Take the Low Road (372 hits)
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Submitted by Magicaddict (View user info) at 2005-07-24 20:16:05 EDT
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Eden Gardens Apartments, Floor 7
Habitation Zone 3, Atlanta Conurbation
May 29th, 2067
10:56 am
Tim Dyson looked out of the window of his apartment over the finely manicured communal garden, paying considerably less attention to it then he was to his ghostly reflection in the glass. His appearance was rather more important right now than the state of a patch of ground he barely ever looked at, and either way, his face was the more attractive of the two sights on offer.
He always liked to give the right impression when meeting people for the first time - it could create all kinds of advantages if you were in control of the situation. This particular meeting would be like any other new hook-up, so it was a reassuringly expensive-looking Armanté suit underneath his leather greatcoat, as opposed to his more normal attire of close fitting shirt and leather trousers. One final check in the makeshift mirror which, for no particular reason, he had chosen over the real one in the same room confirmed his hair to be in immaculate condition, hiding the main tools of his trade behind his ears, themselves holding more interesting novelties. The pair of black mirror-finish shades he never took off completed the cover up, so even on fairly close inspection by your average Joe walking down the street, it was impossible to notice the several hundred thousand credits worth of cybernetic implants that made both his job a viability and his head typically the most valuable item in whatever location he was in at the time. Other runners took a more simple (and hey, more cheap) attitude to life - shoot straight, punch hard, and everything would be okay - and as far as he was concerned, they were welcome to it. After all, why stay grounded and brawl when you can get wired and drop bombs from on high?
Satisfied with the effect, and concealing a pair of immaculately serviced flechette pistols in their tailored positions in the greatcoat, he left the apartment and descended the stairs to the lobby, shunning the attentions of the polite yet exceptionally slow elevator. Nodding to the security guard on his way out of the building, he took his customary glance around to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary in the area, flicking his vision between normal and thermographic as much out of habit as anything else. Perfectly normal as usual, but still, he thought as he fired up his Westwind - sleeker than any Ferrari and considerably quicker off the mark - it was best to always make certain. He checked his watch and smiled - twenty-five minutes to make a forty-minute journey. Fashionable lateness beckoned as he pulled out of the drive and headed for downtown.
As he negotiated Atlanta's late-morning traffic, he resisted the urge to hook himself up to the onboard computer and check the online news services, instead concentrating on who he was due to meet. He knew Scarlet would be there - five foot nine of abject sex appeal in a red dress, with a body that could melt steel at fifty yards and, surprisingly, the ability to fire all kinds of heavy assault weaponry as well as any ex-military he had ever worked with. The contact was new to him, though vaguely known to her as someone worth working for. The third member of the team was unknown to both of them and assumed to be one of the contact's regulars. The thought crossed his mind that he should have done some more research on his new colleagues, and was just as quickly dismissed as he finally got a stretch of open road and gunned the engine like it deserved it.
***
423rd Street
Habitation/Border District 16
11:41am
The meeting was in one of the rather less impressive areas of town - the kind of place that security wagons patrolled maybe once every two hours or so, and not somewhere in which he would normally like to be seen. Unfortunately, when business called, it rarely did so from salubrious locations or smart receptionists. Given the extreme wealth and secretive nature of the people he dealt with - and not forgetting the crass illegality of what he did - sometimes working for the high rollers necessitated taking the low road.
He parked the Westwind in a spot that just dared anyone to try stealing it, checked his hair and shades for one final time in the rear-view, and stepped out, activating the safety features as the door swung quietly shut. The meeting point was a couple of hundred metres away, but he didn't want to risk being seen by the contact before he was good and ready, so he proceeded on foot, his expensive shoes clicking on the sidewalk.
Rounding a slight bend in the road, he came in sight of his target - a railway bridge that was both low and badly lit enough that it practically had a sign outside it saying "Business in progress - find another underpass." Flicking through his vision modes to thermographic again and zooming in slightly showed up the individuals under it in sharp enough definition to distinguish forms - four people describing a vague triangle. At one corner was a woman with long hair - that would be Scarlet. At another, a rather larger man looking surprisingly like him, and at the other, two men that were almost comical in their size difference. One was short and slight, the other built like a small tank - the contact and his bodyguard.
