《City of Light》 Prologue: City of the future? When I moved to the City of Santa Luz in 2091, I thought I was going to make a name for myself, get a chance to be someone. I fell for all of the shiny advertisements on the billboards of my hometown. I mean, who wouldn¡¯t? ¡°Come to the City of Light, where you can be anyone,¡± they said. So I, like everyone else who lives in this shithole, packed up all of my belongings and drove from California to Santa Luz, located in what used to be Northern New Mexico. I had saved up enough money to buy myself an apartment in the eastern zone of the city, Hunter¡¯s Row. It¡¯s on the 27th floor of one of the towering complexes by the Widow¡¯s Den, the hub area for bounty hunters. And yeah, it has its moments. The skyline at night, the hustle and bustle of people of all ages, races, and backgrounds milling about, the feeling when you complete a job and finally make those hard earned credits. It¡¯s something you can only find here. There¡¯s no place in the world like the City of Light. But I realized something when I moved here. The advertisements, the billboards, the people out in the country who all fantasize about moving here and making the good life a reality, it¡¯s all not entirely true. Behind all of the shiny buildings that cut through the sky and flashing neon signs, it¡¯s a cold, heartless city. Living in Santa Luz is like riding a bull, it¡¯s fun for a while, but eventually you¡¯ll get knocked off, and when you do, the city swallows you whole. Yeah, there¡¯s a chance to make a name for yourself and bask in the limelight, but the limelight is short lived, and most of the people here die trying to find it.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I guess it¡¯s my own fault, I came here thinking that I was special, thinking that I could make a difference, help fix some of humanity¡¯s wrongs by righting them with a bullet, be some modern day John Wayne. But I soon came to realize, like all of the other starry-eyed twenty-somethings that moved here, that this isn¡¯t a movie. Santa Luz is a city controlled by money hungry corporations and criminal gangs, and if you don¡¯t have a hell of a lot of money or the goddess of luck on your side, you¡¯ll die, broke and nameless, bleeding out on the sidewalk. Chapter 1: 2093 ¡°So, Badger, you want to take this job?¡± I refocused my eyes, which had been staring blankly at the wall behind my Liaison. I sat up and took a sip of whiskey, the ice clinking around the glass as I set it down on the cold metal table. ¡°All you want me to do is kill this guy Rodriguez? And you¡¯ll pay me two thousand credits for it? What¡¯s the catch?¡± I asked, confused as to why such a simple job would pay so well. ¡°No catch, this guy¡¯s the scum of the earth, and my employer wants him dealt with as soon as possible. Are you in?¡± She pushed. ¡°And what did he do to deserve that label?¡± I countered, still confused. ¡°Either take the damn job or don¡¯t, since when do you hunters give a shit about what your target did?¡± She huffed, irritated with the game of 20 questions I¡¯d been playing with her. ¡°Fine, yeah, I¡¯ll take the job. Send me the deets,¡± I said, gulping down the rest of the whiskey. The liaison pressed a button on the back of her hand which made an audible beep. My eyes flashed, and I could see a holographic file: Paul Rodriguez, aged 37, Bounty: 2000 credits. Below the picture of a scruffy Hispanic guy with a bald head and a beard, more information appeared. Body Tech: Infrared Scanners in Eyes, SpringJoints, BearArms, and likely more illegal tech. Last seen: Null Point, 1 AM this morning, left for The Wastes after speaking with a masked man about an identity eraser. Most likely location: The Pit. ¡°Fuck,¡± I whispered. ¡°Leave it to a guy like this to be at the shittiest dive bar in all of the Wastes.¡± ¡°Good luck,¡± the Liaison said before rising from the table and sauntering off into the back of the bar, then disappearing behind a door marked ¡°Employees Only¡± with flashing yellow holograms. I stood up from the booth and tapped a button on my wrist, which paid the Widow¡¯s Den for the drink, then went up the stairs and out of the bar. The city smelled like car exhaust and garbage, with the faint smell of blood as an accent. I extracted a cigarette from the pouch in the breast pocket of my leather jacket, then lit it and exhaled. The smoke danced upwards towards the skybridge, before dissipating into the air. A homeless man across the street looked at me and then approached.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Spare cig?¡± he asked gruffly. I looked him up and down, then took another smoke from the pack and gave it to him. He thanked me, then walked away back to his makeshift home in the alleyway. It¡¯s a sad but unfortunately all too common sight. Those who get knocked off their feet in this city rarely have a chance to get back up, so I try to show them kindness when I can. With that, I approached my bike, an old Kawasaki Ninja from before the war, and stuck the key in the ignition. It roared to life, purring like a cat as I threw my leg over the side. I hit the accelerator and began to race toward The Wastes. On a motorbike is how Santa Luz is best enjoyed. The holograms on the building glowed colourfully in the late afternoon. The sun was starting to set, turning the sky a deep orange. My bike hummed beneath me as I sped west, got on the on-ramp, and circled it until I reached the skybridge. Up here, you can see a lot of the city, though some of the buildings jut out beside the road obscuring the north and south sides. Flying down the skybridge, I tapped the side of my head, which began to play music directly into my brain. I closed my eyes for a second, feeling the wind hit my face as I weaved between the cars and trucks, intent on getting to The Pit before sundown. As I approached the off-ramp, I steeled myself for the task ahead. The guy had a significant amount of body tech according to his file, and likely more that¡¯s not even known about. Hand to hand, he¡¯d kill me with one arm. ¡°Thankfully, I don¡¯t generally do hand-to-hand,¡± I chuckled to myself. The pistol hanging from my hip, an Onyx Munitions Mk. VII, chambered in 11 millimeter, generally did the fighting for me when a job got difficult. 18-round magazine, burst fire switch, it has all of the bells and whistles that make it my favorite sidearm. It¡¯d gotten me out of quite a few sticky situations over the past year or so. I turned off of the skybridge and circled down the off-ramp, then continued forth. The Wastes circles Santa Luz and is the sixth and final zone in the sprawling metropolis. The Pit is on the west side of the Wastes, and I was only a few minutes away. I pulled the gun from my hip and made sure it was locked and loaded, then turned off the road and into a parking lot a few hundred feet from the bar. ¡°Deep breath,¡± I said to myself as I hopped off the bike and pulled the key out of the ignition. ¡°Now, let¡¯s earn some credits.¡± Chapter 2: Paul Rodriguez The ground beneath me crunched and crackled as my boots made prints in the dirt. Cautiously, I walked up to The Pit, hand hanging on my hip near my gun. Even from outside, I could hear music and incoherent shouting. As if to accent my concerns, a scrawny-looking man crashed through one of the front windows, landing on the pavement with a thud. Shards of broken glass stuck into his back, causing thick red blood to stain his shirt and drip onto the ground. He noticed me approaching and grunted, dusting himself off and pulling some of the glass from his back. As if nothing at all had happened, he turned and opened the door, returning to the bar. ¡°What¡­ the hell?¡± I shakily thought to myself. ¡°After this job, I don¡¯t ever want to be here again.¡± On high alert, I approached the door, took a breath, and entered the bar. Inside, the smell of cheap liquor and vomit stung my nostrils as I walked up to the counter. I tapped the side of my head, using the BodyTech in my eyes to scan the room. A lot of people in the bar had bounties on their heads, most of them being quite small, and for smaller crimes like carjacking or shoplifting. ¡°You gonna buy something or just keep looking around like a dumbass,¡± my scanning was interrupted by the bartender, who had clearly grown tired of my loitering. ¡°Y-Yeah, sorry,¡± I apologized sheepishly, trying not to cause more trouble than I had to. ¡°Whiskey on the rocks?¡± The bartender said nothing more, just grunted and grabbed a glass from below the counter. He poured a shot out into the glass, dropped a few ice cubes in, and slid it across the table to me. ¡°5 credits,¡± he said. I tapped the button on my wrist to pay for the drink, picked it up, and quickly walked away to an empty corner of the room. The jukebox was blasting metal, and the people around me were drunkenly pushing each other and yelling, so nobody had really paid much mind to me. I took a sip of the whiskey, which tasted like motor oil, and continued scanning. After a few minutes of scouring every single face in the bar, I saw him. Paul Rodriguez, sitting on a stool on the opposite side of the bar. He was alone, sipping from a bottle of cheap beer and looking at his phone. He was clearly drunk, his eyes were hazy and the bottle was slipping from his hand, but that just made him more dangerous. He was more likely to open with violence and ask questions later, and I couldn¡¯t just shoot him in a bar full of people. I needed to think of a way to get him outside and alone. I have a few options, I thought to myself. I can wait until the bar closes and catch him outside by himself, I can go up to him right now and provoke him to come fight me, or I can kill him now and try to run. Option three is essentially off the table. If I kill him now my chances of making it out the door before getting the shit kicked out of me by every patron here is slim to none. Option one will take a long time, this place closes at 3 AM and it¡¯s 7:35 PM now. Safest, but also the slowest. That leaves option two.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Still holding the glass of whiskey, I made my way over to Paul, dodging the drunkards still shoving each other around. When I got within range of him, I made a show of tripping over one of the table legs and spilling the drink into his lap. He looked up at me, pants covered in whiskey and ice cubes, and snarled. ¡°You fuckin¡¯ dimwit, look what ya did to my clothes!¡± He growled at me. ¡°My bad brother, I just tripped,¡± I said, feigning ignorance. ¡°I don¡¯t want any trouble.