2078: Highriders - Chapter 27 (Patreon)

The rhythmic ratcheting of a socket wrench echoed through a small garage, interspersed with distorted guitars and repetitive beats that was coming from a battered personal music player.

The player itself was smaller than a handheld Agent, old, with a few decades of use on it but it was kept close to pristine condition. It sat on a large tool box, the paint of which was flaking off, but was standing tall and belonged to someone who valued function over flash. It was the kind of purposeful neglect which its owner chose to keep as a statement.

It was next to a Thorton Mackinaw and from between its front wheels, protruded a pair of thick legs encased in jeans and muted steel-toed boots.

Eli Howahkan reached out for a smaller socket driver, fitted it to the shock absorber’s lower nut attachment mount and began fastening it.

Working on his ride was the closest thing he had to meditation, an occupation of the mind on a problem that was physical, solvable and the raw sound of which reached his ears like a soothing melody for the soul.

The garage was otherwise filled with his projects at various stages of completion and implementation, all arrayed around two workbenches. Each bench had its own micro lathe, 3D printer and various tools perfectly positioned in their designated positions, which had a drawn outline to mark its proper place within the overall space. Most would look at it and see fastidious order, the mark of someone who had come from some corpo military motor pool. To Eli, it was just his way of bringing some order to a world that resisted the notion seemingly out of principle.

He moved to scratch the persistent itch under his chin, the result of growing a neat beard and skin that seemingly objected to the idea. The cool touch of an interface probe instead of a forefinger belatedly made him realize that his entire left hand was still unfurled in its tool configuration.

An annoyed grunt and the entire tool array of cutters, drivers and micro-welders folded back in on itself, returning into the shape of the precision tool humanity had been born with.

His eyes flashed and the rhythmic chime of a holo intruded on his inner ear.

The avatar of a stylized ‘H’ surrounded by a native tribal headdress flashed in his Kiroshi HUD - Harbor.

He was very tempted to just squash the call. It was mostly an irrational impulse. His last two gigs had paid well enough that he could afford living expenses and rent for two months. It would be the easiest thing in the world to just ignore it and get truly stuck in with all his projects.

Yet because it was so easy, he firmly resisted indulging that urge.

He put the socket down on his chest and accepted the call. “Harbor.”

“Wrench, glad you answered. Got a major gig for you.”

He carefully made sure to keep his face neutral. With Harbor, whenever she used the word ‘major’, it was not done lightly or with hyperbole. It meant somewhere in Seattle, shit had gone down and something was in the works that had the potential to equally fuck shit up.

“Oh? Deets?”

She shook her head. “Not over holo. I’m right outside your door.”

To prove her point, he heard the distinct two note chime coming through his internal Agent. A thought activated the spy cams he had around the garage exterior.

Sure enough, Harbor was standing right in front of the main garage door in the alleyway, pointedly looking up directly into the cam as she pressed the main intercom unit outside.

This was something new, odd and different.

In their working relationship of nearly a decade she had never once personally come to him. Even when something sensitive had to be discussed it was always a summon to her office above The Saturn. For a few long seconds he was silent and simply stared at her holo. A major gig obviously was an understatement then.

He pushed himself out from under the Mackinaw and rose to his modest height of 1.78 meters, stretching out the kinks of a solidly muscled frame that was the best ordinary training could produce with some ripperdoc support. His contoured Zetatech tool arms gleamed a dull matt black in the overhead lights, seemingly unbothered with the expense or pretense of getting RealSkin to cover them.

He grabbed his trusty modded Liberty from the tool rack, checking the safety with a thought through the interface and manually checking, pulling back on the gun slide to physically touch the bullet that was partially chambered.

Satisfied he let go and holstered it around his hips.

The lights around the garage door turned green at his approach, unlocking and a quick pull, noisily unveiled his fixer standing patiently in the alleyway with a bored look on her face.

Eli could tell instantly that something wasn’t necessarily wrong, but she was affecting an expression that practically screamed some deep clandestine shit was afoot.

“Hey, Wrench, can I come in?”

He stood with folded artificial arms at the threshold to his garage and scanned her up and down, both passively and actively. The latter was within the bounds of their professional relationship; never know when someone could become a hostage with an invisible leash.  

