She approached a makeshift shooting range on the rooftop, beyond small crates with the logo of the Yoshida Corporation or Zhang Industries stamped on them with their Japanese and Chinese translations. The necklaces and earrings she wore shined a light in the darkness, covering her smooth pale face with soft blue light. From one crate, Miyuki pulled out a pistol. Her HUD updated with new combat information about the weapon when she touched it.
Weapon Name: Deckard 56
Damage: Medium
Clip size: 10
Rate of Fire: Low
Range: Medium
Type: Pistol
She made the screen vanish just by thinking about it. She hated that unique aspect of her life. Her eyes were synthetic now, the irises looked like glowing rubies in the dark, capable of performing optical scans, or receiving data her cyberware picked up, such as the pistol she took. She knew it was a Deckard 56 because the tiny scanners built into her hands analyzed the gun when she held it and relayed its information to her HUD.
To her understanding, the computer in her brain had special software that rated all weapons and armor based on their effectiveness. The idea was to make it easier for people like her to know what a weapon was capable of just by picking it up and allowing her cyberware to do the rest. That database was the closest to an AI and firearm expertise she had.
The targets at the shooting range consisted of mangled mannequins stolen from an abandoned clothing store a few weeks ago. Miyuki took aim at the mannequins and went to add new holes to their bodies. Her finger pulled the trigger twice and the gun clapped and echoed twice. She didn’t miss, and the targeting reticle floating in the middle of her vision was a big help with that as was the pistol’s camera feeding its data onto her HUD when the tech in her hands formed a network connection with the weapon.
Miyuki fired twice more. Her ammo counter displayed at the bottom left half of her vision, she had six bullets left, then five, pulling the trigger three more times brought the counter to two. She prepared herself to reload. The counter was zero now, it pulsed red just to remind her she was out of ammo. Miyuki ejected the spent clip, grabbed a fresh one, slapped it into the weapon, and acquired a mannequin target. And she did all that before the clip hit the ground. Her newfound cybernetic speed made it possible, it also made it possible for her 5’3 and 95-pound body to not fly backward from the recoil and to spin around aiming the gun with one hand at two individuals approaching from behind.
Miyuki lowered the pistol. It was Yanmei Feng and Serge Smith who was behind her, grinning and clapping their hands.
“Yanmei,” Miyuki said in English. “Taking your human pet for a walk?”
Serge broke into laughter, crossing his massive Australian muscular arms. “This pet keeps your equipment and cyberware workin’. Oh, and feeds y’all intel.”
Yanmei walked forward, ruby eyes examining the shooting range Miyuki set up on the rooftop. “How goes your training?” Yanmei was speaking Japanese.
She replied in Japanese. “Better thanks to those adjustments you made this evening.” Miyuki looked away. “Hopefully, I won’t slow the others down tonight.”
“I hope not. You’re a yūrei now, a member of our Specter team. Our numbers are small, and we can’t afford to have a weakness with our group.”
She clenched the pistol, shaking her head. “I’m not weak, not anymore.”
“No, you are not. You and your brother were special. Gifted with exceptionally high telepathic abilities. I imagine that’s why he was recruited by whoever asked him to go to the Alliance. It’s the reason we asked you to join us.”
“I’m ranked A now. It took me one month to achieve,” Miyuki faced Yanmei. “I’ll be an S ranked at this rate.”
Yanmei placed her hands behind her back. “Show me.”
“What?”
“Show me what you achieved in one month of training.”
Miyuki holstered her pistol to her side. She faced the open crate full of weapons stretching her palms forward. They brightened with a white glow. A rush of mana energy particles entered and gathered within her body. With that built up of energy, she ordered it to pull an assault rifle stashed in the box, making it hover above it for three seconds. The intensity from her hands faded, and the rifle dropped, hitting the ground with a loud clunk.
“Good,” Yanmei said. “The MEP is flowing in you. You’re charging the particles quickly.”
Miyuki looked surprised. “Oh?”
“That’s what causes the glow in our hands.”
“I wasn’t aware.”
