TR: 31

Chapter Thirty-One: With Friends Like These

Zocks felt the wind escape his lungs as his back slammed against the stone wall, the troll holding him up by the throat with one hairy arm with the utmost of ease. Even being held two blades above ground, Zocks still only met chest level with the beast. Brown liquid oozed from the monster’s nose and its wretched breath came in violent huffs, as if it had a perpetual cold. Though trolls where well known to have that perma-bitch face scowl, Zocks could tell from the creature’s expression that it was in a particularly foul mood.

“Let me ask you one more time.” The mage held up the crumpled piece of post-penis parchment.  “Explain the meaning of this letter. There is something here not said and I would know what that is.”

The crowd of creatures behind the mage glared daggers his way, making it all the more obvious that Zocks was not the man of the hour. Occasional growls and inhuman sounds bursting from around the room confirmed as much.

“We all have a right to know!” Shouted a voice from somewhere in the room, riling up a renewed fervor among them, grunts of dissent building on one another.

The troll tightened its grip around Zocks’s throat, feeling the flows that he had cast to resist the force straining against the immense pressure of its claws. The mage turned his attention from the riot forming behind him back to Zocks.

“I would explain quickly, or Ganog here might find your broken neck more appealing to listen to than your silence.”

Zocks could feel the sweat trickling down his neck and collecting in pools around Ganog’s fingers. He had never heard of mages naming their pets before. He glanced at the man as he struggled against the troll’s grip. The mage wore the typical garb of his ilk; a flowing robe, embellished at swooping sleeves with golden embroidery and the glitz of rare gemstones. His house sigil was imprinted on his chest, like any other dark mage, yet he wore his cowl down, which was against tradition as far as Zocks knew. Perhaps times had changed more than he had anticipated.

“Maybe… maybe he means to establish a more fortified stronghold. One that is near more resources.” He gasped, struggled to speak against the pressure at his throat.

The mage stroked his goatee in contemplation. “Perhaps. But this does not validate the dark one’s return any more than your alleged apprenticeship to him.”

Zocks grimaced at the word. “No.” He wheezed. “No it doesn’t. But does it not make sense that he would choose the strongest of us all to spearhead his campaign?”

The mage stared at him for a moment with an unreadable look and then burst into raucous laughter. “This mystery man just falls out of the sky like an angel from on high, one half rotting man points at him, and he parades about as if he is the dark one himself!”

The crowd joined in on the laughter, snarling, ridiculing glares directed at him. The mage’s laughter cut off with a chastising look.

“And now look at you. Cornered like an animal, by an animal no less, and at the mercy of a word. My word. You know, as admirable as your confidence is, you are far from the first of the many false prophets I have encountered in this life. The world does not need anymore pretenders.” He looked at Ganog. “Kill him.”

“That won’t be so easy.” Zocks managed between raspy breaths.

The Mage turned back to him. “Oh, and why not? There is only one of you. Even if you managed to escape that death grip, you do not have the manpower to stop all of us.”

He nodded to the motley group behind him. Nasty grins from assorted mugs assured Zocks that the man spoke true.

“Well then I guess I’ll need some help won’t I?”

Zocks swiped his hands in a smooth arc motion across the crowd and in the next instant every creature in the room found themselves at sword point by an army of Zocks’s likeness. The blades of countless Squad Commanders rested against throats, ready to be split at the hint of a wrong move. The mage raised his hands in the air as five copies of Zocks held him in a circle of bared swords, all aimed at his midsection. Ganog turned to see his master thus, huffing in what almost sounded like concern, though Zocks had no idea if trolls truly felt anything outside of base instincts. It turned back to Zocks, the previous fire in its eyes snuffed out, replaced with–what was that–fear, perhaps? Zocks took advantage of the momentary distraction and grabbed on to the monster’s arms, a purple haze emanating around his grasp. Ganog snorted in rage as it watched its arm being turned to stone, the spell creeping up its massive bicep, consuming its shoulder. The monster’s eyes bulged in terror as the spell began to consume its neck. Realizing too late that it had made a grave mistake by not choking out Zocks when it had use of its hand, it reared back to strike with its free hand but Zocks beat it to it. He raised his fists and smashed down on the stone arm, shattering it to pieces. The creature squealed in pain, sounding more like a two ton rabbit than anything even close to as terrible as the infamous baddie that it had been moments before. Zocks landed on his feet as the troll stumbled backwards, gripping its severed arm at the shoulder, whimpering like a kicked dog. It didn’t take long before blind rage replaced recoil and Ganog roared at the ceiling, charging Zocks.

“Enough of this foolery.” Zocks snapped, and raised his hand at the troll, a circular wave of air smashing into its chest with enough force to send it flying across the room, knocking over hundreds of bodies like dominoes, crushing any that were not quick enough to get out of its way. At the end of the room, Ganog came to a stop, slumped backwards in mock crucifixion atop a pile of bodies, unmoving. Some in the pile pinned beneath the monster’s massive weight still squirmed, screaming for help to be let out, but everyone in the room was too stunned to do anything. Zocks looked back to the crowd, his likenesses grinning back at him in just the same way that he did at the rest.

“I would have liked it not to come to this, but I see that such an undisciplined lot will not have it any other way. So let it be known, that at any time any one feels the need to challenge my authority–and by extension our dark lord’s–that they would do well to remember that pile of bodies there. Add to that the fact that numbers mean very little when nothing is known of your opponent.”

