Jacked, chapter 2. (Patreon)

So here we are... the continuance of a five year old tale that was dropped due to lack of interest. Revived again due to interest! For the record, I know the first chapter is on here somewhere, and I'll be looking for it in order to tag it. However, it will be a bit of a slog for me, so please be kind if it doesn't appear right away. Without further ado, please enjoy:

Waking was sudden, as always. One moment, I was sleeping peacefully, without dreams. The next, I was awake with a gentle chime to let me know it was morning.

There were no shakes. Sometimes upon waking up, I had a tremor in my left hand. This morning I did not. The tremor was rare. I had concerns that it too would get less so as time wore on.

What would be, would be. No one was forever.

I dressed quickly.

My living room was empty, my holo-vid off. The couch bore the creases of my bodyguard, but of the man himself there was no sign.

Something told me this was no mere happenstance. It was not time for my waking, and my guard, no slouch in combat himself, was missing with no sign of struggle. There was no sound that stood out, no sight that marred my pristine home... yet there was violence afoot nonetheless. I could feel its very presence in the steel of my bones.

I would search for it, as I always had. I pressed the switch contained within my mind. Called a panic button, for me, the software was more a way to inform such interested parties as existed about my desire to embrace whatever violence had found me. Those on the other end of the switch often filmed the ensuing happening, and made both themselves and myself sums of money. I was not so interested in such, yet the notoriety had a way of dampening the ardor of the most fanatical of fools set to challenge me.

This night, however, there was no engagement. The switch was thrown, yet there was no response. I was alone.

This pleased me more than I would ever admit to anyone, even should some think to ask.

The kitchen was likewise empty, and dark. The darkness prompted my eyes to change vision modes, and did little else. There was no evidence of what my senses told me existed; not a single item was out of place, and no heat trails existed. Not so much as a drop of oil or grease lay upon the floor. Had I been hacked at last? Were my senses betraying me, and all not as it seemed?

If so, I could only act as I knew, and let my anti-hacking software do as it will. Even the best of those who would do such things could not suppress all my defenses, not for long. Even so, there was no sign of such an attack, unless the signs of the attack itself had been suppressed....

I could lead myself in circles with such thoughts.

The hall lay beyond, and the foyer at its near end. The door was closed and locked, or appeared so. Something told me it was not so; I was certain the door had been opened after I entered, and recently.

I threw all the locks, and then threw open the door.

The light forced my eyes to compensate again, a single nano-second of delay seeming to leave me vulnerable for far too long. I denied my instincts and stood framed in the doorway, taking in the scene before me.

My bodyguard, a true hero of the arena in his own right, lay in pieces before me upon the filthy street. There were but few signs of any combat; some cratering of the street and one hole in the house across from mine, undoubtedly from my bodyguard's own bolt cannon.

How I would have slumbered blissfully past of that weapon firing made all clear; either some hacking had indeed occurred. I seemed to be clean of such for now; I likely had been since I woke. It might even be why I had awoken.

These pieces... someone had taken a few, which was to be expected of course, as the dead would no longer have need of them. yet, there one was, a filtration system, just beyond the pool of light beyond my front door.

The provocation was clear. Yet, why lure me away from my house? What was the intention? Perhaps they wished to lure me away from any other weapons, traps, or allies I might have waiting.

The joke was on them, then. I had no need of such things.

I strode forward, to the alley; it was darkened, the lights destroyed. The only place in this area to be so, and thus the only place where dirty business could be carried out. That was unusual; there might be security forces already on their way.

If I were a patient man, I would simply need to wait for them.

I turned into the alley and strode down it, kicking those parts of my man out of my way. It was insulting to think I would stop to pick them up, that I needed such crass sources of income.

Past a point, my senses expanded, and that I did not notice the lack before proved how good the support was for the criminals who had committed this crime. I could now sense two presences, both see and hear them, the hulking shapes emitting the customary low whine of servo motors and slight static proving their own senses were also at work.

I should allow them some semblance of respect, even if thus far they have shown none themselves: "Who are you? Name yourselves."

The one nearest me spoke in response. "Our names are nothing to you."

