Chapter 2: Chapter One - Show Time
"Dammit… I'm really fucked now…." I mutter under my breath as I pull myself around the corner, panting for air.
The moonlight barely illuminates my walkway as I weave through the city. My body felt slow and sluggish from the fatigue setting in quickly. Sweat drenched my clothes, making every muscle work overtime, but I knew who was behind me.
Enforcers.
If I stopped for a second, I knew I'd be dead. So, I kept running through dark alleyways as they chased after me, drawing closer and closer with each passing second. The heavy clattering of exosuits and metal cans rang throughout the alley as I came to a halt.
A tall chain metal fence comes into view, blocking my escape route. I clamber halfway onto the wall, only to feel the searing pain and jolt from one of the Enforcers' weapons against my back, which sends me convulsing on the floor. I could only watch in horror as they whipped out their batons in sync.
Suddenly, a person comes crashing from a window above, landing between the Enforcers and me. Shards of glass glittered down as we gawked at the person, dumbfounded. Nobody made a move as tension built in the air. Soon, that tension turned to fear as I realized who it was.
Rising to his feet with the wind blowing his short blonde hair, it was a youthful man who ran by the name of Ace. An older friend I've known since childhood who acts like an older brother to everyone. A mentor cleaning up the mistakes of his student in this case. Without a second thought to his safety either, it seems.
Everyone stood frozen in time at Ace's bravado, but I couldn't help but crumble from seeing him. I knew what he was about to do because nobody wears that amount of gear unless they're prepared to start a war or just suicidal. Neither option being mutually separate sent a chill down my spine.
Strapped to the back of his hips are two kukri machetes with an electric pulse coursing through them, which are meant to engage against cybernetically enhanced humans. Besides those on his utility belt were grenades dangling perilously on their cords, ranging from fragmentation to flashbangs. To finish it off, he held a 50. caliber revolver clocked and ready to fire with blotches of oil stains on the chrome frame.
But, it's what he's wearing that worries me the most. Something neither of us was meant to use. A prototype nano suit that injects nanobots into the user's nervous system to surround the wearer in a black chrysalis. By embedding into the brain, It calculates which vitals need to be protected and uses its primary feature of absorbing bullets and firing them back or recycling spent munition. However, those features were never tested in live combat.
At the same time, I couldn't help but ask myself why as time slowed to a snail's pace. Why did you come back for me? Why risk it all on something that might not work? We had just stolen it, for god sake! The contract said to bring it back at any cost without damage.
I said I'd draw their attention while you escaped. You could have been set for life. This was our first big contract together! You could have been able to leave this damn city!
His wild eyes told me everything as he flashed a grin before facing the Enforcers. From the shift of his weight and tightening grip, he knew he had no way of surviving. I could stop him if I could just move, but my legs felt stiff and unresponsive. I could only hope that my voice would reach him as I futility reached out to him.
"Ace, don't-" I cried out, just to be drowned out by gunfire as a flashbang flies off of Ace's hip and erupts.
Suddenly, my body jerks up, dripping in a cold sweat. The unsettling darkness flustered me as I instinctively threw a wild swing at nothing. I couldn't see anything in the room as I frantically looked for something to fight. The only thing that gave me solace within the pitch-black room was the silence and the springy cushion beneath me.
"A dream...? Right, just a dream." I sigh in relief as I wipe the sweat from my brow and flick on a nearby light.
It had been four years since Ace died that night. Four long years of isolation. I still remember escaping with my tail between my legs back to the black market. I was covered in scrapes and bruises, ready to keel over from exhaustion. Before I knew it, I was hauled back to the infirmary.
When I woke up, they told me that the Enforcers had already strung up Ace on the top of the city square; mutilated almost beyond recognition. What was supposed to be an easy get in, get out job; ended in a bloodbath. The moment I even tried contacting our client, I was told that there wasn't a contract for that job in the first place. From that moment, I knew we were set up.
The facility. The Enforcers. The prototype. All of it was an elaborate ploy to get us both killed. Those Enforcers had swarmed the facility too quickly, even if an alarm was sounded.