¡± ¡°Too late, jackass, outside. Now.¡± He shot back. He rose from his stool and put his massive hand on my chest, pushing me. I was barely able to keep my balance. Some of the people in the bar looked at us, wondering what was going on, but most just kept to themselves. Nobody¡¯s gonna stick up for some idiot in a situation like this, especially not in The Wastes. I was counting on that. The sun had fully set, meaning that the only light was coming from a dim streetlamp in front of the bar. As I was pushed through the door, I smirked, realizing that everything was going according to plan. I lunged forward and turned around, staring the behemoth of a man down with all I had. The intensity in the air was palpable, and the seconds felt like hours as we stood, eyes locked, tensions high. Without warning, I drew my Mk VII and took aim. But Paul Rodriguez was gone. ¡°What the f-¡± I started to say before a searing pain in my temple caused my vision to go blurry and I was knocked to the ground. As if being compelled by an invisible force, I was jerked to my feet, then knocked down again, this time the pain being in my gut. I coughed, spitting blood onto the ground. It mixed with the dusty brown dirt to form a black sludge. Before I knew it, the sludge splattered into a shape that looked like¡­ a bootprint? My mind went into overdrive. What the hell was going on? What was causing this immense pain? Where did the bootprint go? Is he just that fast? Or was it something else? Questions ricocheted around my brain like bullets bouncing off metal, but I didn¡¯t have much time to think. Jerked to my feet once more, I felt a firm grip close over my left shoulder and arm, before¡­ ¡°AHHHHHH.¡± I screamed in agony as my arm was torn off, and began floating near me. Blood poured from the stump where my arm had been only seconds earlier, staining the ground and my clothes a deep crimson. As quickly as he had disappeared, Paul Rodriguez appeared once more, holding my arm in the air like a trophy. He grinned at me, a crazed, psychotic grin with no emotion in his eyes. ¡°Watch where you''re going next time,¡± he said simply, before dropping the arm, my arm, next to me and going back inside the bar. Alarm bells were ringing in my head, but there was nothing I could do but mutter ¡°How¡­ did¡­ he¡­¡± before passing out, the blood loss being too much for my body to handle. Chapter 3: Home The smell of bacon wafted over to me from the kitchen as I sat on the couch, flipping through channels on the television. My cat, Jack, waddled over and rubbed his fluffy little head against my leg, then jumped up onto the couch with me. A wave of peace washed over me, as I was home. My mother, a sweet, short lady in her early fifties with greying brown hair and a kind smile, came out of the kitchen holding two plates of fried eggs, bacon strips, and buttered toast. She put one of them on the coffee table in front of me, patted Jack on the head, and then sat down on the opposite end of the couch. ¡°Nothing interesting on?¡± she asked ¡°Nah, all either news or reality TV,¡± I responded, ¡°crapshoot.¡± ¡°Bummer.¡± I clicked the power button on the TV remote and set it down on the table. A long silence settled over us, comfortable, but somber. She huffed and picked up her fork off of the coffee table. I did the same and cut one of the eggs up, the runny yellow yolk flowing onto the plate, soaking the toast. How I like them, I thought to myself as I greedily shoved a bit of egg into my mouth. Strangely, it tasted a little off, as though the flavor was muted in some way. As we ate, I occasionally looked over at my mom. She had this look on her face that struck me as odd. She looked as though she was sad about something, and wanted to say something, but couldn¡¯t. When she finished eating, she neatly put her fork on her plate and set it down on the table. When she sat up, she closed her eyes for a moment, then opened her eyes and looked at me. ¡°You know,¡± my mom began, breaking the silence, ¡°I have something that I need to get off my chest. Ever since your father passed, you¡¯ve really done a lot to help me out, and I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever really given you enough credit. I was so preoccupied with work at the museum that it was hard for me to notice what you were doing. I understand now how hard you work to make sure that we both have a good life. I know that¡¯s why you moved to Santa Luz, why you started bounty hunting, why you¡¯re here now. Thank you, Tobias.¡± As she spoke, the fog began to lift from my brain. Memories began to flood back into my head from my childhood. My father and I tossing a football back and forth, my parents taking me to dinner when I got all As on my report card in the 7th grade, my graduation from high school with my mom sitting in the audience. Between these fond memories, darker memories came back as well, my father¡¯s cancer, the subsequent funeral, the fight I had gotten into with my mother the night I decided to move to Santa Luz. The memories, all streaming back into my brain at once, hit with such force that it caused my hands to start shaking. My mother put her hand on mine and looked at me. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°I-,¡± I struggled to get the words out. Speaking was so difficult, I just wanted to melt backwards into the couch. The words got caught in my throat and I couldn¡¯t even cough them out. It was agonizing; there were so many things I wanted to say to her, things I¡¯d wanted to say for years. I wanted to tell her how great of a mother she¡¯s been, that I wouldn¡¯t be where I am today without her, and that I had left not just to make money and a name for myself, but because I didn¡¯t want to be a burden on her anymore. But all I could mutter was a simple ¡°thank you.¡± Her gaze darkened. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry for what happened to you.¡± Another memory came back to me. My fight with Paul Rodriguez, the blood, my arm. My eyes widened. Everything had caught up to me. ¡°How did I get here?¡± I asked her, ¡°Am I dead?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not dead, no, but if you don¡¯t wake up soon you might end up that way,¡± she answered gravely. ¡°But¡­ I don¡¯t want to wake up yet. Mom, It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve seen you, I just, I¡­¡± I trailed off, tears welling up in my eyes. ¡°You always have a home here with me,¡± she said, her gaze softening again, ¡°but you still have things to do. You still have a name to make for yourself.¡± I could hear a faint beeping, like a heart monitor, slowly getting louder and louder until it was practically in my ear. I knew the time I had left with her was short, so I put my whole heart into my next words. ¡°I love you, mom. Thank you¡­ for everything. Once again, you¡¯ve given me the strength to keep going. I¡¯ll repay this one day.¡± ¡°I love you too, Toby,¡± she said with tears in her eyes, ¡°You don¡¯t need to repay anything, just stay alive. You still have a name to make for yourself. Show Santa Luz who my son really is.¡± Another voice entered my ears, one that I hadn¡¯t heard before. ¡°He¡¯s waking up.¡± Jack meowed as if to say goodbye. I patted him on the head, and my mother kissed me on the cheek. My vision, or what my brain thought was my vision, began to blur and fade, and for a moment, the world faded to black. Then I opened my eyes. Chapter 4: Wake Up A bright light above my head stung my eyes as I tried to gather my senses. ¡°He¡¯s awake!¡± The unfamiliar voice returned, this time much louder, as though it was coming from right next to me. I looked to my right and saw a figure standing over me, their face being obscured by the light. ¡°Who¡­ are you?¡± I asked weakly. ¡°Where am I?¡± The figure reached over me and pointed the light away from my face. My eyes, no longer being scorched by the light, were finally able to recalibrate and focus my eyes on the figure standing over me. A bob of blood-red hair surrounded the face of a woman, maybe a few years older than myself, with a scar under her bright blue right eye and a tired smile on her face. She looked me in the eyes and began to answer my question. ¡°My name is Lyra, and you¡¯re in my basement,¡± she explained. ¡°Not a good start, I know, but I saw you bleeding out in front of The Pit and figured you could probably use some help.¡± I chuckled, which gave way to a wheezy cough. ¡°You were right about that,¡± I responded, a weak smile encroaching onto my lips. I tried to sit up, but the weight of my beaten body was too much, and I flopped back down onto my back with a thud. ¡°Woah, I wouldn¡¯t try to move much. I¡¯ve got your vitals stabilized, but you¡¯re still not in great condition.¡± ¡°Noted,¡± I sighed. I looked around, trying not to move my head much. The bright light above my bed illuminated the room fairly well, allowing me to see some makeshift medical equipment surrounding the cot I was lying on. A heart monitor, surgical tools, bolts, and other objects were haphazardly placed on a metal table with wheels. The walls were covered in posters, mostly of bands and movies from the old world. Another enjoyer of vintage things, I thought to myself, good to see there¡¯s a few of us still left. In the corner of a room, there was a metal cabinet, which had one door propped open. Inside were prosthetic limbs. A few legs, an arm, and a hand. I looked down at my own arms and realized there were still two, though one was entirely metallic. ¡°Oh yeah, about your arm. By the time I got to you, there wasn¡¯t much I could do about your real arm, but I had the equipment and the know-how to give you a prosthetic. It¡¯s not your real arm, but it¡¯ll have to do,¡± she said, a hint of guilt in her eyes. I slowly raised the metal arm over my face, bending and flexing my new metal fingers. It worked surprisingly well, given the look of it. Wires stuck out of the arm at odd angles, and the mechanical muscles whirred and buzzed as I moved. ¡°I haven¡¯t plated your arm yet, but you should be able to do some basic movements with it. Just don¡¯t get in any water before I have the chance to cover up the wiring,¡± she informed. ¡°I-,¡± I started, finding it difficult to talk with the overwhelm of emotion, ¡°thank you so much, without you, I¡¯d probably be dead.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± she responded quickly, ¡°As payment, explain to me how the hell your arm got ripped off like that. That wasn¡¯t a clean cut at all, it looked like someone tore it off with their bare hands.