Hel appears from nowhere, leaning over my shoulder to whisper in my ear. "Do you know what that is? The land of Oz, baby. You're off to see the wizard. Where we can finally be whatever we want to be."
I blink, and Hel vanishes. But the view of the domed city remains, glittering as if from the magic within, beckoning for me to enter and claim its secrets.
Dabria turns to us, face again that of a stern warrior. "You can't see it from here, but at this very moment, Syn City is under attack. Kilgore agreed to help us because in exchange, I gave him the location of the facility where he could steal bypass codes to enter the dome. He's led a team of Blood Legion and mercenary soldiers inside, where right now they've activated a failsafe to disable the synoid security forces and take the city."
Surprised murmurs from her crew. Zen raises a hand. "But…I thought we were supposed to infiltrate the city."
"Kilgore has his mission. We have ours. Our path is mutual, but our goals independent. We'll move in regardless of the success or failure of his objectives."
Enigma folds her arms, brows knitted in thought. "If he fails, it will be impossible for us to get inside. The codes will be changed, the security upgraded, every defense on high alert. How are we supposed to deal with that?"
"We have something they won't expect. A secret key that will not only get us inside but into the very inner sanctum where we can finally do some damage to the Elysian slavery machine that's destroying the foundations of humanity."
Her eyes slide to me as she's speaking, as if acknowledging a secret known only to the two of us. I remember the synoid she showed me in the military compound. The carbon copy of Jude Maximillian. I know what she expects me to do: use it to access Syn City. Get her inside so that she can corrupt the databanks of Elysia, bring the entire system crashing down. Erase the coding and backups so that it will take decades to rebuild.
A tiny smile touches her lips. "It's time that everyone knows exactly what the plan is."
She breaks everything down. It sounds insane; the kind of foolishness anyone in their right mind would reject outright. But they don't scoff at the madness. They don't debate or argue. All of them hang on to her every word, nodding and approving because of who she is. Because of what she's done. Because they believe in her.
All I can think about is who's going to die before it's all over. Dabria, Zen, Keno, Enigma? Everyone? I can't say. But I know it's all going to end badly. It's inevitable. I know that just like I know my reflection in the mirror: sallow face, shifty eyes, guilty demeanor. They're fools to give their trust to someone like me. Because of me, their plans are ruined from the very start. They won't die because of an ambush or from being outwitted by their opponents.
They'll die because I'll let them down.
Because I'll do anything to see Hel again, hear her voice, feel her touch. So, I'll fail like I always do. I'll lie like I always do. I'll betray like I always do. I do whatever it takes to become whole again. To be with Hel, to feel the rush of Elysia, the only place where I feel truly alive. The only place that matters. And since Dabria wants to destroy it, that makes her my enemy. That makes all of them my enemies—even Enigma. In the end, I'll leave her hanging too. I won't be able to stop myself.
It's in my nature.
"Specter?"
My head jerks up. They're all looking at me, faces expectant. Confident that I'll fall into place with them, rank and file. Be a part of the team and do my part.
"No problems here," I say with a practiced smile. "You can count on me."
More in the Havenworld Universe
There's more to Kilgore's mission with the Red Legion, and it's explained in this fast-paced adventure featuring a dysfunctional band of bounty hunters! When a rogue military general holds an entire Haven captive and a rescue mission is downright suicidal, you don't call in the Army. You call in the idiots too stupid to turn down the payday. You call in the Nimrod Squad. They might be low on gas and low on cash, but when a bounty is posted, they're ready to roll.
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Imagine a world broken. Where humanity believed their only chance of survival was hibernation in stasis chambers until the day arrived to claim the world as theirs again.
Imagine a dystopian future where glittering cities exist alongside unchecked wilderness, where one can stumble from a cyberpunk setting into a post-apocalyptic one. Imagine the strange and wondrous sites and residents of such a place.
If you can imagine that, you just might be in Havenworld.
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Soldier. Mercenary. Vigilante. Hero.
All Jett Thorne wanted to do was survive the end of the world. Placed in hibernation for over three centuries, he awakens to a country he no longer knows in Neo York, a city that thrives on corruption and violence. A chance encounter with a dying vigilante gives him the drive to do something about the depravity around him. Adopting the mantle of Vigil, he will wage a one-man war on the criminals who prey on the citizens of Neo York.
Purchase at Amazon.
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Post-credits
Backup energy cells activated.
Flicker
"If he were anywhere in the area, I'd sense the ping when he severed the connection and returned to his body. In this case, there was nothing. No digital fingerprints, nothing to trace. He's a Sleeper, all right. Somehow, he can project his consciousness from the digital world into the real one…"
Flicker flicker
"I'm going to hurt you. Then you're going to tell me everything. Every word from the moment the transmission was lost in the Spider's Den. And in return, I won't believe you. Not the first time. Perhaps not the second time. So, I will hurt you again…"
Flicker flicker flicker
"We are the network that ensures humanity's survival. Cyber Corp is but one of the branches of the tree. We are integrated into every camera, every machine, every system in the world. We are the architects, the creators, the judges, the administrators that provide structure to your existence. We are the Collective…"
Flicker flicker flicker flicker
"Know this, Scyther. Know it well. There is only one absolute in the dark little world that we share. And that is, we will never be free. Never. The sooner you accept it, the smoother your transition will go…."
Flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker
"—the smoother your transition will go…"
Flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker
"—your transition will go…"
Flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker
My eyes snap open, flooding with invasive light. I jerk back and forth in convulsive panic, emerging from the darkness like a newborn child. Memories flood through my mind like mist through fingers, data core misfiring, senses assaulted by warmth and cold, multitudes of sounds and scents all permeating at once.
My vision slowly focuses, irises whirring and clicking. Two frightened faces come into view; young, innocent. Just children…
"I told you this was a bad idea, Mario," the older one says. He's in his early teens, slim and tan-skinned, holding one arm in front of his brother. The younger one has similar looks, his face partially obscured by his mane of wavy black hair.
"He's alive. We did it, Louie!"
"Synoids aren't alive, dummy. And we don't even know what this thing really is."
>
I scan the room. It's an old garage, dusty and in need of repair. Sunlight peeks through the cracks in the walls and water drips from the ceiling. Shelves and battered tables are stocked with old tools and endless assortment of robotic and synthetic spare parts. Glancing down, I notice weathered prosthetic legs attached in place of the ones blown apart in the explosion. The work is expertly done, grafting the hoses and wires in place correctly.
I scoot my body so the legs dangle over the bench and lift them one-by-one. "You did this?"
Mario flashes his teeth in a wide grin. "Louie did. I helped."
Louie takes a welding helmet off his head and places it on a nearby table. "That's what we do. Fix things: robots, androids, synoids, whatever. Fixed your head too. That was pretty difficult."
My hands drift upward. "My head…"
"Crush you," Brutus growled, dropping down on all fours. Eyes dark and furious, slavering mouth open, exposing his fangs. His arm blurred as it struck, claws flashing in the dim light, and then—
"Pulled the skull panels apart, took the dents out, reinserted them." Louie shrugs. "Got you a new eyeball, too. Guess you were in some type of battle. We saw a lot of dead soldiers. You were the only thing we could salvage because a bunch of jet choppers showed up with cyborg troopers. We were lucky to get away in the tunnels."
"Yes," I say. "Lucky. But you won't be if they catch you. You boys need to go away. Hide somewhere, because they're coming. I'm surprised they haven't made it here already."
"I removed your GPS receiver and pingback codes," Louie says. "I'm not stupid, you know."
"You don't understand. They can trace me anyway. They're in my head. Always in my—"
I pause, realizing what feels so different. The cloud of static in my brain, Cyber Corp's biological nano-receivers that receive instantaneous feed from my mind are…gone. I can no longer sense anything other than myself. The sensation is shockingly liberating. I throw my head back and laugh for the first time in decades. I laugh until tears stream down my cheeks, exulting in the aura of my newfound freedom.
Mario tilts his head, staring. "Are you okay, mister?"
"Don't call him mister, he's just a synoid," Louie says. Folding his arms, he looks at me. "I hope you're not malfunctioning. Because I put a lot of expense into getting you back together and I need to recoup at the flea market next weekend. I bet someone's gonna put up top dollar for you. People like the high-model synoids."
They both step back when I push myself off the bench, gingerly testing out my new legs. "Oh, I'm afraid I'm not a synoid, young man. I'm something much better than that. So I don't think you'll be selling me at your little flea market. But you did me an enormous favor, so I'll do you one in return. What do you say to a partnership? I'll make sure any financial problems you have are a thing of the past. You'll live like kings, and all I ask in return is your silence about me and my work."
"Your work? Who are you, man?"
A smile slides across my face. "My name is Kane. And as for my work, it's payback. Payback to anyone and everyone that's hurt me or done me wrong."
To be continued in Syn City: Carbon Copy
About the Author
Bard Constantine is a self-described neo-pulp author. In his own words:
"My stories aren't life-changing. They're not what critics would call fine literature. My stories are throwbacks to the paperbacks you'd stuff in your back pocket and read on the bus, at the park, or in math class instead of doing your algebra. I write adventure stories. Genre-blended, action-oriented pulp fiction with a kick. If that's what you're looking for, then I'm your guy."
Keep up with all of Bard's latest releases by following him on Amazon: simply go to his author page and click FOLLOW under his picture.
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Syn City- Reality Bytes Page 18
