The cult most graciously welcomes Side Character A to its glorious ranks.
Extra rations are to be distributed as celebration.
-----
Michael 'Magos' Sobronov
"Weird." I muttered as I was crouched next to a breached overpass barrier, slowly looking over the large and mostly completed shopping center that had been turned into a cross between an open air market and an apartment building.
Rebecca blinked away from her newest toy "What's up?"
"It only just now clicked how much territory the Haitians actually control." I admitted.
[B@D: Assholes like to keep to themselves.]
"Woah." 'Becca chuckled "Harsh much?"
[B@D: Nah. Tried visiting the place once and the shitheads just wouldn't stop glaring at me until I left. Prolly best I did get out of dodge before the VB goons decided to step in.]
"They can't just kill whoever comes and goes. They need the biz like anyone else." I pointed out "But yeah, sounds like you dodged a bullet there."
They went to whine further but I cut them off "Nix just sent me a message, he's set up overwatch across the area. Should stop too many reinforcements from swarming us while we deal with the main group."
"Awww."
Five more minutes passed before I detected movement far below us, and another two went by as Mòn's contact clambered up the rusty ladders connecting the overpass to a secluded alley.
By the time he rolled over the edge, his face was covered with sweat and he was breathing heavily, and most notably even casual observation revealed him to be tall for his age but still far too young to be getting involved in something like this.
Bits of his visible skin displayed a selection of sophisticated, even if not particularly high grade, implants, and I also noted a distant resemblance to the collector in his facial structure.
'What exactly is he playing at?' I frowned mentally "You are late."
The kid, or 'Siklòn' as my contact, and his internal data, named him, rolled to his side and took yet more deep breaths before answering in heavily accented English "Apologise. Took me a while to slip away, something got the others spooked."
[B@D: Lack of presence is just as spooky as loud presence, you know.]
[Magos: Doesn't matter most of the time.]
[B@D: True, but just saying.]
"Mhm." I channeled impatience into my voice "Lead the way then. Best not give them more time to get agitated."
"Right." He nodded and then looked back at the ladder before sighing his heart out.
'Meat.' I shook my head.
[Meat bad?]
I almost missed a step and quickly answered with a definitive 'Not exactly.'
[Elaborate?]
And so I proceeded to only half pay attention as the kid led us in the same direction my tracker daemon pointed at, and hoped to God I wasn't about to push the first domino of Logos' human hating crusade.
The AI was obviously just curious about my opinions, but I grew up with horror stories about this shit so just forgetting about it and moving on was a no go.
Still, I made sure to observe the kid as we closed in on the small private chapel positioned above one of the busier parts of Pacifica, and luckily for him while he was just as tense as you'd expect for the situation I detected no true display of panic as we got into position.
[Magos: Sneak into their cameras yet?]
The answer came twenty tense seconds later.
[B@D: Got it. Whooh... They got some spooky shit guarding their localnet, looks like they were preparing to detach their own subnet too. But nothing the big B@D couldn't deal with!]
[Magos: B@D, are we walking into an ambush or not?]
[B@D: Chill dude, assholes are tense but they aren't murderous fullborg tense.]
[Magos: Great.] I grinned and mentally flicked my voice modulator on "Best get going now, kid. Things are about to get messy."
He flinched away at the uncomfortable uncanny valley effect of the frequency, and gulped before scampering off as far as he could.
Good "Ready?" I asked in a more normal tone.
"Fuck yeah." Rebecca grinned, hefting a box fed machinegun with no difficulty.
"Then let's fuck up some cultists."
Voodoo Man
"We are drawing too many eyes." A powerfully built Haitian man warned with his arms crossed and a deep frown marring his face "We need to slow down, Maman."
"Netwatch already sent their dogs after us." The woman across him said tersely "It is only a matter of time before they find us, and unless we are ready they will happily silence everyone."
"Fine. I'll try to speed up the server acquisition, but no more than that." Placide grunted "Will have to take more hit jobs to make up for it too."
"Good, get to it." Maman Brigitte ordered.
Taking the silent dismissal with numb irritation, the man left the underground netrunning suite, and walked up through the tunnels, exchanging easy greetings with the others before reaching the chapel that masked their presence from the outsiders.
Just in time for the doors to be swung open and another man to walk in with a scowl on his face.
"Back already Ti Neptune." Placide greeted as he leaned against the edge of the altar "Did you notice anything off with the Netwatcher?"
Here, Neptune frowned "Rat was happy sitting in one spot for a whole day but something closed my eyes two hours back. Felt like a glitch and the rat was back exactly where I left him but I can't shake the feeling something is trying to fuck us."
"I'll inform Brigitte." He nodded with a frown on his own "How did the old grandfather take our visit?"