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. I thought for a moment before responding. I barely knew what happened myself, and I knew how insane it sounded even when I explained what I did know. ¡°I barely know myself. One minute I had a bounty head in my sights, and the next he had disappeared and gotten behind me. He beat the shit out of me before tearing off my arm and leaving me to die.¡± ¡°What do you mean he disappeared,¡± she asked, looking at me as though I had sprouted another head. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know, he just vanished completely. It was like he turned invisible or something,¡± I replied, unsure of my own response. ¡°Are you sure he didn¡¯t just have some tech that made him super fast or something?¡± she asked, still confused. ¡°They give you hunters files on the bounties, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, they do. I got a file saying that he might have some illegal mods, but it didn¡¯t say anything about superspeed or invisibility. I don¡¯t even think they¡¯ve invented tech like that.¡± She broke eye contact for a moment, appearing lost in thought. Then, without warning, she got up from the swivel chair she was sitting on and disappeared behind me. Alright then, I thought to myself, perplexed. Without her in the room, my mind began to wander. What had happened to me? What had Rodriguez done to himself to be able to do what he did? And another, more important set of questions, who wanted him dead, and why? Something tells me whoever put me up to that job knew about what he was capable of, I thought. There¡¯s no way it¡¯s a coincidence that I get the job to kill this guy and he¡¯s able to do something I¡¯d never even thought was possible. I could hear footsteps approaching as Lyra re-entered the room, her red hair flowing with each movement. In one hand, she held a glass of water, and in the other, a briefcase. She set the briefcase down on the table holding the medical equipment, then handed me the glass. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re thirsty. Here, drink.¡± I took the glass in my right hand, the one made of flesh and bone, and took a sip. It had taken me a moment to notice, but I was parched. The cool liquid revitalized my throat, causing me to greedily down the entire glass. She took the glass from my hand and put it on the floor next to her feet, then sat back down in the chair. ¡°I was reading somewhere on the Gridlink that some tech company, I think it was Blackthorn, had just had a piece of tech stolen from them. It might be a coincidence, but that seems like a good place to start.¡± She took the briefcase off of the table and opened it. She pressed a button on the side, and a bunch of holographic keys appeared, floating above one side of the case. On the other side, a screen lit up. ¡°Is that an old Cogger computer,¡± I asked with genuine interest. ¡°Yeah, I found it in one of the dumping yards while scavenging. It didn¡¯t work at first, but I rewired it,¡± she said sheepishly, ¡°I¡¯m a bit of a tech nerd.¡± ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not complaining,¡± I chuckled, ¡°Your savviness saved my life and my arm.¡± She smiled and looked back at the screen of the computer. Her fingers pressed the holographic keys rhythmically, and the light coming from the screen changed colors, illuminating her face. First a white light, then blue, and finally red. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s right here,¡± she announced, ¡° ¡®Blackthorn Cybernetics insider tells media that a piece of experimental tech has been lost¡¯. Looks like this happened four days ago. I found you about 36 hours ago so that timeline checks out.¡± ¡°Yeah, it might be related,¡± I responded. ¡°If Blackthorn really is involved with this, then that makes things a lot more complicated.¡± I sighed and laid my head back down on the pillow. The click of the computer shutting echoed slightly throughout the room. Lyra extended her finger and put it on my forehead. ¡°In any case, I wouldn¡¯t worry about that right now. Not much you can do in your condition,¡± she stated matter-of-factly, ¡°You should try to get some more sleep. I¡¯ll see if I can scavenge for plating for your arm while you rest.¡± ¡°You¡¯re probably right. Thank you Lyra,¡± I said, the weight of my eyelids pushing my exhausted mind deeper into the pillow. ¡°Again, don¡¯t mention it. Have a good nap,¡± she responded, her kind voice flowing through my ears as I drifted off to sleep. CHapter 5: Upgrade I awoke from my slumber to the sound of a power drill whirring near me. When my eyes fluttered open, I saw Lyra sitting in the same chair that she had been in earlier, a surgical mask covering half of her face. Noticing my stirring, she pulled the drill away from my arm and looked up at me. ¡°Well good morning, sleeping beauty,¡± she said. ¡°Morning,¡± I responded, ¡°What kind of mad scientist activities have you gotten up to?¡± She tapped my arm, which was now mostly plated in a shiny metal. It made an unnatural, hollow dinging as she poked her fingernail into it. ¡°I was able to scavenge some titanium alloy for the plating, meaning once I¡¯m done putting it on, your arm should be fully functional. I¡¯d still recommend being careful as you get used to it, but it¡¯s waterproof and durable, so you shouldn¡¯t have any issues.¡± ¡°Hopefully it¡¯s durable enough to not get it torn off again,¡± I joked. ¡°Hopefully you don¡¯t find yourself in a situation where there¡¯s a possibility of it getting torn off,¡± she shot back, ¡°don¡¯t make all of my scavenging and work go to waste, I¡¯ll be pissed.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am, I won¡¯t lose your hard work and dedication,¡± I said back, saluting with my real arm. With a chuckle, she began using the drill again, putting the final pieces of plating near my wrist. When she finished, she put the drill down on the table and took the mask off of her face. ¡°Should be working now, try moving your arm around.¡± I sat up on the cot, which required significantly less effort than it had the day prior and began to move my arm around. First left, then right, then in a circle, and finally forward and backwards. It was heavier than my own arm, but not by much. ¡°Seems to work well,¡± I said, ¡°thank you so much.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Are you able to stand?¡± She asked. I slowly put my legs to one side of the cot and stood up. It wasn¡¯t easy, but I was able to stand and take a few steps forward, leaning against a wall when I made it to one. ¡°Yeah, I can walk just not very well.¡± ¡°Understandable, you lost a lot of blood. Just try to take it easy. I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re hungry, do you want anything to eat?¡± As if to answer her, my stomach growled audibly enough for her to hear. She laughed and stood up from the chair, once again disappearing into another room. A few minutes later she returned with a protein bar and a glass of water.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°Here, take these. It¡¯s not much but it¡¯ll help for now.¡± I opened the packaging on the protein bar and took a bite. The grainy chocolate felt like the greatest meal I had ever eaten. I greedily inhaled the bar and slurped the water down. Standing became significantly easier after that, even with the blood loss. Lyra laughed audibly at my admittedly ridiculous consumption of the food. ¡°Hungry, huh?¡± She asked in a teasing voice. ¡°I almost died, and the last thing I ate was in a dream a day and a half ago. Yeah, I¡¯m starving.¡± I crumpled the wrapper up in my metal hand and tried tossing it into a trash can across the room. I let it fly, but it missed the mark, landing on the ground a few inches away. ¡°Looks like my accuracy with this new arm is gonna need some work,¡± I said, then slowly walked over to pick it up. Walking had become easy enough that I was able to get to the fallen paper without falling, so I turned to Lyra. ¡°Any tips on getting used to the arm?¡± I asked. ¡°I think the best thing to remember is that this is not your real arm, so it will be different and slightly uncomfortable at first, but you will get used to it with time. And try to pull your punches if you¡¯re not meaning to kill someone, titanium limbs and skulls don¡¯t usually mix well.¡± As I listened to her, I raised my metal arm into the air and let it back down slowly. She was right about it feeling strange, but it seemed like something I could eventually accept. Lyra spun on the swivel chair when she finished speaking and reached into one of the wooden cabinets on the wall. From it, she extracted my leather, which was missing one of the sleeves, and a T-shirt that was not mine. ¡°Here, put these on,¡± she instructed. I did as she told me to. The jacket was stained with dried blood, but it still fit, and I could always wash it. Also from the cabinet, she pulled out my holster and the handgun that belonged in it, my beloved Mk. VII. I took the holster and attached it to my hip, which was a slightly more difficult process to do with metallic fingers. Holding the gun by the barrel, she raised it towards me. I took it by the grip and checked the chamber, which still had a round loaded. Letting the slide forward gently, I reholstered the gun. ¡°So,¡± she began, breaking the silence, ¡°What¡¯s your next move?¡± I thought for a moment. I hadn¡¯t yet considered what I was going to do next. I still had to get my bike back from the spot where I left it. I need a proper meal, a shower, and sleep in a real bed. Looking further, I also needed to get to the bottom of the Paul Rodriguez situation. I need to know what kind of tech he had, how he did what he did, and who was responsible. ¡°I think for right now, I just want to get home,¡± I answered simply. ¡°Get something to eat, take a shower, the things one usually does after getting their arm ripped off.¡± Another thought entered my head, one that I had been meaning to ask for a while now. ¡°If I may ask, why did you choose to save me?¡± She looked up into my eyes. ¡°Long story short, a bounty hunter saved my life one time, and I wanted to repay that in any way I could. If you want to hear the whole story, then I guess you¡¯ll just have to come back one day.¡± ¡°I think I will. And if you ever need any help, a job or whatnot, just call me. I owe you my life, it¡¯s the least I can do.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind. The door¡¯s down the hall and to the left.¡± She paused for a moment. ¡°See you around, Badger. Try not to get yourself killed.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± I responded with a laugh, ¡°See you around, Lyra. And thanks again for the arm.