The preacher (Patreon)

You've been hunting a cult leader in the bowels of the city. Now they've found you.

* * *

With a worrying whirring sound, your augs went still, your body locked in place. You recognised the sensation. This was ‘safe mode’. A way for chrome docs to stop patients from moving whilst installing new pieces of hardware. But you weren’t in a doc’s surgery.

“Awh, hunter… You having some problems? Can’t move?” The person you had been tracking slipped out from behind a wall, grinning as they talked. “I’ve been tracking you on the building’s cameras for a while now. I wanted to know who had decided to come after me and my flock.”

They were called the preacher. Some new cult leader, who had been inspiring unwavering loyalty in their converts, somehow. They walked right up to you, quite unafraid, despite your mil-ware. Not that it was doing much good, locked in place. They touched your chest.

“I sliced into your aug’s safety features, sweetie.” They said, hand trailing around your chest. “I wanted to get the chance to get to know you. And trust me, I have been getting to know you. A packet of data landed in your visual receptor. Photos.

Your family. Your friends. Your previous jobs. How- “Stop thinking about how I got it all, thrall. Focus on me.” Your attention, trapped in your body, was drawn back to them. Wait, wha- you noticed it. Something that had come with the packet of information.

A small program, creeping through your mental chips. The preacher laughed. “It’s too late to resist now. You’re going to be such a good member of the congregation. After all, your new deity needs plenty of worshippers.” They looked you in the eyes. “Yes, I do.”