"Bastard laughed in my face the entire time." The irritated netrunner spat "I know he was the first, Placide but we should kill him before he becomes a problem."
Placide's face turned to stone "No."
"Pah." He clicked his tongue "It will bite us in the ass, and you know it."
"Doesn't matter, the topic is closed." Placide narrowed his eyes threateningly.
"Your weakness won't save you when the Great Cyber War comes to claim us." Neptune shook his head in disdain.
"Keep your preaching to the dreamers and fools." Placide grunted, equally disappointed "All I do is for our people."
Already a small crowd had gathered around them and just as either went to speak over the other both of them tensed at the same time as their cyberdecks detected a breach.
Someone had just pinged them.
"Shit." Neptune cursed.
He went to warn the others but before he could even finish opening his mouth, the far wall of the chapel exploded with dust and shrapnel as a black covered figure blurred through the new opening, an equally dark blur extending from its arm with the loud echo of an engine roar swinging at Joanne's back.
Most of them barely had the time to register the sudden splash of blood and viscera painting the chapel red before the attacker swung out again.
Placide's sandevistan burst into activity just in time to see another of his comrades get a face full of electrified chainsaw, not even given the time to scream as he was turned into meaty chunks and his killer proceeded to hose down another three Voodoo Boys with the shotgun in his offhand.
And like that wasn't enough, another figure was strolling behind him in what like in comparison looked like slow motion, grinning widely as she gunned down anyone the first attacker had missed.
Placide wasted no more time, charging at the attacker in a burst of speed with his Carnage aimed at his face. His own expression twisted into a hateful glare and he pulled the trigger.
Only for the attacker to twitch his head out of the way, after the shell was fired.
Sandevistan charge expended, all Placide could do was brace as something slammed into his chest, launching him through one of the chapel pillars and making him land in a pained heap, just across a Neptune whose cybernetic eyes stared off into the net.
And there was nothing but horror on his face.
One quick look at his cyberdeck was enough to start sharing in the feeling.
Michael 'Magos' Sobronov
I shoved my chainsword through another gonk who thought closing in on me was a survivable option, turning his more intelligent chooms into fine mist as my upgraded Crusher found their general direction.
But instead of rushing the meat like I wanted, I was forced to take a more methodical approach and hold ground while trading shots, as most of my attention was demanded by he local net.
Every single second that passed I had to upload more and more of my attack programs to deal with the ridiculous spam of 'spirit' themed daemons the cultish idiots thought passed for effective net warfare.
Thankfully, my new Cyberdeck was practically made for attrition as it recycled each of my spent daemons and sent them back to the fight, generating barely any heat in the process while the VB netrunners burned out one after the other in the vain hope their boss would save them.
Not all of them were inept though. I'd give at least that much to 'Maman Brigitte'.
Her work could have easily seen her accepted into our little cafe club if only she was possessed of the subtlety and wisdom to actually try and make contact with us filthy outsiders.
But instead she decided poking us awake was the better option, and now she was sat downstairs, putting up a valiant but futile stand against us.
A valiant stand B@D was more than capable enough of contending with, holding back Brigitte's 'spirits' with their own solid selection of programs while I waded through the rest of her little cult in meatspace.
My Skitarii daemon just finished impaling another cheap dragon imitation as I returned my attention to the real world, my accelerated perception giving me more than enough time to pay attention to both and thus notice as one of the Voodoo Boys prepared to throw an incendiary grenade at Rebecca.
He barely managed to pull the throw back by the time I shifted my aim at his arm.
His agonized screams were a bit ruined by the slow motion but I was still more than satisfied with 'only' watching him get exactly what he deserved.
'Always wanted to do that.' I allowed myself a small grin as I felt my ICE shred the consciousness of some gonk hiding behind a nearby pew, his overclocked factory reset hack not even registering to my internal systems.
At the same time his choom, who seemed to be respectably modified if his survival of my kick was any indication, activated his Sandy again, pushing it beyond safety specifications as he attempted to jump me.
My aim shifted again, and I flicked the full auto mode of my shotgun on, crunching everything in front of me to tiny chunks as the heavy shells disgorged through the charged barrel.
But not the VB goon as he sped up even further, repeatedly blurring around my line of fire in a suicidal attempt to close in.
I felt my magazine click empty more than heard it, and saw the goon's expression turn to furious triumph.
Which was of course when I simply let the Crusher drop to my awaiting Artifex and quickdrew my Burya, aiming the weapon at his center mass and pulling the trigger in one smooth practiced movement.
As expected, the Voodoo Boy tried dodging again, but all he managed was a twitch before a scream ripped its way out of his throat as his entire right arm was turned to fine chunks.
Wasting no time, I swung out with my main hand.
Impressively, he managed one final attempt at staying alive, as he pulled out a... cleaver of all things and tried to parry my strike with it.