¡± And with that, I followed her instructions once more and left the building. Chater 6: Wheels A warm wind blew softly into my face as I walked down the road through The Wastes. The BodyTech in my eyes highlighted a path in front of me, indicating where and when I should turn to get back to my motorbike. The GPS tracker I had installed in the bike said it was about two miles south of where Lyra had fixed my arm. The Wastes, being generally used as a dumping ground for the city dwellers in Santa Luz, housed many junkyards and nomadic gangs, as well as trailer parks and oil fields. Though the inner section of Santa Luz had advanced weather-controlling technology, The Wastes were not seen as important enough to be given such technology. The New Mexico sun beat down as I trudged towards my bike, my body aching and longing for home. This summer heat sucks, I thought to myself, of course, I have to be walking right at the hottest point of the day. I guess I am fortunate enough to be walking at all, rather than a corpse outside of a shitty dive bar. The minutes seemed to drag on as I walked. With every step, my tired feet kicked up small bits of dust from the cracked ground. The neon sign of a convenience store shone in the distance. I decided that a bottle of water and a snack of some kind would really hit the spot, so a pit stop would be necessary. The bell on the door dinged as I entered the little shop. The air conditioning unit above the door buzzed and whirred, but worked well enough to be refreshing. Rows of shelves holding bagged potato chips and candy bars led to the back of the store. I roamed to the refrigerators holding cans of soda and bottles of water. ¡°Decisions, decisions,¡± I muttered to myself as I scanned the hundreds of different bottles and cans. I heard the bell ding again but paid no mind to it. Just as I was able to decide on a beverage, I heard a man begin to incoherently shout in the front of the store. I crouched low and hid behind one of the shelves, wondering what could possibly be causing the yelling. Peeking around the shelf, I saw a man holding a gun out in front of him, his finger on the trigger. ¡°I said,¡± he continued to yell, ¡°open the register and give me everything inside.¡± He pulled the hammer back on the handgun to show that he wasn¡¯t kidding. The man behind the counter cowered but started punching a code into the register to open it. The Goddess of Luck has had it out for me here recently, I thought with an internal sigh. Knowing I needed to act fast, I used my BodyTech to scan the man holding the firearm. His name was Ricky, and he had a bounty on his head. This was perfect, as it meant I could do something to intervene. The money wasn¡¯t particularly great, only a hundred and fifty credits, but he was still worth something, and it meant that I could use lethal force if necessary. As quietly as I could, I unholstered my own handgun and cocked it. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. I can¡¯t believe I already have to use this again, I thought. I crept up behind the man, walking slowly as the employee filled the bag. When I rose to my full height, I tapped Ricky on the back of the head with the muzzle of my gun. ¡°Put the gun down or I pull the trigger,¡± I barked in the most intimidating voice I could muster. He froze for a moment, realizing the gravity of the situation he was in. The man behind the corner stopped shoving the credits from the register in the bag. He put the bag down on the counter and started shaking a bit less as Ricky lowered the gun. ¡°Outside, you¡¯re coming with me.¡± I put my metal arm on his shoulder and jerked him towards the door, gun still pointed at the back of his head. The bell on the door dinged as I opened it with Ricky¡¯s chest. Once we were outside, I tapped the side of my head. In my eyes, a list of people¡¯s names showed up, my contact list. I motioned downward with my head until I saw the number of the bounty hunting agency. I blinked twice at the name, and a digital ringing began to play in my head. When the call connected, I began to speak. ¡°Hello, this is bounty hunter Badger, ID 72192, I need to order a collection for a head.¡± ¡°Dead or Alive?¡± The voice on the other end was robotic. It had been programmed to respond to any call at any time, which made it a valuable asset for any hunter stuck in the middle of nowhere like I was. As long as I gave my ID, they would send a pickup. Ricky, realizing that he would get thrown in jail if he didn¡¯t act, attempted to spin around to face me, raising the gun in his hand. I had expected this to happen. A singular gunshot rang out, and Ricky crumpled to the dry ground with a thud. The shell casing from the bullet clattered to the ground with a hollow dinging, rolling through the dirt and stopping at my feet. A pool of blood formed under Ricky¡¯s head from the wound, staining the dusty ground a deep crimson. The robotic voice on the other end of the phone repeated the question. I sighed and holstered my handgun. ¡°Dead.¡± ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ I munched on the sandwich the convenience store employee had given me for free as I approached The Pit. A bit of the ground in the parking lot outside was still stained with the blood from my arm. I checked the door in the front, but it was locked. Figures, I thought, it is only two in the afternoon, wouldn¡¯t make much sense for a bar to be open. Slightly relieved that I didn¡¯t have to face the problem, and ultimately Rodriguez, until after I had some time to plan my next move, I continued onward towards my bike. Thankfully, my luck had turned a bit, and it was still sitting in the parking spot where I had left it, intact and ready to roll. I stuck my keys in the ignition and heard it roar to life, a sound that I had missed dearly. Watching the engine vibrate was reassuring. The item I loved the most was still here, even after everything I had been through over the previous days. I leaned against the bike, finally taking a moment to breathe and collect myself. I gazed at my arm, which shined in the midday sun. ¡°At least I got paid for Ricky,¡± I said aloud, trying to make the most of the situation. Deciding that it was finally time to go home, I threw my leg over the side of the bike and rode it towards home. Chapter 7: Friends in Low Places I woke up, finally in my own bed. The morning sun shone through the window, its soft, warm rays landing on my face, rousing me from my sleep. I yawned, outstretched my arms, and sat up on the soft mattress. Getting up from the bed, I went to the fridge and pulled out some supplies to cook with. A couple of eggs, some bread, and two slices of RealMeat, the meat supplement created after the prices of actual meat got too high to afford. While I cooked, I thought about the day ahead of me. I had to do some research on Blackthorn to see if Lyra¡¯s theory held any weight, and I had to find out more about the bounty. Whoever put the bounty out on him had to have known what he was capable of. If it was really Blackthorn, I¡¯d be going up against one of the most powerful and well-prepared corporations in all of Santa Luz. I needed to be careful with my next moves because if I went at this with the wrong approach it¡¯d likely end with me breaking my promise to Lyra and wasting her hard work. In terms of research, I knew exactly the person to go to, but the question was how much money I would be willing to spend on my answer. When I finished cooking, I hastily ate the food, barely having enough time to taste it, and then hopped into the shower. I hadn¡¯t showered the night before due to exhaustion, so my left side was still caked in blood. The warm, clear water turned a deep red as it ran down my beaten body, pooling at the bottom near the drain. I watched as the bloody water streamed down the drain, washing away some of the pain from my injuries. I hadn¡¯t felt comfortable like this in days, so I took time to relish it. After a little while of just standing in the shower and letting the water run down my body, I cleaned the blood off of my body and got out of the shower. I put on my clothes, holster, and jacket, and went for the door. Once outside my apartment, I took the elevator down to the parking lot and got onto my bike. To begin my research I had to go meet a friend of mine on the south side of Santa Luz. He was once a cogger, but he broke away from that life after losing his job and realizing that he didn¡¯t want to lick the boot of the elite any longer. Now, using his technical prowess and his experience with all of the iterations of the Gridlink, he peddles information. He deals in the kinds of things the average person can¡¯t just find with ease, and I had a need for something of that nature. As I drove through the city, I checked my credit account. I had enough to get what I needed and not be destitute, but I needed to take on a job while he worked or things wouldn¡¯t be looking too good for me. I can kill two birds with one stone then, I thought to myself as I rode, the wind blowing through my hair, I can go to the Widow¡¯s Den and ask around about the liaison that gave me the job, because I¡¯ve never seen her before even though I¡¯ve been working with them for over a year. Maybe she knows more about the job than she initially let on. When I arrived at my destination, I got off my bike and looked around. I was sitting outside a Gridlink Hub, a place for people who can¡¯t afford computers to go to use the Grid. A holographic sign floating above the doorway said The Patch. I walked up to the automatic door and it opened, releasing the smell of sweat and instant noodles into the air. The smell stung my nostrils and I gulped, trying not to make a face as I entered. The inside of the building was fairly unassuming. Rows of computers on metal desks filled the room, some of them having people sitting or sleeping on them. A man sat at a counter in the front of the building, and he motioned for me to come over to him. ¡°A computer is 5 credits per hour, where do you want to sit?¡± He asked in a bored, monotone voice. ¡°I¡¯m actually here to see Cipher, is he free?¡± I returned, trying to have a bit more enthusiasm than the employee. ¡°Back room,¡± he responded simply. I made my way to the back of the computer room, passing by the rows of computers. Being nosy as I am, I snuck peeks at the computer screens that were on. Most people were browsing the Grid or playing online games, and one person was shopping for new BodyTech, which struck me as odd. I looked a little closer at the screen and scanned it with my eyes. I realized then why he was here.