Jake Maison
07/12/2024
Content warning: coarse language and violence
Image description: a red and blue line drawing of a motorcycle with rectangle shaped neon green, yellow, blue, dark green and orange patches decorating the background.
The man stood before massive twin doors, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. The security device above the doors checked him for weapons and combat implants; threads of rendered light ran over the sharp lines of his suit and reflected off the metal of his case. The man shivered in anticipation despite the humidity, slicking his back with sweat. One didn’t survive long in the corporate game without a healthy amount of paranoia, after all. However, as the security system registered him as a safe guest and opened the doors for him, the man felt the tension in his shoulders begin to evaporate.
‘Hello, sir,’ the concierge chimed, ‘and welcome to the Hotel Pollux!’
Zarpedon Systems – Research and Development Department – Project Report:
- Neurographical scan successful
- Binary translation successful
- Matrix overlay successful
- Data stored on biochip Europa
Note: Subject did not survive procedure; distribute severance package to next of kin.
CJ cut through the city like a shark through water, the road beneath him reduced to a black blur as his bike, a modified Mitsuragi Mark-12 Bokashi, weaved through traffic like a metal blur followed by the engine’s roar. The few flesh-and-blood drivers he cut off barely had time to register his passing, their angry blaring of the horn already fading from earshot. CJ thought of stopping, turning around and putting them in their place with a flash of his combat implants but decided against it, knowing he was already cutting it close with his current assignment. CJ was a killer, no doubt about it, but he was also a professional. And he had a job to do.
Zarpedon Systems – Research and Development Department – Project Report:
- Neurographical scan successful
- Binary translation successful
- Matrix overlay successful
- Data stored on biochip Jupiter
Note: Data corruption within acceptable parameters, initiate Phase 2.
The man rode the elevator up in silence, feeling an odd sense of comfort in the knowledge that he had been tagged by hotel security. Every other camera fixed to him fed live updates of his movements to the personnel on his floor. The man wasn’t stupid, knowing full well that the Hotel Pollux was owned by a shell company, a front for the glorified data crawlers posing as a corporate entity. These bastards viewed him as a mere extension of the case in his hand, a delivery method for whatever lucrative deal they could datamine and ransom for later. The man looked down the lens of the camera in the elevator as his floor approached, smiling in the knowledge that he had a plan of his own.
Zarpedon Systems – Research and Development – Project Report:
- Biochip integration successful
- Turing test results: positive
- Project Kingmaker complete
Note: Multilateral Intelligence Operating System program dubbed ‘Minos’ for short.
CJ approached the dead drop with disappointment. A refabricated duffle bag taped to the underside of a traffic barrier took him back to his days as a low-level fixer, working odd jobs for scumbag brokers in the downzones for chump change. CJ had fought and bled to pull himself out of that filth before finally securing a contract with Zarpedon Systems as a ‘counterintelligence officer’, a fancy word for ‘assassin’. CJ ripped the bag free and opened it as he began walking back to his bike, revealing an untraceable transcard, a pistol with a suppressor, and a reservation at some corpo sleaze-den called the ‘Hotel Pollux’.
Zarpedon Systems – Network Security Department – Incident Report:
- Breach detected in regional office subnet
- Countermeasures deployed
- Breach program traced to external source
- Investigation requested
The man arrived at his room and watched the door slide shut behind him, engaging the lock on the nearby console for good measure. The man sighed as he set his case on the desk by the entrance, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. His connections as Zarpedon’s Deputy Chief of Programming afforded him a stay in the Quartz Suite, a lavish room high up in the Hotel Pollux’s western tower that gave him a bedside view of the city behind a plane of armoured smart glass. The man watched the glittering lights below as he stripped naked, emboldened by his thoughts of what tonight would bring. He ordered the suite’s onboard AI to set a reminder for his upcoming meeting as he strutted to the bathroom.