His curiosity satisfied, he allowed himself to come into full view round the bend, letting his vision slowly return to normal as he approached the bridge. No one was saying anything - they were plainly waiting for him to arrive before getting started.
Nice to be wanted, he thought.
"What kept you?"
Scarlet was her usual reserved self, leaning nonchalantly against the wall of the bridge, red dress setting off deep copper hair and boots, and exposing just the right amount of skin to drive aforementioned average Joe crazy. Fuck, she was hot, but - unfortunately - this was no time to be enjoying the scenery.
"Traffic," he replied without a hint of sincerity. She knew his personal preference for freeform punctuality and hated it - which was one of the reasons he did it.
"Whatever," sneered the contact, a scrawny looking corporate drone in his early forties wearing a suit slightly too large for him. "You were given a time and you were late. You want to work with me? Next time be-"
"Shut up," came Dyson's interruption, snapping his head round from Scarlet to the contact. "You want to work with the best, you adhere to their schedules, and between you and me," he leaned in slightly, casting a disdainful glance at the surroundings, "the best clearly isn't you."
Scarlet snorted and rolled her eyes. The contact's bodyguard paid slightly more attention to him, gently flexing muscles that simply couldn't be natural. His entire body was a mass of fibrous power that only came from extensive surgical upgrades and bone lacing. He could probably punch through a brick wall with only minimal damage to the first few layers of his skin, and while he looked like he wanted to demonstrate such a talent on Dyson's head, the contact himself had flinched slightly at his words and immediately raised a hand to call his hulk off. The bodyguard relaxed, though the gaze of intention never left its target.
Throughout the exchange, the other man at the meeting had remained silent, and almost annoyingly, Dyson thought, continued to do so now.
"Now we have that out of the way, maybe can get started." He flashed his most winning smile for a brief moment - he was unimpressed with the show of force and wanted the contact to know it. The drone looked slightly hurt for a moment, then snapped out of it and started again in the same sneering tone.
"Before we do, I'd like you both to meet Ro." He indicated the quite man in the corner, who moved for the first time, looking Scarlet up and down and glancing briefly in Dyson's direction. "He will be joining you on the operation."
"Really?" enquired Dyson with mock interest. "I thought he was the hatstand."
The man referred to as Ro glanced a little more closely at him, as expressionless as Dyson on a good day. He returned the look just as impassively, taking the time to appraise the new member of the team. He was slightly shorter and less pale than Dyson, but with an impressively naturally muscled physique that spoke of long periods of meditation and practice in the martial arts, even though it was mostly hidden by a similar black leather greatcoat to his own. He'd worked with physical adepts before, but never one who styled themselves in this manner. Ro looked very much like a better-developed version of him, with the slight exceptions of being perfectly bald, and having two wires coming out of his shades, disappearing into the coat (to keep their edge, adepts shunned all cyberware - the shades, whatever their features, were being powered from a pack in his coat somewhere). They stood staring at each other for a moment. Scarlet looked from one to the other, rolled her eyes again and sighed.
"Aaanyway...getting back to the task in hand," piped up the contact, fast realising that he was losing control of the situation and was now resigned to trying to get words in edgeways past the respective egos in front of him, "we'd like you to go after some information for us."
The three of them seemed to stop their showboating almost simultaneously with the mention of business, and all eyes turned to the contact. He looked quite pleased.
"In the dock sprawl there is a warehouse being rented for office space by a fledgling security company called Zenesec."
It was typical for small or new companies to use converted single storey warehouses as offices rather than rent space in the central business district. It may be rather less secure, but they were less than a fraction of cost to maintain. Great, he thought - more opportunities to get his hands dirty.
"Who's the parent corp?" asked Scarlet.
"Globetech, by tenuous link."
Fronting. Where better to hide mid-level research that takes up too much space in the corporate mainframe than at a barely related company in a quiet area in the docks? People would break in and steal material possessions on a regular basis, but no one would bother looking through the computer systems. Unless they knew what to look for.
"They are using the anonymity to secure store some of Globetech's recent biotech research - nothing too huge, but a substantial amount. My associates would like to buy a copy off you."