“Few are. Studies into how we manipulate MEP and where it comes from are banned worldwide.”
She tried to lift the rifle again by charging the MEP that gathered into her body, using it to fuel her limited control of psychokinesis. It floated an inch off the ground and then dropped the moment the glow from her hands faded. Miyuki frowned and gritted her teeth. “Why would they do that?” Miyuki asked, ruby eyes still gazing at the fallen rifle.
“Humans are afraid we could increase our abilities if we better understood where they came from. The first IWs created for the third world war were brought into active service quickly and sent into combat. There wasn’t enough testing done on them at the time, the militaries around the world wanted them weaponized and fighting right away.”
Miyuki walked over and grabbed the rifle she’d been trying to lift off the ground. The cyberware in her hands ran a quick scan of it and related its findings to her HUD.
Weapon Name: YARX 76
Damage: Medium
Clip size: 25
Rate of Fire: Medium
Range: High
Type: Assault Rifle
The rifle powered on with a flick of a switch on top of its barrel, and its combat scanner and digital ammunition counter synced with her HUD. She pointed the rifle at the mannequin target, forced her vision to zoom on its head, lined up the reticle, pulled the trigger, and held it. Burst fire mode had been selected.
Her ammo count was down to eighteen when its head exploded, spraying tiny fragments of plastic across the rooftop’s surface. Without switching aim Miyuki held down the trigger while channeling more MEP into her body. She gave the charged MEP new orders, make the fired rounds curve, and seek the remaining mannequins out of her line of sight. Her hands began to glow once again. Computer code on the side of her HUD updated, her cyberware MEP amplifier activated.
Her hands were no longer glowing when the bullets stopped curving. Miyuki lowered her rifle, sighing. “I hate this part.”
“That’s the cooldown,” Yanmei said, laughing. “You ran low on your stored MEP. Your body needs to absorb more.”
“Where does MEP come from?”
“All we know is that it’s around us. Some places in the world have more MEP than others. The effectiveness of our powers will vary from place to place.”
She swapped the spent magazine for a fresh one and numbers appeared in the bottom left of her vision. She was back at twenty-five rounds. Above that notification was a digital countdown informing her of the estimated time required for her body to absorb more MEP, it was the estimated time for the cooldown effect to lift. When the countdown hit zero, Miyuki felt her body channel the newly stored MEP. She charged it and her hands began to glow white once again. She took aim, pulled, and held the trigger, and watched as the rifle’s muzzle flared, ejecting bullets moving in curved paths rather than straight, seeking five mannequins, and dotting them with new holes. On her HUD, she timed the countdown of the rifle’s ammo counter with the shrinking horizontal bar of her MEP gauge. By the time she needed to reload, her HUD had flashed the cooldown warning message.
“Excellent,” Yanmei said. “When you hit cooldown, your weapon is the only means of defense or offense. Entering this phase with a loaded firearm is the key to survival.” Facing Serge, Yanmei spoke in English. “I think she is ready.”
“Cheers,” Serge said, the big Australian looked toward Miyuki. “Tonight’s gonna b
e your first real test, Miyuki. You ready?”
She nodded. “I am. Where is the mission?” she asked in English.
“The Yakuza are meeting with the Bald Skulls again,” Serge said. “Gonna pay those blokes a visit, and, I dunno, maybe ask a few questions, like how in the fuck does an Alliance gang enter the Federation like that? Rumor has it, your brother Nobuo had taken an interest in the gang when he was causing trouble in the Alliance.”
“Try not to die, Miyuki,” Yanmei added, in Japanese. “We Specters are a rare breed of telepaths. Few people survive the recruitment process and cyberware augmentation.”
Miyuki replied in the same language. “Is that why we don’t get sent on missions often?”
“Yes, can’t risk losing us in high-risk operations. Zhang spent a lot of time developing the amplifiers in your body and we spent a great deal of time training and keeping our existence a secret from the Federation.”