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Illegal tech, I thought, that tracks. An unassuming grey door sat on the back wall of the room. I went to it and opened it up. Inside was a small man with glasses and a baseball cap on. He looked up from his impressive computer setup at me. His eyes widened at the sight of me, and a smile crept onto his thin, dark face. ¡°Badger! It¡¯s been a while, man. How¡¯ve you been?¡± he stood from his swivel chair as he spoke. ¡°Living the Santa Luz dream, ya know?¡± Our right hands met in a crisp handshake, and as his hand slid off mine, his eyes widened even more and a slight gasp escaped his lips. ¡°Dude, what the fuck happened to your arm? Why is it metal?¡± He asked frantically, looking genuinely worried. ¡°Long story, and that¡¯s part of the reason I¡¯m here actually,¡± I returned. ¡°Well shit man, I¡¯ve got time. Take a seat, what can I help you with?¡± I sat down on one of the cushioned chairs in front of his desk. His gaze darkened as I began to tell my story, first about Rodriguez and his tech, then about Lyra and her suggestion of Blackthorn being involved. When I finished explaining, he immediately began typing on his computer. As he clicked the holographic keys he spoke. ¡°This Lyra girl knows her shit. I¡¯ve been seeing some news on the Grid about them losing some piece of tech, but I¡¯m not sure what kind it was. If it was BodyTech, that would be your best bet to investigate, but you¡¯ve gotta be careful. I know you¡¯re a capable guy, but you cannot win a war against that many Ivories. They¡¯ve got credits out the wazoo and can put a bounty on you whenever they feel like it. One wrong move and you¡¯ve got all of Santa Luz on your tail.¡± ¡°I know, I¡¯ll be careful. I don¡¯t plan to start a war that I can¡¯t win. All I want to do is find out what the hell happened to me,¡± I replied. ¡°Good. Don¡¯t do anything stupid. So, what do you need from me?¡± ¡°Two things. Firstly, I need to know what kind of tech Blackthorn lost. If it¡¯s BodyTech, I have to know so I can know what I¡¯m truly up against. Second, I need as much information on Paul Rodriguez as I can get. I want to get that bounty, and I want my revenge. He took my arm, so I¡¯ll take something he can¡¯t get back.¡± I tapped my right temple with my metal finger and brought my menu up. The file on Paul was sitting in my inbox, so I moved it to my messages and selected Cipher in my contacts. When it appeared on his computer, he clicked on it with his mouse and moved it onto his second monitor. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do. I should be able to get the information on this Rodriguez guy, but Blackthorn is a tough nut to crack, even for me. They¡¯ve got top-of-the-line security, so it could take a little while. I¡¯ll hit your line when I find something on either of them.¡± ¡°How much do you want for this?¡± I asked. ¡°For a friend, I won¡¯t charge you too much. A hundred up front and a hundred after the job is done.¡± ¡°Deal,¡± I agreed, and sent him the credits with the buttons on my wrist, surprised at how little this was costing me. ¡°What¡¯s your next move?¡± He asked. ¡°I¡¯m gonna do a simple job for today, I wanna earn some cash. I don¡¯t know if you saw on the news but I was the one who got that guy outside the gas station in The Wastes, but he was peanuts. I need a more substantial job.¡± ¡°Sounds good. Be careful, and make sure you¡¯re fully used to the new arm before you start using it heavily. I don¡¯t want you getting killed over a tech malfunction,¡± he warned with genuine concern. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna go for anything crazy right now, probably just a kill job that I can get into and out of quickly.¡± ¡°Either way, take care of yourself, man.¡± ¡°I will, thank you. Good to do business with ya.¡± As Cipher went back to his computer, I got up from the chair and left the room. The employee at the front eyed me as I walked to the door and left the building. ¡°Alright,¡± I said to myself as I mounted my bike, ¡°time to go make a little cash.¡± I turned the key in the ignition and started my journey towards the Widow¡¯s Den. Chapter 8: A New Job: Part One Leaning against my bike, I lit a cigarette and took a drag, exhaling the smoke upwards in a column. The sign for the Widow¡¯s Den glowed a fluorescent green, illuminating my surroundings in the otherwise dark alleyway. The occasional hunter passed me by as I smoked, heading to the same place I was. Hunter¡¯s Row held many of the most popular meeting spots for hunters and liaisons, and the Widow¡¯s Den was no exception. Being known for giving out good hunts for fair pay, it was a well-liked spot by the locals. When the cigarette burned down to the butt, I flicked it across the street into the brick wall adjacent to me. The embers flew upon impact with the wall, scattering to the ground and going out. I turned on my heel and went into the bar. As usual, the place was incredibly busy. Most of the seats were taken, but one of the booths in the back was free, so I sat down in it and tapped the screen embedded into the table. On the menu that appeared when I interacted with it was a list of drinks and a list of jobs. Not wanting to be even remotely inebriated for my next job, I settled on a glass of ice water. While looking through the jobs, a few caught my eye. Most were kill jobs, but there were a few high-paying search and rescue jobs as well. The issue with search and rescue jobs was that they were most often involved with gangs, which meant that shooting my way out would be a lot more difficult. I tapped the button on the menu that sent a liaison out to me and waited for my ice water and the person. When the drink arrived, I picked it up and took a sip, the ice clinking around the glass as I moved it. After a few minutes of sitting at the table, drinking my ice water and fidgeting with the glass, a tall woman with long pink hair in a pantsuit approached my table and sat down. I greeted her with a smile, and she did the same. ¡°My name is Jess, and I¡¯ll be your liaison today. So, what are we thinking today? Something simple or a little more complicated,¡± she opened. ¡°Something simple and well paying, anything I could go for in one day.¡± ¡°Well, we have a couple, and you got here early enough that there''s still a few on the table. What kind of hunt are you looking for?¡± ¡°Either kill or snatch and grab, but I¡¯d rather do a kill mission.¡± She brandished a small tablet and began scrolling, highlighting a few names and bounties. Most of them seemed easy enough, something I could complete and still meet with Cipher if he found anything. She swiped on her tablet, causing three bounties to appear on the table screen in front of me. ¡°Looks like we have three simple kill missions, which of them looks the most interesting to you?¡± I looked at the three faces on the table. There were two burly white guys, one with long hair and a beard, and the other entirely bald, and a skinny Asian man with a circuit coming out of his right eye. Circuitry also lined the sides of his face. The long-haired man was worth 400 credits, the bald one was 600, and the skinny Asian man was 1000. I immediately ruled out the third one, as a 1000-credit bounty with his looks meant he was likely some kind of cybercriminal. Considering my new arm, I didn''t want to deal with someone with technological know-how. I don¡¯t need some jackass hacking my arm and causing it to malfunction until I knew exactly the level of security it had.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I tapped on the bald white guy, and his information came up on the table. Trent Freeman, age 27, is wanted for the triple murder of his wife and two kids. Bounty: 600 credits. BodyTech: none, fully natural. Last seen: The Haven on the west side of Santa Luz three hours ago. Left in a silver car and drove towards the western sector of The Wastes. ¡°Familicide huh? I¡¯ll take this one, it seems easy enough,¡± I said. ¡°Good choice. Pretty heinous crime too, makes it easier to not hesitate.¡± I tapped on the menu and flicked upwards, sending it to my own rig. The information appeared in my eyes, including the direction he drove. It was essentially in a straight line from the Haven until the Santa Luz camera system lost sight of him. I didn¡¯t have much time to lose before he became impossible to find, so I thanked the liaison and stood up from my seat, downing the last of the water in the process. The wind blew into my face as the automatic door to the Den opened. I rushed outside and mounted my bike, which was parked in a corner near the building. The route to Trent¡¯s last known sighting was still being projected onto my eyes by the BodyTech, so I began driving west. The buildings and streets went by in a blur as I flew down the street and up towards the skybridge. I wanted to catch him as fast as possible, so breaking a few traffic laws in pursuit of my goal didn¡¯t seem so egregious. As I drove further and further through the city, the buildings began to separate, no longer forming the urban sprawl that I was used to. When the skybridge came to an end, it lowered back down to the regular road and sent off for miles into The Wastes. I continued along the path that my mapping system was sending me down, eventually leaving the city limits where the last known sighting of Trent had been. There was very little to find where the directions ended, so I needed to find some trace of him. Thankfully for me, the land was flat and easy to see, as it was still midday, so lighting wasn¡¯t an issue. I slowed my bike down to a crawl and used my eyes to scan the ground around me. Many sets of tire tracks continued down the path, but one set of tracks caught my eye, as they went off the path and continued through the arid flatland. Deciding this was as good a clue as any, I followed the tire tracks through the desert. The tracks were faint due to the desert wind, but they were still visible. As I followed them, I made sure my gun was locked and loaded, and I prepared myself. I wasn¡¯t going to have another job go awry like last time. In the distance, I could see a vehicle shining in the hot desert sunlight. As I approached, the car¡¯s color became easier to spot. Silver. I got off my bike and gripped my Mk. VII. Crouched and moving at a snail¡¯s pace, I got to the driver¡¯s side door and wrapped my metal fingers around the handle. On an internal count of trees, I wrenched the door from its hinges. Looking inside the vehicle, I dropped the car¡¯s door on the ground in shock. ¡°Oh¡­ shit.