Dyson raised his eyebrow slightly.
"Do you have anything remotely more substantial than that? 'Some recent biotech research?' I don't pan for gold."
"You won't be panning for anything," replied the contact derisively. "The computer system is off-net, so we'll need insertion. You'll provide overwatch for these two." He indicated Scarlet and Ro, and chucked a palmtop in Dyson's direction. He caught it and immediately threw it to Scarlet, looking to catch her off balance. She didn't move, save for her right arm that reached out and snatched the small computer from the air. Fuck, why did everything that girl do have to be so damned hot?
The contact looked slightly surprised at the computer juggling, then shrugged slightly and carried on in his annoying sneer.
"Use that to copy all of this year's files. There's plenty of space. You'll need to hack the security systems and control the cameras to leave no trace of yourselves - security should be minimal and there should be no other deckers present to get in your way."
All sounds fairly straightforward, thought Dyson, glancing over at Scarlet and managing not to take in her exposed left thigh. She looked disdainfully in his direction, but motioned a small nod through it. The address of the company was already in there, as well as the contact's comcall number, and she could handle the controls with no trouble. The cameras and associated security systems would be his job. Ro would be there as fire support and cover when Scarlet was doing her thing with the palmtop. Only one thing really remained.
"How much?"
The contact smiled. "Fifteen thousand each now, twenty-five more each upon successful delivery. Use your own kit, and leave no witnesses."
"Thirty, not twenty." He was surprised to hear Ro speak. Not that the deep voice emanating from that kind of body was unusual, but having assumed the adept was on the contact's payroll, he thought he'd already know the score. Evidently not.
The bodyguard's attention switched to him, leaving Dyson unstared at for the first time since he showed up. The contact looked undecided, and slightly ill, but eventually nodded.
"Thirty-five. Fifteen if a single byte is missing." He had to make some kind of restriction on such a quick concession, and fifteen itself was reasonable for this kind of job.
"Deal," said Ro, echoed after a brief pause by Scarlet. She turned to Dyson.
"Your call, TJ."
Far be it from me, he thought.
"Right. Timescale?"
"Thirty-six hours."
"Good. Ro - contact details?"
The big man handed him a digicard. He turned to the contact.
"Money?"
The drone produced three credsticks from his poorly fitting jacket and handed them over. A brief check confirmed the fifteen thousand agreed. Dyson addressed Scarlet and Ro.
"I'll be in touch later today," and turning back to the contact, "Sorry, are you still here?"
***
Pier 19
Dock Zone 12
11:16 pm
Dyson sat impassively on the back of Scarlet's Yamaha Rapier - as red as everything else she seemed to associate herself with - looking about him with renewed disgust at the sheer filthiness of the dockland sprawl. The fifty thousand he was picking up for this job would barely cover his dry cleaning back in civilisation. Good PR, he kept telling himself - one night's slumming to get in the contact's good books. It wasn't working particularly well.
Earlier on, back at the apartment, he had changed out of the suit into more normal clothes, rechecked that the fletchers were fully loaded, and carried out a short investigation of Zenesec's computer system from the comfort of his own office. It had been almost comically easy to turn over, allowing him to view the details on both the three cameras outside the building and the four inside, and had shown him the sealed off portion of the system that no hacking would ever get him into - no connection, no sneak.
Currently he was waiting for Scarlet and Ro to finish checking round the area for anyone watching, having already found where he was going to spend his night. The warehouse opposite was deserted, but contained what obviously used to be a squat that had been unoccupied for some time. Crucially, however, there was a large jumble of cables where the phone lines had been tapped, providing a jackpoint that was decidedly hard to trace by the authorities. He never felt bad about not being the one who went in guns blazing - after all, what he did from the warehouse across the way would dictate whether or not those who did would get out alive. Brawling on the ground and bombing from the air again - why grudge them fucking a building when he got to butt-rape the company?
Despite its outright posing factor, he tended not to bring his Westwind on missions - normally it was more sensible to be on something that could fit down narrow gaps. Moreover, rather than having his own bike, he preferred to hitch on Scarlet's - being a car man at heart and not the greatest rider in the world, he was more of a liability on a motorcycle than not - best let someone good on them drive you around.