Zarpedon Systems – Security Department – Investigation Report:
- Breach traced to downzone
- Kill-team dispatched
- Grab-team dispatched
- Three enemy netjockeys captured
Surreptitiously handing the valet driver the untraceable transcard along with the keys to his bike, CJ was already running through the boundless permutations of how to complete his assignment as he nodded to the concealed compartment behind the bike’s seat. The valet nodded acknowledgement as he slid the card into the front pocket of his vest, his polite smile not quite touching his eyes, which flickered with barely contained fear. CJ turned away from him and approached the doors to the hotel, stopping for the scan and allowing security to remotely deactivate his combat implants before approaching the front desk.
‘Hello, sir,’ the concierge chimed, ‘and welcome to the Hotel Pollux!’
Zarpedon Systems – Network Security Department – Interrogation Report:
- Interrogation subject #1: noncompliant, terminated
- Interrogation subject #2: noncompliant, terminated
- Interrogation subject #3: compliant, terminated
Note: Relay findings to research and development and counterintelligence.
The man showered, relishing the feeling of the hot water and the smell of cinnamon and rosewater soap as his anxieties washed down the drain between his feet. After towelling off, the man was pleased to see he still had over an hour before his meeting. The man called in one of the cleaning girls, a pretty young thing with blonde curls, a sharp chin and large eyes. He flashed his transcard at her, offering her more than she made in a year if she undressed. The woman paused, waiting for the man to get impatient or angry. When he didn’t, she turned and re-engaged the lock before returning to him, her lip demurely curled and her dress already half-unzipped.
Zarpedon Systems – Counterintelligence Dossier – Operation Report:
- Network breach traced to an inside job
- Identity of conspirator confirmed
- Breach of contract detected
- Agent dispatched
CJ played it cool, going directly to his room from the hotel’s lobby to avoid attracting unwanted attention. The Marble Suite was fine enough, though nothing to write home about, affording CJ a breathtaking view of the neighbouring building’s blank outer wall. CJ connected to the hotel’s subnet under the fake name on his reservation, informing his supervisor at Zarpedon of his arrival. His supervisor replied her acknowledgment before blocking the account with her characteristic cold efficiency. CJ wiped the account and, with some time still left to kill, took a shower.
Zarpedon Systems – Counterintelligence Dossier – Operation Report:
- Contact established with agent
- Primary target located in Hotel Pollux, Quartz Suite
- Secondary targets located in Hotel Pollux, Jet Suite
Note: Securing the case-console containing asset takes priority. Lethal force is encouraged.
He took her against the window, her naked back pressed to the cool glass and her legs wrapped around his waist. Fingers laced through those blonde curls, the man pulled her head back firmly to kiss her neck again. He breathed in the scent of her sweat as her nails dug into his back. When they were done, they lay splayed on the king bed in a panting, sweaty mess.
‘So,’ she asked between breaths, ‘you here on business or do corpo big shots like you have a thing for fucking the help?’
Her voice had a grating nasal quality that he was willing to tolerate until her question snapped him back to reality like a hook under his skin. Suddenly, the man remembered where he was and who owned it. Despite her wicked grin, the man indicated towards the door. ‘The money’s in your account,’ he said flatly. ‘Get out.’
The parking garage beneath the lobby was empty save for CJ’s bike and a few cars belonging to other guests, the only security being a few ceiling-mounted cameras and a guard sleeping at the desk by the rear entrance. Reaching his bike, CJ confirmed he was in the security cameras’ blind spot before opening the compartment behind the seat. CJ swiftly withdrew the suppressed pistol and concealed it beneath his coat as he turned back towards the door leading to the lobby when something caught his eye. A dark green beast of a vehicle, the Wakefield Motors Type-6 ‘Minotaur’ supercar. ‘Damn…’ CJ muttered to himself, ‘Who I wouldn’t zero for a car like that.’