¡± Chapter 9: A New Job: Part 2 I took a step back from the gaping hole I¡¯d made in the side of the car. Inside sat Trent Freeman, a pistol in his left hand and a bullet hole in his head. The blood from his wound dripped down the side of his body and pooled in the bottom of the car, dripping out onto the desert ground in clumps. The concussion from the handgun had cracked the side of his skull and splattered blood onto the other side of the car and the roof, painting the disturbing scene a deep crimson. His body had slumped backwards in the driver¡¯s seat, his head laying silently against the canvas seat. In his right hand was a bloodstained piece of lined paper, crumpled up in his now limp hand. To prevent myself from losing my footing, I sat down in the dirt next to the car. I took in a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. In my two years of bounty hunting, I had never seen a scene like this. A warning flashed in my eyes, telling me that my heart rate had elevated to a dangerous speed. Keep breathing, you¡¯re fine, I thought to myself, you¡¯ve seen dead people before. I repeated this thought to myself a few times, but it wasn¡¯t much help. As a last resort, I pulled a cigarette from my pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply. The cigarette was reduced to ash quickly. As the last embers fell from the butt onto the dry ground, I put it out on the ground and dropped it under the car. It hadn¡¯t helped much either, but just enough that I was able to return to my feet and begin to assess the situation. The first thing that caught my attention was the paper in his hand. That could be some kind of suicide note, I thought to myself, who would he be writing to? He killed his whole family. My curiosity outweighed all else, so I reached into the bloody mess of a car and grabbed the paper from Trent¡¯s dead hands. It was in bad shape, crumpled up and stained in blood, but I was able to make it readable. ¡°What have I done? One minute they were all there, the next they were dead. All dead. There was blood, so much blood. On my hands, on my face. Everywhere. They did this to me. Put their fucking chip in my head and made me some lab monkey. Made me kill my family. They made me do it.¡± After the main note, the words ¡°They made me do it¡± were scrawled all over the paper in semi-illegible pen ink. ¡°They made me do it?¡± I said aloud, ¡°Who the hell are they? What kind of chip is he talking about?¡± None of this made any sense. A man that I was chasing down for murdering his whole family had shot himself in the head, leaving a note indicating that someone put something in his head and made him do it. Does technology like that, with the capability of controlling someone¡¯s mind or making them go insane, even exist? And if so, how and why did this random guy without any other BodyTech get himself involved in it? There had to be something that I was missing. I pocketed the note, deciding that I was going to bring it to Cipher to see if he could help me with it. As a caution before calling the bounty hunting agency, I checked the backseat and trunk of the car to make sure there weren¡¯t any explosives or weaponry other than Trent¡¯s handgun. When I had sufficiently investigated the car, I sent the call out and waited for them to arrive. ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ Six hundred credits richer and more drained than ever before, I drove from the desert outskirts to the centre of Santa Luz. Until Cipher called, I didn¡¯t have much to do, so I decided to spend some of the money on a meal. I walked into the restaurant and ordered a cheeseburger and a beer. They came out quickly, as it was one of those automated restaurants where the food was ready instantly. I leaned against my bike while I ate and drank, trying not to think about Trent Freeman¡¯s caved-in skull. Questions were still bouncing around my brain like pinballs. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I had a sneaking suspicion that my situation was somehow tied to Trent¡¯s. I wasn¡¯t sure whether I fully believed that a chip in his brain caused him to kill his family, but I could reasonably assume that something more was going on here. The situation seemed a lot more complex than I had initially expected. As if to make my situation even more complex, Cipher called right as I was finishing up my meal. I blinked twice to take the call. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Hello? What have you got?¡± I asked. ¡°A lot,¡± he said, ¡°you need to come over here ASAP, I¡¯m not gonna risk talking about this on the Grid. Meet me at The Hollow in an hour, you know the spot.¡± ¡°Will do.¡± As quickly as the call began, it ended. The Hollow, huh? I thought to myself, I haven¡¯t been there in a while, this must be pretty damn important. The Hollow is one of Cipher¡¯s old haunts. It¡¯s an old subway station in the industrial district that¡¯s been abandoned for years. People who operate outside the law use the place as a shelter during times when they¡¯re wanted. Bounty Hunters don¡¯t go there unless they¡¯re looking for information, as it¡¯s an unspoken rule that anyone allowed into The Hollow is not a threat. I had actually met Cipher there for the first time a while back, as I needed some information and heard about it from a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy. Had to pay a damn fortune for the information I needed too. He must be spooked, I thought, the last time we went to The Hollow was when he tripped a security system on the Grid belonging to a weapons manufacturing company. I tossed the trash from the meal into the trash can near the entrance to the restaurant. The entrance to The Hollow was about half an hour away from me, so I had a few minutes to relax before heading there. I decided that I would send Lyra a message, letting her know that I¡¯m still alive so far. Considering the interest she showed in my plight, I planned to go see her again once I got information on Rodriguez and Blackthorn. I searched through my contacts until I found hers, and typed up a quick message. ¡°Hey, It¡¯s Badger. I¡¯m still alive so far, and a friend of mine seems to have gotten some information on the situation. I can come back and tell you more once I have it if you¡¯d like?¡± I sent the message to her, then closed the contact menu and returned to my bike. Wanting to get there before Cipher, I decided to leave a bit early. The bike roared to life as I turned the key in the ignition and began to ride. As I wove through the streets of Santa Luz, I prepared myself for anything. The Hollow was as safe a spot as any for someone in my situation, but I was worried about what Cipher had to tell me. His tone of voice on the phone was almost frantic, as though the information he had found posed some sort of threat to one of us. I decided that overthinking the situation would only cause me to be on edge, and rather than speculating I should just wait for what Cipher had to say to me. When I arrived at the entrance to The Hollow, I parked my bike in the hidden lot near the building and walked to the entrance from there. When I got to the front of the subway station, a large man with a gun on his hip greeted me. ¡°Hello, traveller. What do you hope to find here?¡± He asked me. ¡°Just a place to meet with a friend in private. He¡¯s a regular, and goes by Cipher,¡± I explained to him. ¡°Knowing him, he probably called ahead to let y¡¯all know he was coming.¡± ¡°Let me check,¡± he said, then made the motions of checking his inbox with his eyes. ¡°Yep, looks like he did. Come on in, I¡¯ll take you to his spot.¡± I followed the man into the station. We went down an escalator that wasn¡¯t in service any longer, using it instead as a staircase. Once we got to the bottom, I noticed that people were sitting just about everywhere. Makeshift furniture lined the walls, mostly covered with people talking about various topics. People took the see nothing, say nothing rule of this place very seriously, as very few people even looked up at us, let alone came up asking questions. Everyone just went about their business. ¡°See the doors on the right wall? The third door from the back is Cipher¡¯s hideout, head in there,¡± the man informed me. ¡°Thanks, much appreciated,¡± I thanked him and approached the door. Behind it was another computer setup on a large metal desk, and two lounge chairs that had seen better days, but were comfortable enough. I sat in one of the chairs and awaited Cipher¡¯s arrival. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope I haven¡¯t found myself in too deep of shit,¡± I said to myself, leaning back in the chair and trying my best to relax. Chapter 10: Informant The metal knob on the door creaked as it turned. When the door was pushed open, Cipher stood in the doorway. He looked out of breath and slightly dishevelled, as though he had run the entire way here. He greeted me with a tired nod. ¡°Hey Badger, you make it here alright?¡± He asked ¡°Yeah, I managed to collect a bounty earlier, paid decently,¡± I informed him. ¡°Good to hear.¡± As he spoke, he came into the room and closed the door, locking it for good measure. He made his way over to the desk with the computer on it and powered it up. The computer whirred to life, making a few digital beeping noises as it went through its startup sequence. When the monitor turned on and the holographic keyboard appeared, Cipher put in his login information and began to pull up some images on the screen. The light from the screen lit up the dark, dingy walls of the room with a faint white glow. When he had everything that he wanted to show me, he turned the monitor 90 degrees so that I could see it and began to speak again. ¡°So,¡± he began, ¡°I did some digging on Paul Rodriguez like you asked, and I found a few notable things. Firstly, he worked as a mercenary during the South American Crisis. He was pretty good at what he did too, some of the reports I read said he had something close to eighty confirmed kills, and his squadron had over six hundred.¡± ¡°Damn, so he¡¯s got military training,¡± I lamented, ¡°That¡¯d make it difficult to fight him even without whatever tech he has.¡± ¡°Yeah, and what¡¯s more, he did a bit of bounty-hunting work too. Completed sixteen bounties over the span of five months then stopped doing it all together. That was two years ago. Seems like he almost exclusively did kill jobs. Except for one. The last job that he did.¡± Cipher¡¯s tone of voice caught my attention. ¡°And what was the other one?