The creatures shifted uneasily as the cool steel pressed against their throats to punctuate the Squad Commander’s words.

“But let us move past this, shall we? Now, we will begin where any magnificent edifice begins: at the foundation.” Zocks began slowly pacing before the crowd, still held suspended at sword point. “And before any foundation can be laid, you need to remove any unnecessary objects in the way.”

Zocks turned to the mage, still held at bay by five of his replicas, the expression on his face looking like he wanted to take a bite out of Zocks’s. Zocks pointed at him.

“You. On your knees.”

“I bow for no one.” the mage spat. “If you think…”

Zocks made a fist and jerked his elbow back, as if pulling a ripcord. The mage gasped as an invisible weight pressed down on him, forcing him first to one shaking knee, which then buckled, leaving him kneeling on the cold marble floor. Zocks looked at one of his likenesses and nodded. The others stepped away, lowering their weapons as the remaining Zocks stood to the side in an executioner’s stance.

“For your crime of insurrection, I sentence you to death. By beheading.”

The mage suddenly looked terrified.

“Insurrection? How can this be insurrection when I’m not even a part of this bloody…”

Zocks snapped his fingers and the mage’s mouth sealed shut, frantic murmurs stifled behind his reinforced lips.

“Any last words, mage?”

The mage screamed something unintelligible, clearly begging for his life.

“That’s what I thought. Finish him.”

The doppelganger raised its sword high above its head and came down on the back of the mage’s neck, the mage squeezing his eyes shut, screaming as veins in his neck popped out from the overexertion. The crowd gasped at the sight, some even covering their eyes. The sword passed through the mage like a phantom, his head still very much in contact with the rest of him. After a long moment, the mage opened his eyes, realizing that he was still among the living. He slowly raised his head from the floor, first meeting the eyes of his would-be executioner, then to the Squad Commander himself.

Hffw. He said.

Zocks snapped his fingers and the mage opened his mouth, gasping in a fresh breath of air. The hundreds of doppelgängers around the room disappeared like a puff of smoke. The mage fell forward onto his hands, the burden that had been pressing down on him lifted. After catching his breath, he looked up to Zocks again.

“How?”

“Like I said before, numbers mean very little when little is known about your opponent. That was a simple illusion spell, with a little twist thrown in for fun. You see, it’s easy to convince one that they are experiencing a particular sensation, such as the cool touch of metal blade against their skin, but much harder to make their own brain tell them that they are dead.”

The mage stood up, brushing the dust off of his robe at the knees. He leered at Zocks, though there was an added reticence behind it, a newfound respect of sorts. “So you are openly admitting that you hope to scare us into obedience, is that it? Now that I know your little trick, what’s to stop me–to stop us–from removing obstacles, as you put it?”

Zocks laughed. “I like the way you think. A general, perhaps. Yes, I think you will do well with a battalion or two under your purview.”

The mage crossed his arms, a furtive smirk on his face. “Or a Squad Commander. Like I said, what’s to stop us now?”

Zocks stopped pacing and reached behind him, pulling out Dyskoliat and engaging the energy weapon, the snap-crackle hiss of its purple blade a viper ready to strike.

“I said it was much harder to convince one that they are dead; not impossible. But I can see that we are beyond pleasantries at this point. Tell me, mage: to what name do I address my new general that is about to be carved into your chest?”

The man’s lip twitched in a snarl. “I am Nedorias, Black Hand of the House D’datkaha, raised Perisephulum of one hundred fifty.”

Zocks grinned. “A high mage is it? This should be interesting then.”

Nedorias’s hair was matted against his face with sweat, glaring through his dark locks like a beast behind bars, ready to break free and tear out his captor’s throat.

“Come, show me what you have learned.”

Zocks circled around Nedorias, rotating his wrist as he span Dyskoliat lazily in large, swooping circles. Nedorias closed his eyes, his breathing slowing. He raised his hands above his head to form a circle with his thumbs and forefingers, the air above rippling with heat as fire began to emerge out of a vortex.

“Yes, good. I can see the channels.” Zocks said, continuing to walk around him.

Flames began to swirl around in a torrent of blazing air, the light from the rest of the chamber seeming to be sucked into the vortex, feeding the spell. The air crackled and hissed above Nedorias, a world of fire opened above him.

“You are strong with these ties. You have been taught well. Deserving of your title, no question.” Zocks mused, still about his circular stride.

The Mage opened his eyes, ablaze with flames. His voice bellowed throughout the chamber, echoing against the cold stone extremities. “I am Nadorias Kadan N’thrall, Arch-mage of House D’datkaha, among the most powerful families on the entire eastern seaboard of Argoth. For eight hundred years we have been hamstrung by petty politicking and red tape from the Guild, all the while holding us back from our true potential. I will not stand by and watch my family’s forsaken legacy be replayed with this little cult of yours. This will be my retribution!”

Nedorias directed his hands at Zocks, channeling the vortex into a spiraling wave of inferno. The crowd gasped, opal reflections dancing like sparkling jewels in their eyes. Zocks stopped, standing apathetically as he stared at the blaze flying at him. Casually, he sheathed Dyskoliat on his back and raised a hand to the fire, seeming to grab a hold of it. The fire wound itself around his arm like a snake, coursing across his body and down the other arm in like fashion. He threw his arms out to his sides, the coils of flame shooting out like geysers, stretching out across the room, attenuating to a point where they thinned out of existence. No evidence remained that a spell had just been conjured. Nedorias stood with a look of disbelief, his hand still frozen in time out in front of him, fingers moving spasmodically as if undergoing rigor mortis.

Zocks grinned, nodding. “You will do well.”

“W…what did you just do? I have never seen anyone break ties like that!”

Zocks chortled to himself. “I didn’t break anything, other than your inflated ego, perhaps. If you had been paying attention you would have seen what really happened.”

Nedorias sneered. “If you are at all what you claim to be then you should know that a spell cannot be simply uncast; sen pera set abdina.”

“As before, so after– I am quite well versed in the code of the Magii.” Zocks waved his hand dismissively. “But I assure you nothing was lost. Only…” Zocks looked at his hand, as if considering a thought. “…relocated.”

“Relocated? Something of that magnitude cannot just be simply moved as if it were an article of dirty clothing to be cast into the wash.”

“Believe what you want. There are no illusions.”

Nedorias clenched his fists and moved threateningly towards him. “Then where is it?” he yelled.

“Why don’t you look behind you.”

A look of confusion replaced his expression of rage. He spun around and screamed in agony as his own spell of fire washed over him, appearing out of midair. He thrashed about as his body raged with dancing flames, every inch of his being a glowing blaze. Zocks grabbed Nedorias by the throat and slammed him against the wall, just as his troll had done moments prior. The flames did not seem to affect him. Nedorias just screamed, his skin beginning to bubble and his facial hair catching fire, wicking away to nothing.

“Who do you serve?” Zocks said in a cool tone.

Nedorias squirmed against the stone, struggling to form speech through his screams. “I… Aaaaaah! I… I serve only you my lord…I…”

Zocks grip tightened. Nedorias made a choking sound, his clothes nearly disintegrated, smoldering.

“Who do you serve?” Zocks yelled this time, his voice booming off the high ceiling.

“I…I…please, the pain…make it stop!” Nedorias began to whimper. “I came only to serve the dark lord!”

He wailed at the top of his lungs. Zocks let go off the man and he fell to the floor in a flaming heap. He waved his arm and a rush of wind blew the flames out instantly. Nedorias lay curled in a fetal position, his charred skin fuming with smoke, shaking as he embraced himself with his blackened arms.

“That is who you serve.” Zocks looked down pitifully upon the misshapen man.

He turned to the shaken audience, creatures eyeing him nervously, wondering if they were going to be the next victim.

“That is who we all serve. Do not forget that. Let this man be the example of those who do.”

Nedorias continued to cradle himself, murmuring broken words into his chest as if in a delirium.

“Now, on to more jovial matters. Our Lord has requested of me to assemble an army in his name. You shall be this army, unless I am mistaken as to why you have come thus far. Any with cold feet may leave now, with impunity. I will not judge you if this undertaking is beyond your capabilities.”

He stood there in silence, looking over the crowd before him. Many exchanged glances but no one left the throne room.

Zocks nodded. “Good! There is much to be done and very little time to do it in.”

He walked towards the crowd and they parted around him, forming a walkway. He stopped in the middle of the room, looking over the two ranks that had formed on either side of him.

“I want anyone who has any inkling of magical ability one one side, here, and those who do not remain in place. Those who cannot bear arms, speak now; special duties will be assigned.”

“How can we trust you?” A voice spoke up from within the crowd.

Zocks turned towards the sound. Creatures stepped aside to allow the speaker into view. She was tall, fair skinned and one of the most beautiful elves Zocks had ever seen. And judging by her dark attire and red tattoo down the side of her face, she was a dark elf–a Torryan–perhaps a priestess by the way her hair was arranged about a bejewelled headpiece. Her violet eyes challenged his own and he found himself lost in them for a moment.

“From this..note, no explicit instructions have been left as to his desires. How can we trust that he has invested this knowledge in you?”

She held up the once-comical piece of paper at him. Zocks stared for a moment, then smiled at her.

“She is right. How can you trust me?” He turned away from her to the rest of the group. “And better yet, why should you believe that this man who I helped bring back into this world, from whatever wretched prison he had been condemned, is indeed the dark one himself?”

Everyone exchanged confused glances.

“The simple answer is that you cannot trust me. Nor can you trust him. But the difference between this…man and I is that you now all know what I am capable of. And if you choose to follow me in his stead then you will learn, you will master, and you will conquer.”

The elfess snickered. “And what say you to the dark lord once he finds out you are stealing his army?”

“Stealing? No, no my lovely friend.”

He approached her and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. She jerked away in disgust. Zocks’s smile did not falter.

“Not stealing. Proving.”

A gurgled sound followed by coughing came from somewhere behind him. “Who are you?”

Zocks turned to find the scorched, grotesque face of Nedorias looking up at him, one eye seared shut, his lips and ears melted to the skull. His beautiful long locks of hair had all but disintegrated to charred stumps. Zocks glowered at the man, feeling a tinge of sympathy despite himself.

“Me?”

Zocks turned his head and looked out a shattered stained-glass window that must have broke during his skirmish with the troll. Far away against the blackening backdrop of night, waves wrestled each other over the jagged silhouettes of the cliffs upon which the fortress sat. Storms rumbled in the distance like elegies set to the scene. Zocks stood silent for a long moment. Just when everyone thought he had forgotten the question, he turned to face Nedorias. His was a world cast in blood, long before he had donned the forgemaster’s tinted goggles. And if history was any kind of fortune teller, then more blood was sure to come.

“A messenger. Just a messenger.”

***

Kuu sipped nervously from the small porcelain cup as she stared out the window of the Mew and Brew, one of several popular cat cafes in the district. As she watched people pass by on the streets, she kept imagining seeing her pursuers pop out among them, though it always turned out to be no one of importance. Her mind still reeled from her being chased through the streets like a wild animal, the fear of being caught–or worse–still hanging over her like a persistent cloud. She put the cup down on the saucer, her hands shaking as her system struggled to deal with metabolizing the adrenaline that ran roughshod over her nerves. Suddenly, an orange blur jumped into her vision, landing on her lap. Kuu startled with an almost subtle yelp, enough to draw a moment’s attention with a questioning look from one customer attempting to enjoy a cup of steaming something. A large tabby had jumped up from the floor to say hello to Kuu, rubbing its butt affectionately against her ribs. Kuu laughed nervously, looking around to make sure she hadn’t set anyone off, though no one seemed to be paying her any mind. She stroked the soft fur of its back and it wandered onto her lap for a front row seat to her attention, cradling up in a ball where it made a new home. Kuu smiled as she gently scratched behind the cat’s ears. Though the colours weren’t the same, the animal reminded her of Donut. Of course, these weren’t meowmods but, to Kuu, there was no difference; Donut was real to her, just the same. All around the cafe cats could be seen, walking around the shop, lounging on the back of booths, up high on displays filled with coffee-making paraphernalia–or other cats–and even on the shoulders of the more tolerant clientele, likely regulars.

Kuu looked down at the tabby, purring with euphoric slits for eyes. “What I am to do with you, hmm?”

Kuu looked out the window. “What I am to do with me?”

Kuu was well aware that she was lucky to have evaded the Mercky Water’s genteel. If it weren’t for her cybridized metabolic controls which allowed for her to override her lactic acid thresholds and push through exhaustion past human limits, there would have been no way she could have outrun those soldiers. That, and probably the fact that she was small enough to fit through the ventilation grating back in the manikin factory… Whoever the god that had been watching over her that day, Kuu knew she owed them a debt. Despite her miraculous escape, she still felt like she was on the lam. It was entirely possible she was, given she knew nothing about how badly those men wanted her. Was it a crime for impersonating a criminal? Was there even a law for that? Or was it something else entirely that had tripped off the organization? And, of course, it was an organization. Wasn’t it? It had to be; how else had the Mercky Water–a motel–rallied militants? There were far too many questions. Kuu’s head spun; all she cared to think about in her own time was her cat, her books and, on braver days, what else might be out there in the universe. But this? It was just too much. Kuu sighed, slumping down on the table on her arms. The tabby, noticing her change of mood–or perhaps change of position which included no more ear scratches–bumped her in the chin gently with its head. Kuu slumped back against the seat, a halfhearted smile on her face, petting the cat once more as it paced slowly back and forth on her lap, proud of its achievement.

“You’re right. Before I can fix myself, I have to get over myself. Moping won’t solve anything at this point. I cannot hope to succeed if I do not try.”

Kuu nodded to herself. “Then I shall try.”

Kuu dialed up her diagnostic module and ran a systems check. As she suspected, damage to her synchronizer was detected, which explained her difficulty feeding into the softLink. She sat patiently as streams of numbers pooled in her vision, the numbers that made her who she was. Or, at least, what she was. Kuu didn’t know what a soul was, if it even existed. Could it be quantified? Was it really just an analogy for a specific sequence or set of algorithms? Or was it something more? Something that only animals or people possessed? As her mind wandered into the realm of the infinite, her system chimed, signifying that the diagnostic check had run its course. The results were not promising; preliminary scans showed that damage to her synchronizer was beyond endogenous nanite repair capabilities, which meant that the damage was extensive, likely requiring new materials. Kuu bit her lip as she thought about what to do next. She felt a funny sensation on her hand and looked down at the tabby whose wet nose was sniffing her hand. Gently, a rough tongue licked her finger, hoping that the Krud it smelled there had its source close by.

“Oh, if only life were as simple as being a cat. Nanite repair wouldn’t matter; I could just move on to my next life of nine, couldn’t I?”

The cat sat down on her lap, staring at her with large, intense green eyes. It meowed, loudly. Kuu thought on it for a moment and then a thought came to her.

“Of course. Why didn’t I think of that! A shaper! Yes, a shaper will have exactly what I need. After all, that is exactly what they do–repair people like me.”

The cat cocked its head sideways, as if questioning the merit of Kuu’s conversation with it. Kuu placed her hands on the side of the cat’s face and gently kissed the cat on the forehead. She jerked back slightly, laughing.

“Thank you for your help, wise one. But I’m afraid you need a bath.”

Kuu slid out of the booth and the cat hopped nonchalantly to the side, clearly used to the cue. Kuu held out her hand and a small hologram with some numbers on it popped up above a carbon-fiber band around her wrist. She swiped her other hand across the image, flicking her fingers in the direction of a woman helping a customer behind a counter. There was a small pinging sound as the payment registered and the waitress waved at Kuu as she left the cafe.

“Thanks hun! We’ll be seeing ya.”

***

Back on the streets, Kuu’s prior elation faded like perfume in a breeze as the countless droves of unfamiliar people, buildings and vehicles around her reminded her that she had absolutely no idea where she was. She considered asking some of the people around her but her paranoia had been dialled up to eleven after her restless stay at the Mercky Water. Whatever was left of her better judgement told her that she could trust no one, so she followed the advice to herself. So, then, how to orient oneself in an unknown world with zero communication? Kuu looked around and there, just across the street, was a glowing booth outside of a corner store:

Touri-terminal. 

Short for Tourist Terminal, as the locals called them, though their proper name was a Sector Orientation Station, or SOS. Ironically–or perhaps the inverse–the acronym blunder actually made sense in the case of Touri-terminals since there was a very high likelihood that they would help someone. And while they weren’t life-saving, so to speak, Touri-terminals were uploaded with the most recent updated information about a specific geographic region, everything from local eateries, hotels and, most relevantly–maps, which meant they were exactly what Kuu needed.

As the Mew and Brew was situated on the corner of a busy intersection, Kuu needed to get kitty-corner to the terminal, so she stood and watched traffic for a time before she found an opening to cross. On the other side she walked up to the terminal and the detector sensed her presence.

Welcome to station three three oh one. How may I be of service today?

“Um, hello station…three three oh one. I was hoping you could help me find my way back home.”

Confirming: way back home. MAPS. Is this what you are looking for?

“Yes, a map would be very helpful.”

MAPS. Please select a region.

“Well, um…you see, that’s the problem. I don’t know where I am at the moment, so I can’t know where I am going…”

The touri-terminal remained silent, an intermittent blinking light on its sensor above her like an awkward stare.

“Um…if I knew where here was then that would help.”

GPS. Is this what you are looking for?

“Well, not exactly, but yes, a GPS coordinate could work…”

GPS.

The sensor flickered with multifaceted lasers, working rapidly back and forth as they formed a holographic projection of a giant round object with imperfections about its surface. It took Kuu a moment before she realized she was looking at a projection of the whole moon, Lema. On the moon’s surface a bright yellow beacon ebbed, marking her position from space.

“Um…thank you, but I’m afraid I will need to zoom in to…”

ZOOM. Please indicate magnification coefficient. 

Kuu frowned, rubbing the back of her head. “Hmm. One hundred times, perhaps?”

The image scaled up until the orb disappeared out of frame, replaced with a large swathe of orangish, matte polygons–the moon’s surface, indistinct and not even close enough to make out the largest features of Tansis.

“Oh, I see. That was not nearly far enough. Another hundred?”

The image moved slightly but hardly anything seemed to change.

“I’m not very good at this.”

Perhaps I can help. Tell me what it is you are looking for.

“I need to know which district I am in so I can find my way back home to the Blok Kubiform where I live.”

The holo flashed out of existence for a moment before the familiar image of her home, a giant utilitarian structure comprised of many interlocking honeycomb cells.

The Blok Kubiform. Confirming this is the structure to which you refer?

“Yes, yes! That’s my home. That’s it!”

Suddenly, the image was pulled out of frame as structures sped by in a kaleidoscopic whirl. At the same time, the frame zoomed out and Kuu saw that the SOS was shifting the frame to their position.

The Blok Kubiform is located in the southernmost part of the Manchaguri Commercial District. Currently, this station is located in Prothon, a suburb of the Ther Nadav District, approximately thirty point four kaldar from your destination.

The holo panned out and froze, showing a cross-section of the city with a highlighted Blok Kubiform on one end, their position marked by a glowing beacon on the other. Despite her elation and finally knowing where she was, thirty kaldar was no walk in the park. She would need to take rapid transit if she wanted to get home to her cat that week.

“Station, would you please map out the fastest route home?”

Calculating. One moment please.

Two seconds passed and then a thick blue line appeared, charting through the image where it connected the Blok and their beacon.

Skyline Terminex fifty nine is a half leave from your current location. It can be reached by taking any in a series of local connectors, marked here, here and here, for your convenience.

Kuu perked up; there was a stop not far from her location.

Kuu bowed to the machine. “Thank you station three three oh one, you have been most helpful.”

Is there anything else that I can help you with today?

At that moment, three heavily-modded twenty-somethings strolled along the sidewalk, passing right through the holo, pushing Kuu out of their way. She slammed into the side of the building, falling on to her bum.

”How about you tell it where it can find a soul, huh?” One of them jabbed.

Another spat on her, Kuu cowering in the corner as she covered her head for protection. The three laughed among themselves as they strolled away, uttering profanities regarding cybrids until they rounded a corner and were out of earshot.

Kuu trembled in the dirty street corner for a long time like a beaten animal afraid to leave its cage. When there was a break in the traffic and the general pandemonium around her saw a moment’s pause, she could feel her nerves finally beginning to settle as her parasympathetic scripts dialled in, if not belatedly. She raised her head, wiping off the saliva from her cheek and slowly, half-heartedly, got to her feet. Kuu stared at the pavement as the words played out in her mind:

”…you can tell it where it can find a soul.”

A soul.

That again. Kuu knew then that there were some things that numbers and formulas could never describe, no matter how hard they tried to approximate the things that they pointed at, and how she was feeling in that moment was one of those things. How did she feel? She searched for a word to describe it. And then, like the sky sled that zipped by her at that moment, the word came just the same:

Soulless.

A tear formed in her eye and she moved to wipe the salty water from her vision but stopped at the last moment, holding her hand suspended a pinch from her face. Oh how she must have looked the fool to those around her! But would they truly understand her? Could anyone truly understand her? To wipe away the tear was to wipe away her very being, and then she would be exactly what they said she was. Kuu bit her lip, straightening her back and she turned in the direction of the nearest connector car. A voice from behind her:

Is there anything else I can help you with today?

“No, thank you station. You have shown me exactly what I needed to see.”

Kuu left the station, heading down the sidewalk with renewed vigour in her step.

From across the street, a figure in a dark nook watched the little girl as she boarded a cable trolley. They took a long draft from their cigarette then flicked it onto the pavement, butting it out with the sole of their boot. They hustled across the street, pulling themselves into the back of the same cable car, squished in between other bodies. As the car bounced up and down on its rickety old track, the occasional spark flashing above, their eyes never left the back of the little girl’s head not four blades away.
***

Kuu looked out the window of the skyline, from her vantage point four hundred blades above the city she was able to see past the city limits to the terminator far beyond, like an endless arc painted against the blackness of space. There was something about that blackness that she related to, as if that was what might be inside her, deep down, if one dug far enough. The vastness of space scared most, she was told, but there was a kind of exotic allure to it for her, as if being lost in an endless expanse was an exciting prospect. Honestly, she told herself, how was her current situation any different? Whether in the void or on the ground, Kuu felt entirely alone. As her eyes began to grow heavy, her heading bobbing as she began to doze off, the line rounded a corner around a broad skyscraper and a much, much larger object came into view.

The Spur.

Kuu’s eyes opened, fully alert once more, and she leaned forward, face almost touching the window, as if it would afford her a better view. Though they were still approximately three and a half kaldar from the Shenzen district–where this particular spur had emerged–the object loomed massive in her view, an impossibly large construction. At least for a cren. Kuu gaped as she marvelled at its architecture, her sensors unable to pinpoint the object’s exact composition, though it was in large part a carbon lattice structure, exhibiting similar superstability to graphene. Oddly, the spur exhibited biomarkers–chemical signatures indicative of life–though it looked about as close to living as a mountain did. As the skyline zipped by, inching ever closer to it, Kuu became entranced by the ebbing green glow that pulsed from in between the striations all over its surface, as if something arcane lurked beneath its armoured facade. The surface was semi-reflective, anisotropic like obsidian, changing from black to gold to blue and back, depending on the angle the light struck. All in all it was a beautiful structure, but beautiful in the way that perhaps a deadly snake would be beautiful: glorious yet uninviting. As Kuu continued to ogle the spur, the skyline came to an abrupt halt, pistons steaming as it slowed to a stop. The doors slid open and all of the passengers disembarked.

Last stop. The skyline announced in a pleasant female voice, tinged with a Zirkyan accent.

Kuu looked around, confused. The overhead display on the bulkhead showed that they were three stops from where she wanted to go. Desperate, Kuu reached out and tugged on a middle-aged man’s coat sleeve. Seeing a cybrid looking up at him he sneered, reefing his arm back brusquely.

“Excuse me, um, sir. Do you know why we are stopping here?”

The man gave her a condescending look. “All the lines stop here. No one gets past Zashemi, not with all the cordons they have set up.”

“Why aren’t they letting people through?”

The man looked annoyed; carrying a briefcase, dressed importantly, clearly he had somewhere he wanted to be. Somewhere that didn’t involve educating an estranged cybrid.

“I don’t know what you ‘brids do in your spare time but surely you know about Fang?”

“Fang?”

“The spur? That massive black glowing thing blocking out half of the horizon? That’s what they’re calling it, supposedly. It’s not like it’s hard to miss.”

“Oh, yes, the spur. Of course. Thank you. I… I’ve been away from home for some time now and…”

The man had already turned and walked away, heading down the platform without a second thought. Kuu watched him go and sighed. She looked around and saw a staircase leading down and decided to take it.

Back at street level things weren’t much better. Any road that she took that headed in the direction of home was barricaded and heavily guarded by Stratzenmuskl, fully automatics glistening in the city lights as they casually panned their tactical helmets side to side, scanning, looking for any excuse to lose a few pounds in rounds. Kuu leaned back in from her vantage point behind an adjacent building, swallowing a lump in her throat. How was she ever going to get back home now? The police had the entire sector barred off, from the look of it, and her guess was cybrids weren’t on the exception list for a free pass. Having come so far only to be denied at the finish line, Kuu let herself slide down to the ground against the building until she slumped down on her rear, deflated. She hung her head, closing her eyes as she listened to the distant klaxons that had never stopped, announcing Fang and its brethren, unwelcome or otherwise, Kuu didn’t know. As she meditated against the punctuating wails, something much closer caught her ear. She opened one eye to see a large scamprat scuttering across the alley in front of her, sniffing around for food. She raised her head curiously and the animal spooked, not having seen her crouched against the wall like a miserable chameleon. It scurried down the alley and disappeared in a hole in a manhole cover not far off. Kuu stared at the place where the scamprat had made its exit and then an epiphany hit her; there was another way to get home:

The Unterwerkz. 

The Unterwerkz was essentially an elaborate underworld shaped largely by the interconnecting sewer systems of Tansis’s underground. That, and utility tunnels, abandoned subway conduits, and other repurposed maintenance networks. And while it was certainly an alternative to not getting home at all, the option was far from ideal. The Unterwerkz was a known haven for criminals and other black market dealings, and hardly the place for a cybrid. Kuu guessed that cybrid parts fetched a pretty grav among certain clientele. Just the thought of being scrapped for…well, whatever horrible things it was that people did with those sorts of things, made her sick to her stomach. But she had to get home somehow and the Stratzenmuskl patrols didn’t look any more friendly than the Unterwerkz.

Kuu got up and walked over to the manhole. She reached down and placed her small hand in the hole meant for the prybar that was the typical tool for the job, and she dialled up her CNS, pulling on the lid with reinforced strength. There was a grating sound and the lid began to move. She slid it out of the way, gasping as she let its substantial weight clunk down on the alley floor with a loud metallic kerplunk. Why they made those things so heavy was beyond her. It wasn’t like they were hiding treasure down in the sewers. Kuu stood over the gaping hole, black but for the faintest movement of liquid at the bottom. Not a deadly drop. Not for her. Kuu looked up, took a deep breath then stepped forward, falling through empty space as the street gobbled her whole.

***

The unterwerkz wasn’t all that it had been cracked up to be. If the stories were true—vast hidden underground communities of lowlifes, cutthroats and ne’er-do-wells—they definitely did a fine job of staying hidden. Kuu’s surroundings were hardly more than a large sewer system with the occasional locked door leading to what appeared to be maintenance tunnels. As she walked through the dreary place, nothing more than time worn pipes splotched with black mold competing with the resident algae, all was silent except the steady splish, splash, splosh of her footsteps in the two pinch runoff that collected along the floor of the pipe. The only indication that anyone used the tunnels were the caged halogen lights inset into the ceiling at regular intervals, likely placed so for the occasional maintenance crew. Kuu wondered how often city workers even made their way down to the Unterwerkz; if it was even half as dangerous as it was touted to be, surely it wasn’t safe for civilians to be down there alone or in small numbers. Or a Cybrid…

Kuu stopped, suddenly aware of something off. The silence, broken by her watery steps, had a murmur—another set of steps following in tandem. Kuu listened in the silence that followed, scanning the darkness with her retroreflective scripts, but there didn’t appear to be anyone in the periphery. Cautiously, she continued on, paying careful attention to the sounds around her. After about a minute, it happened again, that same arrhythmic, unnatural groove of her treading that didn’t quite sync up with the movements she was making. She jerked to a halt, spinning around quickly, setting the contrast of her retinas to maximum, taking in everything behind her.

Nothing.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Some leaky pipe, somewhere off in the distance. That was not what she had heard.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Still nothing. No one following her.

But she knew she had heard something. Hadn’t she? Was she going crazy? Had she jarred something else along with her synchronizer? There was only one way to find out. Kuu turned and sprinted down the tunnel, her footsteps sloshing wildly, echoing against the cement. Kuu was certain the second set of steps had joined in pursuit, doing a surprisingly good job at keeping up. Kuu rounded a corner and then leaped toward the ceiling, grabbing a hold of the cage surrounding one of the lights. As she had suspected, footsteps continued to sound from somewhere not far off, stopping about five or six steps in, likely after the culprit realized they had been made. Kuu’s heart raced as the reality of being followed hit her. That and the fact that she was just hanging there, vulnerable and unarmed, ripe for the taking. Or whatever it was they wanted with her. Kuu wasn’t going to stick around and find out. She let herself fall, landing into a full-out sprint. The mimic pursued once more and after approximately three minutes of racing through a labyrinthine maze of much the same, Kuu realized she wasn’t dealing with an ordinary person. Her systems told her she had been maintaining a steady clip of nearly thirty-five leave per hour, a simple feat for a cybernetic but nearly impossible for anything short of a professional athlete. Or a trained soldier. Suddenly, Kuu knew exactly who was following her: those mysterious armed men from the Mercky Water; the same ones that had pursued her nearly twelve blocks before she finally managed to evade them, and barely at that. They were likely jacked up with the latest mods, things that civilians didn’t have access to. Mods that were likely superior to her own abilities. That didn’t bode well for her future. Frantic to get her pursuant to let up, Kuu rifled through her pockets for anything that may help her. Even if she could buy some time, a distraction may be enough to get away again. She only hoped that, whoever they were, they weren’t equipped with far-field imaging; if they had FFI, then there was nowhere she could hide that they wouldn’t find her.

Kuu’s fingers wrapped around a small, hard object and she ripped it out her pocket.

The pod chit.

Kuu almost pocketed it instinctively, writing it off as irrelevant, but just as her hand brushed against the fabric of her dress pocket, an idea came to her. It would likely spell the end of the chit and thus the end to her journey to finally get to Old Wes, but if she was dead, she wouldn’t be getting there anyhow. As she ran, she punched in some commands into the podchit, able to hack into its command module. Once in the core program, Kuu input a script which reprogrammed the chit’s surge protection function to instead override battery storage protocols, in essence creating a timed discharge. The chit’s systems clearly warned that the system damage and potential malfunction would result, but that was part and parcel, so be it. Once the timer was set, Kuu stopped, placing the chit in the grimy water beneath her, the thing all but occluded by all the filth in it. She stepped to the side of the pipe so that her feet were out of the runoff, and she waited.

It didn’t take long before the footsteps caught up with her. A shape emerged out of the darkness, walking nonchalantly toward her. As the figure came into the light Kuu could make out their details. They were medium build, wearing a navy green surplus jacket overtop of a black hoodie with the hood drawn up. The words across the chest were faded but still legible: BURN BABY, BURN. Beneath their hoodie there wore a toque with the brim rolled perfectly, and underneath that a bronze coloured mask with three slits in it for the eyes and mouth. They stopped short of her position, putting their hands on their hips, looking like they were about to scold her. They then bent over, wheezing as they struggled to catch their breath.

”By the moons, girl, did you have to run so fast? You almost gave me a stroke!”

”Who are you?” Kuu asked.

Once the figure had regained their composure, they righted themselves, crossing their arms. “I’m Ezren. And that was quite a show you put on up there. It didn’t go unnoticed, if you catch my meaning.”

Kuu swallowed. So they had come for her after all. Her eyes trailed down to the pod chit, obscured but not far from Ezren’s position. He continued.

“My employer—they’ve taken a very keen interest you. Very keen, indeed.”

There was a gargling beep from the water between them. Ezren looked down.

”Huh?”

There was a single blue flash as the chit discharged its remaining battery power, electricity coursing through the runoff, sizzles and electron sparkles surging up and through Ezren, lighting him up like a Saevratine tree. He shook like a fish being filleted, making pathetic choking sounds before he fell face first into the runoff, dead still.

Kuu stood silent, staring, unsure of what to do. She had never… killed anyone before. In her desperation to escape, she hadn’t considered the repercussions of such an act, let alone the chance that she’d be confronted with the moral dilemma that came along with murdering someone. Even though it was self-defense, it didn’t change the fact that she had taken a life. Kuu couldn’t square it in her mind. She was devastated, lost for words.

”I..I… I am sorry.” She finally said, a tear rolling down her eye.

With that, she ran past the fallen body, not knowing where she was going, so long as it was anywhere else but there. As she passed Ezren, his arm reached out and grabbed her by the ankle, not managing to get a grasp on her but enough to cause her to trip and tumble. Kuu got to her feet first, Ezren much more slowly, looking worse for the wear, a streak of black across one side of his mask and his jacket torn at the arm on one side, revealing excoriated flesh beneath. Kuu gasped as she witnessed the wound which was not a wound: exposed wires and surging blue energy coursing through transparent tubing, an impossibly complicated network of synthetic nerves, circulatory fluids and lymphatics which made her systems look primitive in comparison.

Kuu gaped, wide eyed. “What… what are you?”

Ezren got up, glancing at her as if the whole thing had been a minor annoyance before flicking the tepid sewage water off of his sleeves.

“There’s lots of names for what I am, just like you. Fakey, tinman, sandboxer, skinsleever, you name it. Oh, and don’t forget the Soulless. I’m particularly fond of that last one.”

”Soulless?”

Kuu’s eyes went wide again as it donned on her.

”You’re CASARI!”

Ezren crossed his arms, a pose that he seemed to have practiced. “Is it really as surprising as you make it sound? I mean, there’s only two million of us on this station. We’re hardly endangered.”

”No, it’s not that. I… if you’re with them then you can’t be with them.”

”Come again?”

”Those men, that were after me. From the motel…”

”Ah, yes. Them. Which brings me to my original point that you so kindly interjected with five hundred kors of electricity: I represent someone very interested in you, Kuu Yatamuchi.”

“Interested in me? I don’t understand. Who could possibly be interested in me? I’m just a Cybrid. A nobody.”

”You made a fool out of the Saurkrauger family, one of the most notable criminal dynasties on all of Tansis. The Merck was one of hundreds of their many fronts they use for… business transactions. Word spread like wildfire after a story of a little girl who not only infiltrated one of their flagship establishments, but she also didn’t tip the concierge. You made them look like a fool.”

Kuu’s expression went ashen. Ezren laughed.

”Which is exactly why my employer has been watching you with a keen eye. You see, little Kuu, you don’t have to be a nobody anymore. Now, you have a chance to be a somebody.”

Kuu didn’t look like she felt important. In fact, she looked like someone had painted a large bullseye on her forehead.

“The Saurkraugers are one of my employer’s oldest…competitors. With your skills, we could not only take them out of commission, we could establish our organization as the premiere force in the market.”

Kuu stared off blankly into space. Ezren’s words resonated in her, flashbacks of his body lying motionless in the runoff, Kuu facing the reality of having taken a life.

”I’m not a killer.” Kuu said flatly.

”No, no. Nothing like that. The job would be more…information gathering. Finding out what’s what and where’s where. You wouldn’t have to step on a bug if you didn’t want to. It’s what you’re already doing. Nothing changes except now you get paid.”

Kuu meditated on the idea for the briefest of moments. She looked at Ezren and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I need… I need to get back home to my cat.”

Kuu walked away, head held down, almost shamefully.

“That’s too bad.” Ezren called out. “My employer—they’re also really good at getting access to information. Say, like the access codes to a certain terminex station.”

Kuu stopped mid stride, her head perking up. She turned and looked over her shoulder at him.

“Really? They could get me into the Industrial complex? Wait… how did you know that I was trying to get to Industrial…”

Ezren bent over and scooped up the deceased pod chit. He hefted it in his hand and then gently tossed it back to Kuu.

“My employer knows a lot of things. It doesn’t hurt that they have eyes everywhere, meat-space and circuit-side. But you do this for my employer and they’ll get you into the Kyzer’s most recent Link queries, if you wanted. I know his wife would certainly like to see that, the pig.”

The Industrial Complex. Old Wes. It called to her. She couldn’t not listen. And with the pod chit now a paperweight… Kuu realized that she could use friends like that.

She nodded. ”All right, I will help you. When do I begin?”

Ezren nodded, smiling underneath his metal mask.

”You already have.”