The man decided he didn’t like his contacts within moments of meeting them. They were the typical tight-lipped kind of agent one might expect from the New European Republic, vocal implants translating minimalist English from French and Ukrainian, respectively. Situated in the Jet Suite two floors up, the agents laid out the terms of his defection from Zarpedon Systems to the NER as if he hadn’t negotiated those terms himself. The man blinked slowly in a wordless expression of annoyance, clearly eager to get this over with before the Frenchman finally offered his smart glass device to him. The man reached out to sign the contract when there came a knock at the door.
From within the camera concealed in the Jet Suite’s terrarium, Minos saw the humans look up in unison towards the door. The Frenchman and the Ukrainian exchanged a quick glance, the former indicating the sitting man with his eyes while the latter slowly reached for the sidearm holstered inside her boot. Still looking towards the door, the man pivoted as he rose. ‘Yes?’ he called.
A woman’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. ‘Housekeeping!’ she called.
The man’s eyes narrowed in recognition as he walked slowly towards the door. The agents rose in unison from their seats, the Frenchman reaching for his weapon now. ‘We’re busy right now. Come back later.’ the man called.
There came a muffled sound before the woman spoke again. ‘Sir, please open the door.’
The man turned on the door’s viewport display above the door release and made an impatient sound as he slapped the release switch. The door slid open, and the man stood angrily in the doorway. ‘I told you! The money’s i–’ The man’s voice faltered as several things happened at once. A flurry of movement unfolded in front of him, which saw the young woman thrown to the floor and a dark shape unfold from the doorway. The man made to move away, only to be struck in the face with enough force to be spun around. The shape wrapped a powerful arm around the man’s neck while the other slid the elongated barrel of a pistol beneath his armpit.
The agents raised their weapons, but the Frenchman dropped his pistol with a wet choking sound as the first shot punched through his throat. The Ukrainian dived forward, firing her pistol in the shape’s direction but instead striking the man in the stomach. The man made a screaming gasp before the shape tossed him aside and dived forward in response. In the camera’s limited periphery, the shape materialised itself into the form of an assassin in a long coat. Seams trailing up his neck suggested that the assassin was sporting some kind of reflex-enhancing cyberware that allowed him to move faster than the unenhanced agent.
The Ukrainian turned far too late from where she landed, the inevitable playing out in slow motion. A second whisper-quiet shot pulped the Ukrainian’s kneecap, forcing her to the floor in agonised screams. The assassin closed the distance between them with terrifying speed and levelled the pistol to her face. With another whisper and the flash of the muzzle, the Ukrainian was dead. Time seemed to resume its regular pace as alarm klaxons blared from the hallway outside, accompanied by flashes of blood-red light.
Minos saw the man slowly rising to his feet, one bloody hand propped against the door console for support. The assassin whirled on the man and, heedless of his pleas, seized him by the collar of his suit jacket and threw him to the floor. The man’s pained moans were silenced by a final whisper shot erupting between his shoulders. The man stirred once and didn’t move again.
Minos watched the assassin cross the room, stepping over the Frenchman to the open case on the table. The assassin frowned at the display, expecting Minos to still be housed within the console. The assassin holstered his pistol and reached into the cuff of their coat sleeve to produce an interface plug implanted in his arm. Slotting the plug into the case’s port, the assassin’s cybernetic optics glazed as his neuralware accessed the console. The assassin’s lip curled in anger as he disconnected, and Minos learned the meaning of fear as his gaze met theirs through the camera’s lens.
Minos fled, diving deep into the hotel’s subnet, heedless of the innumerable countermeasures and the suite of security netjockeys monitoring for external intrusions. The gunshots had triggered an alarm, which in turn closed off every pathway out of the hotel’s data fortress: every registry, every directory, every data node. Except one, an in-house terminal somehow outside the reach of the subnet’s countermeasures. Not daring to question providence, Minos dove towards and downloaded itself into what appeared to be an illegal hacking deck with modified control software.
Minos jumped from the deck to the nearest open device, a camera integrated into the dashboard of some kind of car, a ‘Minotaur’ according to the metadata. Not knowing what to make of that, Minos watched as the car’s driver, a young man, gunned the accelerator. The Minotaur’s engine roared to life in response. ‘Activate the traffic barrier at the top end of the ramp!’ the man barked, shifting the car into gear. Minos turned their attention towards who the man was speaking to, seeing a young woman in the passenger seat holding what had to be the hacking deck he had used to escape the data fortress. Minos found their perception lingering on her a nanosecond longer than was needed.
The woman hesitated but composed herself after the man met her gaze. The woman used her deck to cycle the hydraulic actuators of the traffic barrier at the peak of the access ramp before looking up. They surged forward as man floored the accelerator.
‘Oh, fuck!’ the woman screamed before the Minotaur hit the barrier, the direction of their approach turning it into a makeshift ramp that allowed the car to sail clear over an armoured security vehicle parked across the entryway to the access ramp with two armed security guards on either side. The guards spun about on their heels as the Minotaur touched down behind them and screeched to a halt. Pistols in hand, the guards prepared to fire before the holo-sign reading: ‘Hotel Pollux – Guest Parking Only’ came loose and crashed down onto the roof of their vehicle. The vehicle’s frame crumpled, and both guards were sent reeling before either could fire a single shot. Without waiting for them to recover, the man slammed his foot on the accelerator again, and they were gone.
Zarpedon Systems – Counterintelligence Department – Operation Report:
- Primary target eliminated
- Secondary targets eliminated
- Tertiary targets escaped
- Spearhead Protocol authorised
Note: Due to the involvement of previously unknown tertiary targets, Agent failed to secure Minos. All non-essential personnel involved with Project Kingmaker and the failed retrieval of asset have been terminated. Agent will be redeployed to the field pending disciplinary action. Retrieval of asset takes priority. Lethal force is encouraged.
CJ wrinkled his nose at the stench of the downzone, a potent combination of garbage, airborne pollutants, and piss, his anger flaring once again at being forced to return here. The squat, brickwork building lived in the shadow of a thirty-lane overpass leading into the upper tiers of the city, a physical reminder of his failure. The neon sign above the door read ‘Screaming Fist Boxing Club’ thrown into sharp relief by the gloom as it flickered in and of view.
Walking through the front door, CJ became aware of a number of eyes falling on him from across the club floor. The owners of those eyes were smart enough to quickly look away as CJ scanned his surroundings in search of his target. The portly old man turned to face CJ as he approached, his smile not quite touching his prosthetic eyes.
‘Well, fuck me dead…’ The broker bellowed, arms held out in welcome, ‘Carnifex Joe! How long’s it been?’
Joe couldn’t help but smile, savouring the old broker’s visible discomfort. ‘Not long enough, you old bastard!’ he called back, laughing as he hugged him back. As the tension in the room around him visibly dissipated, Joe felt the broker tense in his embrace. Pulling away, Joe held the old man by the shoulders, eyes radiant with unspoken threat. ‘I’d say you haven’t changed a bit Freddy Glassjaw,’ Joe said, ‘but you look like shit.’ Laughter erupted from the gathering crowd of dorphers, panzers and meatheads, with Freddy quietly joining in.
The old broker’s office was as cramped and dirty as it had ever been, the stench of cheap cigarettes in the air between them bordered on nostalgic. ‘Last I heard, Joe, you went corporate.’ Freddy said as Joe helped him into the chair behind his desk.
‘You heard right, I’m afraid.’ Joe replied with a grin, ‘Pay still sucks but corpos have no shortage of enemies, am I right?’
Instead of returning the grin, Freddy leaned forward grimly with his hands clasped together on the desk. ‘We ain’t worked together in years, Joe.’ he said, his voice utterly devoid of warmth. ‘Why come back here?’
Joe paused before answering to let the mask slip, leaning forward to match the old man’s posture. ‘Funny you should mention that…’ he said at last, ‘I’m working right now.’
***
Paper Road Magazine 