z74, Milspec. I do not know about this.” He did recognize the weapons she sold though, serious kit, along with those disruptors. He had been hit by them before, and it wasn’t a pleasant sensation. “Ah. She is this one. With the disruptors that burn. I do not like this one.”

“Yeah, nasty things.” She’d been hit by disruptors before, and Luciana had to agree. She pulled up her file on the implant and looked over the briefing. “Hmm… De Vries is based in Tukana, somehow got here without detection, and—” Luciana cut herself off when she saw the specs of the hardsuit. “Oh, meirda, that’s some dangerous hardsuits right there. Armor rivaling some mechs, full stealth capacity, and shields that can withstand full-on assaults. And that’s not even mentioning the firepower.”

She shook her head. “Yeah, we gotta stop that sale. That could bring some serious mayhem. Apparently, the deal’s in an hour and twelve minutes by the docks, but I don’t doubt that they’ve got scouts and goonies. Those NT bastards that De Vries is in bed with are paranoid SOBs. How’re you thinking about approaching this?” Luciana asked. Sure, she was technically the one with seniority (ugh), but she was curious as to what he’d say.

Vitali leaned forward, one elbow on the table, looking as conspiratorial as any Bratva goon. He had been to these sorts of things before. Nothing as formal, sure, but the general idea was the same. “I think I do not want to fight this suit. I have a plan, but it depends on if it is an open market. If it is a private deal, we will have to go loud. I do not think this is good plan, if they can get to the suit. It is good item, but they will use it if they must. If anything, it will be a showcase, but with many dead.”

He scratched the back of his neck, thinking. This De Vries was no fool. She’d get more product, but that suit was valuable. No expense would be spared making sure that thing got to it’s buyer. But... “If it is an open auction, that is different. Many gang leaders, many big names, all coming for this suit. Much face to be gained from it, so they will bid like madmen. Great profits for De Vries, and she does great service to gang rich enough to buy. That means we have chance to ambush, play part of face-man for gang. I do not look like good man, I know this. Have done such trick before.” Vitali rolled his shoulder, which protested with a small whirring noise. “But, is just idea. We go loud, or no. You have any ideas?”

“See, the briefing suggests that it’d be a closed one, but…” Luciana scratched the metal part of her face out of habit, “I think an ambush would work great here, actually. They saw my mech, but they didn’t know who or what I worked for. I think we could get close enough to lower their guard, then bam!” She snapped her fingers. “And we’ve got enough fire between the both of us to turn the tables if things go south, especially since it’s a procurement of two. Not only that, the 2nd squad should be on standby in case things go really bad. Let’s try it.”

---

It was raining, at the docks. That wasn’t really surprising, given the climate of Lumaire, but it wasn’t a reassuring sign. It was dark, gloomy, little wisps of fog playing off of the gigantic hulls of space-age trawlers and massive barges. The docks were massive in their own right, created to moor ships capable of hauling a nation’s entire GDP in one trip. Vitali swore he saw shanties strung up in the massive poles holding the whole thing above the churning water, eyes darting behind barnacle-encrusted sheets of metal and plastic.

The whole place was oppressive, and Vitali felt his nerves harden as he looked for potential dangers. He was pretty sure he knew what to look for. He had seen these types of deals before, people in a forgotten place, crouching over crates or gazing up at massive mechs, all suits and spotlights. He had been on both ends, and he knew these things were low-key, but well-run. He’d know when they reached it, De Vries would have made sure of that. He just hoped they were prepared.

Vitali had attempted to look like a downtrodden refugee, which wasn’t very hard to do, given he really just had to put on a shittier jacket, but he had gone the extra step to look, well, like what he was. Teeth, odd bits of metal, scraps of cloth, strange relics hung from his clothes and augs. They all had purpose, a meaning, and Vitali could tell you the story behind any one of them as easily as he could say his own name. A tooth, allegedly ripped from the mouth of Lenin, a scrap of cloth taken from a tapestry hanging in a russian oligarch's mansion, a piece of shrapnel from the bomb that hit Moscow. They were trinkets born from a culture of desperation, one that spread across Europe and Asia after it all fell apart. It marked him as one of the fallen peoples, whose culture disappeared in a storm of fire and ash. As for his companion, she had her own plan.

Luciana had the easier part of the job; all she had to do was strap on her stealth mec and look intimidating. She doubted that the Yakuza would know who she was, but unless De Vries had short term memory loss, the arms dealer probably would recognize the person who’d burst into the meeting. Luciana, if she did have to speak, planned on playing the role of a converted merc—she’d never pass as someone native to the Red Zone, but she could be a fanatic bodyguard with ease. The rest of the 2nd squad, her old MGU buddies, were positioned all around the docks just in case. (Nikos had been a bit skeptical of the whole plan, but she’d been willing to give it a try if it meant a smoother capture.)

Luciana scanned the docks out of habit, feeling oddly nostalgic yet wary at the sight of the ocean. Any Nueva Miami girl would feel the same way—the ocean contained the worst debris from the war. Her interface pinged, and she let her other eye zoom into the relevant area. By the middle of the docks was an enormous, unmarked freighter, and she could see a couple people gathered. Her eye wasn’t strong enough to make out the faces, but Luciana would bet it was them. Quietly, she got Vitali’s attention and gestured to the group.

Vitali followed Luciana’s gesture, eyes narrowing as he saw the group. Oh yes. He could practically feel the raw, unfiltered, ego coming from that group. He made sure his own weapons were in working order, confident his fellow agent had done the same. It was poor form to come to these things unarmed. Trust was a sign of weakness, and it never hurt to let the others know you would shoot back if they pushed you. He walked up to the group, glancing up at the boat, unsurprised to see a line of people looking down back at him. He didn’t know what the NT image was, but he would guess it was whatever they were wearing. That, and the tank-busters they were hauling.

Vitali was stopped before he could reach a ring of people crowding around...something. Some giant Korean man with more muscles than a vat-grown cow was glowering at him. A guard? The enforcer nodded slowly, flicking his head to the ring of people. Wordlessly, the goon let him walk by, and they were in the crowd. He looked up, squinting in the glare of the floodlights. He swore he saw a figure standing up on the boat, vaguely feminine. Glancing at his companion, he quietly leaned his head towards her, and spoke, accent even thicker than normal. “You think safe? I not spend cash unless good deal.”

“Of course, boss,” she replied, the voice-distorter bringing her pitch two octaves lower and adding static. “Besides, they won’t drive off customers.” Luciana brought her arms up and crossed them, the mech humming in an implicit threat and promise of protection, as if to say, let them try.

At that, several of the goons raised their own weapons at that gesture.

“Hey,” snarled a scarred one, “isn’t that the mecha that broke in—”

“My, my,” a smooth, mellow voice interrupted him before he could continue. “Friend, do you really plan on running your mouth?” Cael Meint leaned over the railing of the ship’s lower deck, but his unmistakable voice carried all around. “See what I said, Zora? Let birds fly free, and they’ll come back home.” He chuckled. “We have our mysterious mech, and better yet, an additional friend. Now, perhaps you’ll be more willing to answer my questions. Who might you two be? And who works for who?”

Vitali stepped forward, eyes locked on Meint’s. He knew those eyes. They were like a shark, cold and dead and always looking for some blood. He had seen those eyes, aiming down sights and glowing in the light of burning buildings. On some dark nights, he could see them in a mirror. This man was not sane. In truth, neither was Vitali. When Vitali felt a grimy sense of kinship creep into his thoughts, he refused it, choosing to speak and drive that delusion from his mind.

Whatever language Vitali first started speaking in, it was wasn’t English. It was Russian strained through decades of rust and pain, crushed between every Slavic language one would care to name. Little snippets of Siberian tongues and Asian tones broke through, distorted with a structure and pace that shifted with every new word. It was the language of the Red Zone, a show of solidarity. It was proof of suffering. He doubted anyone here spoke it, and yet, when Meint’s head began to nod, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of respect worm it’s way into his heart. It was a hard thing, learning that tongue. You had to see why it was as rotten as it was first hand. If anyone would want to learn it, it was the mouthpiece of NT. There was a potential army of people willing to throw their very souls away to give their children a better life.

[“I am Fyodor Bryusov. I have sought your aid. Mine is the righteous cause of the ERL. We seek to show those who would look blindly to the stars that the very Earth they wish to abandon will not resign itself to rotting beneath their feet. The mech is my commissar. She is my protection and my guide in this city. She is bound to my word and will not act against you, provided you do not act against me. As for the flower girl, she was not loyal to the cause, and like all those who would turn their backs on their brothers was removed. I did not wish to cause any disruption to your organization, as we are armies of one flag. Have I answered your questions?”]

For a second, Meint’s smile became something thoughtful before returning to its former intensity. [“Indeed you have, comrade.”] From his careful look, it seemed like he understood the full significance of the last word. Meint enunciated like a true native, but in his perfectly modulated voice, the language almost sounded human. [“The flower girl was loyal to none, it seems. What in particular brings you here? You are rather far from home.”]

Luciana very carefully did not shift in place, instead standing as still and stiff as a professional guard. The build-in translation was doing a rather terrible job (she highly doubted they were talking about fish), but Luciana was able to get the gist of it. Despite the general lull in any action, she felt more tense now than she had when blasting out of the apartment. Being surrounded by criminals, especially Cael Meint, who’d apparently wanted them to return… it made her skin crawl. She eyed her partner with concern. He seemed to be handling it pretty well, but Vitali was a little hard to read. Besides, that sociopathic terrorist mouthpiece had a way of getting under people’s skin.

