Saturday 29 May 2010

'Smoke and Mirrors' Pt. 7

Part seven is another long(ish) one.  Here we follow Domino to Capricia Morucci's club...
 

Blood-lust and greed seeped out from the patrons of The Venus Lounge and filled its opulent central hall with a tangible anticipation for the night's entertainment. Capricia Morucci poised her perfect chin on steepled fingers and surveyed her domain. What she saw pleased her. The club was performing well on regular nights, but on a fight night such as this, its earning potential sky-rocketed as gamblers, thrill-seekers and fetishists alike poured in from the rain in the hopes of watching a fight to the death.
Of course, the fights were not always fatal; it was by no means a prerequisite. But Capricia understood her public. They came to be close to death, to feel the rush of fear and, for some, the arousal it brought. For many, the violence of the fight would itself be enough but she recognised those who thirsted for more.
She worked the crowds perfectly, passing from one darkened arch to the next, allowing a glimpse of thigh or cleavage for those who sought it, complimenting those whose egos demanded it and flirting with those gullible enough to believe that their chances of finding her favour increased with the amount of money they dropped in her club.
Capricia had 'acquired' the club some years ago from a group of 'Bratva' Russian mob types and had decided to keep the somewhat ostentatious décor. The deep reds and golds adorning the alcoves which surrounded the massive mosaic dance floor seemed to lend a certain 'old-world' atmosphere which she enjoyed.
She paused to check her reflection in a massive gilded mirror and was pleased with what it showed her: youthful, alabaster beauty, framed by tumbles of dark hair, smouldering eyes and just the right amount of curve to the lips. Yes, the Swiss clinic had done its job very well.
She moved to climb the stairs spiralling up to her private box and lowered herself regally onto her favourite chaise-lounge. A trio of beautiful olive skinned boys busied themselves in tending to her as she picked over the luxurious spread they had prepared. Suddenly her nose wrinkled in distaste as she saw a wiry man with an unhealthy pallor to his skin weasel his way past her statuesque guardians. He settled lazily in an overstuffed seat at her side and helped himself to some grapes from her table.
“Uff,” she sniffed. “What is it, Geffen?”
“A new development for tonight's entertainment,” he wheezed.
“What do you mean?”
“A new fighter for the ring.”
“I have two of the best already. You should know, Geffen. You sent them to me.”
He shifted in his seat, his posture betraying his bad nerves.
“B-but this one, she's special. Unlike anything I've sent before. Could be ideal as your new assistant. She's smart like you prefer them and easy on the eye, if you know what I mean...”
Capricia seemed not to hear this, her attention focused on a selection of fine cooked meats.
“You seem a little... over anxious tonight, my dear Geffen. Is there some special reason you wish to introduce a new gladiator into the mix at such a late stage? Perhaps the others are not as skilled as you have indicated?”
Geffen's face dropped in dismay.
“N-no, they're all good. Just like I said in the first place.”
“I'm sure. So who is this new, highly impressive contender?”
“She goes by the name Kunoichi. She's fast. And strong. A classy fighter. I think she would impress you.”
Capricia stared at Geffen, enjoyed watching him squirm.
“Very well, we shall have a three way fight tonight. Make the necessary announcements before bringing the fighters in.”
Geffen's relief was palpable. Capricia had no doubt that he was playing the odds, trying to ensure his cut. She couldn't care less. Leaving Geffen to shuffle away and make ready for the fight, Capricia Morucci basked in the admiring glances she drew from the crowd below, like a regent holding court. In that moment, it felt like she held all the power in the world and she was pleased.




The massive amber neon sign set above the entrance to The Venus Lounge fizzed softly in the misty rain hanging in the night air. The light it cast played like liquid fire across the umbrellas of those stood in open anticipation of gaining entrance to the club, their bodies corralled by a thick red rope into a narrow corridor of impatience.
Brimstone eyes scanned this crowd methodically from atop elongated and segmented metallic necks. The cyborg bouncers posted at the door to the club reminded Domino of praying mantis insects she had once seen in a documentary, their bodies altered far beyond human morphology by designer cybernetics engineers. She wondered if their reverse-jointed legs were purely cosmetic or if they somehow augmented athletic ability.

[Are you seeing this, Angel?] she asked over the neural link they had set up, her thoughts translated into audio via vocal synthesis.
[Yeah... freaky. Like aliens or something. The legs look impractical, though.]
[I was wondering about them too. Can you see if you can pull more information on those mods, let me know what I'm going up against if I have to deal with them later?]
[I'll see what I can find. In the meantime, I pulled up the camera feeds from inside the club. Looks like your opponents are an exotic and some ex-military guy, maybe a Spetsnaz tattoo on his arm.]
[Okay, thanks.]
[Oh, and Geffen's on his way back to you.]
[Got it. I see him now.]
[Good luck, Yuki-chan.]

The fixer edged around the bizarre bouncers and made his way over to Domino, who had settled comfortably under the shelter of a coffee vendor stall. He ducked under the low canopy and sat next to her, smelling slightly of wet dog. Geffen ordered a coffee for himself and lit an odd green coloured cigarette.
“Herbal,” he offered in response to Domino's enquiring glance. “Supposed to be healthy. Taste like shit. Want one?”
“After that glowing endorsement? No thanks.”
He snorted what might have been a laugh. Domino wasn't sure.
“Well, you're in. I hope for your sake you're good. Very good. 'Cause the two in there are pure monsters. Why'd you want in so bad, anyway?”
Domino shrugged nonchalantly.
“I hear she pays well, makes for interesting work.”
“If by interesting, you mean dangerous, then yeah. You heard right. She has a lot of enemies, you know.”
“That's why I'm here.”
It was Geffen's turn to shrug. He blew steam off his coffee and nodded over to the club.
“Fight starts in an hour. You want to head in, get familiar with the place first?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Domino followed Geffen over to the bouncers, who subjected her to close scrutiny from those sulphuric eyes. With a wave of a razor tipped claw, they were granted permission to pass through the faux-mahogany doors of the club.

[Anything on these guys yet?]
[Only a little. The reverse knee joints give them a better vertical jump range and improved speed when running. Looks like the neck helps provide three-sixty field of view and the optics are fitted for night-sight and thermographics. State of the art, ten years ago. The whole kit was a custom design worked up for the Papal Swiss Guard at the Vatican. No idea what they're doing here, though.]
[Must be slumming it. That's great work, Angel. Thanks.]
[Any time.]

As Geffen led her through the bustling backstage area of the club, Domino pondered this new information. A self-styled Venetian princess in a former Bratva club with ex-Vatican Guards in her entourage hardly seemed a likely portrait of an arms dealer. She was beginning to understand now that, compared to Koralev, Capricia Morucci moved in very different circles indeed. Which made her a very exciting prospect. Domino sensed she was closer now to Yamada than she had dared hope.




Capricia Morucci felt a tingle of excitement spread through her lower abdomen as she inspected the three gladiators stood below her, ready to fight for her pleasure, their arena a vibrant mosaic depicting a mythical battle waged by angels and demons. She wondered how much blood those creatures had tasted since she started the pit fights.
Already the crowd's murmuring had escalated in pitch as they had caught sight of that night's contenders. Money was flashed readily and in huge quantities as bets were placed. She was, she grudgingly admitted to herself, pleased with Geffen's choices.

The first in line was an exotic: shimmering scales of violet covered her lithe body in its entirety, a clearly functional tail flicking to and fro behind her legs, a series of wicked barbs along its length promising agony to those who incurred her wrath.
Next came the burly Russian, his limbs near bursting with grafted muscle, tempestuous eyes staring coldly from a mask of scars, his jaw set defiantly as she favoured him with a moment of eye contact.
And then there was the small Japanese girl, Geffen's last minute adjustment. She was, at first glance, the least remarkable of the three and yet Capricia felt drawn to her. Perhaps it was the slightly flawed, natural beauty, the fashionable make-up, the loose fitting designer garment she wore with perfect confidence. It was all and none of these things, she decided.
Certainly the girl had good taste. The black linen wraps covering her wrists and ankles paired with the baggy ninja style clothing was a very current trend in Tokyo. This girl wore it well, allowing just enough skin to show to add a hint of allure to the plain, almost utilitarian outfit. So, Geffen had been right about her looking good but could she fight?

It was time to find out. She nodded curtly to each of them. The exotic snarled her readiness while the Russian behemoth fired off a neat salute and the Japanese girl offered a shallow bow. Capricia waited for them to separate and assume their positions on the killing floor.
With a hand signal from her, the lights dimmed so that only the glow of the table lamps in the alcoves remained. A hush of anticipation hung in the air as every conversation in the club came to a close as one. She waited, hand held aloft theatrically, a wooden beater between her fingers, soaking up the sensation of power this moment always brought her.
She struck the ornate gong at her side and spotlights swept the arena floor in concert with its reverberations. The fight had begun. Despite her desire to remain composed at all times, Capricia found herself clutching the balustrade railing of her private box in excitement as she leant forward to better watch the proceedings.

The exotic appeared most aggressive initially; she had dropped into a broad stance typical of dragon style Kung Fu before stalking the other two fighters, her hands extended and held like claws ready to rend flesh. Suddenly she closed on the kunoichi and launched into a violent leap, unleashing a merciless series of attacks designed to gouge eyes and target nerve clusters.
The kunoichi sprang into a sequence of defensive back-steps, struggling to keep her balance as she somehow intercepted each strike from the deadly exotic. Capricia watched the interplay with curiosity, as she had not expected the Japanese girl to be so easily surprised.
She saw it then, a flash of something in the girl's expression, the briefest lull in the mask of exertion she was wearing. There was a serenity there, a self-assuredness which told Capricia that this 'kunoichi' was playing to the crowd, playing to her. Had her pride not prevented her, she would have congratulated Geffen on his find.
The Russian was also intensely focused on the exchange between the two females, perhaps looking for an opening. Despite his bulk he seemed agile now as he stalked them, his stance loose and ready, conveying little information about his fighting methods.