Ro appeared from one of the alleyways off to the east corner of the Zenesec building, flicking something down in front of his face.
"All clear," came through Dyson's headware radio. With a subdermal mic directly attached to his voice box, he needed only to breathe "acknowledged" in reply before getting off the Rapier, leaving it standing next to Ro's Ducati, and heading for the deserted warehouse looking for all the world as if he owned the entire dock.
Settling down in the corner next to the makeshift jackpoint and unpacking his deck, he scanned round the inside of the derelict once again, flicking through both his low-lights and thermographs for definition. Satisfied that nothing larger than a rat was stirring, he took two cables from his coat pocket and connected the deck to the jackpoint with one. He turned it on, and plugged one of the of the ends of the other cable into it, before reaching behind his left ear and plugging the other end into a socket wired directly to his brain.
Think of the best orgasm you've ever had. Now increase its intensity by a magnitude and focus it on your head. In ten years of decking, jacking in had never lost a hint of its explosive rush to Dyson, and it never would.
His mind was instantly expanded through the deck into the infinite release of space that was the sensorial representation of the Matrix - that which the internet had become with the advent of the direct interface connection that he was currently employing. With it, he could take his icon anywhere, do anything, BE anything, by simply willing it to be so. He could access any of a billion computer systems and see their inner workings. He could tap into any of a trillion data streams and watch every digital commodity in existence in transfer. He could, and did, do these things - when he had the time. For now, however, he was busy. He buffered a single word message that would be sent through his radio to Scarlet and Ro a nanosecond after it's composition.
ONLINE
Checking his bearings, he found the Matrix representation of the Zenesec computer system fairly close by (the Matrix had a geography at least partially comparable with the real world - locations were on the x and y axes, levels of security on the z) and just above him, in the shape of a small castle. Representations of computer systems in the Matrix could be any shape whatsoever, and while this wasn't exactly a custom system, it was plainly the creation of a security chief that took pride in his work, and wanted others to as well.
Playing along as he had done earlier, he approached the main entrance of the castle, and attempted to interface with it, using the deception programs on his deck to appear as the owner of the company, no less. After a little whirring and clicking, the drawbridge opened and the computer announced "Welcome, Mr. Serringer," in a suitably androgynous voice.
Upon passing through the gatehouse, however, all pretences of old-world charm were dropped in favour of a modern utilitarian interface. Three doors labelled ARCHIVES, SECURITY and CUSTOMERS presented themselves to him, their signs glowing slightly. Selecting SECURITY, he was - with a slight pause while the system again failed utterly to see through his disguise - taken through the door and found himself in the room he had got as far as earlier, with the camera control panel and the existing yet inaccessible door to the off-net system. That not interesting him, he turned his attention to the control panel. Here were the live feeds from all seven cameras, and controls for the five maglocked doors the building contained - all wonderfully playable with for someone with his clearance.
STANDBY
He sent the heads up to Ro and Scarlet, and proceeded to lock the three exterior cameras into a perpetual loop that repeatedly fed the last ten minutes of entirely mundane footage through to the archives as real-time video. The system didn't even register an interruption.
He let himself become aware of a real world for a moment, and scanned the immediate area with his thermographs for anything different. Other than the rats having moved slightly, all was well in snail-land. He dived back into the Matrix.
As he did, he thought he caught sight of something glinting in a corner, but as soon as it was there, it was gone again. He made a brief sweep for anything unusual in the control room, coming up empty. Security programs getting the wrong end of the stick he thought, allowing his icon to shrug, and sent out the signal to his colleagues.
GO
Through the unedited video feed that he alone was now privy to, he was able to watch Ro walk towards the building, Scarlet joining him on his right hand side. When they were no more than three metres from the front door, he locked the interior cameras into the same perpetual loop as the exterior ones, and manipulated the maglock control on the door.
ALLOW ME
The door swung open without so much as a by your leave from the security guard on the desk in the small lobby, who moments before had been wondering why the words KNOCK KNOCK had appeared on his computer screen. He was even more surprised when through the door walked a large muscular man and a stunningly attractive woman who hadn't appeared to be on the exterior cameras, and an all-in-all pretty rough few seconds for him culminated with their both pulling heavy pistols and capping him in the head, entry wounds side and about a centimetre apart.