The enforcer stood unmoving, slowly bringing his gaze to the ship, before returning it back to Meint. There was something... wrong... with how he looked at the propagandist. Vitali, with all his talismans and makeshift augs, wouldn’t look out of place in some soup kitchen or aid station. Something was in his eyes, though, his features, that radiated an aura of survival. Vitali had seen what most would call Hell, and come out the other side carrying a piece of it with him. It gave people an uncomfortable feeling that he was about to attack them with his teeth. It wasn’t the Vez of the LSP standing on that dock, it was Vitali Zhang of the Ural Shanties. His voice was slow, deep, not the honey-sweet tones of Meint, but the lead-heavy growl of a warlord.

“War. War brings me here.”

The same curious expression flickered over Meint’s face. “You’re very far from home,” he repeated, “but war? Yes, war never changes.” He abruptly shifted back to the creole. [“Join me, and we will break bread and talk.”]

Luciana’s eyes widened, and boy, she was glad for the face-covering or else she’d be gawking her head off. Though Cael Meint had bought into the act (Probably? Who knew with that guy? He was hard to read when speaking in English, forget creoles) and invited them aboard, she was increasingly wary because, well… Cael Meint had invited them aboard. Besides, where was the Yakuza man that was supposed to show up? Punctuality was a must with these kind of deals, and the man was already late. Uneasy, she glanced back to Vitali. Luciana had a gut feeling that they were getting into something way too deep.
The sound of bullets confirmed her suspicions, and in an instant, Luciana had her shields up and in front of Vitali. Bullets ricocheted around, hitting some goons (no loss) and the thick hull of the ship.Staying down here would be too dangerous with all the potential collateral.

“Boss, we’d better get to high ground.” The boosters on her mech glowed a dull blue as power was diverted from the shields.
“Need a boost?”

Vitali felt the hum of the mech’s boosters kicking on, still looking up at Meint. He couldn’t see him anymore. Probably taken to somewhere safe by his guards, for however long that safe place lasted. Judging by the amount of guns Vitali could hear, it wouldn’t be for long.

The enforcer looked into the visor-covered face of Luciana, eyes like a wild animal. He was back in the Red Zone, now, at least in his head. His talons dug into the concrete of the dock as he hunched down, prepared to leap.

“I am fine. You go, secure what you can. I will meet you up there.”

There was a metallic screech as robotic claws dug into the reinforced hull of the ship, Vitali gripping the sides with his hands and feet. Luciana would be faster than him, he assumed. Those boosters were serious business. But, drawing the fire away from the terrified goons wasn’t the worst plan he had ever had. That’s what he told himself, anyway, as he heard the bullets cracking around him.

Luciana hesitated for only a moment before taking to the sky. He’d probably be fine; if he couldn’t handle it, then he wouldn’t have said so. (Or so she assumed. Maybe.) As with the last time she’d tangoed with these bastards, a jammer was in place preventing outside communication. They’d have to work separately from the MGU unit—another reason why Nikos hadn’t been too keen on this scheme. Her interface quickly identified the third party shooting at them… which was the Yakuza? Wait, wasn’t the deal with them? Akihiko Ishimura’s name popped up in her scanner, which only confused her further.

“Kobun wa, you fucking bastard!” screamed the Yakuza man in question, his voice echoing through the docs. Wow, he’d aug’ed his vocal folds? Talk about being extra. “You’re about to see what happens when you screw with my oyabun!” He sent a spray of metal bullets to emphasize his point.

Luciana returned fire, sending the yakuza into a momentary frenzy as they tried to figure out where she was. Once they looked up, the hail of bullets changed course, so Luciana beat a hasty retreat and landed on the deck of a ship with a metallic thud.

“What’s the plan, boss?” she said with a distorted voice. She hoped that Vitali understood the undercurrent of oh shit, this was not the plan—want to retreat? The modulator probably made it difficult, though. Even worse, the so-called Lady of War was nowhere to be seen; if she was smart, she probably had made a hasty retreat. Damn. Hopefully, the MGU squad would take care of Ishimura and the yakuza while they went inside to secure the contraband and look for De Vries.

Vitali hauled himself over the side of the ship, crouching behind the plated railing of the vessel. Robotic limbs smoothly drew his sidearm. He hoped he wouldn’t need that shotgun. He had faced full-on riots without wanting to resort to that thing. Besides, his revolver was massive enough to leave an impression.

Vitali blind-fired from over the top of his cover, hearing the thunderous report of his magnum. Vez was smiling like a shark. He heard something topple, something big and meaty and probably tattooed. Huh. Didn’t think he’d hit anyone. The gunfire temporarily faltered, and Vitali popped up from cover. Theatrics were needed. Had to stay in character.

“I am in no way fucking around!” He roared, letting out a torrent of swears in as many languages as he could remembered. He fired another shot, tagging a goon in the chest and nearly splitting him in half. That shark-smile remained as he broke from the gunfire to stand near Luciana. She seemed like she understood the situation and that maybe it was time to get serious. He had to agree. “We lock this down. Get what we can. If we need to, we run.”

“Got it.” Luciana gritted her teeth, and with a rough gesture, activated the big guns on her mech. The dual guns let a defining roar as they spit out bullet after bullet, though the yakuza seemed to have pretty competent armor. What the hell? Why did they switch to all-out combat? “Those hardsuits of there’s are pretty damn good, Vi—boss. We really should start moving out; one mech against them all isn’t going to do much, and the NT doesn’t seem willing to stay and fight.”

“This deal is off, yes? Goods are still here. That suit either leaves with us or not at all.” He aimed his revolver at the one with the best hardsuit and fired. Whatever that thing was, it only staggered before resuming fire. Shit. He had killed vehicles with this gun. “Time is not on our side. We hurry.”

“Agreed. Best find Meint, then. He’s probably further in the ship.” Luciana grinned, though of course her helmet kept anyone from seeing it. “Perhaps our lady is there, too.” Barely had she finished when the suited-Yakuza followed her example and lept onto the ship. The model they were using weren’t flight capable, but they could make really, really big jumps. Luciana fired at them as the duo retreated into the hallways of the ship. She just had to hope that her old squad could handle it by themselves.
The inside of the ship wasn’t much better. Some sort of running gunfight had taken place, likely between NT and whatever Yakuza had managed to board the ship. Shell casings and corpses littered the stairway down into the lower decks. Mostly, Vitali noted, NT corpses. Looks like they had done all they could to hold the line.

“Hope these men know what ricochet is. If not, very strong guns. Do not want a gunfight from more sides than one, yes?” Vital flicked open the chamber on his revolver. Three used, eight total. He closed it, reaching into a open pocket of his pack and pulling out the suppressor for his gun. “Do you have hearing protection? Will be like thunder, every time. Bright, if lights broken.”
She tapped her exoskeleton. “It’s built in. If not, I’d go deaf every time I shot one of the suit’s guns. You?” She could hear thunderous footsteps and shouted creole-Japanese as the Yakuza made their way further in—just as the goons decided that it was time to go face those intruders.

Vitali grunted in the affirmative, just in time about a dozen NT goons to rush past them. Looked like Meint managed to get the word out that the ERL was friendly. Might as well give them a hand, for appearance's sake. He turned and aimed up the stairs, suppressor forgotten. No point. Stealth was probably out of the window at this point, along with Zora, probably in that fucking suit. The revolver went off like a bomb, the muzzle flash nearly setting one of the closest goons clothes ablaze. The head of one of the more heavily-armored Yakuza exploded into a spray of sparks and blood. He collapsed, everything above the jaw painting however was behind him. “Right. We go deeper in the ship, then?”

Shield activated to avoid the blood-splatters, Luciana grimaced at the grisly sight. “Sure thing.” Her scanners were still mostly suppressed and thus inaccurate, but the readings suggested that there was a greater concentration of people down the left hallway. “That way,” she said.

Deeper they went. The sounds of pitched battle faded into echoing booms as Vitali wrenched the hatch closed. The hall was spartan but still well-lit. Vitali would guess this used to be a cargo vessel or a tanker of some sort. Nice and spacious, lots of places to store contraband. Without Luciana’s scanners, it could have taken hours to figure out where the goods were, but now, they had a target. That target wasn’t yet visible. Around a corner, likely making a beeline to the crates that were stacked up in the hall. Military crates, at least a dozen of them. Vitali was pretty sure what was inside. He kept his revolver trained on the approaching footsteps, slowly walking over to the boxes. “If not Meint, then...” He said, under his breath.

Luciana was glad to see the weapons they were supposed to acquire, but unfortunately, that also meant running into the psychopath-extraordinaire. The usually suave and flawless man, however, didn’t seem to be in as good shape. Meint’s smile was strained, and he clutched at his shoulder.

“Comrades,” he said, voice just a tad hoarse. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Just as Luciana wondered if Meint was alone (perhaps then giving them the opportunity to pull the old snatch-and-grab), two oversized aug’ed guards strolled in, one carrying a small syringe rather delicately in his hands.

“Quickly,” hissed Meint, and the guard plunged the needle into the terrorist leader’s shoulder. The tension abated from his shoulders, and after a moment, Meint stood straight and smiled. His eyes were unnaturally bright—well, brighter than usual—and his smile had an even sharper edge than before. “My apologies.” Gunfire echoed off the walls. “As you might have noticed, we’re in a rather tight spot. I didn’t expect to be double-crossed or abandoned.” His face twisted into something ugly for a brief second before smoothing out. “Again, that is.” Meint raised his eyebrows. “Did you come to take advantage of this?”

Vitali cocked an eyebrow, glancing back the the bulwark, circular window occasionally lit up by muzzle flashes. “I think not. I do not want this deal to be taken off of the table. You do not want to die. I see no reason for two men with goals such as ours to betray one another. We stand under the same flag, yes?” He lowered his revolver, gesturing it at the crates. “I see the guns. I do not see the suit. Is it with you?” He shot a small glance at Luciana, both for con and communication. It better fucking be.