Miyuki winced. Her head was lost in thought. Who did the Specter team report to? She was told the Federation hired them to investigate the actions of Nobuo and the IWs he worked with. If that were the case, how did the Federation reach the Specters and hire them for the job if they kept their existence a secret? And how did Zhang get away with developing illegal IW cyberware without the Federation putting a stop to it? Then again, everything about the Specters was unlawful, they trained, they used the Zhang developed cyberware, and were receiving payments from the Federation to hunt other illegally trained IWs.
Yanmei and Serge walked to the exit staircase, leaving Miyuki alone on the rooftop, clenching a rifle that weighed almost nothing to her, thanks to her enhanced strength.
“Get ready,” were Yanmei’s parting words. “We will depart within the hour.”
They were gone, descending the stairs into the apartment. But Miyuki didn’t get ready, she sat on one crate, with trembling hands clenching the rifle, and hoping Yanmei’s telepathic powers weren’t able to read her mind. And the fact Miyuki wasn’t ready for the mission.
She’d been lying to herself. Said yes because it’s what her big brother Nobuo would have wanted. He would have wished his little sister’s ghost to come back and finish his mission, avenge his death, and haunt the pigs of the Alliance of the Americas.
The Specter team investigating Nobuo’s actions? They were the people that’ll unintentionally point her to the ones that slew her brother. And the gift he wanted to give her.
Eleven
Ray
Access granted.
The words Ray had been waiting for. He tapped the door hack app on his phone and a brief notification appeared. The hack put a moderate strain on his botnet, causing it to overheat. He ignored the warning. Ellsworth’s life was on the line.
Ray opened the door in time to see a terrified Ellsworth and two dancers pointing pistols at him. They turned their weapons to Ray instead. He was now one of their targets. He was also unarmed and human.
The dancer duo was a lot stronger than they looked too. They flicked their small white glowing hands and staggered Ray with psychokinetic jabs to the ribs and face as he charged into the confrontation. One sacked him in the balls. The sudden pain sent him down for the count, his phone went flying out from his hand a second later.
The dancers switched targets. One pointed their pistol at Ray, the other at Ellsworth still panicking in the seat he sat at. And there was no cover in sight. The best Ray could do was let go of his aching balls. Dying prone on the floor holding his junk was not the image he preferred the coroners to see. The weapon discharged. He braced himself. A short pulse of radiant energy crashed against Ray’s back as he remained prone. Death never came, only his vision blurring, and his body twitching. The weapons were stunners, nonlethal firearms. They wanted Ellsworth alive, he figured. It gave him hope for survival.
Ray found where his phone fell and when he looked up, his smart glasses identified the stunners they held were vulnerable electronic devices, networked like everything else in the world. He rolled across the floor to the phone, his body still shivering from the shock, missed stunner bolts following him in his wake. Ray scooped up the phone, crawled and fled behind the couch, amidst stunner blasts spraying in random directions. He tried swiping through his apps, but his hands, rattling from the first stunner blast, wouldn’t allow that. He tried again and located an appropriate one to use.
Overload Electronics
Increases power flow while disabling all cooling functions in an electronic device, causing it to overheat and explode. Two vulnerable devices in range.
He thumbed the app, sat back, and waited for the show. Two small discharges of electricity erupted in the dancers’ hands, their bodies twitched, staggered, and collapsed to the floor.
The pain had gone away, or the alcohol was starting to work, because Ray found the strength to get to his feet, hoping his balls were still good for the future. He hadn’t given up on Arianna yet and starting a family with her.
“Holy fucking shit!” It was Ellsworth. Ray turned to see he was leaping up and down with hands flailing, and necktie bouncing about.
Ray wanted to say more but heard groaning from the dancers. Their jewelry jingled as they slogged back to their feet rubbing the sides of their heads.
“What the fuck was I thinking?” groaned the first dancer.
“Oh shit,” said the second, turning to face a still panicking Ellsworth. “I’m so fucking sorry, man! I don’t know what came over me! Fuck, over us!”
Ray took a second glance at the two. They seemed to have become different women after they collapsed. He knew what was up because he too had been through what they went through.
“You two were mind controlled,” Ray said to the dancers. “Do you remember what happened before you approached him?”