In seconds, he could tell that at least there was nothing like that happening and Harbor’s own Agent had sent the correct digital counter-sign that matched, not to mention the subtle signal she made with her right hand. 

“Fine,” he nodded and stepped aside.

He took a look up and down the back alley, scanning. Nothing but a late afternoon behind his apartment building, with the usual BD addict sitting in front of garage unit 2 and nothing else he could detect.

He stepped back and pulled down the door, slamming it home and locking it with a thought.

Harbor leaned against the Mack’s heavy front fender, looking slightly more relaxed but she was still in business mode.

He gave her another scan, just to be safe.

She rolled her eyes, “Thanks Wrench, but I’ve given you all the correct countersigns, now it’s venturing into other territory. So unless you wanna ask me on a date…”

Eli quickly jerked his head to the side and headed for a workbench, checking the 3D printer’s progress. “What gig can bring you straight down from your office into mine?” he asked, getting straight to biz.

He heard her heeled footsteps bringing her to stand right next to him and she held out a shard. “The kind that pays six figures.”

He felt his spine twitch in apprehension and surprise that was buried quickly. His gaze sharpened into the printer’s screen display, pretending to look at feedstock levels and temperature readings, before he gently took the shard. 

He gave it a single active scan before slotting it into the neuroport behind his ear.

The files that unfurled before his vision almost made him want to yank the shard straight back out.

He barely held back cursing in Salish and a few other tongues of the People as he continued to peruse each file.

Finally, he couldn’t help it.

“Q̓ʷəl̓! ʔay̓əxʷ (Shit! Evil!) corpo bastards!” He barely stopped his fist slamming into the workbench. 

Harbor flinched, mostly because of his invective. “Yeah. What you have is everything the client managed to gather and what she needs from you is to be a solo point man. You can guess that the gig is to put that corpo bitch in an urn, but it’s not as simple as that.”

Eli snorted and glared at his fixer. “No kidding. So the client got these files? Files like this can only be behind the highest Biotechnica security.”

“That she did, in barely a few hours this morning, after she approached me for a suitable solo.”

His mind reeled a bit, trying to imagine the Netrunner that could do that…

He frowned in suspicion. It could be a setup. A Biotechnica counter-intel op. He scratched his beard in thought, “Who’s the client?”

Harbor gave him a flat, wry smile, “V.”

Eli pinged his Agent to do a hearing diagnostic. It returned no problems.

“V?”

“The V. Yes. Yurei of Night City. She is the client.”

There were two questions in the merc business that were rarely asked; why and how.

Why would the most famous merc of modern times who had written herself alongside names like Blackhand, Smasher and Boa Boa be commissioning an assassination gig in Seattle? Against a Biotechnica power broker of all people.

Sure, the files explained the bullshit chemical weapons they had been testing, but… why had that sparked her ire?

You don’t take out a power broker on a whim.

Now he had a tricky decision to make. The fact that he had even seen and read these files meant that there was no real going back. If he said flat out no, some other gonk was chosen to be point man and the gig goes sideways; Harbor and everyone associated with her, every merc on her roster would be dead.

“Fucking hell, Harbor. This gig better be 50/50.”

“Not about to short change you on this. So you’ll do it?”

He gave her a mild glare, “Thanks for at least pretending that it’s a choice.”

She shrugged in a ‘that’s the biz’ way and sent out a text message.

A second later Eli’s HUD lit up with a holo.

The avatar of a stylized, elaborate ‘V’ appeared, wreathed with thorny rose vines.

He took a breath, dispelling the anxiousness easily, pulling the practiced, calm look of a professional merc over himself.

“Wrench here.”

V appeared in the small holo pane in his eyes. ‘Huh, guess she’s still in orbit,’ he thought, seeing the Highrider style skinsuit.

“Good to meet you, Wrench. Thanks for taking the gig.”

He nodded, “What timeframe are we looking at here?”

“This evening. I want you and that souped up Mack of yours at the corner of Delridge and Thistle street at 1900.”

A quick map reference by his Agent showed the map reference point and also that it was within a few hundred meters of Seattle Biotechnica HQ in Westwood. It was also two hours before one Dr. Jasmine Henderson would be there, according to her itinerary at least.