Meint chuckled. “You’d be surprised at how common it is for people to spout empty words about flags and brotherhood… until it actually comes time to act.” He nodded at his two guards. The taller one went to the empty wall, or so it seemed. The second he touched it, the cloak faded away, revealing a tall, polished hardsuit. Unlike Luciana’s own matte-black mech (which was also a conglomerate of many different parts), the military grade hardsuit was polished, with a shimmering surface that hinted at its camouflage capabilities.

He continued, “Unfortunately, it seems like the suit might not be for sale at the moment. It should turn the tides, however. The rest of the crates… yes, why not? They’re certainly for sale.”

Vitali nodded, turning to look at his ‘bodyguard’. “Good. This one will be the transport. Very strong. As for price, I would say negotiations are open. At reduced price? Time is of essence, no?” He glanced back at the hatch, now obscured by a fresh spray of blood. “They may see use before the day is done.”

“You drive a hard bargain, hmm?” Despite the situation, Meint’s tone seemed almost playful. “Freya, if you will... “

The muscular—oh, so she was female—woman by the hardsuit gave a sharp nod before pressing her hand to the chestplate of the suit. It immediately opened up, and Freya turned around, letting the hardsuit meld and adjust itself to her body.
The camouflage on the suit flickered once… and a burst of electrostatic spasmed across the hardsuit. With a groan, the guard fell to the ground as the suit bricked and opened back up. Luciana tensed, expecting to feel her own suit and mods to give out—anything powerful enough to knock-out a topline hardsuit would definitely hit her as well—but nothing happened. The hell?

The problem with disrupters aimed at mechs and hardsuits is that they had to be incredibly strong… which meant that it led to a lot of collateral damage. Unless… oh, ¡vete a la mierda! Did this arms-dealer get her hands on focused, localized disrupters strong enough to do that? That was really, really worrying: yet more examples of top-grade military-grade tech in the hands of an amoral arms dealer.

Meint’s face twisted again. “Zora,” he hissed, before forcibly calming himself, returning his face to his trademark placid smile. “How unfortunate. It seems like the suit is out of commission. Abdu,” said the terrorist, turning to his other guard. “How much longer?”

“A few minutes, sir,” grunted the man in response.

“Very well. Now, Bryusov, as for the matter of price—”

Gunfire and shouted Japanese interrupted Meint as a dozen Yakuza burst in, weapons brandished. Immediately, Luciana turned and fired, talking out six with her modified mech-guns.

A growled curse and four gunshots came from Vitali. Five fell. One goon was skinny fellow, and the bullet just kept going into the unlucky bastard standing behind him. He snapped the cylinder open, dumping eight battery-sized casings into his palm. He swapped them for a speedloader somewhere in his jacket, and readied his revolver again.

“Perhaps we discuss this after you are not being fired upon? My brothers are men of their word. Payment will be given. For now, you must be safe, yes?”

There was, for a moment, a look of pure surprise on Meint’s face as he glanced from Luciana to Vitali and back again. Then, it rapidly changed into amusement. “Straight shooters!” He laughed, short and low. “Yes, we can certainly discuss this another time.”

Just as he finished, the reinforcements came… a little late. A dozen NT operatives came, decked out in a variety of rather nice gear and weapons.

“Sir!” One of the suited terrorists struck a salute, raising his clenched fist sharply. “We should probably leave. Unknown mechs have been sighted.”

“Mechs?” mused Meint. “Hm, perhaps the LE has finally arrived. Or maybe the Yakuza are more armed than expected. No matter.” He murmured something to one of the other operatives, who pulled out a thick, blocky cellphone. After taking it from his underling, Meint held it out to Vitali. “This encrypted phone is a direct line to the NT. Have no worry; it’s nigh untraceable from either side. At the moment, we can’t take these goods with us—but if you can manage it, feel free to… ah, appropriate them. We can discuss the price afterwards as mutual men of honor.” His eyes turned as cold as winter though his smile remained, reminding everyone that this was the man who’d orchestrated innocent deaths without blinking. “I’m sure Zora won’t mind if you put these to good use.”

Vitali solemnly took the phone and handed it to Luciana. “Of course. The ERL thanks you for your cooperation, comrade.” He holstered his revolver and shrugged his shotgun off of his back. The enforcer clicked a knob on the side of the stubby black weapon, which began to give off a worrying hum. “These weapons will likely see use tonight, no? We will see if they are what was promised.” He smiled, nodding to himself as he ran his gaze over the crates. “Saints below, we will see.” He looked back at Meint and his new entourage. “But, you should not. Do not let the cause die here.”

“Neither should you.” Meint gave a sharp nod. “Come out of this alive, comrade. We have much to discuss.” With that, the remaining NT members made an efficient retreat.

The two MCU members were left alone, surrounded by crates of weaponry and carnage. The empty, disabled mechsuit lay on the floor, unscathed but with bloodstains on its back.

“Well,” said Luciana finally, looking down at the blocky phone that Meint had handed. “That was certainly something.”
Vitali stared at the phone, realizing the significance of what he was holding. NT and Meint on speed-dial. Shit. Minna was going to go insane. “Yes. It was. We did not fuck up. We did good, yes?” He turned, going to unlock the now severely managed hatch.

The stairway was an abattoir. World War 4 had happened in a cramped stairwell, and it took him a few minutes to work his way past the corpses and battle damage. The smell was amazing. He made it to the top, blinded by light as he emerged. He drew his gun on reflex, but lowered it almost immediately. He knew those lights. Backup was here.

---

The 2nd squad had wrapped up their side quite neatly; Ishimura had been captured and bound, and the rest of the invading force of Yakuza had been taken out of commission, permanently or not. Sure, the question of how they had all the tech in the first place was concerning, but in the light of their success, Luciana wasn’t too concerned about that.

“Lieu’!” she said brightly. Nikos, somehow, managed to glare at Luciana through the tinted shield of her mech. “Seems like you did pretty well for yourself! The Yakuza didn’t stand a chance against our combined might, huh?”

“Pretty much,” Farwell replied belatedly when it was clear that Nikos wouldn’t respond. “Got to see a lot of action. That was nice. From what I saw, it seemed like you two had your fair share as well.”

“Did you manage to secure De Vries?” Nikos had turned off the voice modulator, but her flat tone was no less intimidating.

“Well, ah… no, but we did get all the weapons.” Luciana glanced at Vitali and the phone she had kept a careful hold on. “And, well…”

“A line. To NT. Meint believes we are friendly.” Vitali spoke up from the crates he was hauling up the steps, quietly returning to his work.

“What.” Nikos’ intonation made it clear that it wasn’t a question but a command. Farewell’s muttered “what the fuck?” and Marat’s gentle query for more information immediately followed their boss’s response.

“Alright, so. We pretended to be terrorists, right? Like I told you? But it worked, like way better than we thought it would. Meint seemed to totally buy it. So when the Yakuza came in, Vitali freaking climbed up the side of the ship with his kick-ass chicken feet, and I…” Luciana continued explaining what happened this manner, “until we found Meint in the center of the ship. And he was injured, I think he’d got shot or something and took some stims, and I was so maldito ready to shoot the bastard, but then, Yakuza burst in. So we like shot them, and Meint gave us this phone for saving his life. But before I could unsave his life, his reinforcements showed up and they retreated.”

Luciana blinked, realizing that she’d forgotten a major part. “Oh, right. De Vries escaped, and I think she completely left the NT out to dry. She also had some serious military-tech disrupters on her abandoned product—the kind that could take out a mech with no leakage. It totally fried the tech.”

She looked back at her partner, wondering if he had anything to add.

“Oh. Woman is still in suit. Very confused. Put in empty crate.” Vitali plunked another box onto the deck, and went back below. A small groan came from inside the crate.

Luciana cracked up, her laughter echoing oddly through her mechsuit. “Yeah, NT left a goon behind. They probably thought she was dead, but I guess not?” She shrugged. “But that’s the gist of it. We should probably help Vitali unload the rest of the crates. There’s a shit-ton.”

Nikos sighed, one that distinctly had the tint of, I am not going to fucking deal with this right now. “Let’s secure the rest of the weapons. HQ can sort out the rest.”

"Alright, lieu." Luciana grinned back. “Sounds good to me!”

August 8th, 2075

11 AM

Lumaire General

The beeping cut through his sleep like the leaky faucet in his apartment, but Coen lay on a bed he was unfamiliar with. He opened his eyes to see the familiar half-ring scanners above him. The neo carbon rings surrounded his bed at intervals like a partial cocoon that monitored his vital signs, which in turn appeared on a set of bedside monitors. He took a breath and felt a sharp pain pull through his right shoulder and his stomach.

His head felt uneven as though most of the weight had shifted to his crown and it would tip over and snap his neck. He pulled himself up in his bed, and, as he did so, the half-rings began to readjust their positioning to conform to his new posture. Coen could see he was in one of the inpatient wards for the trauma center at Lumaire General Hospital. He felt the shift in perspective to be refreshing and strange. He often found himself looking at a patient sitting up from a bed, and not actually being the patient himself.

He grunted when he tried to inhale. He remembered why he was in the hospital. He remembered he was pursuing the Nansoko’ suspected assassin through the penthouse bedroom. None of the images sifted into his mind even as he suspected that he fell victim to the assassin’s bullets. Something about his shoulder wound bothered him.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a voice startled him, Coen looked up to see a woman in a white lab coat.

A cyan visor covered her eyes, and she had a transparent tablet in her hand. A single keystroke and her credentials and identification projected right in front of Coen. She was Dr. Kelsey Holden, a trauma specialist. She had shoulder-length jet black hair, and her small nose winked up. Her eyes were grey, but they shone with the reflection of the light from her tablet. Her lips were imperfect when she smiled, despite the whiteness of her teeth which was the result of premium dental work. She was pretty because of the crooked smile, he thought.

