Knight in Cyber Armor

by Bard Constantine

  "You should. Heard a building went down right next to your shop. Didn't scratch a single one of your bikes, though."

  McGrath downed his whiskey and smacked his lips. "Yeah, that was a doozy. Bunch of CKs raising a ruckus as usual. Went from looking at bikes to chasing some young gal in the alley. All those boys after one little girl. Wasn't my business, though. Heard some shouting and yelling, then boom. Down comes the building. Somebody brought a little something extra to the party."

  LeBlanc chuckled. "Yeah, I bet. Problem with the big guns is the idiots that buy 'em can't figure out how to shoot 'em." He motioned the bartender for another round.

  McGrath looked mighty pleased when another shot slid in front of him. "Ain't that the truth? I tell you, back in the day me and my boys would have beat those CKs to pulp just for breathing. Chasing girls around. That's what toughs do now? I tell ya, they don't make 'em like they used to."

  "Amen, brother. You get a look at what went down? Been hearing a bunch of strange rumors."

  "Ya mean that Vigil bullshit?" McGrath barked a laugh. "Wasn't nothing came out that alley but a couple of CKs. Kane and the skinny little dude that follows him around all the time. Sure wasn't no masked vigilante."

  LeBlanc grinned. "Crazy how warped the story gets after it hits the streets. Kane's a big dude, right?"

  "Yeah, big black fella. Got them dragons inked on his arms. They gleam like real scales when the light hits 'em. That's DNA Ink work. Wouldn't mind getting one myself. A big skull with a snake threaded through the eyes. Can't afford DNA Ink, though. Maybe I should be dealing arms instead of trying to sell these skim hogs."

  "Good way to get a tour of Mars, I figure. That's Kane's hustle?"

  "Yeah. Runs a crew in a warehouse in the Grindbox. Pretty big deal, from what I hear. Lucky that he didn't get creamed in that alley. Maybe you should be buying him a drink. The rest of his boys didn't make it. The RCE plucked them from the rubble. Doesn't matter much, I guess. They'll be back on the streets in a week. Nobody really cares what happens out here. A building going down ain't gonna give the pigs no sleepless nights. Not in the Warrens."

  LeBlanc sipped from his glass. "Just another night."

  "You better believe it." McGrath cackled drunkenly. "Say, what was it you was working on again?"

  "Who says I'm working?"

  "You being here. You're a regular at Kermit's dump. Might as well rent a room there. Only come out when you're on Troubleshooter business."

  LeBlanc raised his hands. "Okay, you got me. Yeah, I'm working."

  "Ha! I knew it. What'cha got going this time?"

  "Client got her holoband hacked. I'm supposed to find out whodunit."

  "How the hell do you do that? Holoband hacks are damn near impossible. And that's RCE territory anyway. Gotta be top pros to pull a stunt like that. Fat chance of you running down someone that good."

  "Yeah, but nothing wrong with coasting on the client's dime while I'm chasing vapor trails, right?"

  McGrath threw back his shaggy head and guffawed so hard that red veins webbed across his blotchy face. "Damn straight, son. If they got it to give, ya gotta take it and run."

  "Milk that cow for all I can get," LeBlanc said with a grin. "Speaking of, I gotta a few leads to run down. Gotta at least look like I'm doing a respectable job."

  "I hear ya. Appreciate the drinks, bud. Next time they're on me."

  "We both know that's a lie." LeBlanc walked out of the bar followed by the sound of McGrath's booming laughter.

  Snash drifted down in flakes small enough to believe it was snow if he didn't know better. The streets were lit in neon colors; the crowds thinned out. Those that remained were bundled up, most with holovisors over their eyes.

  I should break mine out again. Give in to the illusion like everyone else. Debbie loved her holovisor. She'd have run down the street chasing holographic fairies if he didn't keep a tight grip on her hand. He sported his visor back then, grinning as he shared his daughter's virtual world of fantasy creatures and cotton candy clouds.

  He shook his head to dispel the memory. He couldn't think about Debbie. It was better to stay busy. Stay numb. Things were easier that way.

  "Hey, elderberry."