“Fuck.” The second dancer scratched her head. “I was with a client giving him a private dance.”
“Same here,” said her partner. “Some bald guy with a tattoo on the back of his head.”
“Yeah,” the other agreed. “The guy I was with looked like that.”
Ray backed away slowly, fear ate at his thoughts. “That’s not that good,” he murmured. “Any idea where they went?”
The first dancer shrugged. “I don’t know. Everything was so fucked after that!”
“He gave us that bag,” the second one said, pointing at the two handbags on the floor. “Then we took it, and…”
“I can guess the rest,” Ray said. “You two, get out of here now.”
“Don’t gotta fucking tell me twice!”
The two dancers got to their feet and scurried into the halls, their heels’ clicking fading into the blasting noises from the club’s main floor. Ellsworth sprinted after them, his hand reaching out. “Hey wait!”
Ray pulled on Ellsworth’s shoulder, holding him back. “You’re coming with me, bud!”
“What?” Ellsworth looked at Ray, grimacing. “Oh no, no, I want a fucking refund!”
“I’ll fucking pay you to not get it.”
Ray peeked out into the dark halls. He saw nothing but the two dancers screaming for the bouncers, warlock bouncers. They pointed the bouncers to the room he and Ellsworth were still in. They’d get the wrong idea when they came charging in. Getting punched by warlocks sucked. Escaping through the main exit would put the two of them in their path.
The fire exit at the opposite end of the hall was their only choice. “This way,” Ray said grabbing Ellsworth’s arm and dragged him along.
Ellsworth whined and complained that Ray’s grip was hard and hurting him. Ray didn’t care. There were Bald Skulls in the club, and two bouncers storming for them. He and Ellsworth needed to be outside five minutes ago.
Ray was halfway to the fire exit with Ellsworth in tow when his phone beeped. A new text message arrived. Obsidian giving him further instructions he hoped, because as it stood, he was improvising. He didn’t understand why he needed Ellsworth to start with. Ray grabbed the phone using his free hand and br
iefly glanced at the device’s glowing screen. It was Theo finally replying, he left his phone behind. Ray forgot about that. He typed a slow one-handed message on where to find him. Once sent, he used his apps to disable the fire alarms set to active if someone pushed the exit open. They didn’t activate when he forced it open. The cool evening air embraced them.
Ray dragged a squirming Ellsworth outside into the alley. He pulled up a mini-map of the area on his phone and found the path to the streets. Theo should be waiting for him there. They ventured through a dark maze, stepping through steam lifting from sewer grates, fleeing past garbage bags, and neon signs with Japanese letters and images of pole dancing women flicking from above. An L-shaped corner forced him to turn and travel down it.
Three bald Latino men wearing trench coats stopped him. Ray didn’t need to look at the backs of their heads to know they had skull tattoos on them.
“Como estas ese,” said the leader of the three Bald Skulls members, grinning to Ray and Ellsworth.
Ray searched via his glasses, looking for vulnerable devices, he didn’t care what they were, he needed an advantage, anything to get free. Shooting wasn’t an option, and for the first time in ages, Ray wished he had a gun, like the one he left with the bouncers. His facial scanning app activated when he gleamed longer at the lead gangster.
Name: Juan “Hawk” Russo
Age: Unknown
Species: Imagery witch/warlock
Occupation: Bald Skulls gang leader
Notes: Reportedly killed in Buenos Aires and wanted by the LAPD
Ray was impressed. Yoshida updated their database on the Skulls and the man he made eye contact with was their leader, Hawk. And Hawk’s hands brightened with white glowing light. Ray stopped searching for vulnerable devices. He had to, Hawk’s telepathic powers wanted him to do it, and so he did.
“Wanna, let him go?” Hawk said. Ray did what he was told and released his grip on Ellsworth then stood motionlessly. “Thanks, homes, appreciate it, you know?”
Ray said nothing. Ellsworth said nothing. They remained motionless, victims of Hawk’s mind control. They obeyed the telepathic skulls leader.
Specter Protocol Page 9