As a last-ditch attempt, I was meant to be the distraction, splitting up with Ace, who took to the rooftops. I drew their attention by tossing a pipe bomb and laying a few rounds in their direction. None of them were even fazed by my feeble attempt, only to realize that these weren't the standard-issued men we faced before but synthetics. Not taking that into account was nearly fatal on my part, and what ultimately slowed me down when a piece of shrapnel shot into my leg.
To add insult to injury, I knew what hit me when I clambered onto the fence that night. One of the Enforcers shot me with a gauss pistol. Essentially, a condensed version of a railgun that sends an electric bolt flying through the air, utilizing pellets to carry the current rather than the traditional magnets for less lethality. Unavailable to civilians, exclusive for law and military crowd control since it's too dangerous for general use but not unattainable through weapon caches.
Once I came to, I couldn't believe what the others told me. I had to see Ace's body. And there he was, stripped of any clothes and hung up like some kind of marionette doll. I couldn't handle the grotesque scene, breaking down onto the floor and barfing. He was my mentor and the only person I could trust to protect me if things went sour.
But, there is no point in getting emotional right now. If I waste more time wallowing in self-pity, I'll start to doubt my abilities. I can't have that clouding my judgment. It's about time I accept a contract.
Ever since that incident, I've never accepted a contract until now. I knew I had to get away from the market and everyone around me. So, I asked a couple of people who owed me favors in the past. After pulling a few strings, I was able to get a bunker within a "recently abandoned" building. Once they told me it was ready, I took everything that Ace and I saved up and set up our dream base.
If I keep moping around in it, though, I'll never be able to get up. Old memories only drag the worst of luck. Staying busy always was an excellent way to clear my thoughts. I get out of my makeshift bedding in one motion and take a few stretches to survey my base.
A redecorated cellar of an old facility located in a hazardous ward nobody bothers to visit due to most of the infrastructure being fragile and susceptible to bombings. The original layout of the building was an R&D lab specializing in robotics. Perfect for my taste, but the main issue was spacing. Refitting the whole lab without being noticed would have been a hassle, so we opted for a cellar towards the facility's back.
Gazing about the concrete room, lit up by a fluorescent tube lamp dangling by a wire: my bed is just four broken mattresses stacked on top of each other for maximum comfort, a workbench in the far corner with an array of scrap metal, cloth fragments, and drone parts; a working shower and sink in the other, a full-body mirror embedded into the wall, an electric kitchen stove, and a makeshift closet with a mixture of civilian, and security gear for recon outside of the bunker. Everything had its own purpose, yet it was clear where I spent most of my time from how the workshop and closet were in utter disarray. It wasn't that I didn't like my bed or cooking food; it was more of a matter of necessity. It's rather hard to sleep when you don't have enough food. Tinkering with random things helps take the edge off of hunger, and the bench is surprisingly comfy once you get used to the cold steel.
Standing in front of the mirror, I had a good look at my body, admiring the well-defined muscles on lithe flesh with scarring covering each tanned curve I've built over the years. My hazel eyes, barely peeking past my messy raven hair, made me look unhinged compared to how I was four years ago. I might have decided to get a haircut in the past, but nowadays, a dull blade edge is good enough to keep my hair out of view.
I might've taken better care of my body years ago, but medicine is scarce and too vital to be used on healable wounds. I'm lucky enough to stockpile a box of assorted vitamins to keep me healthy. While injectable nanobots exist to boost your immune system, I never got any out of respect for Ace, much like others who followed him. He always said that the farther you stray from being human, the more likely you'll be hacked and forced to be a puppet.
Running my hand through my hair, a small shock coursed through my back. Turning my back to the mirror, I take a quick peek over my shoulder to see the burn scar left by the gauss pistol that hit me that night. Thanks to sheer luck and forgetfulness, I didn't strip off the plate carrier I had on at the time while I was running. While it did save my spine from being snapped, the heat generated from the electricity seared it to my flesh. My body still remembers the anguish from all those years ago, and no matter how I try to hide it, it still keeps me up.