The dragon-girl screamed in frustration as each and every one of her attacks glanced off what seemed to be a shaky defence. Why could she not find a way through? She lashed her tail around in an arc to cover her retreat as she backed out of her combination attack. Reptilian eyes regarded the Japanese girl with nothing less than hatred. Clearly she did not enjoy being toyed with. She hissed and spat impotently at her, her torso lurching snakelike as she conveyed her displeasure.
Her anger had blinded her to the Spetsnaz's approach and he locked the exotic down with a crushing grapple hold. Panic flared in those yellow eyes as the dragon-girl realised her error: if he could take the fight to the floor, she would suffer a massive disadvantage.

Capricia's heart was pounding now, her breath caught as the exotic squirmed against the inevitability of the giant's skilled grasp. In an incredible feat of flexibility, the exotic managed to turn her head just enough to spit in the man's face, her lips peeling back to fully reveal a wicked row of fangs. He howled in agony has white hot acid splashed on his face, causing him to reflexively release his hold just enough for the exotic to escape. She rushed after him as he backed away, acrid vapour rising from his cheek as her 'venom' eroded his skin.
Now the exotic held the advantage and she pressed it, her claws tearing at his arms as he tried to bat her away in confusion. The crowd cheered and booed in equal measure as it became apparent that the Spetsnaz trooper was near his end.
A blur of motion intersected the two and the exotic reeled away from her cruel assault on the Russian as her jaw shattered in a halo of blood. Her garbled shriek stunned the crowd into sickened silence as fragments of jawbone rained onto the mosaic.
Somehow everyone in the room had forgotten the unassuming Japanese girl amid the tangle between the two favourites. Even Capricia, who prided herself on enjoying a good eye and expansive knowledge of combat techniques, had disregarded her in the mêlée. Now all the attentions in the room were laser-focused on that one figure, that one tiny figure dressed all in black.

Copyright © A. Flood 2010

Thursday 27 May 2010

'Smoke and Mirrors' Pt. 6

Here's part 6, folks.  Time for Domino to wind down a little?


You're right: the noodles are good,” Domino sighed as she set her empty bowl at the side of the bathtub. She sank lower in the hot water and leant her head back, feeling some of the fatigue slowly easing from her muscles as NaiNai's special blend of bath salts worked its magic.
“Aren't they always?” Angel responded, peering through the grey light cast by the screen of Koralev's laptop.
“Mmmm...” Domino smiled back, her eyes closed now as she gave in to the steam and sweet scent of the bath. She listened to the faint sound of Angel's fingers on the Samsung's keyboard as she delved among its secrets. Drifting somewhere above that sound were the voices from an old 20th century television serial which NaiNai watched and re-watched with almost religious frequency.
NaiNai was brewing tea out on deck and Domino could picture the old lady, her body a human question mark, calmly preparing the cups as her eyes surveyed life on the surrounding boats. She heard NaiNai's voice raised in greeting to one of her neighbours as they struck up a conversation about the TV drama. Domino chuckled to herself; the tea would be a long time in arriving.
“Your tattoo is glowing. Feeling content?”
“Very.”

Angel's query referred to the image of a phoenix emblazoned across most of Domino's back. The tattoo had the appearance of a traditional 'irezumi' body marking, but was comprised of reactive chemicals which fluoresced in response to strong shifts in emotion. She opened her eyes slightly to see that a soft green glow diffused through the water around her.
This dim light played across the curved roof of NaiNai's home, finding the many trinkets, clothes and blankets she stored up there, all held in place with military surplus webbing. Quite how NaiNai managed to fit so many things in a space the size of a small one bedroomed apartment was a perpetual mystery. Even now, Domino was still discovering new finds to marvel over, be it a small snow globe or previously concealed cupboard. There were few places she could truly relax but this, she decided, was one of the best. It was snug, maybe even cosy here and always elicited a feeling she associated with those brief moments of happiness she remembered from childhood.

“It's a relief to be one step closer. And... it feels good to be here with you and NaiNai,” she said this last in a small voice, the frank admission bringing a flush to her skin.
She couldn't quite read Angel's expression in that moment and so she hurriedly changed tone.
“Have you found anything in there yet?”
Angel shrugged.
“Not really, not yet. Anyway, shouldn't you be unwinding? Why don't you dry off and try to get some sleep? I can wake you when I'm done. It'll take a while to sift through all this...” she tapped the laptop, “...the old fashioned way.”
“That sounds like a good idea... such a wise head on such young shoulders,” Domino teased.
“Yeah, yeah. Now be quiet and leave me to work.”

Domino eased herself out of the small Japanese-style tub and was surprised to find her body trembling as she stood. She had not been so exhausted in a long time. Suddenly she felt very small as she rubbed herself dry with the rough towel NaiNai had left for her. She glanced down and saw that a loose knit pullover, very similar to that worn by Angel, had been neatly folded there with a note bearing her name in immaculately inked Korean.
She gladly pulled on the soft garment and half-stumbled over to the kotatsu, settling herself into a half-covered foetal position. Lying there, surrounded by the comforting jumble of NaiNai's accumulated possessions, the warmth beneath the old table soothing her near naked body, Domino let herself finally succumb to the sleep she had starved herself of for so long.




She woke from dreams of passion and cherry blossoms to find NaiNai watching over her, ancient hands working on an equally ancient clockwork radio she had salvaged years ago. White noise interspersed with an ethereal voice singing an old Russian lullaby filled the space between them.
“Umm... where's Angel?” Domino murmured through gummed-up lips.
“Toilet.”
“Oh. How long did I sleep for?”
The old woman seemed to consider this at length before chuckling to herself, as if recalling a humorous anecdote.
“Three meals, you've turned down.”
Domino blinked at this cryptic response, foggily attempting to find some logic there. As lucidity returned to her, she remembered disengaging her cyberbrain input while bathing. The ephemeral blue lines of her optic display came back online and provided her answer, the date/time readout blinking 23:22 03/03/27.
“I was out for twenty hours?!” she moaned hoarsely.
“Not out: sleeping.”
“It's the same thing, NaiNai...”
“Not the same. Don't talk when unconscious.”
That set alarm bells ringing.
“Ah... what did I talk about?”
NaiNai suddenly found the tip of her screwdriver deserving of intense scrutiny.
“Nothing. I pull your leg, make top notch joke.”
Domino was sceptical.
“Yeah... top notch... You sure I said nothing?”
NaiNai nodded her head so fast it resembled the workings of the radio she held. Suddenly she gestured over Domino's shoulder to the front of the cabin where an old style squat toilet had somehow been plumbed into a tiny privacy stall.
“Angel be back soon.”
And, somewhat bizarrely, at that precise moment the toilet flushed. Angel emerged and moved to wrap Domino in an affectionate hug.
“You okay? Sleep well?” she whispered as she kissed Domino lightly on her forehead. Her voice carried an unusually strong undercurrent of concern.
“I think so...”
Now Domino was convinced she must have been restless in her sleep. But what had she said? She stretched hints of night cramps from her muscles as Angel settled under the kotatsu next to her. At the touch of Angel's skin against her own, she was reminded of how she had teased her friend the night before. So much had happened since then and yet there remained so much to do...
Angel used one of NaiNai's many archaic novelty lighters to light a Mild 7 and gently offered it to Domino's lips. She inhaled deeply, rolling the welcome flavour of the smoke around her mouth before allowing it to escape in a lazy, drifting plume. She squeezed Angel's thigh in gratitude under the blanket, at the same time feeling a little silly that she felt the need to conceal the demonstration of intimacy.
“Aah... so close, you girls. It's nice to see.”
No, not much escaped NaiNai's notice.
“Now you are like twins with your new pullovers, eh?”
The two young women found themselves giggling at this notion as they shared a conspirational glance. Their surrogate grandmother joined them in laughing, her dry chuckle filling the houseboat.
“See, so close... Good that you are happy. Now, you need food. Wait here.”
As NaiNai hobbled out to her on-deck kitchen, their fits of giggles subsided, leaving the two sharing a cigarette in mildly embarrassed silence. After a time, Domino felt her nagging doubts about what she may have disclosed in her sleep return.
“Angel...” she started uncertainly.
“Yeah?”
“NaiNai said I talked in my sleep.”
Angel let slip a resigned sigh.
“A little, yeah.”
“What about?”
“Nothing to worry about, Yuki-chan. You were just restless at times, maybe having a few nightmares. Nothing made much sense but I could tell it was them, haunting you again,” she paused and took hold of Domino's hand, squeezing it rhythmically, soothingly. “I can't wait for you to be free of it all.”
Domino nodded slowly.
“Maybe I never will be,” she breathed.
“We're gonna make sure you are. Together.”
Domino could sense how desperate Angel was to reassure her, how much she wanted to make it all right. And in that moment she felt a hot rush of emotion: of love, of sadness, of hope, and she felt like sobbing. As if she were sharing that same confusion of feelings, Angel suddenly became more playful, a wicked gleam appearing in her eyes.
“Anyway, that dream you were having just before you woke... that one didn't sound bad at all. I'm just wondering who it was about...”
Domino blushed furiously and pushed her friend off balance so she fell onto her side.
“Leave me alone!” she pouted. Their laughter resumed and Domino began to feel herself relax again as Angel initiated an almost childlike play-fight. It would be some time before either of their thoughts returned to Koralev's laptop and the information it contained.



Cables, screens and consoles littered almost the entirety of Angel's loft apartment. What little space was left in amongst all of her techno-clutter was given over to animé memorabilia, empty Boss coffee cans, Nissin noodle cups and many, many throw pillows and body-hug beanbags. All of this was illuminated by the glow from holofeeds, network readouts and thousands of tiny LEDs, these last arrayed across her ceiling in a pattern she had once referred to as 'digital constellations'.
Domino had always enjoyed visiting Angel at her home. She loved the total disregard for anything resembling fashion and the complete lack of pretence, the way the apartment was a jumbled mirror of her friend's personality. More than anything though, she was fascinated by the contrast between Angel's sleeping area and... well, everything else. The 'bedroom' area of the open plan space was an oasis of neat and a celebration of all things pink and girly.
She found Angel there, half on, half off the bed and drooling slightly into a hard copy manga she had been reading before dozing off. Reluctant to wake her, Domino crept over to what passed for a kitchen and busied herself making coffee. She was into her second cup and half-reading one of Angel's innumerable, incredibly rare manga when she heard movement from the bed.
“Mmmff...” Angel groaned and stretched, “why didn't you wake me?”
“You need sleep too.”
“Guess I do,” Angel said through a yawn as she rolled off the bed. She selected a small pink vest to match her panties from a drawer and tugged it sleepily over her head before brushing glossy blue-black hair from her face.
“Oooh, fresh coffee!” she said with glee as she moved to join Domino at the breakfast bar.
“So, have you managed to finish with Koralev's laptop yet?”
“Oh, I did that back at NaiNai's place. I just wanted to get set up here before we start using what I found.”
“What did you find?”
“Well...” Angel responded around a mouthful of chocolate she had procured from beneath a heap of printouts, “the system's quite clever, really. Simple, but clever. Each machine like Koralev's is hooked up to an intranet, totally isolated. No outside access, they only talk to other machines on that network.”
“Okay...”
“The thing is, the intranet is also hierarchical. Koralev's machine only talks to one other: his immediate superior and, I suspect, the only boss he is aware of.”
“You mean he had no knowledge of the syndicate or Yamada's company?”
Angel shook her head.
“I seriously doubt it. The contact he was reporting to limited his access to that level of information.”
“So his machine's useless after all?”
“No, it's really useful!” Angel reported happily. “With the data I found, I've built a dossier for you on his boss: who she is, where you can find her, levels of security, all that good stuff.”
“I knew there was a reason I keep you around,” Domino smiled.
Angel pulled a face.
“Not only that but there was enough in there to tie the corporation to street crime and other nastiness, so we can hurt Yamada and the syndicate financially if you wanted.”
Domino considered this for a moment.
“Let's look into that later. For now we should focus on gaining access to the top levels of Yamada's intranet. Can you send me the dossier you've compiled?”
“Sure,” Angel smiled. “You should be able to access it now.”
A 'new mail' icon blinked in the corner of Domino's heads up display and as she opened it she saw that Angel had worked up an interactive 'walk-through' for all the information she had collated. This made it easy to browse massive amounts of data, her networked consciousness exploring a virtual space which housed everything from text readouts to audio and video files. Once she had gained an overview of her next target, she shifted her focus back to the apartment. Angel was sprawled on her bed again, absorbed in her manga.

“That's some really nice work, Angel. You didn't have to program such a fancy interface.”
Angel looked up from her book, beaming with pride.
“I know. But it was fun!”
“So, Capricia Morucci is the next rung on the ladder. Any idea if her laptop will get us to Yamada?”
“I'm nearly certain of it. I did a little digging and it seems like she and Yamada have a 'thing' going. She's also his number two, so to speak. So it's probable that her machine will have a direct link to his.”
“And this pit fight club she runs is the best option for getting in close?”
Angel nodded enthusiastically.
“I think so. Word is she's shopping around for a new bodyguard. She always hires via the pit fights; winner gets the job.”
“Okay, sounds good. Looks like she's running one tomorrow night. I'll find myself an invite then pay her a visit.”
“I'll work up some data on fixers attached to the place so you can set it up.”
“Thanks. Can you send it to me? I'll get moving, save time.”
“Okay, Yuki-chan. But be careful, please.”
Domino paused at the door and turned to give Angel a reassuring smile.
“You know I will be.”
Angel watched Domino slip through the door and sighed wistfully. No matter how careful Domino might be, it didn't change the fact that her path of vengeance would always be dangerous.
At least she has me to help...
Angel dived back into the net with a renewed determination in an urgent bid to provide as much assistance as she could. With all the links and nodes of the near infinite web speeding by around her, each site and subnet a luminous dot offering the promise of new information, her eyes glazed over and her body fell limp on the bed as she gave herself over completely to supporting Domino.

Copyright © A. Flood 2010

Friday 21 May 2010

'Smoke and Mirrors' Pt. 5

Well, part 5 is here and it's a little longer this time out.  It's time for the meeting with Koralev...


She was two minutes out from her insertion point and the weather couldn't have been worse. Incessant globules of rain pelted the cockpit of the VTOL she was riding while the erratic crosswinds buffeting the small aircraft had pushed Griff, her pilot, into a nervous sweat.
Griff ran a taxi service of sorts for the residents of the reclamation zone, his odd tilt-wing aircraft carrying everything from smugglers and high value cargoes to small groups on supply runs. All this was done on a strict no questions basis, so while Griff was something of a mystery figure, he knew even less about Domino or her reasons for hiring him.

Air traffic was heavy that night despite the storm and as Griff threaded the transport through the forest of neon bathed skyscrapers, Domino was grateful for the cover the other air-cars and helicopters provided.
A brief GPS alarm triggered and, with a nod of consent from Domino, Griff dropped the cargo hatch on the VTOL. Huddled in a stealth shroud poncho, she braced herself against the elements whipping through the opening, her hands clasping safety webbing rigged to the bulkhead.
Her optimal dive route blinked onto her heads up, a bright green wireframe transparency overlaid the rooftops flashing by below. They were approaching the edge of her window now, and as the 'Execute' prompt appeared in her optic feed, she pushed off from the sides of the hatch.

The city rushed up to meet her and even as she extended her limbs spread-eagled to control her descent, she was pulling the 'Gloop-gun' from her belt. A targeting reticule formed on her display, calibrating her aim for the landing zone. Angling her body into a sleek dive, she fired the gun, sending a large calibre shell speeding to the rooftop below. On impact, the shell's payload expanded into a large viscous ball and, a heart beat later, her dive thrust her into the jelly-like sphere with gut-wrenching force.
All the massive energy of her landing was dispersed throughout the reactive polymer gel, causing it to break down and free her from its grasp. It was a dangerous, rough-and-ready method for landing a low altitude drop, using technology originally designed for air-dropping fragile but inorganic cargoes. She had used it only twice before for rapid infiltration jobs and this time was no less painful.

She stayed low and moved quickly to survey the rooftops overlooking the alley behind the massage parlour. Domino located the snipers almost immediately, the long barrels of their rifles protruding from the shadowy perches they had chosen. Between them they would be able to monitor the meeting point effectively, one covering the other's blind spot. She switched her optics to perform a thermographic analysis, confirming that there were in fact two snipers and not just decoys. Seeing the warm colours of body heat behind the rifles, she toggled her vision back to normal and set off.

Domino suspected the snipers to be the Thai twins she had met earlier, leaving the Piranhas to protect Koralev on the ground. As she moved into position to ambush the snipers, she gained a clear view of the back door to the 37 Lotus. Sure enough, Koralev was stood there, clutching his briefcase and flanked by the bald headed Piranhas, the three men leering at one of the girls from the parlour.
The Thai twins were positioned effectively back-to-back, ten floors up from Koralev and his men. Domino estimated 25 metres between the twins. Working under the assumption that the group would be in contact via comms channel, she knew she would have to work quickly once she struck the first killing stroke.

She had manoeuvred from rooftop to rooftop in a series of impossible leaps, flips and drops until she was stood silently behind the twins. They had exchanged their cheongsams for figure hugging urban camouflage suits, bristling with extraneous weaponry. Domino could almost sense their twitchy anticipation of her arrival and she imagined they would be very happy indeed if the meeting were to turn sour.
The stealth shroud poncho she wore would make too much noise at close range, so she cast it aside and began stalking rapidly forward, moving lightly and silently on the balls of her feet. She closed in on the twin on the left, a kunai held ready, blade flat against her palm in a traditional throwing grip.

With a precise flick of her wrist, she sent the deadly projectile flying with unerring accuracy and, as it sank silently into the cranium of the twin on the right, Domino neatly snapped the neck of the remaining sniper. Certain of the two kills, she kept moving, launching herself off the edge of the rooftop in a graceful arc toward the alley below.




Koralev fingered the handle of his briefcase and wondered if perhaps it had been overkill bringing the Piranhas along. Granted, he was certain that 'Miko' was not what she seemed but it seemed unlikely that she would pose a threat to Jade and Peony. Well, he had not survived this long in a dangerous business by taking careless risks. No, the uncommonly vicious Piranha brothers were a necessary precaution.
Neither Jade or Peony had reported any sign of Miko, so Koralev returned his attention to the girl the brothers were drooling over. She was pretty, of course: all girls working this part of town were, but this one had a certain dark allure. Almond eyes regarded the three of them with a hint of amusement; she was used to this kind of attention and was not at all intimidated by the gruesome brothers.
Despite his best efforts to retain his composure, Koralev felt himself flush as she stepped calmly between his guards and pressed in close to him, her candy pink lips parted to whisper in his ear.

Her proposition was drowned out by the sound of Koralev's car being crumpled by some massive impact. He flinched into a crouch, throwing the joygirl aside as he whirled to see what had caused the damage to his precious American sedan. What he saw there just made no sense. He stared, dumbfounded, his brain unwilling to process the scene as a slender female form leapt nimbly from the wreckage of his car.
For a brief moment as he saw the long dark hair and form fitting body glove he thought it might be Jade or Peony but as the figure strode toward him, her face lifted from shadow and he recognised the truth of it.

Miko had arrived for their meeting not as a street smart netrunner but as an angel of death, her ruby eyes promising only one certainty. Her body suit seemed to swallow the light around her so that only the pale skin of her face kept her tethered to this plane. The joygirl, lying forgotten at Koralev's feet, screamed in confusion and terror before bolting inside the massage parlour.
The scream stirred Koralev's most base survival instincts and on impulse he raced to cower behind the nearest dumpster as the Piranhas advanced eagerly on the new arrival.
“What're you waiting for!? Kill her!” His voice sounded strained and manic to his own ears.
“Oh, we will. After we've had our fun,” one of them grunted.
Koralev watched as the Piranhas circled the girl, almost daring her to move as they flexed their fists, knuckles cracking, all the while gnashing those ghoulish teeth of theirs. She remained impassive, statuesque even, as they fired taunt after taunt, working themselves into a blood frenzy. He had seen them do this before and suddenly he was reminded of the brutal ferocity of these two and felt himself calm a little. They would take care of her. Maybe even leave a little something for him to enjoy afterwards...

One of the brothers closed on the girl and launched a crushing roundhouse punch to the side of her head. It was soon apparent that his attack never had a hope of connecting. She barely moved; just stepped lightly inside his reach, under his attack and out the other side, allowing his momentum to carry him past her. And had she jabbed her fingers into the soft hollow beneath his arm just then? Koralev wasn't certain: the move had been faster than anything he had witnessed before. He soon got his answer as the first Piranha to attack turned to stare dumbly at his brother.
“I... I can't feel my fockin' arm, Bradda.”
The other cackled at his brother's misfortune.
“Don't be ssso fockin' sssoft. It'sss a fockin' little girl. Watch me go.”

And with that he launched himself at her, ducking low at the last moment to lock her down in a grapple hold. She appeared completely unconcerned by his approach and remained perfectly still until he had committed to grabbing her. Mere inches away from his massive hands, she exploded into a series of back-steps, leading him beyond his centre of gravity so that his duck and grapple devolved into him stumbling flat onto his face. Now it was her turn to circle the Piranhas.

“Are you having your fun yet?” she smiled at them.

Koralev knew enough to recognise when the roles of predator and prey had been reversed. As he watched his bodyguards attempt to rally themselves, his hands fumbled with his briefcase, thumbs desperately trying to find the biometric locks.
She had closed in on the Piranhas now and launched into a blindingly fast sequence of attacks, one flowing seamlessly into the next, each seeming no more aggressive than a kitten toying with a ball of yarn and yet the brothers appeared to be recoiling from the pummelling assault of a heavyweight boxer.
One of them managed to break free of the macabre ballet and rushed headlong for the crate of firearms Koralev had brought. Without breaking the rhythm of her seemingly playful onslaught, the girl flicked something in his path and suddenly she was in two places at once.

The escaping Piranha was stopped cold by the near perfect doppelgänger and abandoned the weapons cache in favour of a panicked scramble away from the new threat. Koralev, having now managed to align his trembling thumbs with the bio-locks, recognised the artefact of a doppler grenade and felt the numb chill of fear in his stomach intensify.
As his briefcase clicked open, he saw that the real 'Miko' had ended her game with the entangled and exhausted Piranha, leaving his body in a rapidly widening pool of blood from some unseen wound.
The remaining Piranha was still desperately trying to dodge the phantom 'Miko', utterly unaware of his brother's demise and of the spectre descending on him, steel flashing in her hand. She had launched herself into the air in a protracted arc, her body spinning on its axis. Her wakizashi found his neck as she streamed past him and he knew no more.

Koralev heard himself giggle as his fingers closed around the grip of the machine pistol he had concealed in the case. Yes, this girl was fast but she had finished her dance with the Piranhas too late. He squeezed the trigger as her feet found the floor again, bullets shredding concrete as he corrected his aim. A hundred angry wasps swarmed for her, their fury unrelenting.

As the hammer fell on an empty chamber, Koralev realised he had blinked, realised he had emptied a full clip with that one squeeze of the trigger, realised that somehow he had been too slow, somehow the girl was now standing behind him. Something penetrated his skin, barely perceptible but most definitely there. He felt her breath, hot and sweet on his ear and the sensation rippled down the nape of his neck.

“I have pins in my hair,” she whispered. “One of them is now inside you. That's why you can't move. Well... not below the neck, anyway. You should still have a voice, though. I was careful.”
“Wh-wh-what the fu-”
“You have something I want. A little man in a burning warehouse full of interesting boxes told me you have it, told me your name. Your name has been on the streets for some time now and it is feared. I think that may be because you sell your wares to children and fill the slums with death.”
“No...no! That's not true I-I'm a legitimate-”
“You are a murderer by proxy. The floating city will not mourn your passing.”
Koralev felt something beyond panic, beyond fear swelling within him.
“Please... don't! Wh-whatever it is you want, you can have it, I swear.”
“I know. I already have it. Oh... that strange feeling in your head? It's not fear. I had another pin. This one increases the blood flow to your head in quite massive quantities. Soon the blood will have nowhere to go and so it'll pour from your nose, eyes and ears. Then you'll die from cerebral haemorrhaging.”
“I'm begging you... no!” Koralev managed to whimper.
“Don't be silly. I'm not a sadist. Just a little joke.”
Koralev watched her walk slowly around to face him, heel-to-toe, hands clasped behind her back like a shy child. She squatted by his case and pulled a cigarillo from its holder in the lid. Death smiled at him from behind perfect eyes as she offered it to him.
“Now... would you like one last smoke before I chop your head off?” 