"I would know the names of those I am shortly to bury."

The second one then spoke, even as the first one grinned, showing whitened teeth of ivory in the dark: "Such arrogance,"

The grinning one spoke in response to the insult. "No, it is not arrogance. All he has, he has earned."

Ah, so they did not seek my friends or possessions, they sought my very reputation. It was true that bringing me down would gain anyone who managed the feat a status few could enjoy.

Yet they were very mistaken if they thought such an easy feat. "You think you are the first to have tried this? There are graveyards entire dedicated to those who think as you do."

"Nonetheless, we will be the last." The first said, firmly, as if conjuring the words would make it so.

"Do your best," I cheered him, waiting for his move - while keeping my eye on the other, a far less hulking opponent than either of us who showed no sign of closing the range.

That did not make them less dangerous of course, but it seemed as if the challenges tonight would be one on one. Which suited me just fine.

The figure rushed me, and I moved in response. A low whistle, just the barest of whispers, tickled my ears as a slight breeze of displaced air caressed my face. The barest of tells really, yet all I needed. The man was a fool, aiming directly for my throat without a feint.

Even with the lack of light the mono-filament blade was easy to spot, and the attack was an easy one to dodge. The three follow ups were as well, and my move of closing the distance did not seem to be an expected one.

Which made this man an amateur, at best. How had he survived this long? He even looked the part' a hulking figure, all solid plates and fake muscle, layered on top of each other as if the quantity meant something. His broad face, stretched over an even broader skull, was leering, his tongue out and tasting the air. The tongue itself looked to be artificial as well.

His look was that of a fool, and his movement did nothing to dispel the image; he tried to profile to the left rather than simply fall back. Good, yet not good enough. My return attack, a simple punch, connected in his gut. I could feel it breaking something deep within.

Yet the man continued as if nothing were wrong, and no pain had reached him. Perhaps it had not, yet even so that at least I could respect. My own followup did not connect, which spoke to my new opponent's reflexes and technology; he had the best within him, at least three generations more new than my own, the true top of the line.

Such must be the source of his confidence, and yet he smelled of fresh blood, and under that, the familiar smell of old. This man had many victims, and given what I had seen so far, they were the result of murder rather than fair challenge.

I was honored, so far I seemed to be different. He must be testing his new parts, likely stolen from others rather than purchased.

The other made more sense now; a watcher. Perhaps even a ripper, anxious to see the results of their work. Firsthand? They might be the sawbones in the flesh, rather than a simpleton hired for their eyes and recording package. Not the most intelligent decision, yet not my concern for the moment. They had yet to attack, and were therefore not a concern.

A kick, aimed at my opponent's knee, struck home and the limb bent, ever so slightly. The construction of the limb was quite robust, to survive one of my kicks. This man may be a worthy contender; I should act appropriately.

The blades came out again, extending once again toward my face. Even if he managed to blind me, there were far better places to strike. He was rather insistent, as only a ripper acolyte could be - he wanted my body, free of as much damage as possible.

I could use that, of course. If this man would ever come close to touching me at all.

I remained close; the man's speed could be greater than mine, yet it was not so much that he could escape me.

His arm joint was weak. My joint lock and throw removed it neatly, removing those blades as a threat.

At least, that was what I was supposed to think. Another twist, and the shot meant for my back slammed home in his; the limb still being controlled even removed from my opponent's form. I had seen that trick before, and I quickly put my knowledge to use, even as the man tried to bring his center down in order to resist my gentle ministrations.

The next arm he lost, was not designed to be torn from him, I was certain.

Blood, oil, and coolant flowed in equal measure, yet he did not scream. He had turned his nerves off, which was a rookie mistake. Pain was a body's warning, after all.

The damage mitigation systems did their work, and the fluids stopped, just as the man tried to blind me with them; a futile gesture. All the while, the figure further down the alley, stood in silence.

This angered his friend as much as the loss of both arms, it seemed. "What are you doing?!? Do it! Help me!"

The moment I had been waiting for... and yet the figure stayed as still and quiet as a statue.

A click as a system in the man's body activated... I gave him the distance eh desired as electricity crackled. A dangerous system, and one which would hurt my opponent more than it could me, as his structural integrity had been compromised.

My opponent grimaced as the current played across and into him, no doubt a result of the many burned circuits and warnings. A kick, and the remote controlled arm was sent toward his compatriot and with luck, out of blade range.

It would be close enough to force the man to move in case of these two betraying each other. Something for each to think about and distract themselves with.

What? There would be no betrayal, it seemed. My body froze, my joints locked in a way that was not supposed to be possible. The figure still in shadow spoke, for the first time: "Jack successful."

The opponent nearest me, for there were certainly two of them now, rammed me with his head. His hair seemed to be more monofiliment, and scored the armor of my chest, searching for entry as if a colony of live snakes or eels. The expected current followed, yet did little - for now.

My joints came undone, and my priorities had changed. Anyone who could hack my systems and make me immobile needed to die first.

I crossed the space at best speed, and it was clear the second figure was no match for me; he (and it was a he) so slow, he appeared a fly stuck in amber to my eyes.

He huddled deeper into his long lab coat, his visor changing colors from green to red as panic spread its way comically along his hatchet thin face. He also had hair, yet it was not weaponized. He had a gun in hand, of all things, yet he was just as slow employing it as he was to dodge.

Again, however, my joints locked, just as I reached him, my fist mere centimeters from his face. I could see blood spurt from the thin man's nose, a clear sign he had stressed the delicate hacking suite housed within him.

He could not hold me long... yet he did not need to.

A moment of vertigo, of disorientation, as I flew... no, as my head alone flew. The man's friend had caught up to him, and now I could behold my body falling as the effect at last released it. It was no matter; I had not installed any remote features into myself.

I had lost. I had failed. I had died. Even if my brain would be kept alive for some cheap minutes, the outcome was clear.

The man had not caught up to my speed; in my haste, I had dismissed the arm I'd so casually thrown; with a stationary target, there was no way it would miss.

"Hah! Got him."

The fool proved he was a fool, even now.

"That was too close. A pico-second more and I'd have been smeared across a mile of alley." The thin man argued. Then he winced and fell to a knee. "I'm going to feel this come morning."

The broad fool did not seem to care about his comrade - he was staring deeply into my severed neck. "What do you think? Pretty clean, and almost completely level."

The other man took a moment to drag himself over. "Yeah, I can work with it. Did you damage the face?"

The fool peered my way. Then slowly got up, and crossed over, grinning all the while. His one good hand picked me up by my hair. "Still alive, are you? I must say, living up to your reputation... fitting as someone who has all the best. But you should have had more guards, at least."

I could not respond save to glare, as my voicebox was gone.

He shook me. "Not even a glare? Weak."

And the fool proved he was a fool once again. There was no need to give a response to fools.

"Well?" The thin faced man asked impatiently.

"Some damage, but another scar or two won't hurt us. Our champion here wears them as a badge of honor, after all."

I was thrust in the thin faced man's direction, and behind me the fool almost sang: "Can we use the head, you think?"

The man shook his head. "No, we just need the face; I'll recreate the shape of the head. I already have the data for that."

"Right. Come here then, I need another hand for this."

"Only because you were an idiot." The thin faced man answered as they started to close with each other.

At least we agreed on one thing, this thin faced fool and I. Fool number two, I shall dub him.

He grasped my head, peering intently into my eyes. "Still alive, even now? Wow, that life support is top notch."

"We could strip it?" Fool number one offered.

"No, a life support system that good could be traced. Best to leave it alone, we have what we came for."

"Fine." Fool number one answered. Then he leered at me. "This is going to hurt. Hope you feel it all."

The hand squeezed into my neck, and pulled. The pain was exquisite, unlike anything I'd felt before. My eyes dimmed and filmed as I felt my face tear free. Then the pain doubled, and my ears detected when what was left of me hit the pavement with a hollow metallic ring.

"Oops. Got a little brain there, I think. Oh well, no biggie."

"We need to get going, we're short on time if you're to make your first appearance. The cameras won't stay hacked much longer."

"Right, let's go."