Which ended just as you'd expect it to, with my chainsword buried in his gut, stopped from outright cutting him in half by his considerable internal plating.
The man made a choking noise as he stared up at me, delirious from both system shock and Sandy overuse, his eyes filled only with confusion.
Feeling oddly merciful, I whipped my sword upwards, turning his head to shreds in an instant and ending him.
The world clicked back into its normal rhythm, and I looked away from the steaming pile of meat just in time to see Rebecca suppressing the retreating VB goons, killing another pair while a few managed to retreat downstairs.
"That's what you get assholes!" She hooted, making a point of expending the rest of her ammo even as they got out of effective range.
Quickly scanning her for injuries and finding nothing but mild combat strain I spoke up "They're not done yet, you know?"
Rebecca saluted and simply reloaded the second monstrosity of her collection.
But I was already looking 'away', even after all that the lightshow on the net had barely slowed down.
Feeling B@D's attention flicker in my direction I quickly activated all four of my processors and restarted my swarming of the cheeky fuckers trying to gank her while I was 'distracted'.
Ignoring the competitive gonk's immediate middle finger emoji, I began walking down the staircase.
The first level we reached looked like a proper lab, housing anything from workshops to medical facilities accumulated in years of focused gang operation.
It was almost impressive, if not for their lack of defenses.
They relied on obscurity to guard them. And they would pay for it with their lives.
My right hand whipped out, the upgraded copperhead nearly poking the VB ambusher's eye out as he went to shoot me in the side of the head.
I didn't even do him the courtesy of looking at him as I incinerated him.
Instead, I was already moving forward, my Kerenzikov giving me more than enough time to line up my fire and gun down most of the other ambushers in a simple efficient sweep of full auto fire.
The lucky ones died instantly, the others got a few seconds of hell first.
Rebecca had no such advantage though, failing to notice another ambusher as she gunned down her flank, and flinched in pain as an AR round slammed into her chest.
The weapon failed to penetrate her armor, obviously, but it still managed to irritate me into overloading the wielder's Agent into slowcooking his brain.
"Clear." I called out, and said nothing else.
But Rebecca was already sulking like she could see my annoyance through my visor.
By this point, the noise on the net had died down considerably, and while I could have used the opportunity to gank Brigitte with B@D, a quick ping showed her to be just one level down, hiding out with the final dregs of her inner circle.
Netrunners were far more vulnerable to conventional attacks, so there was no point in wasting time getting into a protracted hacking battle when blunt force trauma worked so much better.
And so I rushed downstairs with all the speed my Cyberware allowed, elbowing through a sudden obstacle turned shower of gore and bursting my way into the unfinished skeleton of a tunnel housing an advanced netrunner base.
I ignored the deactivated mines next to me and began systematically gunning down the disconnecting netrunners, swatting their attempts of slowing me down through the net just like I did all the others, and approaching the separate section holding the goon in chief.
The door shattered as I kicked through it, and I began lowering my AR just in time to hear a disconnected VB goon scream "Do it!" Before she threw herself into my line of fire.
The incinerated corpse blocked my vision just long enough to hide the odd sparks of red suddenly buzzing around the jacked in Maman Brigitte, and all I could do was focus on defensive programs as something pulled my consciousness before the familiar sight of the Blackwall.
'Tsk. Should have just shot her through the wall.' I cursed as I began scanning the situation.
B@D's avatar looked coherent enough that they wouldn't need to disconnect for safety, while Brigitte's, an almost 1 to 1 copy of the voodoo spirit of the same name, looked haggard and barely held together by hopes and prayers.
"YoU!" The voice glitched as she glared at me, a mix of fear and anger in her eyes "You ruined everything! Why?!"
Irritation bubbling over, my answer as as simple as it was truthful "Loot."
The sudden yet understandable crashout gave me just enough time to see what she was doing, and feel my proverbial stomach drop as I realized she was tugging power directly at the Blackwall like a complete idiot.
"You aren't getting out of here alive!" Brigitte screamed.
But instead of paying her any more attention I turned to B@D, and voiced a cold "Logos."
As an immense metallic dog-like avatar descended on Brigitte and proceeded to rip her consciousness into fine agonized shreds, I kept my death stare directed at an increasingly panicked B@D, not looking back at my AI even as he managed to disconnect the bits of tangled consciousness from the Blackwall without alerting the monolith.
One final digital scream echoed through the subnet before everything turned quiet, and my companion returned to his place within my own ICON, preening as I metaphorically patted his head for a job well done.
"So." I crossed my digital arms, and promptly locked the localnet connection down "What do I do with you now?"
The other netrunner made the digital equivalent of a gulp.
-------
You know what time it is.
Get back in the mines!
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