Scarlet walked round to the screens, seeing Dyson's message just as the front door swung shut.
COCKSUCKER
Even through the message buffer, her voice was dripping with contempt as she sent him her personal take on the situation. Allowing himself a virtual wry smile, he opened a door to the left of the security desk.
BLOW ME
Ro took point, Scarlet acting with unusual deference in allowing him to do so, and they proceeded out of the lobby. Dyson switched video feeds and picked them up in the main corridor.
Something poked him in the back. "What're you?" squeaked a high-pitched voice.
Leaving the cameras for a moment, he turned to find a piece of scanner ICE pointing at him and being generally interrogative. Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics were the equivalents of virus checkers in this very hands-on virtual world, and this one was trying to find out exactly what this icon that claimed to be Dick Serringer actually was. He waved a virtual hand over it and in his most persuasive tone told it "This is not the icon you are looking for," and it proceeded to start revolving slowly in the middle of the room, occasionally squeaking "Where are you?" in a slightly annoying tone. Better to evade than attack right now, he thought, but as he did, he caught the same faint twinkle in the corner of his vision that he had before. He swept again, this time for any ICE and any other deckers, once again coming up empty. His suspicion didn't dwindle this time though, and sifting through the available programs on his deck he fired up a lock-on plug-in that would help him "catch" anything hanging around him next time. With that in place, he turned his attention back to the corridor in the real world.
Given that only milliseconds had passed in real time since he had been poked, he was able to pick them up precisely where he expected them to be, just entering the corridor. Pulling up a virtual map of the building and matching it to the location, he directed them towards the off-line system room.
LEFT
A telephone icon started to flash in the bottom right hand corner of Dyson's field of vision. Looking at the information associated with it, he could tell it was coming from inside the building and was heading to an outside number. Instantly, he re-routed it to himself and picked up.
"Mr Yama?"
An old man's voice, sounding more than a little agitated. He paused. Either hang up or talk to whoever this idiot was, still in the building gone eleven at night. No option really. He had his virtual voice down-mixed into something the phone line could deal with and responded.
"Yes?"
"There are people inside! They've shot the guard, and they're heading for the storage facility! What do I do?"
What indeed, he wondered.
"The police have been notified. Where in the building are you?"
"In the sleeping quarters - I've got a gun. I can defend myself."
STOP
"I'm coming to you myself. Stay there."
He hung up, and with a moment's hesitation, directed traffic inside the building.
SCARLET LEFT DATA ROOM
RO RIGHT SINGLE TARGET
Simultaneously, doors on the left and right of the corridor swung open. Ro disappeared through the one into what appeared to be a small bedsit from which the sounds of muted gunfire were subsequently heard. He re-appeared, giving a thumbs-up to the camera just as Scarlet left the corridor for the off-line room. Switching video feeds again showed her moving quickly across the room and hooking the palmtop up to the computer. The data would take about a minute to download, giving Dyson time to prepare his parting gift to the system. Ro took up a defensive position in the room's doorway, as if daring anyone to try to get in.
He had done a semi-aware check of his real world surroundings again, had come back up was quietly compiling the code for his exit when his lock-on alarm went schizophrenic.
Immediately, he sent out a full strength, full depth search for anything out of the ordinary whatsoever. Damn...that search was so in depth it took literally seconds...but it did its job, the bright flash sweeping the room bringing a virtually invisible crystal octahedron into sharp relief. In the time it took Dyson to send a wry smile and sarcastic formal greeting burst in its direction, it had taken off like it owed him money in the general direction of the exit. Cursing the fact he couldn't leave the control panel, he readied his sign-off code for the video feeds, and buffered through to the real world.
RUN
Scarlet and Ro got the message at the same time as the download finished, and shared a very brief glance of dread with each other before jacking the palmtop out of the computer and charging headlong for the main door. Dyson watched them go, opening the door as they sprinted through and activating the maglock defence as it shut, dumped his sign-off into the lobby and three exterior cameras, and shot off in pursuit of the octahedron - out through the SECURITY door, and into the main gatehouse of the virtual castle.