As much as V seemed to trust her intel, she wasn’t putting her absolute faith in it being accurate. Any itinerary could be faked or purposefully put there to throw off exactly what this gig was attempting. Simple human nature could also cause the target to be late or early. Either way, Eli began mentally preparing himself to endure a long potential stakeout.

“You said you want me as point man, what exactly do you mean by that?”

“I’m currently on Luna, talking to you through direct satellite linkup. While it would be nice to be there in person for this, that’s not on the cards. Therefore I need someone skilled, who can also look after themselves in a firefight, to act as a bridge for me. As much as I can influence the world through cyberspace, not everything is connected or if it is connected, it’s so old that my hacks could end up fucking things up.”

“Which is where I come in, repairing and field tech.”

“Precisely.”

“Any heavy ordnance needed for this gig?”

“I don’t plan on it, but we both know the biz when shit goes sideways. Biotechnica doesn’t field their own armored AVs, but heavy Octant drones with mechs and augmented security is their standard mix. So, prepare for the worst.”

“Got it.”

“One final thing. Harbor.”

Harbor reached into her jacket and pulled out what looked like a standard handheld Agent and an old external cyberdeck, a Biotech Sigma 2065 model. He took them from her and it took just a single scan for him to puzzle out what had been done.

The old deck was anything but, as it contained the modern guts of Biotech 2077 Mk IV shard, with the extra space inside devoted to nothing but supplementary RAM. It also had a port to link the Agent to it and straps to secure it to an arm or a thigh.

“Wear this during the mission,” V continued. “Your own Agent can open a secure port to it. You’ll understand why soon enough. Any questions?”

He had quite a few, but none of them were appropriate or relevant. “No.”

“See you then.”

The holo winked out.

Harbor waited a few moments before looking at him intensely, “I don’t have to tell you to not fuck this up, Wrench?”

“No.”

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The sun was a few hours from the horizon when Eli found a parking spot and pulled in.

Westwood was a corporate enclave in all but name, sitting on the southwestern edge of the Metroplex. It was nestled between older residential zones and the industrial corridors that fed into the port and logistics hubs.

Its centerpiece was a tall, pale-green and glass arcology complex that rose above the surrounding buildings. The structure was deliberately organic in its design language, curved supports, vertical gardens sealed behind glass, and soft green lighting that gave the whole complex a sterile, clinical glow.

Around the arcology, the streets were wider and better maintained than most of Seattle. Sidewalks were clean, public cameras numerous but kept discreet. Most of the nearby buildings were mid-rise corpo offices, private clinics, research annexes and housing for mid to upper level Biotechnica employees.

Eli had never truly had cause to be in Westwood, besides occasionally driving through it. He appreciated the orderliness, but it was not his style at all. He could also appreciate the fresh clean air he was breathing, thanks to localized filtration systems on the boundaries of Westwood. It was almost unnatural to not have the usual biting tang of air that felt like it was scorching your nostrils.

Foot traffic was mostly corpo workers going about their day in neat neo-militarist clothing, the occasional private security, who was giving Eli’s Mackinaw the stink eye and the odd delivery drone.

Speaking of security, he was also picking out a few undercover that were walking in a way that couldn’t truly be hidden from practiced, experienced eyes. His ears also picked out the occasional pitched whines of Militech made security drones buzzing overhead.

He frowned as he perceived that the instant he stepped out of his car, he was going to stand out rather badly. V hadn’t mentioned anything in her planning about getting dressed up as a corpo. He was still in his usual jeans, combat boots, checkered shirt and oversized jacket that hid the Liberty’s shoulder holster and the external Agent-cyberdeck hybrid strapped to his right arm.

The clock ticked right over 1900 and the cyberdeck vibrated briefly.

That was the cue and he opened an internal port from his Agent.

His hands nearly crushed his own steering wheel when he heard a harsh tearing snap and a mass of digital light seemingly appeared in the passenger seat, before resolving into the form of V herself.

He stopped his own right hand halfway towards the holster in his jacket, even let loose a basic Ping program and an active scan, then realized the futility and stupidity of it. He took in the muscular physique, artfully sculpted into the feminine form, fully on display through wearing a matt black skinsuit with a number holo badges and tattoos, including tastefully neon blue accents along the edges. The tech collar half-jacket gave her face an eerie yellow glow.