“You took quite the hit, Mr. Yoon. Those bullets went right through you. HV bullets have high impact. You’re lucky they weren’t clawed, otherwise they could have shredded your inner organs.”

Coen exhaled, a bit of the tightness he felt in his abdomen loosened, but would return with each inhale.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Could be better.”

“We removed the bullets, but those wounds will take a few days to heal up. You’ll stay here until they do.”

“I kind of have to get back to work,” Coen said.

Dr. Holden smiled the imperfect smile, “Your superior, a Captain Mountbatten, seemed pleasantly agreeable to the idea of you remaining a few days longer.”

Coen nodded and reclined, another pain jumped in his stomach and forced him to gasp.

Holden sifted through her tablet, “Says here you’re a smoker, were you planning on getting in line for a lung replacement?”

“I’m not sure if you know doc, but I don’t make that kind of money on a detective’s salary. I enjoy smoking anyway.”

Dr. Holden smiled again, “In a couple of years you won’t, but lungs aren’t as expensive as they used to be. In the meantime, help yourself to something to eat. You’ve been out for…” she glanced at the time, “…a little over a day. Don’t struggle too much or force yourself out of bed. Take it easy for now.”

She walked out the door as Coen turned on his contacts. The hospital menu immediately materialized in his augmented reality vision along with unread messages and news updates. His stomach rumbled.

One message caught his eye, it was from Jen. He had not thought of that name in a long time.

“Hey, I heard about what happened. I hope you’re doing well. We haven’t talked in-” Coen cut the message short.

He ordered a chicken tikka masala and leaned back with a grunt as the pain ripped into him again.



2PM

LSP Headquarters

Mountbatten stepped into the dimly lit interrogation room and shut the door behind him. A single light hung overhead while smaller lights ran along the walls closer to the floor. Dull grey permeated the room’s walls and floors. There was a table in the middle, and a girl slouching, despite her cuffed hands, in her seat opposite of Mountbatten. Her augmentations had been disabled to keep her from manually picking the locks on the cuffs.

Mountbatten sat down and began, “What do you know about NTS?”

Naima Khedira lounged in her seat. Her eyes traversed the length of the walls, but never once did they look directly at the android. Captain Mountbatten clasped his hands before him on the interrogation table. He glanced at the girl with the purple hair.

Naima laughed as she stared at the overhead light, “Is this where you pull the good cop, bad cop routine? Where’s your partner Candy?”

Mountbatten cleared his throat when he heard the term.

He looked around, “Nope, it’s just me. Now be a dear and answer the question. There’s no use in denying it. We have security footage of NTS members going in and out of your warehouse. We also know that you’ve been giving away a fraction of the credits you steal to them.”

“Piss off.”

“Let’s make a deal.”

Naima’s brow raised, “A deal? What kind of deal?”

“You’re only in here because of larceny charges, that’s true. So, you’re looking at four years maximum. If you tell us something we find useful, we might cut that down to a year’s worth of community service since you’re a young woman with an upstanding floral business that’s bound to generate the kind of revenue you could retire on.”

Mountbatten paused, “However, since we also have evidence of your affiliation with a terrorist organization, that might mean we also get to charge you with murder and terrorism, which could bump your sentence up a few years. By that point, don’t even think about life outside of bars ever again.”

Mountbatten paused to watch her reaction. Naima stared at the Captain for a long time.

“Do you know what they do to girls like you?” Mountbatten’s voice lowered as he leaned in, “It’s a grinder in there. Every. Single. Day. There aren’t any flowers in there, darling. They’ve all been stepped on,” the captain chuckled.

The captain liked the fact that his accent coupled with his outward appearance made him appear more threatening than he really was. Mountbatten noticed that Naima began to sit a little straighter in her seat. He began to get up and leave.

“Wait.”

Mountbatten noticed that Naima spoke in a slower and softer tone than usual, the result of forfeiting, “I’ll talk.”



4 PM

“Good work Agents Chavez and Zhang, you’re dismissed,” Chief Kyung gestured the two junior agents to leave her office.

Lieutenants Nikos and Paris, Captain Mountbatten, and Tia remained behind in Chief Kyung’s office for a debrief regarding the sting operation on the thwarted arms sale.

Once Chavez and Zhang left, Kyung shook her head, “A missed opportunity.”

She stood up and looked out the window where it still rained outside, “We missed an opportunity to take him out for good.”

“Well, we did manage to secure the weapons,” Tia noted, “About one hundred and sixty million credits worth was found on the ship. However, according to agents Chavez and Zhang, they saw no sign of De Vries.”

“Maybe she knew,” Kyung observed, “About everything, the yakuza’s betrayal, our appearance.”

Tia nodded, “Unfortunately, the military grade mech was compromised during the operation. The two agents noted that one of Meint’s associates, the woman named Freya in our custody, attempted to use the mech after the yakuza began attacking. De Vries left a localized disruptor that tasered Freya and destroyed the unit’s control systems when she tried to power it. It’s useless now.”

“How did Meint slip away?”

Mountbatten looked at Nikos, who spoke, “The ship was, again, a comm dead zone. He and his people probably had a VTOL awaiting to get off.”

“And you didn’t think to secure the fly zone around the ship?”

Nikos cleared her throat, “That…was an oversight on our part.”

Tia felt the pause and spoke, “From the report, the two field agents acquired Meint’s trust by impersonating as members of the ERL. They managed to secure a direct line with him.”

Kyung’s brow raised, perplexed, she turned away from the incessant downpour in front of her. Nikos retrieved the old phone and placed it on the chief’s desk.

“Is this, is this a cellphone?” Kyung picked up the device.

“It’s encrypted, and, Zhang and Chavez note that Meint told them, verbatim, it has a direct line to NT.”

“An encrypted direct?” Kyung glanced at Tia who replied with a single nod, “We should have learned from our previous encounter with Meint and should have been prepared for the comm lock. We could have sent those two into a death trap.”

“Their quick thinking saved them,” Mountbatten offered.

Kyung’s eyes shifted to Mountbatten, “Quick thinking should be a last resort only after all the prepared options have been exhausted. It’s clear that we didn’t plan this out too well.”

“But we don’t have much to spare given the continued riots in the east side,” Alexandra said.

“What about the Ishimuras? Is it safe to assume that she has crossed them off her list of clients?” Mountbatten asked.

“She won’t. She’s a profiteer,” Kyung replied, “When Akihiko double crossed the other two, he was representing himself, not Masumi. Masumi must have already removed Akihiko from the family already.”

“Any reason Akihiko would go rogue?” Alexandra asked.

“We can find out,” Kyung paused, “When dealing with the criminal underworld, all factors are variable. I thought that all of you would know that by now."

She glanced at each of them, “Zhang is keeping that phone, he’s to maintain a line with NT and report constantly to whoever is handling him about the next operation or sale. We need details so we can prepare accordingly this time. I’ll divert resources the next time Meint shows up. For now, Zhang is to keep this cover until it’s blown. Miss St. Cloud, see if you and the other specialists can’t find a way to trace the phone.”

Tia nodded.

“Back to work people,” Kyung resumed her place at her desk, “Captain Mountbatten, I need to speak with you.”

Mountbatten stayed behind as everyone left.

“Yes, Chief?”

“I have a person that I want you to look into. One of our agents working undercover for the Jade Tigers triad has gone silent. I need you to have somebody look into that.”

“You don’t think this might be related to the Bernard Choi case, do you?”

“Most likely, we’ve learned that Choi was heavily involved with the gangers in the east side. One of the sections of the Jade Tigers was probably working with him to distribute the YX7.”

“I’ll have someone on it then,” Mountbatten said.

“I’ll send you and Tia the files.”



8 PM

Mountbatten sat in his office with a cup of tea as he reviewed the assessments pouring in regarding the Nansoko and Legrand murders on his paper-thin monitor. He activated his augmented reality systems to extrapolate the screen to the side and began sifting through what Emmett wrote. The fact that the two high-profile murders could be conjoined made him pause on his next sip of tea. He would have massaged his forehead but massaging chrome did no good for anyone.

Alexandra walked in just as he felt the need to shut off the screens.

“Have you seen that guy?” she asked.

“Which one?” Mountbatten perked up, he set the tea aside to let it cool, not that it mattered.

“Mangle’s friend. He’s down at the morgue along with Wayne and Barry. The one with the eight arms that looks he’s been scavenging from the East Side or even in the Red Zones.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Torinson. An amiable chap. He’s a civilian specialist brought in to assist with Detective Tigron’s investigation into the Legrand murder,” Mountbatten paused before he added, “He’s rather knowledgeable at what he does, but, yes, they’re a rather odd family. Something unappealing about the metal jaw though…”

“Wait ‘till the baby showers.”

“Indeed, I was told that Mr. Legrand refused the detective’s request for access to his brother’s body. Though I believe Miss St. Cloud will have already received a warrant from the court and sent it to Tigron.”

“You think Legrand could be a suspect?”

“Possibly. Though, he seems hardly the type to waste millions on a full-body replacement only to let it go to waste. I wouldn’t consider myself too premature to say there was some semblance of family there.”

“And the Nansoko lead?”

“Thanks to C.K. We know the assassin is female.”

“The younger brother of a politician and the heir to a megacorporation fortune. Seems rather…coincidental. You think it’s by the same person?”

“Tia believes so, given the timespans. The murderer may have struck Legrand first before moving to the penthouse. We’ve seen that our suspect has more than enough at her disposal to elude capture. If that’s true, then we can bet that she was able to cover that distance in a short amount of time.”