Pushing that feeling away and heading to the closet, I rummage through the thick pile of clothes till I unearth an old yet well-maintained box. Crudely etched on top of the rusted, golden nameplate drilled haphazardly onto the box was a name barely legible: King. A name given to me by Ace and one that I hope I'll never use ever again when this is over. This was Ace's final parting gift, a name and a way to live rolled into one convenient package. Lifting the latch, he knew deep down there was a chance he'd die, or I'd take his role from how he phrased the worn note above an assortment of combat gear.
"Here's to you, your life. To become the king of this town. P.S Happy Birthday."
A set of combat boots lay above everything, fitted with steel lining and bolts around the heel. While it won't get past the newer exosuits, it was a good choice from Ace at the time. Heavy enough to generate reasonable force when I kick without being too cumbersome. I just need to remember to swap them out if I'm doing any long-distance scouting.
Neatly folded and tucked below are black compression pants made of the same kevlar weave as the security outfits with a steel shin plate for absorbing impacts. Helps stop against smaller caliber bullets and blades but is useless against anything blunt. Still has a few hammered-out dents from those times.
Matching the pants is a compression long-sleeve shirt that hugs much tighter against my skin. Never knew the true purpose for it being so fitted until a bullet ripped through me. By winding around my body like a bandage, it helps staunch my wounds and prevent me from bleeding out immediately. While it would never replace a dressing, I don't like leaving home without it on.
For actual protection, Ace had given me a black leather bomber jacket reminiscent of his own except for the lamellar plating around the coat. Stops most small firearms but won't stop any rifle or armor-piercing rounds. Added extra cushioning underneath after getting the wind knocked out of me too many times. Saved me a few ribs in the process.
Rigged in between is a tactical harness stretching from my chest down to my thighs. Used to help rearrange any of my ammo pouches or equipment, such as a flashlight on my hands. Usually, I keep the arrangement the same unless I need to reduce my weight.
Since resorting to hand-to-hand combat is commonplace, a pair of forearm braces made of scrap metal and kevlar gloves were taken from the Enforcers and fitted with a steel plate on the back. Less about defending myself and more about the offense. The braces are suitable for stopping guard dogs from sinking their fangs but apart from actual defense, it mainly serves as an excellent clubbing tool for grappling exchanges. The steel plate on the gloves, on the other hand, isn't meant necessary for extra impact against enhanced but stabilizing my form. Hitting with the heel of my palm tends to be a better bet, although it's more of a time and place when it comes to technique.
Crowning my head is a black full-face helmet made from a construction exosuit helmet, refitted to be more similar to the Enforcers' exosuits. Because of this, it's rather bulky if not straining due to the black hexagonal fiberglass plating; nevertheless, the amount of blunt force impact it can dissipate outweighs the downside. As another addition, it's equipped with a voice modulator to avoid being I.D. by someone and as a quiet whirling fan to vent out any build-up.
To top it off was my personal touch of weaponry, which I stole from the Enforcers during a small raid. To the onlooker, it might seem odd, but Ace never gave me a complimentary weapon to go along with the gear. The main reason for the assortment of armaments I already owned and our conflicting fighting styles was when he gave me these six years ago. Being a cocky brat, I was always headstrong, while Ace preferred a more meticulous approach. Following closer to his death is usually when people make the comparison between us and blur the lines.
Holstered onto my utility belt was my .357 double-action revolver, its pristine eight-inch chrome barrel still gleaming in the light. My way of giving homage to Ace. The only downside is that bullets are scarce since most Enforcers favor .50 Cal. for stopping the enhanced. Whenever I have the material on hand, I prefer to hand-load my .357 rounds myself, which is very few times, as evident in the chamber's four rounds.
Taking the opposite side of my belt was a spring-steel tanto knife, still sharp as the day it was brought to me. Usually, I'd prefer to keep it concealed on my harness, but yesterday's reconnaissance needed it to be available at a moment's notice. Well balanced and excellent in close quarters without the need to drastically change my style.
These all reminded me that he wasn't here anymore, and nobody who was around him decided to take vengeance. Now, it's that time of the year. Ace's anniversary is coming up, and it's about time I make him proud.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone