Cyber Noir Redux: (Book Six) (The Feedback Loop 6)

by Harmon Cooper

  Scarface Charlie runs his hand along his jawline. “Everyone lower your weapons.” He glances to the killer gal pals pointing their weapons at me. “Yeshi, Rinchi, you too.”

  The dames begrudgingly do as instructed.

  Fat Tony is beside himself. “Are you frickin’ crazy? That’s Quantum Hughes!”

  “Mr. Legendary Quantum Hughes,” I remind him.

  Charlie’s voice deepens, holds the promise of a noodle to the noggin and quick trip through the meat grinder. “Weapons down, now.”

  Tony’s roosters all lower their weapons. Talk about a bunch of empty zoot suits. If it were me and I busted in on myself, the last thing I would do is lower my weapon … on myself. Talk about meta. It’s a good thing for them that I’m not here looking for a fight or a side of kaboomski. Ready for a fight? Yes, always, but not looking for one this time around.

  Scarface Charlie takes a slow sip from his Brilliant Chang beer. “You were saying?”

  “Dolly is back and she’s locked herself up tight in the Mondegreen Hotel. I need to get in there.”

  Tony chuckles. “Tell us something we don’t already know, you moron.”

  Charlie seems a bit more interested in what I’m saying. “And you come to us why?”

  “Easy. I figured that if any of the fine, standup citizens of our Fair Shitty would know how to crack the joint, it’d be you guys. We need to get in there.”

  “Who’s ‘we’? you got a mouse in your pocket? When did this become about us needin’ to get in there?” Tony asks. “We don’t got no beef with Dolly and if we did, we’d be a grease spot on the sidewalk by now. She knows about anything and everything we do, remember. Hell, she is us, or was us, and is now us again. Christ, that last sentence there has got me thinking about personal pronouns in an entirely new way, but you get my drift, unless I already lost you, in that case read my lips: we don’t got no beef with Dolly. No beef at all, right fellas?”

  His cugines grumble in affirmation.

  “Let me guess, Tony, right about now, a quick little question is running through that pea brain of yours. ‘What’s in it for me?’ Am I right? That’s what you’re thinking, right? So let’s start there.”

  Scarface Charlie nods, looks to Tony who nods, which causes all his goombas and Mt. Fuji the bodyguard to nod, which inspires Charlie to look to me and the two birds to my right and nod. Synchronized nodding. Go figure.

  “I’ll tell you what’s in it for you. It’s really simple: if you help me get into Dolly’s pad, I won’t be around to continually put a crimp in your operations and a cramp in your style. Just think about that for a second. I won’t be around to ice your thugs, steal your drugs, or mess up your pretty mugs.”

  Charlie’s eyes narrow.

  “I want you two to imagine Hell’s City with no Quantum Hughes around kicking ass, taking names, and disrupting your operations. Just imagine.”

  “So you’d disappear?” Fat Tony asks. “For good?”

  “It’d be as if you Real World offed me – that’s how gone I’d be.”

  Tony Clifton chews on his bottom lip for a moment. He looks to Scarface Charlie. “I don’t hate it. Howzabout you?”

  Scarface Charlie still doesn’t seem convinced.

  “I’ll also transfer you all my credit,” I tell the two, “as I sign of my good faith.”

  To prove I mean business, I raise my finger and my credit count appears: 8,675,309.

  “Do you take cash or credit?” I ask smugly. “Just kidding, you take credit, but there it is. All yours, to split down the middle. As a token of my good intentions, I’ll even give you the credit up front.”

  “That’s alotta cred!” One of Tony’s cugines stammers.

  Tony licks his lips as his eyes fill with greed. “Yes! Of course! All your credit. Good, done. Charlie, come on. That’s a helluva lot of money right there.”

  After a long pause, Scarface Charlie finally speaks. “Done. My organization will help you get into the hotel on the condition that you leave Cyber Noir immediately afterwards and never, never, return to the city.”

  “Good, the credit it yours.” I press a button in the air and all my funds disappear much to the delight of Tony and his henchmen.

  Before anyone can say anything else, the kitchen door kicks open and out walks a waiter with a platter of small bamboo steamers filled with dumplings.

  “All right, already,” Tony says as a bamboo steamer is placed in front of him, “we’ll help you.” He glowers at Scarface Charlie. “And you and I are going to talk about these damn dumplings later.” With that, he takes his first bite.

  ~*~

  “Still with the golden crown of thorns and the toga?” Tony asks. I’ve since sat down at their table, letting him finish his dirty sock and squeaky mutton dumplings. Scarface Charlie is working on his second Brilliant Chang and the two asesinas – Rinchi and Ginchi or Ren and Stimpy or something – hang close by. The rest of their henchmen have left to begin work on the plan.

  I wipe a little of the blood from my forehead onto the front of my toga. “I’m happy in this,” I finally tell Tony, “Commando style is always so liberating.”

  “You telling me you ain’t wearin’ underwear under that thing?”

  “What part of ‘commando style’ do you fail to understand?” I shoot a sympathetic look to Charlie. Lord almighty Tony is a blubbering dumbass and I’d hate to do business with him on a regular basis. Scarface Charlie turns, revealing to me the burnt side of his mug. He says something in Mandarin to one of the Asia Carreras and she bows and leaves.

  “You know, my buddy Aiden was eyeing one of your guards,” I tell him, “I think he was gunning for the one that works at the supermarket.”

  Scarface Charlie shakes his head. “They aren’t allowed to date.”

  “Damn, Charlie, keeping the leash a little tight, aren’t you? Aiden is good people. An assassin too. Tony here knows of his work.”

  “They aren’t allowed to date.” Scarface Charlie glances at the entrance. “Perfect, our ride is here.”

  “Well, I’m stuffed anyway.” Tony loosens his belt, pats his belly, and uncorks a long, curling belch.

  Charlie suddenly looks pleased, the happiest I’ve ever seen him.

  After another burp, Tony checks his front to make sure he didn’t get any on him. “Let’s do this,” he says.

  As we exit the place, the assassin broad who remained in the restaurant follows closely behind us. We find the first looker outside, surveilling the street.

  “You guys spare no expense,” I say as I get into an aerosSUV limo with suicide doors.

  Tony and Scarface get in and settle in the rich Corinthian leather seats across from me. The two button women get in; one next to me and the other next to Charlie. “No need to be a stranger,” I tell the one next to me after I’ve noticed that she’s purposefully scooted away from me. Talk about a pair of hotbodies. If we were all animals on the Discovery Channel, Tony would be a hippo, mangled-ass Charlie would be a malnourished wildebeest, I’d be a hyena, and these two would be some damn fine gazelles.

  “Are you sure this is going to work?” I ask as the limo lifts into the air.

  “What, you lookin’ for a money back guarantee or somethin’? This should work.” Tony belches again and continues. “Ever seen a Lightning Rod Drill Sergeant in action?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Imagine a giant crab-like vehicle with diamond tipped drills for claws. Like I told you in the restaurant, we’ve used it before and it definitely works.”

  “What did you use it for?” I ask.

  “We used it to create a secret underground lair.”

  I chuckle. “A secret underground lair? You guys are some real supervillians here, aren’t you?”

  Tony shrugs. “Supervillian enough dat you came to us, smart guy. So here’s the deal – we’ll have my boys soften up that wall with a little kablooey before we go in with the drill.”

  “I already t
ried explosives.”

  “Look, you want our help or not? You’re the one that wants in – we’re just doing this as a business transaction. You paid us, we help. Besides, Dolly knows what’s happening right now.” He taps his temple. “If you get in, you get in; if you don’t, well dat’s unfortunate, but we’ve fulfilled our side of the bargain, and that’s that.”

  “Well, when you put it like that … ”

  “I just did.” Tony smiles. A passing aeros casts a beam of light across the interior of the vehicle, which is just about as posh as one could make an aeros limo. White leather seats, wood grain accents, a mini fridge, golden window switches, you name it. Maybe if this doesn’t work out with Dolly, I’ll turn heel and finally get that Hench 4 Life tattoo across my belly. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

  I’m so busy thinking of my future as a mafioso that I fail to stop the babe next to me from jabbing me in the thigh with a small needle.

  It hits hard, and it hits fast; everything blurs, time slows down. Suddenly, I can’t feel my legs. Suddenly, Charlie and Tony’s hearty, Doppler-shifted laughter rings out in my ears; my life bar is still full but it’s turned purple.

  Some dumb onion I am. I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

  Mimi Miyagi to my left elbows me in the face and my life bar takes a beating. My legs are putty, my arms are jello, my spine is a bag of jellyfish. All I can do is silently watch as Scarface points to the suicide door.

  It opens and a tumultuous wind fills the cabin.

  I’m pushed onto the floor and Scarface Charlie bends over me. He screams something, but I got no idea what it is. He grabs my hair and drags me forward until my head hangs out and I’m looking down at the city.

  The limo is in the highest airlane; below us, aeros zip past one another, their headlights slicing through the rain. Charlie turns my head to him and I see his eyes flash orange.

  Dolly. I try to force the words from my lips, but it’s impossible.

  I’m ragdoll limp, suddenly airborne, not able to do anything but fall.

  I hit the roof of a passing aeros and bounce off, only to be side-swiped by an aeroscycle. From there, I plummet like a wounded pigeon and I’m struck dead-on by an aeros transport vehicle. My purple life bar is nearly dunzo, my vision pane flashes. The pavement rushes up to greet me in its cold concrete embrace.

  ~*~

  I respawn in Three Kings Park. Another Bullshit Night in Suck City.

  As my vision refocuses, a light blinks somewhere in the darkened forest. The gazebo, that’s where that’s coming from, and the thought reminds me of first seeing Frances, her flowing red hair, her tight Dream Team in-game gear. Boy did she stick me with her mutant hack. That was something, really, and all the madness that’s followed has brought me back to where it all started.

  Full circle – Ouroboros ain’t got nothing on my life, which gets me to thinking that there’s something I’m missing here, some piece of the puzzle that I can solve myself. I glance over to the three heels holding court around the trashcan fire. Post-antediluvian names – Frankincense, Myrrh, and Gold – shooting the shit like it’s a heaping target.

  Must be something.

  I make my way over to the trio and stop before them. “Please,” I tell them as I drop to my knees, “stop screwing with me. I know there’s more to this puzzle and honestly, I’m being totally honest here, I can’t solve it. I don’t know what you want me to do, you hear me? You win, Dolly, you win. I know you’re listening!”

  Their eyes flash orange.

  “You can hear me?” I feel a sob come on and I choke it back. “Please, if it’s you, please just, just let me talk. That’s all I’m asking. Let me say what I’m going to say, in person, not to these three.”

  A fine-boned hand with red-painted nails lands on my shoulder. I look up to see Dolly in her red dress standing there, with the all hurt and sadness of the world in her eyes. The diamond necklace I gave her so long ago has vanished from her neck.

  “All right, this is it Doll,” I tell her as I stand. She drops her hand into mine and I hold it tightly. “We’ve got to talk about this, get this settled and done. It’s so hard for me; you’re an NVA Seed, you can tap my psyche and figure that out.”

  The world spins around us as if we’ve just been flushed down the toilet of existence.

  The surrounding trees are replaced by the walls of a log cabin. The room is lit by the gentle glow from the fireplace. The shadows dance as the fire snaps, crackles, and pops, adding subtle accents to the Picasso hanging over her bed, our bed. Our vacation home, we didn’t stay here long, but one staycation was enough to make the place instantly produce happy memories of a simpler-enough time.

  Dolly sits on a cushioned bench in front of the bed. A bearskin carpet grows beneath my feet and a barrel chair with a leather seat appears directly in front of Dolly.

  I move around the chair and sit next to her on the bench.

  The inches between us feel like interstellar distances. I could fix all of this with a single phrase, a nod of understanding – yet the tragedy that has become our shared existence is all because of me, and I can’t say what I know she needs to hear. No more lies; no more lip service. I know the answer before she finishes the question. This ends now.

  “So who is it going to be?” she asks. “Me or her?”

  “Is that really what this is about, Dolly?” I ask. “When I’m here, I’m yours, and I’m only yours. How does what I do out there effect what we have in here? ”

  One of her witchblades takes shape over her the left side of her face.

  “None of that,” I tell her, “that won’t help anything. let’s just be reasonable for a moment. Your jealousy … Dolly, you were never like this before. Why are you like this now?”

  “Because she was never a threat before.”

  “Frances isn’t a threat, and you treated her like one when she first rescued me. You’ve always been like this to her! She’s not the threat, I’m – ”

  The threat.

  “Her very existence threatens our relationship.” Her expression softens and the witchblade falls away. “Do you love me? Just answer me truly – do you?”

  “Of course I do!”

  “Then what will it be,” she asks calmly, “freedom or love?”

  She can read your thoughts anyway. I feel like lying, but I’m reminded of the NVA Seed in Tritania, that damned Sage, and his ability to examine my darkest fears. The lesson that he forced down my throat also comes to me.

  So I go for it.

  Rather than answer, rather than try to weasel my way out of the situation, item 199, my Glock 22 appears in my hand. Before her witchblade can gut me like a fish, before it can mask her, I fire three rounds right in the center of her face. Her eyes go wide in surprise. She holds her closed fist out to me, opens it, and shows me the three bullets cupped in the palm of her hand, ineffable sadness written across her face.

  I leap to my feet, back against the wall with Hackie, item 554, aimed at her.

  The weapon comes alive and screams in my head.

  MORE! NOW! my head screams back.

  Hackie doubles in size; symbiotic tendrils of metal peel off the weapon and form sharp barbs up and down my arm, spread over my shoulders and across my chest, encasing me in bio-metallic armor.

  “You want to kill me?” Dolly’s eyes are flame-on now, her endoskeletal armor forms around her body and shreds through her little red dress.

  “Dolly, let me log out. I’ve made my decision. Please, just let me go in peace!”

  The cabin shakes and vibrates, the foundation quakes.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this,” I tell her. “Doll, I love you more than I can enunciate, and if you search my brain, or read my data or whatever it is you do you’ll see this is true! But I can’t stay here; I have things I have to do out there. I have a real enemy out there and you’d better believe he’ll be after me whether I stay here or not. And this ain’t just about revenge. If he ca
n’t get to me, he’ll go after my friends and loved ones, all of them!”

  “Fine,” she says as she fights back tears, “have it your way.”

  The windows shatter and the window frames twist and pull from the walls. AA bar activated, I rocket out of the disintegrating house, using Hackie to blow through the collapsing roof. Back on my feet, I keep my my weapon trained on the spot Dolly should be standing, just in case I need to engage her. The rubble settles and the cloud of debris over the home slowly dissipates.

  She’s gone, but I don’t lower my weapon. I do a quick check of the area to make sure she’s not floating somewhere about to pounce or come at me from a blind spot.

  And that’s when an asteroid streaks down from the sky and smashes me to vapor.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Instead of a man of peace and love, I have become a man of violence and revenge.

  I respawn in Three Kings Park; Hiawatha’s lament flits across my mind. I equip the MSIWI – Doc’s bone saw, item 586 and turn to the three wise yegsters keeping the trashcan fire company.

  “How’s tricks?” I ask as I squeeze the trigger. Once they’re adequately murdalized, I kick their body parts out of the way and warm my hands at the fire. I watch the flames flicker and consider what I could possibly do next. Scarface Charlie and Tony Clifton have bumped themselves up to the top of my list – if they think they’re getting over on me with their latest escapade, they got another think coming. But they’ll be expecting me to snap right back at ‘em, and it’d be better to let a few in-game days pass before I take another slaughterization vacation to Chinatown. In the meantime, there’s that filthy dirty low-down, lying, cheating, stealing gambler Shep, who shot me in the face rather than abide by the rules of Russian Roulette. That’d be a good place to start.

  I’m just about to hail a taxi when I see the spark of light near the gazebo again. Whatever it is, I might as well investigate.

  ~*~

  I make my way along the winding path that cuts through Three Kings Park, scrofulous, half-starved pigeons coo from their hiding places in the trees as I pass.