Alexandra nodded and began to leave.

“Also, I’ve been told that the coffee we get is shit,” Mountbatten added just as she walked out.

“The coffee we get is always shit,” Alexandra returned, “But you never drink it, so what’s it to you?”

“Do you drink it?”

Alexandra laughed at the comment as she left. Mountbatten ‘blinked.’



10 PM

Cael Meint reclined in the cabin of an unmarked VTOL that would head out into the Pacific before circling back around onto the West Coast to avoid pursuit by any police or military forces of Lumaire. The sale was neutral territory for all underground organizations. He often expressed the fact that NTS was an organization that only sought to promote Earth’s interests peacefully, and that it was in no way criminal. Yet, sometimes words needed the backing of guns to be heard. NTS had no issues with the yakuza, each group took care of their own territory, yakuza was interested in business and NTS was in politics. Both needed weapons, so the sudden attack forced him to probe into their relationship with yakuza.

He glanced at his shoulder where he’d been shot and scoffed. He stretched his neck and heard a few pops. One of his henchmen offered him a flask, which he took a swig from without refusal. Another NT henchmen then came across the cabin with a phone. Meint barely noticed it vibrating due to the rain outside, but he grabbed it and opened it.

“Hello?”

“Cael,” a voice, smooth like leather, reached his ear.

“Zora,” he grunted, “That was a compelling stunt you pulled back there.”

“Which part darling? The mech or the yakuza?”

Meint remained silent before responding, “Give me one fucking reason I shouldn’t come blow your brains out now.”

“You’ll need to find me first.”

“I’ll torch your operations then. Those aren’t too hard to find. I’ve got people in Tukana ready at a moment’s notice.”

“Cael darling, I promise you that I had no idea that Akihiko would try something like that.”

“Empty promises. Several of my people died protecting your merchandise, and this entire time you were nowhere to be found. Explain to me how the fuck that works,” Meint paused, “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Not about Akihiko, nobody did, but I knew about the LSP.”

“LSP?”

“Somebody tipped them off to our little sale. At least, that’s what a birdie told me. You can understand why I had to leave. They’ve confiscated a lot of my stuff, so we’ve both lost some assets today.”

Meint remained silent, “You didn’t bother telling me?”

“I had other business to take care of, and I’m sure my precious Cael Meint had already planned a way out for himself. Besides, I’m still willing to sell to you. As far as I know, Masumi Ishimura has cut Akihiko out of the picture.”

“Really? What the fuck is the situation there?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. Can we just all pretend that we’re still on relatively good terms…?”

Meint laughed, “I’ll consider it.”

“I was also going to ask about those two uninvited guests…”

Meint had forgotten about his new ‘friends’. He closed the phone.

He looked at one of his subordinates, “So they captured Freya huh?”

The underling nodded. Meint took a deep breath and then screamed and slammed a fist into a bulkhead.

Then he inhaled again and spoke in a calm voice that registered just above a whisper, “Get me an ID on that Fyodor Bryusov character, I want to know for sure if he’s actually ERL. I want to know who his brothers and sisters are. I want to know who his parents are. I want to know if he has parents. I want to know if he has friends. I want to know every fuckin’ thing there is to know about comrade Fyodor,” Meint paused to take a breath, “And I want to know who the fuck is our in-person with the LSP.”



August 9th, 2075

12 AM

East Side

The east and north-east side of Lumaire were formerly large residential and business districts. When the massive acid rain storm hit in 2067, rendering most of the city damaged and in need of reconstruction, megacorporations Nansoko and Hayworth stepped in and funded reconstruction. They practically rebuilt the city with their own personnel, equipment, and capital in exchange for a hand in leading the city. Five out of the twenty-five Lumaire assembly members were former board members in both conglomerates, while another thirteen members were in their pockets.

Eight years later, the east and north east remain a large stack of black skyscrapers as construction slowed down. Husks of buildings littered the landscape that, from a bird’s eye view, looked like a trashed silicone chip. It resembled a town just a year into the Great War with its many empty sidewalks and abandoned restaurants. It would be several more years before this part of Lumaire would see peopled sidewalks and lights again. Bits and scraps of paper and metal scattered across the ground.

Scavengers still ventured into the old city in search of goods hoping they could refurbish and spin on the market for a price higher than the actual value. Only a few knew that the old city was a playground for the corporations.

An LSP squad car sat at one of the old street corners.

“Dispatch to B-2, are you in position?”

“This is B-2 to dispatch, in position…and bored,” Corporal Gafarov remarked over the comms chatter.

He reclined his head and popped a mint as the rain tapped the windows.

“Just hold position.”

“This night shift is killin’…shit, the sarge chewed my ass over that fragged Nansoko.”

“Count the stars that you’re not the one makin’ a deposit at the body bank.”

“Heh.”

After a long time, “Hey Nico.”

“What?”

“What did the boss say about the drugs?”

The dispatcher’s voice lowered, “I heard MCU staged a raid on the YX7 lab. We’re startin’ from scratch now since they captured Choi.”

“Who’s Choi again?”

“The cooker. Until we can find another guy, we gotta be selling this shit for higher.”

“It’s jus-” Gafarov noticed some cars and bikes pull up next to his, “Oh, I think they’re here.”

Their low beam lights lanced through the rain, but several of the doors popped open. An assortment of tattooed and augmented men and women stepped out from the cars or off their bikes.

Gafarov stepped out of his squad car, and he approached who he assumed to be the leader. The Asian man had thick eyebrows. His facial hair consisted of a groomed goatee and a mustache that looked like a pair of toothpicks. He wore a wife beater and many tiger tattoos ran across his neck and bare forearms, which were no doubt augmented with nano-fibre muscle grafts. His left eye had been replaced by a white ball. He stood at the front of the group and narrowed his eyes at Gafarov as he approached him.

“Are you, are you Lucky Lin?” Gafarov asked.

“Where’s Nico?”

“Nico couldn’t make it here tonight. I’m takin’ his place. The name’s Ivan,” Gafarov extended his hand.

Lin glanced at the hand and walked past Gafarov to the car, “Where the drugs, gaijin?”

Gafarov nodded to his car, “In the trunk.”

Lin’s brow raised, he glanced back at one of his underlings. The man pulled up a submachine gun and pointed it at Gafarov, who shot his hands up in the air. The man was a bigger Asian, he probably could have been a sumo fighter in one of the Diamond boulevard casinos.

“Whoa hey man, I’m just tryin’ to make some money.”

“’Make some money,’” Lin mocked and he looked at the others and laughed.

His underlings laughed with him.

“If you wanna talk to Nico, he’s on the line,” Gafarov pointed into his car’s comm unit.

Lin glanced at Gafarov and shook his head at his underling aiming the submachine gun at Gafarov’s temple. The cop went inside the car and tapped several keys.

“Hey Nico, it’s me, is this a secure channel?”

A brief pause on the other end, “Yeah.”

“Hey, Lucky Lin’s here,” Gafarov gestured for the ganger to come.

“Lucky Lin? You there?” Nico asked.

“Nico?” Lin gave Gafarov the glaring side-eye.

“Lin, buddy, how’s it goin’ man?”

“I don’t got time for this ji-ral man. What’s the deal lettin’ this kid come into our business?”

“He’s a protégé Lin, take it easy on him.”

“Protégé? Ain’t that fancy. A’ight how much you got?” Lin glanced at Gafarov.

Gafarov cleared his throat, “Forty-five kilos, tell him Nico.”

“Listen Lin, you heard about the shit that happened with Choi. This is the last batch of YX7. He got it out before they arrested him.”

“Yeah I heard. Word on the street the LSP sent some gato to clean out the place. Burned it to the ground. You wanna tell me why we didn’t get a heads up on that?”

“I’m little lower on the pole man. What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to fuckin’ tell me why the fuck Bakhtin is dead.”

“Bakhtin’s dead…?”

Gafarov looked at Lucky Lin who still glared at him. He wanted to know who Bakthin was, why he was dead, and what that meant for him. If they killed him here, no one would know. He felt in over his head.

Nico spoke after a long awkward silence, “Jesus…look man, I had no idea who they were gonna send, but I know it was some guy from the MCU.”

“So, the les keufs want to start a war with the gangs. That’s fine. They about to get burnt.”

“I don’t know what to tell you man.”

Lin let out a long sigh and looked at his fellow gangers then at the Lumaire skyline in the distance beyond the dump of the east side then he turned to Gafarov, “A’ight, how much you sellin’ for?”



8:15 AM

LSP Headquarters

Tia floated in midair as she watched the waterfall flow upward. The droplets congealed in mercury and started to form blobs and spheres and the flow soon stopped. She sat within an empty room except for a few masked geishas that came in and out to serve tasteless tea. Before her she scrolled down a list of screens until she reached the room she needed to be in. She entered a given passcode.

Upon entry, a familiar face greeted her.

“Elise?” Tia’s voice curved upward.

The familiar face belonged to a person, a woman, named Elise, whom Tia had met on the Net years ago. They used to work together as hackers even though neither had met the other personally. They had a certain kind of friendship that only existed on the Net. Tia’s familiarity rested with Elise’s avatar, a blue geisha with blue hair that flowed upward like the water. Tia’s own avatar resembled a woman in skin tight black leather and a pair of mirror shades over her eyes.

“It’s been awhile Tia. How’s it going girl?”

“Good. I’m doing…good.”

Neither ever tried to breach the other’s systems to reveal their identity. At least, that was their unspoken agreement for a long time.