  Rough hands shoved him against the side of the graffiti-ridden building. He cursed inwardly. You damn fool. Let your guard down. Three toughs in masks encircled him, giggling and brandishing stabbing weapons.

  "Whatchoo got on you, pops?"

  "Got some dibcards?"

  "Got some pop pops?"

  "C'mon man, give or get shanked."

  "Please." LeBlanc cringed, hands up. "Don't hurt me, man. I got a kid…"

  They rummaged through his pockets, pushing and shoving. "Don't give two shits 'bout your brat. Don't look at me, fool. I slice you."

  One of them hooted. "Got some dibcards. Let's bounce."

  "That's all he got?"

  "Yeah, time waste."

  "We shank?"

  LeBlanc fell to the ground, sobbing. "Please. I won't say nothing. Didn't see nothing."

  The toughs scoffed in disgust. "Elderberry soft."

  "Yeah. No fun."

  "We ghost. C'mon, better time at the bar."

  "Yeah, like you paying."

  LeBlanc waited until they ran around the corner before picking himself up. A few passersby glanced at him, but no one intervened. He wasn't surprised. He pulled his collar up, glad they didn't take his coat. The dibcards he didn't mind. By the time they figured out the crypto was counterfeit, he'd be long gone.

  He whistled a warbling tune as he continued on his way. Didn't turn out to be all that bad of a night after all.

  Chapter 7

  "Found your guy."

  Jett glanced over at LeBlanc, who looked like he hadn't slept since the previous night. He sat hunched over like a disheveled rodent, face overrun by stubble, eyes shadowed by dark circles. A vape dangled from his lips and a bottle of Horse Piss lager was in his hand. Strands of hair fell askew over his brow as he downed the bottle like a man dying of thirst.

  "You're not looking so hot, LeBlanc. Run into any trouble?"

  "Trouble is how I pay the rent. Don't worry about it." LeBlanc glanced around for eavesdroppers before continuing. "Turns out your boy is pretty high on the ladder for the Kings. In charge of one of their firearm stations. Goes by the name Kane. Virgil Kane, but goes by his last name because what tough wants to be called Virgil? Bad dude. Knows the inside of many a cell, but somehow always gets kicked back into the streets. Gotta love those SAULs."

  "Where can I find him?"

  "Warehouse at the east side of Freshkills. Deep in CK territory. Anyone wandering around there is likely to come up missing. Not that you'd be stupid enough to do that."

  "Not my first choice."

  "Didn't think so. Well, that's the news, for whatever it's worth."

  "Appreciate it." Jett downed a shot of whiskey. "You never asked me why I needed the info."

  LeBlanc drained another bottle and scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "Doesn't matter. Discretion is the name of the game if you wanna be a Troubleshooter. My job was to get you the intel. What happens after that is none of my business."

  "Well, I owe you." Jett stood up and swiped his holoband over the scanner.

  "Leaving already? They're about to announce the lotto numbers."

  "Yeah, like I got a chance. I didn't get into the Haven back when it was built. I damn sure won't be getting in now."

  "Right…I forgot you were there. When the Havens were constructed. You gotta tell me about that one day."

  "Next time. Like I said, I owe you." Jett slung a worn messenger bag over his shoulder and tipped his fingers on the way out the door.

  The cold struck immediately, cutting right through his heavy coat. He pulled a knit hat out of his pocket and yanked it on his head. Joining the milling throngs, he made his way to the airship station, where a long elevator ride took him to the top of the building. The lift shuddere
d the entire way up as if about to break down from the weight of being packed with commuters to max capacity. Jett breathed a sigh of relief when the doors finally squealed open, and he stepped onto the rooftop station. The vantage point provided a clear view of Neo York.

  It was a disaster.

  At first glance, the city might have been mistaken for a colossal garbage dump. But a closer look revealed the haphazard stacks of garbage were buildings; some remnants of ancient skyscrapers and tenements, others newly constructed, but without regard for design or safety. Buildings were stacked on top of other buildings, creating towers that tilted drunkenly or appeared shockingly haphazard. The only thing stopping the structures from falling was their closeness, creating a chaotic maze of brick, steel, glass, and concrete. Smoke and steam billowed from spouts and chimneys, creating a thick haze that hung over the collective buildings like a dirty swath of cotton. The enclave was assembled in an enormous circle, yet the entire district was dwarfed by the massive structure in the middle of it all.