He quickly looked ahead, not wanting to give any camera something odd to note, and a local merc drawing his iron towards his passenger window was sure to raise a flag in some algorithm.

V tilted her head with an amused smile, “It’s so interesting to observe people’s reaction when I do this.”

“That’s…” he trailed off as he realized that this was just the next logical extension of a holocall. A holo appeared in a Kiroshi optic suite within its small little window, only because of set software. Moving beyond it was generally not done because of bandwidth limitations, or so SegAtari claimed.

He firmly put it into the back of his mind to deal with later and kept his gaze fixed forward. “Do we have our target?”

V nodded, “She arrived via AV twenty minutes ago. No power broker truly keeps to their itinerary. It’s a general suggestion at best and just another flex among themselves. She’s currently hosting a virtual meeting on the 93rd floor of the arcology.”

“You have eyes on her?”

She nodded, “A very small stealth daemon, left behind when I did my earlier raid. Their firewalls and Black ICE are top of the line. That’s why I’m going to need you in meatspace acting as a trojan for me. Launch an attack from inside.”

“Got it. What iron do you want?”

“Put a suppressor on your Liberty and bring the Burya, might need the stopping power for any heavies.”

He quickly complied, lifting the rear seats where his hidden portable armory was located. A tap on the dash also mildly polarized the car windows, preventing anyone outside from seeing him add a second underarm holster for the RT-46 Burya, slotting it in and putting heavy ammo reloads into dedicated pockets. Next, a Tocororo suppressor attachment. He normally didn’t favor the thing, but it worked and was just short enough to not poke out from under his heavy jacket.

“All right, Wrench. I’ve got you covered in cyberspace. As far as local security cams are concerned, your Mack just pulled off with you still inside it. We’re effectively invisible. Head straight for the front entrance of the arcology. Oh, and engage your autodrive to take it back home. ”

He nodded and stepped out, giving a casual glance around at the reaction of the foot traffic to his appearance.

Nothing. Not a glance. Not even from undercover security.

An eye twitch and thought locked his car, which quickly pulled off into the street and merged with traffic. He stuck his hands into his jeans, beginning a lazy walk straight towards the towering arcology.

V reappeared with a digital crackle, seemingly leaning against a street light a few feet ahead, waiting for him to catch up. She pushed off and began walking in front of him. He couldn’t decide if it was performative or just to give him the reassurance that she was truly in overwatch and had his back covered.

He had barely covered fifty feet when he spotted an undercover security officer heading his way with a frown.

The guy stopped in his tracks and blinked, looking confused before promptly resuming his previous patrol.

“Did you just… wipe him?” he subvocalized.

“Memory Wipe, yes. While you might be invisible to central security, independent units will still see you, but I can deal with that.”

Eli had seen that hack used before by an old quickhack slinger and from his own research, but he had never seen a Mem Wipe that smooth and unobtrusive. There were usually a bunch of visual cues; lost balance, cradling the head and it was usually obvious that something untoward had happened. If anything, central security would’ve flagged that behavior as abnormal immediately, especially in a security officer.

“Do you want me to give you a visual indicator of my hacks?”

“No, not necessary.”

They made it to the streetside front entrance of the arcology without further trouble, crossing a huge flat expanse of white marble tiles that surrounded the superstructure.

The front entrance smoothly swished open for him. Arches that everyone was forced to walk through were made for weaponry and other contraband detection.

Eli felt his back tense slightly in anticipation, but passed through without any alarms raised. In fact, the scanner lasers didn’t even trigger. 

The ground floor lobby was a study in controlled, enforced calm.

He stepped into a wide, tall space finished in pale stone, frosted glass and soft green tinted metal. The air was cool, filtered and carried a scent that was somewhere between clinical antiseptic and cut plants. The general din in the space was muted, footsteps and quiet conversation were absorbed by acoustic paneling artfully integrated into the walls.  