“I see you’ve done some reforming. Servant of the public good now. Impressive. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Tia chuckled, “Neither did I. I thought we agreed to never…”

“I know,” Elise paused, “Things are changing on my end too. I guess…”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I’ve retired from that life as well. Sometimes it makes me wonder what’s real and what’s not. I haven’t been part of the world in such a long time,” Elise paused, “It’s nice seeing you again Tia. I’m sure this isn’t the last time. You might be seeing me more often, actually.”

“Why’s-”

“Tia?”

A voice interrupted Tia’s concentration, and then she realized Elise had logged. Tia decided to jack herself out of the system. She looked up at Alexandra with a pair of doe eyes.

“I know you were having a little moment there, but we need to get this morning briefing under way.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She looked back at the screen and sighed.



A moment later in Mountbatten’s office, Tia stood with an array of screens before her while Mountbatten and Alexandra watched.

“We’re waiting on what Emmett finds at the morgue. Apparently, there’s a piece of Sans Limites hardware that was found in one of the bodies. It might be something since neither Legrand nor the Nansoko’s bodies were manufactured by SL.”

“Send that to Detective Tigron,” Mountbatten ordered.

“Benny and Cha Cha are still on the loose, but beyond that, things are quiet except for the riots.”

“And also the undercover?”

“Right,” Tia had almost forgotten.

Alexandra’s eyes darted between the two of them, “Undercover?”

“For months now, Chief Kyung has had an officer, Tycho Ren, infiltrate the Jade Tigers triad. He’s gone dark.”




Omega41 187: Dead Rich Boys (Cont.)


The investigation into the Damien Legrand murder continues, but has expanded to incorporate the recent Abikiwe Nansoko homicide as well. Things will certainly get dicey with these politics. Regardless, you must continue as you have. While I am inclined to believe that the female cyborg assassin is our best suspect, I understand that you are approaching the investigation from another angle. Barry has informed me of a possible connection to Sans Limites. Continue as you have Detective Tigron and continue to update us on your progress.

- Mountbatten


Contact

Target – Tycho Ren

Information –

For a long time, maybe the span of three months, we’ve had an undercover agent embedded with the Jade Tigers triad.

The Jade Tigers are just one among the many prominent triad organizations operating in Lumaire. Their main is in Xin Aomen, but they’ve got branches throughout the world. They deal in many illegal activities from arms trafficking to prostitution to drugs. Sometimes, they work with the other triads, which turns things very ugly, sometimes.

Our man on the inside is a Tycho Ren, who goes by the alias of Serpent. His familiarity with the Tigers and his middle of the road appearance allowed him to blend in. Problem is he’s gone dark. No status reports in over a month. Undercovers are very unique people because of their situation. The chief fears that he might have embraced the criminal lifestyle since it leads to sex, money, and cars as opposed to being, well, an upright officer.

Now, Tycho’s a bit of a hot-shot, but this isn’t his first rodeo. He also underwent a rigorous series of psych evals and investigations before he started. He’s shown that he’s a stable, self-aware guy, who’s not out of his depth, yet.

It’s possible that his situation has turned very delicate right now, which is why he can’t have a direct contact with us. So that means we need to come to him.

The Jade Tigers operate near the port district, where they have a few warehouses. That’s where you’ll most likely find Tycho.

Recommended Agents – 1.

- Tia Marie St. Cloud


Dynamic Duo

Target – Benny and Cha Cha Dominguez

Information –

Benny and Cha Cha Dominguez are wanted for murder. The cameras pretty much caught all the action in the south-east side when they gunned down a man named Danny Leitch. They didn’t even bother hiding it, but they quickly figured out the deep shit they were in. They head a small gang in the 8th’s southerly neighborhoods called the Rabbits. They’ve been at this since they were in their teens. Their gang runs a protection racketeer on the residents living in that area.

We put up a warrant for their arrest and a small private recovery firm, aka bounty hunters, called Pfeiffer’s Seven managed to arrest the two. Unfortunately, the Dominguez siblings didn’t remain in their custody for long. While the bounty hunters were waiting for an LSP extraction veet to take Benny and Cha Cha in for processing, the Rabbits struck and killed several of the recovery agents. Benny and Cha Cha escaped and went into hiding.

So now they’re wanted for more than just one count of murder.

You’ll know it’s them when you see the colorful attire and hair, that’s just how they roll. Bring in Benny and Cha Cha alive.

Recommended Agents – 1.

- Tia Marie St. Cloud

August 9th, 2075

8:10 AM

MCU Headquarters: Mountbatten’s Office

Mountbatten sat in his office reviewing some briefs before an urgent message came from the central dispatch.

“LSP Officer Badge number 14G672J7, Detective Emmett Tigron, has called for Tactical, Bomb Squad and Medical to location. Alert issued to Captain Niles Mountbatten, Major Crimes Unit. Purpose: potential casualties ranging into the hundreds. Please advise?”

“Authorized,” he responded.

Mountbatten paused for a moment as he scanned over the data. The call was made for units to converge on Ulan Cathedral, which meant there could be a legal nightmare concerning the Religious Bastion act. However, he thought the purpose seemed rather dire, and Mountbatten trusted the detective’s instincts.

He muttered to himself, “Bloody hell…” as he sprung from his seat.

Just as he left his office, Alexandra intercepted him, “I just received a notification from central dispatch.”

Mountbatten nodded, “I’ve authorized,” he looked at all of the in-house support and tech agents, “Alright ladies and gents, we need eyes and ears on the ground. Someone alert an MG unit to the scene A.S.A.P.”

Alexandra pointed out five agents, “You five will deploy with Oracle.”

“Lieutenant, you’re in charge here while I’m gone.”

“Gone?”

“To the front.”

Alexandra nodded and returned to her office. Mountbatten glanced at Tia, who sat in a space enclosed by plexiglass windows that loomed overhead all the support desks. He knew she was plugged into something already, but she would catch up to the speed of things as soon as she stepped out.

Then the Captain made his way to the LSP armory and stepped aboard an awaiting VTOL, which lifted into the air and sailed out of the hangar following behind several others.



8:25 AM

MCU Headquarters

Once again, they met in the room of the upward flowing streams. It was a third-party server with double blind security protocols. Surveillance and records for the meeting would be deleted by the system.

“I have information that you might like,” Elise said

“Okay,” Tia said as she waited to hear what her friend had to say.

“It pertains the Nansoko murd-“ before Elise could finish, Tia’s communicator issued pings that pulled her from the matrix.

She saw the image of Emmett Tigron on the contact, “What the-“

“I might have to cut this chat short Elise, I think something just came up.”

The blue geisha responded with a curt nod, “I understand, but this is very important. I’ll be here whenever, just make sure you come and find me.”

Tia nodded, the room faded away. She answered the call, “Tia St. Cloud.”

“Tia, I’m going to need you to hack into something for me in a sec.”

Tia’s face contorted, “Uh sure Detective, but what am I hacking?” Tia asked, but she knew the answer once she heard the gunfire crackle over the line.

Seconds later Emmett responded, “Tia, shut down security.”

Tia’s brow raised, “Is this a ch-”

“TIA!” he screamed, she dialed down the volume in the audio channel.

She had no idea his voice could still crack, and set to work on his request. Her hands pulled apart into numerous metallic micro tendrils heightening her keystrokes because they could cycle through the haptic interface keypad several hundred times over in seconds. Her eyes glowed blue as her opticals activated.

Tia called back, “I’m in. What am I doing?”

“Opening all the doors, get me inside and let people out,” the detective responded.

Tia finished some keystrokes, “Done. Now can I know what this is about?”

“Stay on the line Tia, I might still need your help. You got a feed on me?”

She entered the system feeds of the Ulan Cathedral, which was no small feat, but she made it seem like her every day task. It felt second nature to her like having a glass of water every morning, even though she was breaking more rules than the number of mechanical tendrils she had tapping away on keys. She reminded herself to clean any trace of her appearance in the system once this little errand finished.

“Cameras, nearest one top right,” she responded as she saw him look up directly into her sight, she added, “You do realize I’m going to jail for hacking into a religiously protected network, right?”

The mention was not true because Tia knew that enough legal, not to mention digital, firewalls protected her from any sort of retaliation by church of religious organizations. She felt it was needed to curb any more recklessness from the detective.

“And I’m going to jail for assaulting a religious bastion. Just pay attention.”

She saw the incoming cathedral guards, and, before they could touch him, she activated an update sequence that set them into sleep mode.

“Appreciated,” she heard from the other end.

Tia shook her head and smirked. She watched the events unfold, and, at the immediate mention of bomb, she bypassed the locks of the main security system and activated the alarms. She received a ping from Mountbatten’s line.

“Captain?” as she asked this, one of her system’s passive subroutines caught a short-wave transmitter.

“I am headed to the scene. ETA in six.”

“There’s a bomb threat in Ulan,” she said as she tried to pin point the transmitter signal.

“Dear god.”

“I’ve already activated the alarms. I’ve got eyes on the feeds, Tigron is getting people ou-“ as she said this the cathedral exploded.

All her feeds into the interior of the complex went dark. She then tapped into nearby cameras as she observed a large cloud of black smoke exhale and consume the front face of the structure along with the transmitter signal. A large amount of debris and smoke scattered and blotted her screens despite overlapping fields of vision granted by separate cameras.

“Emmett,” she called out.

No response, maybe he was deaf from the explosions, brief tinnitus perhaps.

“Emmett, are you there?” she repeated, “Emmett!”

“I’m here,” he responded.

“I know that!” Tia stated, she exhaled before speaking, “The bomb, I got something.”

“Such as?”

“It was remotely triggered, I can’t tell the location but it was a short wave transmitter. The suspect has to be within a couple blocks of you right now.”

Despite his lack of response, Tia observed that his heartrate and vitals monitors seemed steady, which meant he was focusing on capturing the suspect, who was hopefully still within the vicinity. The rest was up to him now.



12:30 PM

LSP Headquarters: Gretien’s Office

Titus Gretien stood at the center of his room as he spoke to the crowd of reporters on a livestream conference, “We have apprehended the suspect who is responsible for the bomb threat at the Ulan Cathedral. Unfortunately, other details in the investigation are still pending.”

One of the reporters asked, “Is it possible that the suspect is connected with the murder of Damien Legrand, considering that the bomb threat took place during his funeral procession?”

“That we can confirm. The suspect may be responsible for the murder of Damien Legrand, but as I have said, details are still pending.”

“We also had reports of sniper fire aimed at Mathieu Legrand himself. Was the bomb threat part of an attempted assassination on Legrand?”

“We can’t confirm nor deny that just yet.”

“The murder, the sniper fire, the bomb, it seems that these events are targeting Mr. Mathieu Legrand, do you care to comment.”

“No, I have no comment on that matter.”

“Do you think that this is in anyway related to Legrand’s recent proposals for pushing the cloning bill?”

“All the conversation regarding his political position is pure speculation at best.”

“What about the Nansoko’s murder?”

“What about it?”

“Well, we have reports that suggest that the Legrand and Nansoko murders are connected. Not to mention the fact that Nansoko Corp has been a proponent of assemblyman Legrand’s position as well as a large donor to his campaigns.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t work in the realm of conspiracy theories,” Gretien chided.

He earned a few chuckles from reporters, and on one screen he saw Kelly Pahlavi’s smirk followed by a shaking of her head.

Another reporter spoke, “Do you think the suspect may have had ties with larger, more vocal anti-augmentation groups like the Legion of Purity?”

“We are always on alert when it comes to extremist groups within Lumaire. The LSP does not tolerate any kind of non-authorized sectarian or militant violence. Lumaire has always been a city of diverse views, and I believe that resorting to violence is in no way a meaningful contribution to any kind of dialogue regarding the advancement of mankind. Now, I cannot take any further questions, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Thank you for joining me on this conference.”

One by one the screens disappeared, even Kelly’s screen. It seemed to Titus that she wanted to wait a little longer before pressing him for anything.



6 PM

LSP Headquarters: Chief’s Office

“A clone?” Chief Kyung had her hands balled in front of her, her expression darkened when she heard of the word.

“That’s all we know right now regarding the suspect,” Captain Mountbatten replied.

Her eyes stared off as though they looked a vast distance beyond the immediate present of her room. It seemed for a time that even the captain’s own presence seemed to vanish from her mind.

“That information stays here. Do you understand?”

“And Detective Tigron?”

“You will inform him of that. The public must not know.”

“Will we be pursuing a follow-up investigation?”

“We’ll wait and see first.”



August 10th, 2075

2:30 PM

MCU Headquarters

Tia was on the line with agent Patel.

“He’s out sick,” Patel said, “Something about needing to get a diagnostic check on some internals.”

“So he’s not coming in today?” Tia asked.

“No,” Patel shook her head.

Tia could tell the woman had just awoken.

Tia’s lips pursed, “Alright, fine. Give yourself a day off then. See if I care.”

Patel’s face flushed, “We’re not…”

“I’m messing with you. Look just let Zhang know he’s needed back ASAP.”

Patel nodded.



5:30 PM

The pilot of an LSP VTOL spoke into his comm from the cockpit, “Falcon Actual maintaining altitude at 1000 feet.”

Mountbatten stood in the cabin of the VTOL that held a steady position just miles away from the area of operation. He held a tablet screen with a direct feed of the heads up display of one of the boots on the ground.

Mountbatten turned to one of the techs who sat with a tablet in hand, “Commence.”

The tech nodded in response, “This is Actual to all units, you are go.”

The evidence was undeniable by this point. Mathieu Legrand had ordered the murder of his own brother and authorized the illegal cloning of an innocent individual.

Mountbatten watched the feed as Detective Tigron hauled the implicated assembly member out of the pearly double doors. Blips of cyan lights appeared on the flanks of the aisles as people began recording on their personal devices an angel fallen from grace. Though, Legrand was no angel. His face remained stringent with chiseled lines. His lips remained sealed as he was taken down the steps. He still impressed a certain air of superiority even as an officer shoved his head into the cabin of a waiting VTOL.

The Captain knew the footage would be played over dozens of media outlets over and over until the point had been missed. Not that he killed his brother, though he did, but that there was a greater conflict between those who wanted to push further into realms of technology not yet fully-understood and those who fought back against this advance. Mountbatten nodded to the pilot, who keyed into the VTOL’s control systems. The nacelles rotated and the thrust activated. The VTOL embarked on its return to headquarters.



7:28 PM

LSP Headquarters: Interrogation Room #1

Alexandra reclined in her seat behind the two-way mirror as she watched Tigron continue his interrogation of the prisoner. The details surrounding the woman known as Subject Thirty-Nine were a revelation. Lacy Turinou would never know what Mathieu Legrand had done to her, one of his own constituents. She would never know that her DNA had been used to create a clone of herself. An exact replica, a copy of herself, down to the finest details. Her hair, her eyes, her face, Thirty-Nine could easily pass as Turinou if there ever came such a day.

Mountbatten strolled into the unlit observation room behind Alexandra, who was the only one as the other officers had left to get some coffee.

They watched on as though it were a film and they were cinemagoers.

“I feel bad for her,” Alexandra spoke up after a long time.

Mountbatten glanced at Alexandra whose eyes and face still pointed to the woman, the girl. Thirty-Nine knew nothing of life to be called a woman. She was a child of unfavorable circumstances. Mountbatten had not known of the feeling of compassion in a long time. While the frame of chrome, steel, neo-carbon encased his wired brain, he no longer possessed an actual beating heart. He wondered if such a feeling was generated from one’s heart or one’s brain. Were the feelings a result of chemical reactions as scientists were apt to reach for as an explanation?

Or was there something more?

“I was going to ask you what you found from the Khedira girl,” Alexandra turned to Mountbatten.

The Captain swallowed, “Girl claims complete ignorance. She was only funding the organization because she slept with Meint.”

“So she was close to him?”

“I’d hardly call a one night stand close.”

“I’d call it closer than most.”

They both returned to the interrogation.

Alexandra spoke after a long time, “I wonder what it was like to be her. Growing up, having been experimented on, having been turned into a weapon.”

Mountbatten remained silent at this.




11 PM

Myong-Hauser Corporation

42nd Floor

Sean Bishop walked into a board room with covered windows. Two black suits closed the doors behind him. A large empty screen took up the opposite wall until the face of a blonde-haired woman appeared. He took a seat in front of the screen. He pulled out a bright cigar in one hand and flicked open a lighter in another. The orange flame lit his face against the screen light.

The woman looked surprised, “Who are you? Where is Director Foiritan?”

Bishop spoke, “I am Director Bishop, Director Foiritan is no longer available. We parted with him over creative differences. I must extend apologies for not notifying you sooner.”

“Change in leadership means a change in direction,” the woman paused.

Bishop saw she was looking at his guards, “Quiet guns. Can I say the same about your wires hooked into this uplink? But I digress. Our original objectives still remain.”

“Indeed? What of Mr. Legrand? The LSP has Subject Thirty-Nine in their custody. How can you still maintain that? Has this not already been compromised?

The man glanced at his un-puffed cigar, watching the smoke billow, “The HOUND program will continue along smoothly. While Mr. Legrand’s recent circumstances are rather unfortunate, he knew the risks, and he played his hand. We must do the same. As for Subject Thirty-Nine, we’ve already destroyed all her records within our systems. Her DNA samples will be transferred to a black-site.”

The woman seemed satisfied, “Then what is the status of the program?”

“We’ve commenced the next phase. Trials have been initiated, and our people are observing the results as we speak.”

“And you guarantee no civilian casualties?”

“While Foiritan may have naively suggested that to be the case, I will make no such guarantees. By this point, you should be aware of what we’re dealing with here.”

The woman remained silent for a moment before speaking, “We agreed on the old city. I don’t want this to appear on the news.”

“Yes, bad publicity is the last thing we all need. We’ll be sure to remind the subjects that there are certain parameters to abide by. I have no control beyond that,” Bishop shrugged, “Besides, they’re human, they have choices.”

“Choices? Don’t give me that free will bullshit. This is a closed experiment. Foiritan would never have permitted such reckless-”

“Which is why he is not here anymore. The measure of a man or woman is in their ability to take calculated risks.” Bishop smiled and pressed his cigar into the empty ashtray in his armrest.

The woman grunted, “Report the results to us as soon as possible.”

“Noted.”

The screen went black briefly before the Myong-Hauser logo appeared. The blinds on the windows rolled away as he looked out into the Lumaire night time skyline.

Bishop glanced over at the guards, “You can say it. I hate that bitch too.”



August 11th, 2075

9 AM

LSP Headquarters: Chief’s Office

Chief Kyung sat in her office reviewing some reports while watching riot footage when Captain Mountbatten strolled in. She closed all her available screens, which turned her face from cyan to a pale tone as all the projector and LED lights blinked off. The Captain stood at attention and saluted Kyung.

“You wanted to speak with me ma’am?” Mountbatten asked.

Chief Kyung nodded, she tapped a key on her console. The doors to her room shut automatically.

“I sent you a message regarding Agent Case’s assignment. What do you have to report Captain?”

Mountbatten cleared his throat, paused for a moment before he began, “Unfortunately, we’re at a loss. We don’t have any leads regarding Laitinen. We have yet to identify the abductor as well.”

The chief remained silent. Her shoulders hunched as she leaned on her desk.

“It’s as if they vanished and ceased existing,” Mountbatten continued.

“They’re still alive, but whoever has him, knows how to hide very well," Kyung inhaled, “Very well, that is all I wanted to see you about.”

Mountbatten nodded, saluted, and then turned to leave.

“Ms. Helene Laurent believes that there is a mole in MCU,” Kyung said.

Mountbatten stopped before he turned around where he met her blank stare. He turned around again and continued out the door.



11 AM

MCU Headquarters: Mountbatten’s Office

Beethoven’s moonlight sonata played in the background from one of Mountbatten’s consoles as he hummed after the triplets. The sound of even-keeled boots walking into his office alerted him to the presence of a familiar face.

“C.K.?”

Coen grinned at the Captain.

“What in bloody hell are you doing out of the hospital this early?” Mountbatten demanded.

“Doctor says he’ll let me out tomorrow,” Coen smirked.

The sergeant moved with ease as though he had not been shot as many times as he had been by Subject Thirty-Nine. He took a seat in front of Mountbatten’s desk.

“Well, I order you to stay a few more days,” Mountbatten demanded.

“Easy Captain, I’ll take my rest.”

“You’re damned right you will. It’s a little too early to be back,” Mountbatten put a pause on his attempt at rapport, “We caught your shooter.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Mountbatten continued, “It’s been quiet since Legrand was arrested. Nansoko has stayed silent about things.”

“What’s Titus’s analysis?”

“Even he doesn’t know what that means.”

Coen nodded.

“Glad to see you’re still moving,” Mountbatten chuckled, “Did anyone visit you? I would have but…”

“It’s okay,” Coen shrugged, then he exhaled and stood up and began to leave, “Getting back to work will take my mind off some things.”

Mountbatten watched as the sergeant left.



7 PM

5th Avenue Express Station

The maglev lines of the afternoon schedule churned in and out of the station. The LR line pulled into the station and would resume a return to Lumaire Central Station. It seemed the bowels of the maglev cabins had flushed out onto the concourse and platforms as sliding doors opened. Throngs of passengers disembarked and flooded the station as they came home from work.

Earlier that day, an individual had bypassed the security system and carried a hostage with him. The man muffled his hostage’s screams with a thick wad of cloth, and when that did not deter the hostage from muffled screams, he put him to sleep with a soporific solution similar to a previous encounter.
The individual then locked the hostage down within a storage compartment located in the center of one of the cabins. He also latched a timed high-intensity explosive device onto the floor of the compartment. The time readout displayed “18:00:00.”

Then he exited the maglev train dressed like one of the metro transit employees. The cameras had been fed a looping video.

The maglev train began its run back to Lumaire Central Station.



7 PM

South East Side

Rain poured over Lumaire. The blare of sirens echoed in the distance shrouded by the black static sky over the cyan city lights. Captain Niles Mountbatten sat inside of a food tent where a one-eyed synth vendor cooked noodles in a giant pot. The synth had a flesh arm and a nakedly wired one. Other patrons sat on stools surrounding the stove.

Mountbatten tapped the counter.

“Yes?” the vendor asked.

“Can I get-“

“-two bowls.” Alexandra Paris finished his sentence as she slipped in through the tent’s opening.

“Lieutenant Paris,” the captain turned around.

She took a seat, “What a surprise captain, I didn’t peg you as the type for street food.”

“Actually, it was a recommendation from one of the officers in the break room.”

“Officers in the break room?”

“Yes, I set them straight rather quickly with beat duty.”

“Quite the disciplinarian, so, what’s the special occasion?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

The reporter continued, “…nanite clean up at the Bantamsklip Nuclear Center in South Africa continues slowly after its main reactor went critical days ago…”

The vendor served them their bowls. Alexandra cracked a pair of chopsticks and set about hers as Mountbatten stared at his own.

“It’s not often that my CO invites me for street soba.”

The android hesitated, “Yes, well…”

Alexandra tapped the counter and raised two fingers, “Two shot glasses.”

The chef nodded.

“I don’t drink, lieutenant.”

“They were for me. Soba tastes better with beer.”

The captain looked at his bowl and cracked a pair of chopsticks with some reservation.

“What did you want to talk about? Actually, let’s enjoy the food before we talk business. I want to be able to vomit in case something shocking happens.”

After Alexandra had gone through half of her bowl and Mountbatten through none of his, they spoke.

“I just wanted to enjoy the company of my XO is all,” Mountbatten said.

Alexandra rolled her eyes, “If I had a nickel…but seriously captain…we’re not at HQ anymore…”

“Lieutenant I’m not a people person and I’m sure my appearance has already made that point for me….” Mountbatten paused.

The vendor delivered two shot glasses.

“The officers on break didn’t lie to you,” Alexandra downed one glass, “Sorry to interrupt, you were saying?”

“Yes well, we both know how relatively new I am to this position,” Mountbatten paused, “May I ask how does it feel to be the XO to the first android Captain of the MCU?”

“The pay could be better…” Alexandra smiled.

Mountbatten imitated a chuckle and then fell quiet.

After a while, the bot began, “I’m not sure if Chief Kyung expects me to be the bastion against the rising tide of anti-bot extremism.”

“Better timing wasn’t possible without precision instruments.”

“That is, what we might call, irony. Or perhaps better fit, tragedy.”

Alexandra raised the other shot glass, “That’s what this is for.”

“Quite. Truth be told, I’m beginning to think that ‘Captain’ is merely a title.”

“But I’m a lieutenant, doesn’t that mean something?”

“Perhaps not.”

“Well, fuck me…”

“I would but I’m waiting on a certain upgrade.”

“Aren’t you cheeky.”

“It comes with the accent lieutenant, but, as I have said, I feel ill-equipped to handle this.”

“Look, I’ve been comfortable doing most of the talking, at least to our subordinates, but you’re still our leader. It doesn’t really matter whether you’re an android or a human, at the end of the day, you’re still LSP, and that’s all there is to it.”

Mountbatten looked at Alexandra for a long time, “Thank you lieutenant.”

“No, thank you captain for dinner. You’re paying, right?”

Mountbatten turned to see the vendor waiting for him.



Alexandra and Mountbatten exited the food tent. In the night, a visual array of orange, yellow, and pink lights formed from the various holo-displays and LED screens blinking in the night as a soft drizzle poured in Lumaire. The sky was the color of a television screen, static gray. The night time throng pushed along on the sidewalks while spinners and VTOLs whirred by above them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Captain,” the lieutenant waved.

Mountbatten watched as Alexandra slipped into her car parked on the curb. Her tail lights left streaks of orange in the rain. He pulled his overcoat in tighter, but a ping alerted him.

“Miss St. Cloud?”

“Captain you need to see this,” she said.

His DNI relayed the footage which displayed the LR Line of the Lumaire metropolitan transit system exploding.

“Get me anyone who is available this instant Miss St. Cloud. Let them know whoever is closest should make for the Lumaire Central Station.”

“Chief already sent in several blues to help secure an orderly evacuation. Fire squads, the trauma unit, and other emergency medical teams are on the way.”

“Keep me updated, I’m heading back to HQ.”

“Yes sir, Tia out.”

Mountbatten rang up Alexandra and informed her of the situation.




As of 9:35 PM August 11th, 2075:

LR Line Bomb

Information –

A bomb detonated on the LR Line, information is still coming in. We need as many officers on hand to facilitate evacuation and help survivors. It’s a fucking mess down there…

- Tia Marie St. Cloud

Contact

Target – Tycho Ren

Information –

For a long time, maybe the span of three months, we’ve had an undercover agent embedded with the Jade Tigers triad.

The Jade Tigers are just one among the many prominent triad organizations operating in Lumaire. Their main is in Xin Aomen, but they’ve got branches throughout the world. They deal in many illegal activities from arms trafficking to prostitution to drugs. Sometimes, they work with the other triads, which turns things very ugly, sometimes.

Our man on the inside is a Tycho Ren, who goes by the alias of Serpent. His familiarity with the Tigers and his middle of the road appearance allowed him to blend in. Problem is he’s gone dark. No status reports in over a month. Undercovers are very unique people because of their situation. The chief fears that he might have embraced the criminal lifestyle since it leads to sex, money, and cars as opposed to being, well, an upright officer.

Now, Tycho’s a bit of a hot-shot, but this isn’t his first rodeo. He also underwent a rigorous series of psych evals and investigations before he started. He’s shown that he’s a stable, self-aware guy, who’s not out of his depth, yet.

It’s possible that his situation has turned very delicate right now, which is why he can’t have a direct contact with us. So that means we need to come to him.

The Jade Tigers operate near the port district, where they have a few warehouses. That’s where you’ll most likely find Tycho.

Recommended Agents – 1.

- Tia Marie St. Cloud


Dynamic Duo

Target – Benny and Cha Cha Dominguez

Information –

Benny and Cha Cha Dominguez are wanted for murder. The cameras pretty much caught all the action in the south-east side when they gunned down a man named Danny Leitch. They didn’t even bother hiding it, but they quickly figured out the deep shit they were in. They head a small gang in the 8th’s southerly neighborhoods called the Rabbits. They’ve been at this since they were in their teens. Their gang runs a protection racketeer on the residents living in that area.

We put up a warrant for their arrest and a small private recovery firm, aka bounty hunters, called Pfeiffer’s Seven managed to arrest the two. Unfortunately, the Dominguez siblings didn’t remain in their custody for long. While the bounty hunters were waiting for an LSP extraction veet to take Benny and Cha Cha in for processing, the Rabbits struck and killed several of the recovery agents. Benny and Cha Cha escaped and went into hiding.

So now they’re wanted for more than just one count of murder.

You’ll know it’s them when you see the colorful attire and hair, that’s just how they roll. Bring in Benny and Cha Cha alive.

Recommended Agents – 1.

- Tia Marie St. Cloud