¡± I asked. ¡°It was a snatch-and-grab mission. From Blackthorn.¡± We both went silent for a second, realizing the gravity of what he had just said. I started to put the pieces together of the mess that I had gotten myself into. ¡°So he went for a snatch and grab against Blackthorn, then disappeared for two years?¡± I asked, confirming what he had just said. ¡°Yeah, and that brings me to some bigger problems. I traced the job that you were given to find out who put it out there. Blackthorn put the job out. They¡¯ve been a central player in this entire ordeal.¡± I sat back in the chair in shock. Blackthorn was the reason I had lost my arm. They were the ones who had made Rodriguez into what he was. I let out an audible gasp and reached into my pocket, retrieving Trent Freeman¡¯s suicide note. I put it on the table for Cipher to read. ¡°I found this at the job that I took. I went after some guy named Trent who had killed his entire family and found him in his car. He had shot himself in the head and was holding onto this note.¡± Cipher read the note aloud, his eyes widening as the words escaped his lips. He looked back and forth from me to the note, then to his computer, then back to me. The tension in the air was palpable as we both came to the same conclusion. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Blackthorn was running illegal human tests on prototype technologies and then letting them roam free to test them in action. The idea was so disturbing. A company with enough money and assets to build a small army was creating technology that would turn their mercenaries into superhumans that would kill anyone around them at the push of a button. ¡°This is bad,¡± Cipher said after what felt like an eternity of dead silence, ¡°I can only see them doing two things with this kind of tech. Either A, They¡¯re planning on selling this stuff to the highest bidder and getting filthy rich off the imbalance of power that they¡¯re creating, or B, they¡¯re building their own army. Either one of those scenarios is incredibly bad, especially the second. Not only are they one of the companies that pay off the government, so there¡¯s no way that they¡¯re going to get investigated for this, but they can afford the best mercenaries on planet Earth. And I¡¯m sure that if they offer enough money, the mercenaries they hire would be willing to take on this tech.¡± Cipher put his hands on his head and leaned down, elbows on the cold metal desk. I looked at him and asked a question I knew he didn¡¯t have the answer to. ¡°What am I supposed to do? I can¡¯t just walk away from this now that I know what¡¯s going on, I wouldn¡¯t be able to live with myself,¡± I said, the weight of this knowledge crushing me. ¡°You can¡¯t take on Blackthorn alone,¡± Cipher reminded me, ¡°They¡¯ll eat you alive.¡± ¡°But I can¡¯t just sit on my ass and do nothing while they do this!¡± I said, a bit more passionately than I had intended, ¡°They¡¯re creating technology that could change warfare as we know it, and if they¡¯re creating an army, nobody will stand a chance against this type of shit. Imagine Blackthorn choosing one of the military factions and backing them with this tech, they could begin another war!¡± ¡°That¡¯s what they¡¯ve always been doing!¡± Cipher shot back. ¡°They¡¯re all like that! Why do you think I stopped being a Cogger? I know some of the evil shit that they do. There were rumours when I was working at Apex about some of the shit that they did too. It¡¯s unfortunate, but not surprising.¡± I sat in silence for a moment, stewing over this. Deep down, I knew he was right. They¡¯re above the law, there¡¯s nothing that can stop them from doing what they want to do. But I needed to do something. I wasn¡¯t lying when I said I wouldn¡¯t be able to live with myself. The silence was broken, but this time it wasn¡¯t by either of us talking, but by the sound of a gunshot. It was faint enough that it didn¡¯t sound like it was in The Hollow, but close enough to be outside. ¡°What¡¯s going on out there?¡± I asked Cipher. He clicked a few keys on his keyboard and pulled up the security cameras that showed outside the building. Two men in suits were walking towards the entrance, and the man who had led me to Cipher¡¯s back room was lying in a pool of his own blood. The shot had been fired by one of the suited men, who was still holding his handgun as he trudged inside. ¡°Shit, they found me,¡± Cipher spat. ¡°Get out of here, I¡¯ll handle them. Go find somewhere safe to hide out for the time being.¡± He opened one of the rusty drawers on the desk and retrieved two items. They were old cell phones from the era before the war. He handed me one of them and pocketed the other. ¡°If you need me, hit me on this. These can¡¯t be tracked, they¡¯re not on the grid at all.¡± ¡°Thank god for old-era tech. Be safe,¡± I said. ¡°Will do. Good luck.¡± With that, he shot up from the chair and ran out the door, turning right towards the back exit. I quickly checked the security cameras to make sure that the two men I saw were the only ones that had come, then also exited the room, gun drawn and cocked. Something inside me told me that they were going to kill anyone who resisted, so I had to make sure nobody else died. The image of my mother telling me to make a name for myself flashed through my head. I was gonna make her proud by fighting for what I thought was right. I started this fight, and now I¡¯m gonna finish it, I thought to myself as I ran to the front of the room to confront the suited men. Chaper 11: The Good Fight The main hall of the Hollow had gone silent, a stark contrast from the hustle and bustle of just a few minutes prior. I ran through the crowded, silent room, gun drawn. The room had unbearable tension as everyone stared at the entrance, waiting for whoever would come down the broken escalator. The Hollow is supposed to be a sanctuary, I thought to myself, I¡¯m not letting anyone break that, especially not these Blackthorn coggers. When I got to the front of the room I crouched down and listened for footsteps. The faint clicking of dress shoe heels got louder as the men approached. I closed my eyes for a moment, mentally preparing for what I was about to do and the consequences of my actions. If I kill them and they find out I did it, they¡¯ll come for me, I thought. I can¡¯t be seen as I do this. In a moment of quick thinking, I reached into my pocket and retrieved a surgical mask. I wore it when going on hunts that required me to enter abandoned buildings, but now it had a new purpose. The mask fit my face snuggly as I tied it behind my head. When the two men got to the top of the escalator, one of them audibly cocked his gun and shouted down to us. ¡°If a man named Cipher is down there, send him up. We don¡¯t want to hurt any of you, but we will if you don¡¯t do what we ask.¡± They got nothing in response. After a five count of complete silence, they spoke again. ¡°Last chance, know that there will be consequences.¡± Nothing. Without another word, they began walking down the escalator to come take Cipher. Thankfully, by this point, he was long gone and there was no way they were going to find him. I rose to my full height and stood flat against the wall, arm extended and my gun pointed at the doorway. When the first man shuffled through the doorway I pulled the trigger of my handgun, sending a bullet careening through his skull. He fell to the floor in a heap, dead before he touched the ground. The blood from his head sprayed against the wall and my face, splattering onto the mask and making it impossible to breathe. I grabbed at the earloop on it and peeled it off my face, sucking in a breath. The second man, not wanting to make the same mistake as his partner, stepped back and hid on the other side of the wall I was using for cover. ¡°They¡¯re gonna get you for this!¡± He shouted, panic setting into his voice, ¡°We have eyes everywhere!¡± I neglected to respond, deciding that he wasn¡¯t worth wasting my breath on. I couldn¡¯t shoot him through the wall, as it was made of sheet metal. I tapped on it with my metal finger, and it made a hollow dinging sound. It sounded thin, thin enough for me to try something. I stepped back from the wall and putting as much force as I could behind it, I sent a haymaker towards the wall with my left arm. My titanium fist ripped a hole in the metal. I pulled my arm back through the wall, which now had a gaping hole big enough to see the other mercenary. He looked up at me and bolted, realizing that his cover was blown. His wooden heels clicked against the metal escalator as he ran, skipping steps to go as fast as possible. ¡°Fuck, he saw my face!¡± I shouted to nobody in particular as I sprinted out the door and up the stairs after him. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The man, now at the top of the stairs, had unholstered his gun and begun firing shots in my general direction. None of them came very close to me, but I still ducked instinctively. I returned fire, sending two bullets up towards him, but I missed the mark. The bullets hit the handrail of the escalator and ricocheted upwards, lodging themselves in the ceiling and sending sparks flying. The man didn¡¯t wait for me to fire again and continued running. Trying to catch up, I sprinted up the stairs and gave chase. By the time I was outside, the man was about fifty feet from me, running south towards the city. I began to gain on him, putting all of the energy I had into running as fast as possible. My breaths became ragged as we ran. When I was within range, I fired another shot at him, which was accurate enough to graze his arm. He cursed and turned right onto another street, trying to shake me. When I got to the street he had turned onto I couldn¡¯t see him anymore, but my enhanced eyes caught the small splotches of blood on the ground, which gave me the ability to continue to chase. I followed the blood trail into an alleyway and out the other side where I saw him again, running for his life. I fired one more round at him, this one going through his right leg. He crumpled to the floor, groaning in pain and unable to run any longer. He continued to try to crawl away from me, but I had already closed the gap between us. ¡°You should have known better than to break the rules of The Hollow,¡± I said to him simply, stepping on his injured leg to stop him from trying to get away. ¡°I was just following orders,¡± he cried, ¡°please don¡¯t kill me.¡± I bent over and retrieved his gun, which he had dropped during his fall. I ejected the magazine and threw it as far as I could, then pulled the slide back and ejected the bullet he had been saving for me in its barrel. His plea for mercy struck a chord with me, and I considered letting him live. I didn¡¯t want to kill him, but if he told his higher-ups at Blackthorn that it was me who had attacked them, they¡¯d send more mercenaries after me. The smart choice was to kill him and try to forget about it, but I didn¡¯t want to. ¡°If I let you live, more of you will come after me,¡± I said to him. Realizing that I was going to kill him, he reached for a knife tucked into the pocket of his suit and tried to swing at me. I stepped back and kicked his arm, breaking it and sending the knife clattering across the pavement. He screamed, a primal mix of pain, fear and anger. I felt bad for him, but I had made my decision. ¡°And here I was considering going against my better judgment,¡± I sighed. I pointed my Mk. VII down at the man¡¯s head and looked away. A single gunshot rang out, echoing through the streets of warehouses. Realizing I had to act fast, I grabbed the corpse by the legs and dragged it backwards. I had seen a dumpster in the alleyway and planned to put the merc in it. It wasn¡¯t a dignified way to send him off, but I didn¡¯t exactly have a choice. I got the man up onto my shoulder and dropped him into the bin, his body sinking into the pile of black garbage bags. The dumpster¡¯s lid fell back down, hiding the body away from view. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, I was feeling a bit wobbly. I pulled a cigarette from my pouch and sat down on the ground next to the bin. ¡°Mom never liked it when I smoked around her,¡± I said to myself, thinking about her as I let the end of it and took a drag. As I smoked, I checked through my contacts and realized that Lyra had responded to my message. ¡°Badger! Good to hear you¡¯re still kicking. I do want to know more about this whole situation, so if you want to drop by tomorrow to debrief I¡¯m not doing much.¡± I typed up a quick message confirming that I¡¯d be there, then closed the interface and leaned back against the cold brick wall behind me. When I finished my cigarette, I stood up from my spot and trudged back to the lot that I¡¯d parked my bike in. When I got back to it, I got on and rode home. I was in desperate need of a shower and some sleep. The face of the man that I¡¯d killed kept appearing in my head, but I tried my best to shake it off. ¡°I did what I had to do,¡± I continued to tell myself as I made my way all the way back to my apartment. Chapter 12: Guilt Freshly rested and showered, I sat in the desk chair in the corner of my apartment. The sleep had helped, but I was still trying to get a grasp on why killing those coggers had affected me so much. I killed people to survive, for money. Killing wasn¡¯t anything new to me. ¡°Is it the bounty?¡± I asked myself aloud, ¡°Is it that there¡¯s no reward or gain from killing them? Or is it what a bounty stands for?¡± As I mulled this over, I refilled the magazine for my handgun. As I put each bullet in, I could feel an ache in my heart, a small pang of guilt for each life I¡¯d taken. As much as I had wanted to make a name for myself bounty hunting, it still didn''t change the fact that I had killed over and over again to further my own goals. On the other hand, the people I had killed were often guilty of heinous crimes and were living their own lives while the people of those they¡¯d wronged grieved. The delicate balance of justice and guilt hung over my head, weighing me down on both sides. To get my head out of the dark place it was moving to, I decided it was time to go meet Lyra. I stood from the chair and pushed it in under my computer desk, then opened the sliding metal door to my apartment and left it. While I rode the elevator down to the parking lot where my bike was sitting, I pulled the old-world cell phone out of my pocket and sent a message to the only contact. ¡°I took care of the coggers, did you make it to a safe house? Let me know if they¡¯re still on your tail, and I¡¯ll come help you out. Stay safe, brother.¡± Once I completed the message, I slid the phone back into my pocket and exited the elevator. The parking garage smelled like burnt oil and cigarettes as I moved to the spot where my bike was parked. I tapped my right temple as I walked to set up the route to Lyra¡¯s place, as I didn¡¯t know it from memory yet. A couple of people were roaming around the parking garage, smoking and drinking while sitting against the wall. I nodded to some of them, as they were either residents of the same building or the local homeless people. When I got to my bike, I got on and drove out of the garage, headed west to Lyra¡¯s. My bike took me to the skybridge, where the wind in my hair and the sun on my face eased some of the guilt. Sunlight, at least in the east, west, and south zones, was hard to come by. The buildings reach the clouds and the skybridge arcs over the city through the middle, blocking out the sun¡¯s rays. Depression creeps up on a lot of residents of the inner zones of the city, the lack of sunlight mixed with the lack of money creates a lack of enjoyment for life. I was lucky to have a vehicle capable of taking me to the sunny spots. I pulled off the skybridge and drove through The Wastes, passing The Pit as I went. Seeing that place caused a phantom pain in my metallic arm, fleeting, but painful. The ache in my arm wasn¡¯t all bad, though, as it strengthened my resolve, pushing some of the earlier thoughts out of my mind and sharpening the mental image of my goal. I need to get the bastards that caused this, I thought to myself, Rodriguez and Blackthorn and anyone else who stands in my way. I¡¯ll bring them down even if it kills me. I knew that I was going against my better judgment, not to mention all of the words of warning from Cipher and Lyra. I knew that I was taking a near-impossible task. But I didn¡¯t care. The image of Trent Freeman flashed through my mind, his bloody hands reaching out to me. He and his family deserved vengeance, and quite frankly so did I. I had gotten off lucky. Lyra was there to save my life, but if she wasn¡¯t there I would have ended up just like him. I owed it to all of the victims of this vicious company to do something. I wasn¡¯t going to stay silent and let them use people as lab rats. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. When I got to the place Lyra called home, I got off my bike and locked it, then started towards the door. I knocked thrice, and a few moments later the door opened and a familiar set of blue eyes looked up at me. I smiled, knowing that I was in good company. ¡°You made it,¡± she said, ¡°good to see you in one piece.¡± She led me inside and back to the room I had woken up in a few days prior. I sat down on the cot and she took the swivel chair, a familiar positioning for both of us. ¡°So, what did you figure out?¡± She asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement. ¡°Likely more than I should have,¡± I began, ¡°So firstly, your Blackthorn hunch was spot on. I called up my informant, Cipher, to do some digging on them. It was their tech in Rodriguez¡¯s body that caused him to be able to attack me like that. I don¡¯t know exactly what the tech is though, as I didn¡¯t have time to figure it out.¡± Her gaze darkened as I spoke, painful anger staining her gaze. ¡°Figures, those damn ivories don¡¯t give a shit about us as long as they make their credits,¡± she spat, more angry than I¡¯d ever seen her before. ¡°It gets worse. Did you hear anything on the news about Trent Freeman, the guy that killed his whole family?¡± I asked. ¡°No¡­ I didn¡¯t. Why do you ask?¡± she replied, confirming my suspicions. ¡°Figures, leave it to Blackthorn to cover their asses well. I was the one who did that job, and I found him dead, suicide by gunshot, with a note implicating Blackthorn. It matches up with Cipher¡¯s info, and we concluded that they¡¯ve been abducting people and putting tech in them without their consent, then running experiments and releasing them into the city to test the tech.¡± Her eyes widened as I spoke, the scar on her face twitching as concern flooded her gaze. ¡°What¡­ how can they get away with something like that?¡± she asked, knowing the answer but not wanting to admit it. ¡°And to make things worse, they sent mercs after Cipher,¡± I added, ¡°Luckily I was there and I got them before they got him, but they¡¯re after him. Shit¡¯s looking grim.¡± Lyra leaned back in her chair, her red hair hanging down off the back of her head. She let out a long sigh and spoke upwards. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve just started a war with Blackthorn,¡± she said, pausing for a second before adding her next line. ¡°And I want in.¡± ¡°No,¡± I said flatly. ¡°Absolutely not, you¡¯re not risking anything else for my sake.¡± ¡°Not your choice. And what makes you think it¡¯s entirely for your sake? I have my own grudges against these godforsaken companies,¡± she began, an unbridled passion in her voice. ¡°Take a look at where I live. Do you think I want to scavenge for a living? No, I fucking hate it here, but because of those damned Ivories, I¡¯m stuck here. I can¡¯t afford to live in the city, and I can¡¯t afford to leave. Nobody out here can, we¡¯ve been forgotten by those government puppets and the ones who pull their strings. People have been disappearing out here in The Wastes, but nobody would know that because the government, the cops, and the Ivories don¡¯t care. Hell, even most hunters only come out here to get paid. These people are responsible for the kidnapping and experimentation of countless unwilling people, only to turn around and let them loose to kill others without consequences. I¡¯m so damn tired of living in this dystopian hell and sitting idly by while they get away with this shit. So yeah, I want to get back at those bastards and no, I¡¯m not asking.¡± When she finished, I sat in silence for a moment, contemplating what she had said. She was right, it wasn¡¯t my choice. If she wanted to help she could help. In a fight like this, I could use all of the help that I could get anyway. I looked up into her determined eyes and saw something I couldn¡¯t quite describe, a feeling that I¡¯d never personally felt before. She¡¯d lived in Santa Luz her whole life, so this feeling emanating from her had to be related to that. Finally, an opportunity to change her home for the better, something that hadn¡¯t been seen her whole life. ¡°Alright,¡± I said, smiling at her, ¡°then where do we begin?¡± ¡°I have a couple of ideas,¡± she replied, smiling back.