- Do not intentionally shake the weapon, they are designed to handle minor jostling from body movements, but not extreme shaking. It will explode. The exception is if you need a makeshift grenade, in which case give them the old James Bond and let that bastard fly.
- You break it, you buy it. This shit be expensive to produce and our donors can only give us so much of the tech that makes them work. If you’re gonna treat your weapon like trash, you better have the dough to actually get a replacement, or know how to fix it yourself. News flash, you probably don’t.
- NO BITCHING ABOUT WHAT YOU GET. Any of y’all ever heard the phrase “you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit”? Apply that logic. Some of the toughest dudes in the organization have the tiniest looking weapons and could thrash your ass twelve ways to Sunday. If you doubt it and continue to complain, I’m sure me or some of those guys would be happy to put money to mouth with some impromptu target practice.
- Internal guideline of Phoenix Undercity Gang “The Vultures”, 2053
The crowds thinned the closer I got to the target, tapering down from a constant stream to a steadily declining trickle. Be it a hard turn into an alley or ducking into a store, nobody stayed the course the entire way through, and the longer I persisted on my path the more eyes I felt bore into the back of my skull from those who remained.
At some point, the street became empty. The silence was deafening; the only immediate sign of movement was an errant gale blowing through the street, picking up a bit of dust along the way. Any stalls I could see were shuttered, and there was an entire row of buildings whose doors and windows were boarded up. It felt like I had just walked into a ghost town, and I half expected a tumbleweed to blow in from across one of the alleyways.
No, there was someone here. Three someones actually. A trio of guys were currently leaning up against the side of one of the buildings. One lanky, a bushy head of hair in desperate need of a haircut who was giggling at something in their augs. One short an arm, their upper arm turning into a stump halfway through. One big, well-built man with a military cut currently watching the streets like a hawk. He inevitably spotted me, and let out a sharp whistle to alert his coworkers, before moving forward towards me.
“Heya fellas,” I said, quietly eyeing the guns on their belts and the ominous blue glow they let off. “Think I got a little lost. Bit new to the undercity. Is there a reason why this place is so dead?”
“I’m afraid you’ve found yourself within Vulture territory, miss,” the big one replied. “This area is off-limits to non-Vulture members. I recommend you turn back.”
“So you guys just own an entire part of the undercity? That seems a little ridiculous.”
“Not my call to dispute. Please turn back.” His tone was amicable, but firm. Not something that could be disputed, and I had a hunch niceties would immediately become a thought of the past if I tried anything funny.
“Yeah, just like Husky here’s said, we can’t let you through,” the lanky one said. “Vulture members only, unless previously cleared ahead of time, and we ain’t heard jack shit from the bossman about any part shipments comin’ in today.”
He walked a little closer, getting dangerously close to entering my personal space while eying me up with the subtlety of a firework. His breath stank. “Though…I bet the boss wouldn’t mind adding a few new hands to our ranks, especially if those hands are attached to a pretty little missy like you.”
A hand reached out towards my rear in an attempt to cop a feel, but I intercepted it far before it reached. My grip tightened to vice levels and I slowly raised the caught arm, its owner currently squirming in pain. Just like the big guy, my tone was firm. “Try that, and I break your arm.”
Fabric shifted, and a gun was pointed at my head by the guy missing an arm. It had all sorts of mismatched parts slapped on like a mad science project, but the bright blue light I spotted earlier accumulated down inside the barrel with a threatening moan, and the matching battery sat atop the weapon shined in response. Despite its jury-rigged appearance, I knew this thing was dangerous. “Try that, and I’ll blow a hole in your head.”
I silently slid my eyes across the group. The one-armed man, currently pointing a gun at my forehead. The lanky one, still wiggling in my grip and spouting various profanities I wasn’t paying attention to. The big one, apparently called Husky by his peers, stood and watched, not showing any interest in unholstering his own weapon.
A moment passed, and I let go of the arm. The lanky one crumpled to the ground and skittered back, while the one-armed one quickly reupholstered his weapon and let out a sigh. Lanky shot up and glared something nasty at me, face going red and mouth nearly frothing from his rage. “Do you really fucking think-”
A back-handed slap smacked right into his face, but it wasn’t mine. Husky had apparently had enough of his bullshit, and sent Lanky hurtling to the ground with but a casual motion of his hand. It was a pretty serious hit; the metal of his augmented hand put clear marks on the kid’s face while he groaned in pain on the ground.
“That’s enough of that,” he said, his voice just as calm and pleasant as before, but a hint of embarrassment came through the lines on his face, suppressing a wince. “Unfortunately, the Vultures are not currently taking on new members. Do you need help getting back?”
“Nah, I should be fine. Thanks for the heads up on this whole Vulture stuff. Those are some scary ass weapons you guys got, that’s for sure.”
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One-armed guy gave a crooked grin. “Damn right.”
I waved away as I slid into a one-eighty and went back the direction I came. At least for a couple blocks. Once I was for sure out of sight from the three, I slipped into an alley.
“Well, it can’t all be easy,” I said, letting out a small sigh of my own. “Though I don’t understand why you’d need such flashy weaponry for a perimeter. That’s gotta be overkill.”
Whoever has designed that weaponry must be quite proficient by human standards. There were certainly some…exotic parts, but the gall to give those to other members implies confidence.
“Or desperation. A little bravado goes a long way.”
Bravado felt like the right word for most of that little group. A few guys feeling like hot shit just because of fancy toys courtesy of their boss. Only that Husky guy came off as actually having a good head on his shoulders. Fights are fun, but often unnecessary, and he was clearing doing his best to de-escalate.
To be honest, I could have taken the trio. Husky may have been trouble if he caught me off guard, but between my enhancements and Sagesight I think it would be about a minute before that entire group was moaning on the floor, just like Lanky was now. The problem was that such a scuffle would inevitably get me on the Vulture’s shitlist, and I really didn’t want that type of heat, especially in a sensitive investigation like this.
I gave my arms a stretch and hopped on the balls of my feet. I’d just have to get there another way. “Never tried parkour before. No time like the present I guess.”
With a large amount of buildup I jumped up and grabbed onto a loose edge of sheet metal from a panel welded to the building. It creaked ominously once my full weight strained onto it, so I quickly hopped off towards the opposing wall, just barely catching the very top edge of the structure and hoisting myself up onto the roof.
It was…admittedly easier than I expected. Pulling myself up and holding my own weight no longer felt like a burden. Must have been because of those new muscle upgrades.
I took in the view for a minute, but quickly started to hop from the rooftops of the buildings, sometimes literally. Getting spotted by those Vultures from before would have been bad news, so I went for a slightly longer route, curving around in a wide arc towards my destination and dropping flat if I heard any signs of other Vultures. It was difficult not knowing the exact area they covered, so I just had to be more cautious.
Despite the privilege of having an augmented body to make the actual trek easier, I was beginning to understand the appeal of parkour with each jump and slide. There wasn’t just the execution of the moves, but also the trick of finding a viable route to travel across each bit of rooftop and scaffolding. Cal was a cheat in that regard, between his consultations and the intervention of Sagesight, but that didn’t stop parkour in general being a thrill.
Would it beat fighting for me? Not a chance. There was a very specific type of interaction in fights that always made my eyes glimmer and blood burn in a way I couldn’t describe, and nothing would be able to match or imitate it. Still, parkour could be a fun pastime when the chance arose. Helps that opportunities to do it will inevitably appear through being a Samurai. Just like this opportunity.
I couldn’t tell you how much time passed, but I slowly but surely travelled on foot to my destination, making one last hop down the roof of a workshop and gazing upon the location the coordinates pointed to: a vacant factory. It clearly had seen better days, what with the cracked concrete all across its flooring and the splotches of rust degrading the edges of the visible metal. A large barbed fence surrounded the entire perimeter of the place, nearly twice as tall as me. Just like the immediate surrounding area, not a soul seemed to be occupying the place. The Vultures must be really good at forcing people to leave the premises of locations they held interest in.
While the look was imposing, a single fence wasn’t about to stop me. In a singular motion I bounded up to the top of the fence and vaulted over it, some of the barbs making brief contact with my hands but not getting more than a twinge of discomfort. One of the benefits of prosthetics.
Quietly I skulked forward, surveying the area and being met with more silence. I reached for a door into the factory, and as soon my hand twisted the knob it relented, swinging open. Unlocked. The inside was dark, but there was a light switch not far from the door. With a click, the overheads shuttered to life and I bore witness to what lay inside.
Nothing. An empty warehouse, with empty shelves. A factory line with very little factory in process, just bare swathes of concrete and whatever machinery remained draped in protective tarps was completely unnoteworthy. There were a few offices inside, but any electronics long pinched or at least discarded, leaving completely empty desks beneath irritating fluorescent lights. The only thing with any material in it was a janitor’s closet, but all that contained was a bunch of expired chemical bottles tossed haphazardly around its rubber mat floor. Everything about the factory felt…liminal, as if it was completely devoid of human intervention in the first place. Only stale and unwelcoming air made a home here.
Each discovery of diddly squat furthered the look of confusion on my face, and it was starting to give me a headache. “I expected maybe signs of someone being here, not…this. Not even anything that could tell me that someone was trying to hide something. It’s just…abandoned.”
The only consistent occupant of this place looks to be dust.
“Mmm. Odd that the Vultures aren’t even using it for anything. Maybe it holds some sentimental value to their boss.”
Just through some cursory searches, I doubt it. The boss of The Vultures is allegedly a man by the name of Shephard, and they aren’t exactly subtle about their heritage as a western undercity denizen. The Vultures' home base matches that, placed almost directly under one of the support beams of the western undercity plates.
I scratched the back of my head. This Shephard guy could be lying about his heritage, but why not just make a base directly over this place if you wanted to keep it protected? Some people just like to gloat about the stuff, I guess.
Would you like to buy a drone for further searching?
The pessimist in me was saying no, and such thought was currently a compelling one. “If a Sam’ already checked it once when Penelope first disappeared, fat chance I'll find anything. Ain't worth the points.”
Another throb of pain pulsed through my head, and I winced. Must have inhaled too much pollution earlier. “Yeah…this ain't getting anywhere, just as I thought. Let's cut our losses and go.”
If the building was sentient, I imagine it would have had a shit-eating grin when I shuffled out in defeat.