Wig began to talk, and despite being of German descent he had no noticeable accent; he sounded more like a proper preacher.
"I've seen men who bled for the system," he went on, slow and soft, like telling a bedtime story. "Worked in factories that fed corps. Paid taxes to death. Did their duty. And then their sons had no future because the contracts got rewritten at night. That's not an accident. That's the way the city was made. Even more important, this world!"
"Fuck off, will you?"
Wig's eyes stayed on me, smiling even wider. That did not stop him; he kept going anyway.
People around us listened. Some looked bored, some curious. The catgirl with white hair stood out from the crowd, looking directly at me rather than Wig. I had met her before. What the fuck is going on?
"But we must persevere against the few bad people for the good of the many. And only we can bring the change. Only freedom can bring freedom," he said, throwing his arms upward; his robe fluttered in the wind.
I watched faces: a dozen or more, all tuned in. Not quite a mob, not yet, but close enough that the hair on my arms prickled and making a way difficult. A woman with a child, a kid on a bench scrolling his holo but glancing up, and a man in a cheap suit who pretended to tie his shoe three feet away while listening like he was enchanted. Even some street performers stopped to listen.
Quickly a crowd amassed. Some wore robes, some street clothes; scars on many faces marked them as part of this cult. My quick scan kept flickering results at my eye: warrants, small-time charges, unpaid fines. The catgirl's tag stuck out: manslaughter, assault on a corporate official. Not a little sticker. She had a huge bounty on her head—12,000 to be exact.
I counted exit options again, like an idiot doing math for survival: two cross-streets, a stairwell, an elevator, and a dozen bodies between me and anything that looked like freedom. Wig was talking about fairness and systems and how he'd taught himself patience, and that modernity only furthers human imperfections.
His sentences were full of old hurts, personal history leaking between the lines.
"They tried to buy us off," he said. "They tried to make us tidy. But you can't tidy a truth into a lie." He smiled but kept looking directly at me. Is this a conversion ritual?
I shifted. The bullet in my ass moved, hit a nerve. Pain flared and settled, but my heart started to beat like crazy. Wig finally turned to face the crowd.
Perfect time to plan an exit. I felt the urge to quickhack the catgirl and make a break for it, but it was possible this was a coincidence.
That's when I saw him, just beside me, shadow-hung, trenchcoat up to his face. Tall. Massive shoulders. Face half-hidden, but what I could see was scar after scar, like someone had thrown him into a blender. Most of them looked like his skin was fake, sewn onto his skull. Eyes glowing orange.
The result came back awfully grim: serial assault and murder. Kidnapping. Name: MIKHAIL KOROVKIN.
He was closer than I thought. Closer than Wig. He let his hands hang in the trench. A fucker like him might have an RPG in there. My software detected he had plenty of chrome to hack, so he might pack serious hardware, which I had no good counter for.
"Even this young man has fallen into compliance! And believe me, brothers and sisters, I wish with all my heart that young people are the last to fall in line!"
The plan changed. Quickhack the goon, make him spaz or drop his weapon, sprint for the elevator through the crowd. My fingers trembled from the adrenaline and I began to sweat.
I began uploading cyberware malfunction and short-circuit on the goon. But the RAM costs and upload time were insane; I could only load a single short-circuit. I quickly stopped. Fuck, he is a borg with some insane ICE. I doubt it will stop him at this distance.
Wig watched me like he knew what I was doing and didn't care. He kept talking while I wondered how the fuck they got a goon like that. I needed to make it out peacefully.
"They don't want change because change takes something from them," he said. "They have power. Power is a drug stronger than any other drug, and technology widens the distance between us even more." As he said that, Wig turned back to me.
"We're not violent. We only ask. But once the threads start to fray, everyone sees the whole seam. And this young man could be the one to do it. What's your name, son?"
I decided to play the fool.
"I already told you to fuck off, didn't I?"
Some people in the crowd murmured about how rude I was.
"You're Caelen," he said. That sent a small cold down my spine. How'd he know? Had they been following me for days? Weeks?
"What do you think you can do to change this world?"
During the small moment when he looked at me I swear I saw his very human eyes turn a different color. Does he use chrome after all?
I doubled down. "Choom, I don't care how you got my name. I'm gonna head out," and stood up to leave.
He smiled, all patience. "You don't have to care." He leaned forward, eyes earnest. "Even if you are selfish, you can change your life with us." He flicked his hand at the crowd. "You don't have to care, Caelen! You just have to show up when it's time for the world to change."
A couple people cheered, mostly those already in robes.
At the same time a giant man pushed me down on the seat; it was effortless. Pressure shifted my ass and made the bullet touch a nerve. I suppressed the urge to swear and clenched my jaw.
The pain faded as Wig continued talking to the crowd. He spouted more bullshit while a man held me down for nearly ten minutes. Wig periodically glanced back at me and gave a nod after every other sentence.
During that time I tried hacking the goon, but his security protocols were robust and seemingly impenetrable. I tried from every angle.