  Haven Core.

  The Haven was assembled in what used to be lower Manhattan back when New York existed. Most of the island was demolished, the rest overrun by the wild foliage of what used to be Central Park. The sprawling, ramshackle buildings of Neo York surrounded the Haven like debris from a massive explosion. Haven Core was a massive globe of corrugated alloy plating, three times taller than the tallest building in Neo York. Impenetrable and inaccessible, it loomed over the surrounding buildings, cloaking them in deep shadow like a planet rising over the surface of a moon.

  No one in Neo York could say what secrets lay behind the tightly sealed doors of the Haven. Residents were chosen on a weekly basis through the lottery. Once selected, the lucky recipient would say their goodbyes before being escorted by a company of robotic Peacekeepers and shuttled into the Haven through the Gateway, a long tunnel protected by motion-activated drone guns, electric and laser wires, and remotely activated mines. The tunnel could also be sealed off and flooded, engulfed in fire, or deprived of oxygen. There had been no successful illegal entrance, despite innumerable attempts by the desperate or daring.

  An old man stepped beside Jett; eyes fixed on the Haven. "Sight to see, ain't it? I never get tired of looking at it."

  "Yeah. This place used to be called the Big Apple. Now all that's left is the Core."

  The old man chuckled. "That's a good one. Ever wonder what it's like? What's inside that shell?"

  Jett frowned, remembering his experience so long ago. He once walked the broad avenues, gaped in wonder at the streamlined architecture and advanced technology. He saw the stasis chambers that would preserve humanity, ushering them into a bold, glorious new era. He recalled the sensation of dumbstruck amazement, the staggering notion of what was to come. That was before he knew better. Before he realized it didn't matter how awe-inspiring a construction was if it was filled with corruption and greed.

  "I know exactly what's inside."

  "Yeah? What's that?"

  "Disappointment."

  He turned away, ignoring the old man's stare before taking his place in line to board the airship. Passengers were packed tightly inside until there was standing room only. Jett gave his seat up to an elderly woman, who smiled in gratitude.

  The ship lurched off the ground like a whale leaving shallow waters, propelling to flight across the city from one drop point to the next. The neighborhoods were blasted remnants of the New York he remembered; shattered husks of once-imposing structures, mean housing tenements and rusty shipping container tenements like his own. They left the Warrens, sailing over the renamed Five Districts: Manhaven, The Breaks, Kings, Brickland, and Freshkills Island, where Jett made his exit.

  Leaving the station, he was struck by the sheer stupidity of his plan. What the hell are you thinking? You have to be at work in five hours. Go home, go to sleep, laugh it off in the morning.

  The voice was so rational that for a tremulous second, he almost listened. But another thought surfaced, one far more aggressive than the first.

  Raise hell, die well.

  Jett's jaw clenched. He straightened, slung the bag over his shoulder, and took the lift down to the suffocating depths of the Grindbox streets.

  Flakes of snash drifted down, turning the sidewalks and streets into slush. Jet walked casually as he dared, darting furtive glances to make sure no one was tailing him. He was in foreign territory, outside his comfort zone in the Warrens. He knew little about the Grindbox; only it was a vast network of industrial buildings where anything from vehicle parts to black market contraband was manufactured and sold. The buildings were squat and ugly, dusted in soot and dirt, marked by graffiti from competing gangs.

  The remains of a massive bridge loomed overhead like the broken vertebrae of a rusty dinosaur, overlain with vines and housing an ecosystem of wildlife. Jett paused underneath to activate the coordinates he received from LeBlanc. A five-minute walk took him to at a large, unmarked factory building in the thick of the district. It was built like a fortress, complete with armed guards at the main entrance. Jett stuck to the other side of the street and took a slow stroll around the building, trying to see if there were alternative entry points. Whatever the building was, it was locked tighter than a bank vault.