Every line in the lobby led your eyes towards the center, where a large living installation had been grown and assembled; a vertical garden wall of genetically refined plants under soft lights, arranged in geometric patterns. It was seemingly Biotechnica’s expression of their supposed mastery over nature. Then to bash the viewer over the head with it, the company logo loomed over the installation, subtly etched into glass, illuminated with a soft green glow.

A long curved desk of composite material served as reception. Manned by two human attendants in severe dark suits working alongside two elegant, polished service drones.

Eli had never felt or seen a space more welcoming yet remaining so controlled.

In a single glance he could spot clear overlapping sightlines, where he’d bet his bank account deployable cover would rise from the floor, that defenders could use if a firefight broke out. A passive scan also revealed more than a dozen discreet security cams.

Through the lobby to the left, was a bank of access controlled, private elevators, marked as serving employee, executive and research floors. Standing opposite, a secured corridor led to visitor processing and lower level labs.

It was all so clean, a vision of a world that could’ve been everywhere, but wasn’t. Taking it all in and thinking about what this corporation had done in Redmond, made his right hand itch somewhat to draw his Liberty. He ignored the stupid, angry impulse and headed through the lobby, straight for the private elevators. 

V appeared and jerked a thumb toward the third of seven elevators.

He turned his head as casually as possible, apprehensive that the foot traffic of Biotechnica corpos coming and going from the elevators would peg him as odd. V could throw a very good Mem Wipe, but doing so against a sudden press of seven or more random corpos…

A worry that turned out to be for nothing as he walked right into a lull. For the precise moment of his approach, there wasn’t a single corpo or worker within twenty feet, the last one leaving from the far elevator and turning a corner out of sight.

He gave an extra bit of speed in his step, not questioning this rather suspicious bit of fortune as he threaded through the opening doors.

“She’s still on the 93rd floor,” V reported.

He tapped the appropriate numeric sequence into the keypad and stood back, evaluating and scanning the elevator interior as the car began its climb upward.

Hidden cameras, pressure sensors, remote IFF and even a fucking compact turret in the elevator car ceiling, ready to turn the interior into a charnel house. The control soft and tech was all up to date, top of the line. He could see his basic bitch Militech cyberdeck wouldn’t even scratch the paint on the firewall protecting the keypad, much less the turret. Another demonstration of the class of netrunner he suddenly found himself working with.

There were rumors, on Net BBS and merc channels, of the netrunners that were ensconced within black sites and undisclosed corpo labs. Runners that were so powerful that they didn’t even dare let them see the light of day. There was even talk that some of them had only been children when they were ‘recruited’.

Yet, here was V, doing in mere moments what he knew most would need hours of careful hacking to pull off and she was doing it from the fucking moon!

A soft chirp echoed through the lift car and he felt the mild deceleration in his stomach as it began slowing down from its peak speed of 95 feet per second, a fact it proudly displayed for its passengers on the overhead status screen .

“All right, I’m gonna stay instanced in front of you by a few feet. Follow my lead precisely. There are some blind spots on this floor and a number of security guards I literally can’t hack. They are completely bioware augmented with only a neuroport. Complete network isolation, which is where you come in.”

“If there is one corp that can manage that, I suppose it’d be Biotechnica,” Eli nodded, drawing his Liberty.

The elevator came to a final stop and the doors parted.

V ducked low into a crouch-sprint, crossed the hallway and crouched behind an elegant pot plant. Eli followed a moment behind and found himself sliding somewhat on the smooth floor and blundered straight into the space V was seemingly occupying.

She vanished and reappeared right next to him. “Good. Just like that. I’ve managed to slot you into a gap in the guard rotation. We move in 14 seconds.”

Eventually she held up three fingers, counting down with them and sprinted down the hallway.

He followed, keeping up easily.

Their next stop was in a janitor closet that opened just two sprinting steps before he would’ve smashed into it rather painfully.

“Haven’t seen a single employee,” he commented, giving her a side-eye. The sheer odds of that was entirely impossible.

“Most are stuck in their cubicles and when one wants to get up,” she smirked and twiddled her fingers as if she was weaving something. “An important notification comes through that they can’t afford to ignore or an unobtrusive processing delay happens in whatever they are doing. I’m a former corpo and I know just which buttons to push. 21 seconds.”

He nodded in understanding.