He found the octahedron - another decker, he was sure - slowly spinning in the centre of the gatehouse, along with an angry looking purple mass that had the look of custom ICE about it. This decker obviously wanted a fight, and he wanted to use a tag-team partner.
So they must be stalling in the real world.
Allowing his icon to become a disembodied hand flipping his fellow uninvited guests off, he pulled a graceful logoff manoeuvre and vanished from the system even as the octahedron poked the purple mass in his direction.
The real word came flooding back like a bad come down. Not allowing himself the moment's rest he normally took, he jacked the deck out of the wall and took off towards the door to the sound of footsteps pounding towards it.
"Company. Aim for the bikes."
Scarlet and Ro just about managed to change direction in time to avoid the door as it slammed open and Dyson charged through. A split second later, headlights erupted from two alleyways up and two distinct engine notes filled the air. Scarlet just about got her bike started as Dyson hopped on board and the first of the other team powered out of the alleyway - large and bulky, probably the bodyguard. Ro was close behind, and got his going as Scarlet took off in pursuit of the first bike, and the second one issued from the same alley - riding paired, two fairly small people. The decker and their minder.
"Nice heads up, jackass. How about a little warning next time?" screamed Scarlet as Dyson stood up in the pinion seat and drew his fletchers. Flicking to his low-lights for better definition, he let a couple of shots off at the paired riders, and was quite surprised to see the driver grab their shoulder and come crashing off the bike. This was coupled with the equally satisfying sight of Ro's bullets embedding themselves in the back of the solo rider, sending him crashing as well. Scarlet put her bike into a slide dismount as Ro sped past intent on the lead rider and the pair picked themselves up. Dyson was ever so slightly surprised to see a young Japanese woman, and a boy of no more than fourteen. They, however, wasted no time - the woman taking up a defensive position in front of the boy, shouting something in Japanese. While Scarlet's grasp of the language was fairly good, and she was able to respond in kind, all Dyson was able to make out of the response was "half-caste crippled bitch". He supposed that was enough.
The woman's face tightened into a snarl as shots from Ro's pistol rang out, signalling the end of the bodyguard. Drawing a beautiful looking katana with lightning speed, she leapt at Scarlet, obviously figuring her to be more of a threat.
Sometimes people make heinous errors of judgement.
She was probably right that out of him and Scarlet and all things considered, she was the most dangerous by far. However, in this situation, the one that wasn't being leapt at become the most dangerous by default. The Japanese had just reached Scarlet when her face exploded in a mass of metal flechettes - messy, but terribly effective on unarmored targets.
Scarlet turned to him, her face dripping with what used to be that of the Japanese, and made a gesture that simply screamed "Look...at my dress." Dyson, however, was more interested in the one remaining member of their opposition - the decker who had managed to evade him for quite literally minutes earlier in the evening, now transfixed like a rabbit in the headlights in front of the two of them. He was a small thing, poorly dressed and undernourished, but the jackpoint in his temple bore no scarring, suggesting he'd been doing this for several years already.
A pity - he could have made a good protégé, though Dyson, as he and Scarlet raised their pistols and without so much as a twitch of resistance from their target, blew his head clear off his shoulders.
"This will take...FOREVER...to get out," lamented Scarlet, as Ro walked over after having disarmed his bulky target and raided him for anything worthwhile. She did the same for the Japanese while Dyson walked over to the now headless youth. Pausing for a moment to reflect on the notion of sending a boy to do a man's job, he bent down and picked up his victim's blood-spattered deck, cables, and associated datacubes. Without another word, the three of them mounted up and disappeared into the anonymity of the night.
At 11:53 pm, approximately seven minutes after Dyson, Scarlet and Ro had left the scene, the exterior cameras of Zenesec Plc recorded approximately five thousand garden gnomes of varying shapes and sizes taking up position outside the front door, while what appeared to be a giant teddy bear manifested itself in the lobby.
User Reviews
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-02-17 18:49:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
really good.
Submitted by Hirilnara (user info) at 2005-10-27 08:16:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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