  His holoband buzzed on his wrist. He frowned. Who in the world is calling? The only one with his number was Harry at work. And Agent Banks. Did I give my number to LeBlanc? He couldn't remember. His holoband continued to buzz, but no contact info showed up on the display. He finally took the call.

  A scrambled voice crackled over the line. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut to the chase, Jett. You've already aroused the suspicions of the guards by your little conspicuous stroll. If you really want to get to your target, I suggest you move before they decide to pull you aside for a painful little chat."

  Jett placed a finger on the datcom in his ear. "Who is this?"

  "Someone who knew Wayne Thomas very well. Someone who knows you have the helmet and g-spans, and what you plan to use them for."

  Jett's heart went into overdrive. He instinctively ducked down, searching the vicinity. Cold streets and buildings stared back with mocking emptiness. "How can I trust you?"

  "How can you not? Two guards are headed your way. Duck into the alley, then enter the adjacent building."

  Jett had little choice but to obey, dashing down the narrow backstreet until he found a door. He tried the handle.

  "It's locked."

  "Hold on." A series of keyboard taps were audible over the line. "Okay, now."

  The locks clicked as they were disengaged. Jett opened the door and darted inside, gently shutting it just as voices became audible around the corner. The locks bolted into place.

  Jett heard the guards as they approached.

  "Thought I saw him go this way."

  "Check the door."

  Jett held his breath when they tugged on the handle.

  "The door's locked. Must have gone around the corner."

  "Move your ass; maybe we can catch him."

  Their footsteps receded down the alley. Jett exhaled a sigh of relief, tapping the earpiece.

  "Okay, I trust you. Whoever you are."

  "Call me Incognito."

  "Really? Now I really feel reassured."

  "You should. I've been protecting you since before you got on the airship. Cloned your holoband so your movements won't be traced. We can talk about it when you wrap this up. For now, I'll guide you from here. First, you'll want to dress the part if you want to play the part."

  "Oh, yeah. Right." Setting the bag down, he opened it and removed the headgear and g-spans. The fully enclosed helmet slid into place over his head and the interior illuminated, data screens visible but not obstructing his view. The gauntlets lit up, pulsing with harnessed energy.

  "Put the trench on too," Incognito said.

  "The coat? It'll just get in the way."

  "It's lined with anti-Newtonian liquid armor, capable of stopp
ing rounds from average firearms. Won't do much against a biogun or other energy weapons, but it's better protection than what you're wearing now, which is nothing."

  "Point taken." Jett pulled the trench coat on. It didn't feel much different than regular heavy fabric, but it was slightly stiffer. He didn't think it would hinder his movements.

  "All right, Jett. The warehouse you're in is abandoned. Take the stairs up to the roof."

  Jett followed the instructions, ascending several flights of rickety stairs. Water dripped down the walls from the damaged ceiling. The stairwell was swathed in gloom, but his night vision sensors automatically clicked on, allowing him to climb without breaking his neck.

  The stairwell ended with a broken door. Jett cautiously pushed it open.

  "Careful."

  Jett crouched at Incognito's warning, taking a stealthy approach to the guardrail. A solitary figure wandered the adjacent rooftop, barely visible through the billowing smoke.

  "You have knockout darts on your g-spans. Use one on the guard. You know how?"

  "No problem." The VR training protocols paid off, making the action a matter of reflex. He accessed the hologram panel and selected the k-darts. Raising his arm, he targeted with the autoscope and squeezed his fist, activating the sensor in the palm of his glove. The dart fired without a sound.

  The guard's hand flew to his neck. He staggered, then toppled to the ground. Jett ran and leaped over the railing to the other building, rolling to break his fall before springing up beside the fallen man.

  "Nice moves. His holoband has the doorway access codes. Wait for a minute while I clone the info and transfer it to your band."

  Jett relieved the guard of his weapon. The rifle looked like a hand-held version of the railguns used on tanks and carriers in the Imperial War. He pressed the HELP button on his g-span. "Proto, I need a tutorial on this gun."

  Proto's voice beeped in his helmet. "Pulling up the data." A quick vid played across the surface of Jett's visor, demonstrating the use of the railgun.

  "Okay, I got it."

  Incognito's voice buzzed over. "Transfer is complete. You're good to go."