The closet opened and another sprint, turning right at the next intersection brought him behind another pot plant.

The floor was organized around a spine of executive offices and conference suites. Frosted glass walls and privacy screens lined both sides of the main corridors, many of them currently occupied by mid and senior level staff who remain fixed at their workstations.

A holo popped into his vision from V, a map floor overlay, which seemed to feature guard positions as hostile red delta shapes, that even gave him the direction they were currently facing.

‘All right, I want her as my designated ‘runner forever, ' he thought immediately.

“What are the green arrows?”

“Bioware guards. I’m trying to keep us away from ‘em but we’re gonna need to do some wetwork soon. 8 seconds.”

Taking in the complete floor overview, the guard presence was relatively light but professional. Two-person security rotations moving in predictable routes through main corridors and past key access points.

He sprinted behind V and slid into the next pause point, an open lounge with low furniture and living plant walls, offering partial cover and breaking up sightlines.

Beyond, just within sight, the floor opened to an even more restricted executive zone, marked by heavier doors, additional authentication panels, and a notable increase in camera density. It was guarded by two bioware augments; men in crisp gray suits which were bulging with muscle, but it wasn’t to grotesque levels. They stood with folded hands in front of them and eyes shielded by chrome glasses.

“Those two I can’t move. The most I can do is hack their phones, causing a battery overload. That’s your distraction. They’ve got milspec bone weave so headshots won’t do shit even with the AP ammo you’ve got in there, go for the necks.”

Eli brought his Liberty into a precision grip and sighted down. He only had a shot on one of the two at the moment.

He mentally rehearsed the steps, before nodding. “Do it.”

“Hacking now.”

It wasn’t instantaneous, a few seconds and the first sign the two augments had that something was wrong, was the smell.

Then a sharp, bright flame erupted from their chests as the internal batteries of phones went into a runaway reaction.

They did what instinct called for and looked down in astonishment.

Eli pulled the trigger.

The sharp thump of the silenced Liberty echoed in the small lounge.

His target gasped, then gurgled, clutching at his neck before collapsing, as the round had mushroomed and severed the carotid artery, tumbling off the reinforced spine. The transferred shockwave through flesh did the rest. The guard collapsed bonelessly towards the floor.

Eli was already moving into the corridor and sent his second shot.

This one was slightly low, but still penetrated just above the chest bone and into the neck, severing the throat completely, before squashing against the spine, breaking apart into fragments that spilled outward. The rippling shockwave destroyed both arteries, but the bullet fragments radiating outward finished the job.

He rushed forward, only stopping above both bodies to make sure they were properly dead with a close range scan.

“Dead, spoofed their phone biomon scanners. The security network thinks both are still alive and at their posts,” V reassured.

Eli grabbed the first body and quickly heaved it one handed into the closest lounge and out of immediate sight. His heart was hammering as he pulled the second, keeping his gun up and ready, scanning for any potential reaction that could’ve eluded V’s vigilance.

“We’re good for the moment. Get back to the executive door. It’s not an easy hack,” she said with emphasis as she leaned against the nearby wall, frowning at the door in question.

He parked himself to the side of the door, crouched, pistol up and ready.

It took almost six minutes before he heard the door unlock behind him.

He surged through, V leading straight into the corridor beyond.

The executive zone was colder, quieter and held larger, fewer offices. The floor was now polished dark marble, walls finished in matte composite panels with thin recessed lighting that cast long shadows. The usual din of an office was almost entirely absent. It was organized as a series of short, intersecting corridors leading to private offices, a small executive conference suite, and at least one restricted data annex. The privacy glass was darker, the door panels flush with the walls. Camera coverage was even more dense, with zero blind spots and brought home the fact that if V wasn’t in his corner, he’d have been detected the instant he stepped foot in here.

She pointed to the space behind a small, sculptural plant installation on a stand, “Pause here.” 

He crouched there, carefully keeping his pistol trained on the closest door to an office that was clearly occupied.

The rest of the offices that he could see and according to V’s overlay were dark or occupied by single individuals working in silence behind closed doors. The only sounds in the entire zone were the distant murmur of an occasional holocall and the background hum of the HVAC system.