Trying to create a distraction, I found the catgirl also had insane ICE, meaning they really are frauds with all their returning-to-humanity roots bullshit.
Hacking Wig was useless; he seemingly lacked any implants at all. I figured that might be some signal jammer preventing me from detecting anything.
Wig became louder as people gathered to listen.
But eventually he stopped.
"But friends, it's only begging for us. Please come by if even a word of mine touched your souls!" cried Wig, and most people slowly dispersed.
He turned back to me and sat down next to me. He began talking slowly and quietly.
"So what, Caelen? Are you interested in joining?"
"Fuck no."
The grip on my shoulder tightened until I feared for my bones.
"Misha, let go," Wig said to his goon, and the grip released almost immediately.
"What the fuck do you want?" I asked.
"Who do you work for, Caelen?"
"A mechanic shop," I said, simple and truthful.
"No, I meant in the broader sense." He laughed it off.
"There isn't one."
"I will be direct. Why were you snooping around?"
Unsurprising. Maybe they tracked me from accessing their website.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
A catgirl finally spoke as she approached. "We have the footage of you."
Wig raised his arm and pointed. "Yes we do. I think you owe me an explanation, Caelen."
At this point there was the possibility they thought I was an enemy, so the better option was to play scared and nervous.
"Wanted to rob you."
Wig raised his bushy eyebrows.
"How direct. Do you want to steal from the poor?"
"Not anymore."
Wig stared at me and adjusted his posture, stretching his back.
Eventually he replied. "Okay, Misha, let him go."
As soon as he said that I was shoved in the back, made to fall out of my chair and fly a few feet forward across the concrete.
"Fuck!"
I quickly stood and ran to the elevator without looking back. Fuck them.
As soon as I entered I pressed the button for the bottom floor. I had a look back—Wig was staring at me and waving slightly.
While in the elevator, Sasha's message stream exploded in my feed.
"are you done yet?"
"you're so slow."
"Caelen?? hellooo??"
My heart was still pounding as I scrolled through them, hands shaking. I called her; explaining in text would take the rest of my patience.
Her cat avatar appeared instantly. "What's up?"
I didn't wait. "I GOT SHOT IN THE ASS BY THE COPS AND NOW A CULT IS THREATENING ME!"
I had to let it out.
"Damn, dude. Sorry. Did you at least get the recordings?" she asked, calm like I'd missed a bus.
I slid a shard into the slot and sent her the footage silently.
"Hello?" Sasha said after a beat. "You good?"
"Yeah," I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "I'll meet you tomorrow."
The line cut. The traffic noise filled the silence. I sat there half-pissed and half-wondering what the hell I'd just stepped into.
When I got back to the garage the front door was wide open. I quickly got behind a corner and tried to see if anyone was inside by connecting to the cameras.
I found only a single functioning camera, tucked behind a pillar.
The dark interior was wrecked, shelves destroyed and the door wide open.
But in the darkness were unmoving figures hiding inside and behind the cars.
An ambush. Ambushing me in my own place is a bad idea. Seeing as I could still connect to the camera meant the system was still under my control.
Using a camera I hacked one of the cheap cars I knew and made it ride out of control.
It ramped up and drove forward full speed, running over a person hiding in front and causing someone inside to crash into the concrete wall. Then I made it swerve to the sides. Panic spread and all the ambushers came out of their hiding spots.
Let's fucking go. I had plenty of anger pent up.
One by one I began quickhacking them into oblivion through the cameras. Even those with minimal implants didn't feel great after getting shocked over and over. I would load you fuckers up with suicide quickhack if I had it.
Cars began blaring alarms and everybody heard them for blocks.
By then most decided the inside wasn't safe and walked straight out the main door. Fucking got them.
Leaning from my hiding place outside, I activated the remote mechanism I had made a few days ago. It was hidden in a pile of trash next to the entrance.
Sprocket had asked me to dispose of the faulty car batteries, but even with little charge left they could do damage if used properly.
As the mercs walked out, I activated the batteries with a small controller, making a loose wire pass voltage through and sear their skin.
Two of the mercs screamed and the others didn't hesitate to step over them.
Then I took out my gun. There were a few bullets left.
I shot from a distance without aiming much; my main priority was quickhacks. But I had to hold line of sight.
By then a single fucker could still move; he ran past me toward the road and I had plenty of time to shoot him in the head. I confirmed it with a second shot and reloaded. Then I peeked back into the garage and saw movement among the bodies.
I slowly approached and put a shot in each person's head so the only living person left was me.
I entered the shop and turned on the lights. The mess with the cars was manageable, but something far more important was missing. I closed the front door after carefully nudging the bodies outside with a stick to avoid getting shocked by the remnants of my trap.
Carefully approaching my little room I found my Faraday box with the DR11 missing. My spiker was gone. I'm fucked.
Checking a secret hiding spot behind a crack in the wall, I found my cred chip safe.
I called Sprocket. After a second it connected, but no sound came.
"You there?"
"...what?" her voice, angry.
"We got robbed."
"..........."
"Yeah. Are you insured?"