There were augmented guard patrols in pairs scattered in a seemingly irregular pattern, which V had somehow managed to slot him in between. A visible turret array protected the data annex and the neighboring office, which was the largest on the floor. The overlay indicated a single person inside, designated with a golden delta.

“Our target, next to the annex?” he subvocalized. Speaking or even moving without V laying the way was equally impossible without detection. His Kiroshi’s, optimized for tech work, was picking up motion and thermal sensors in the corridors ahead, and even audio monitoring next to the data annex. If the system even picked up the sound of breathing or footsteps that wasn’t properly accounted for and matched with an authorized RFID, it would send out alerts. He couldn’t even be sure of firing his Liberty at the moment.

“Yes.”

“Still clear to use the Liberty? The audio sensors...”

“I have those taken care of,” she confirmed. “Follow.”

Instead of a full sprint, they carefully paced down the corridor, moving with the gap between two augment guard patrols.

He grit his teeth as the overlay showed that it was going to be very close, in fact, it looked like the rearward patrol would soon turn the corner and spot them!

He pointed his pistol behind one handed, keeping pace.

Then the guards… stopped for some reason.

The chirp of a radio and static echoed distantly.

“In here,” V hissed, as the door to an empty office flashed green on its keypad and slid open.

Wasting no time, he slipped in and crouched right at the inner door beside the wall, a blind spot if any guard was to enter.

“We’re good here for the moment. I managed to clear this door and office in the occupancy schedule system. We have to wait for a few minutes for me to work out and finesse an approach to Henderson’s office.”

Eli nodded and settled on his haunches, remaining vigilant and keeping an eye on the overlay.

V presented herself leaning against the nearby wall and frowning downward, arms folded and staring into the floor. Other than a single finger tapping every second on her left bicep and the slight rise and fall of her chest, he could’ve easily mistaken her for a statue.

For 19 quiet minutes, the guards patrolled through their routes in the executive zone and he tried to spot any of the changes V was attempting.

It took a while, but there were occasional unexplained pauses in a guard pair, here and there. It was as seemingly random as the patrol routes. If V was managing some success, she gave no outward indication of it. It was the one thing he quite disliked about working with netrunners. Their focus on cyberspace meant that it left the poor sods in meatspace waiting on tenterhooks.

Then, finally, he spotted it.

A meaningful gap seemed to just gently open in the patrol pattern and it was approaching.

He limbered his legs, going to one knee, nodding to V. “I’ve spotted it. Ready.”

The guards walked right past their office.

He counted the steps until they would reach the end of the short corridor, turned…

He burst into motion, the door sliding open at V’s command, with utterly perfect timing.

The distance was covered in seconds.

His pistol came up and aimed left at the intersection, aiming straight at the backs of the two guards, but they didn’t react.

He waited until they were out of sight, turned right and sprinted down the most secure corridor in the entire building as if it was nothing.

The heavy outer doors opened.

Beyond was a further fifteen feet of darkened corridor and another inner door; Eli barely had the chance to take in the sheer density and variety of security sensors that his optics registered, yet every single one was already dead or offline.

His feet carried him to the next heavy door with two sprinting steps.

It slid open.

He triggered his Kerenzikov speedware to max and brought this pistol up and around, aiming at the genuinely surprised woman sitting behind her expansive wooden desk.

The range was barely 18 feet as his sights settled directly on her nose.

Her own left arm blurred with the distinctive sign of some form of speedware in use, reaching towards something out of sight.

Yet he didn’t pull the trigger.

He felt the cyberdeck on his right arm becoming considerably hotter.

Dr. Jasmine Henderson jerked in her chair and began screaming.

Her entire body seemed to fold in itself, as if every muscle began spasming at once, then let go, only to seize once more.

Visible short circuits in her arms appeared, her neck flung backward almost as if someone invisible had just grabbed it before pulling.

The sound of cracking vertebrae echoed in the office over her long agonizing scream, which petered off in an almost pathetic fashion.

The now very thoroughly dead body of Henderson slumped forward and hit the office desk with a dull thump, now releasing the characteristic smoke of burnt out cyberware.

“Exfil now, Eli. I caught her flatline from signaling anything, but she will have off-site contingencies.”

He shook off the mild horror of that torturous death. He had seen runners inflict death remotely and in person, but that was something entirely new in his experience.

A quick sprint had him at the expansive windows that faced directly outward and looked over the whole of Westwood and Seattle beyond.

He knelt and his left hand unfurled, and the cutters, both physical and rapid micro pulse laser, began their agonizingly slow journey of getting through the armaglass of the arcology exterior.

When he had finished the upward three foot cut-

“Silent alarm just tripped,” V warned. “I’m going overt with my hacks. Office outer doors are locked and I’m subverting every security system on the floor.”

He nodded, turning the cut horizontal, amending the original planned twenty inches down to 17. It’d be a tight squeeze but he’d manage.

By the time he’d traversed that distance and started the second downward cut, he had to switch his pistol to the left hand and unfurl his right tool hand to let the other hand cool down and recharge.

“I’m starting to get opposition from Biotechnica’s chief runner, must’ve reached his interface chair,” V murmured.

The sounds of muted heavy machine gun fire suddenly reached the office interior.

Eli ignored it as best he could and finished the second downward cut, beginning the journey back left at floor level to finish creating the exfil point.

“He’s trying to take over my control of the turrets.”

Thankfully, Henderson didn’t have any turrets inside her own office. “How long can you keep him out?”

“Long enough, Eli. I’ve already flatlined all the guards on this floor and are stalling the reinforcements, focus on your task.”

He didn’t need telling and pulled the cutters across.

“Done,” he announced and stood up, folding in his tool arm.

He took one step back and with a forward heave, kicked perfectly in the center of the rectangular cut.

The cut was just enough to keep in the higher pressure HVAC controlled atmosphere of the office contained, but now that failed spectacularly.

He flung himself to the side as the slab of cut glass was pulled away and air billowed outwards.

It wasn’t strong enough to upset his footing, but he had no inclination to be hit by the various loose objects in the office currently getting sucked out.

“Arcology systems compensating for pressure loss.”

He glared at V… this part of the overall plan was not his favorite. “My ride is out there?”

She nodded, “It’s there, Eli. And having to slow down while we have this conversation.”

He closed his eyes briefly. He hadn’t done a parachute jump since Basic before the Unification War.

This would be arguably worse, since he currently lacked said parachute.

He looked at the small exit he had created and towards the empty airspace beyond.

Then took two running steps and dove through it.

The still equalizing pressure helped to drive him onward and through like a bullet out of a barrel, pushing him further away from the downward curve of the arcology.

He was robbed of his breath, his heart racing as he speared through the air with gravity eagerly taking hold and beginning to accelerate him downward.

His Keren was activated in reflex. It meant he got to appreciate an unrestricted mid-air view of Seattle with an agonizingly slow detail.

Eyes slowly moved left, nothing there.

Eyes turned right frantically and-

The cargo drone AV, with an open container in its arms, containing a large inflatable cushion was there!

It seemingly crawled closer at slow speed, and didn’t look like it would be able to catch him in time.

He tried to twist his body, moving arms and legs to catch the air, adjusting his fall…

The Kerenzikov reached cooldown.

In a heartbeat Eli’s vision was enveloped in blue polymer fabric, being caught by the stuntman’s cushion.

His mood and heart soared, his Biomon throwing alerts for excessive adrenaline.

It had FUCKING WORKED!

The cargo drone abruptly put on speed and dove, merging with the closest air lane and joining a dozen identical others that just happened to be flying by. The cargo container itself also closed at this point, plunging him into darkness.

“Misdirection in progress. Spoofing drone digital IDs… we’re clear, Eli. Good job.”

He rolled over, switching his optics into IR mode. “Didn’t do that much for the pay.”

“It might seem that way, but I can’t adequately express the shitstorm that’s about to be unleashed. Biotechnica will soon know exactly why it was done, as will PacCon. Every power broker will look at this and know that they are not untouchable. I think it’s good to occasionally remind them of their mortality. Even if they’re looking to rectify that.”

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A/N: The merc community would naturally have varied opinions and reactions to V's shenanigans during her explosive rise. Wrench is approving, slightly envious, but his professionalism and reserved, introvert nature means it doesn't affect the gig.

Have a great weekend and stay awesome chooms!