Copyright © A. Flood 2010 

Monday 17 May 2010

Journal Entry 1: What is Cyberpunk?

I was talking to my dad earlier today about my writing and this site and he asked me to explain what 'cyberpunk' was.  I realised that it is no easy thing to do: there are many opinions on the topic and one fan of the genre will reference completely different works to the next.

At the time I just talked about movies like Blade Runner and The Matrix, both of which helped as examples of the sort of atmosphere I associate with 'cyberpunk' and, rather neatly, they represent 'proto-cyberpunk' and 'post-cyberpunk' respectively.

I personally view cyberpunk as being a sub-genre of science fiction, something with a fairly edgy, maybe dangerous atmosphere.  In terms of content, it can be almost anything but the label is perhaps most closely associated with extrapolated technologies, distopian futures, fringe subcultures, perpetual night cities and other wierd and wonderful stuff.  All of this should be made 'cool' or almost 'film noir-ish' in some way, though.

I know this is a really nebulous definition but I suppose I'm reluctant to tie it down to any one thing or group of things.  Maybe it's a genre that changes with the times; early 'founding father' works such as novels from William Gibson and Bruce Sterling are very different to more recent stories from say, Jon Courtenay Grimwood.
As I'm writing this, I'm slightly aware that I'm waffling and I can almost hear my dad's response:  "Eh, too complicated!" 

So, I'll try to sum things up: for me, cyberpunk is a both a reflection and an exaggeration of our current society, it's an atmosphere drenched in rain and bathed in neon, it wears cool clothes, carries a nifty weapon and it most definitely has a great playlist on its iPod.

No... that didn't work either, did it?  


Friday 14 May 2010

'Smoke and Mirrors' Pt. 4

A patchwork labyrinth of shacks, makeshift shelters and tents filled every conceivable space in the reclamation slums, a shadow city built from layer upon layer of salvaged materials. Streams of dim rainbow lights blurred across walls of cardboard, corrugated steel and plastic as Domino sprinted along the narrow alleys and tunnels feeding down through the slums to her destination.

As her footsteps began to splash, she knew she was close. At the edges of the shanty, the reclaimed land eroded into rough canals and the shacks and cardboard houses gave way to a confusion of boats and floating platforms. The pungent smell of stale water, mono-carbons and myriad unhealthy but tasty foods being cooked washed over her as she skidded to a stop alongside the sampan she sought.

The old woman on deck looked up from her sewing and smiled at Domino as she hopped aboard the houseboat. She gestured with gnarled hands to where a chugging generator was powering a makeshift hob. Something both mysterious and wonderful churned away within the blackened wok Domino saw there.

“Welcome back, my sweet girl. You've been beyond my sight for too long. Have some noodles, the meat is good. And I have kimchi!”
The kindly old Korean woman greeted her using street slang, as was her custom when Domino visited; she had once said it would make her cool, like 'you young kids'. The sounds of the mishmash language always made Domino smile because of that memory.
I'm sorry NaiNai, I can't. No time. I have to -”
“Pfft! No time, no time! Too thin, you are! Must eat more!”
“Later, NaiNai. I Promise.”
“Later, always later with you. Your friend Angel, she eats now, inside. Wearing very cool sweater I made her too. Such a nice girl..”
Domino felt a warm swell of genuine affection for the woman she had nicknamed 'NaiNai' as she lit a cigarette and moved to push aside the drape covering the entrance to the sampan's main structure. As her optics adjusted to the dim blue light and mountains of clutter inside, she made out Angel sat at NaiNai's kotatsu. She was hunched over, eagerly slurping down her noodles and bobbing her head in time to whatever music was blasting through the large antique headphones she always affected.

A smile played across Domino's lips as she watched this friend whom she trusted so much, her slender frame dwarfed by the loose knit pullover NaiNai had given her. Oblivious to Domino's presence, Angel blurted out a few lines of the Canto-pop song she was listening to, each note ever-so-slightly out of tune.

Angel Yuen was a netrunner, a hacker, a tech expert: someone Domino was very glad to have watching over her. She knew Angel would have been monitoring all the sensory feedback from her neural interface during the past hour or so, would have seen what Domino saw, heard what she heard. To see her now, she was every bit the typical shut-in, 'hikikomori' teenager, sat in her underwear, loose socks and ill-fitting sweater, warming her legs under the low, heated table. She was however, the most capable netrunner Domino had encountered, her skills eclipsing even those of the fabled 'Enclave' Koralev had name-checked in their meeting.

Domino pulled off her boots and padded over to Angel's side. Noticing her friend's eyes were closed, she playfully slid her legs under the kotatsu's blanket so that her toes brushed Angel's. It had the desired effect as Angel squealed, her legs flinching so her knees banged the table.

“Shit! What're you doing!? I didn't even notice you come in... I wish I'd left your damn feed running now. Ayaaah, my poor knees...”
“Don't overreact, they're fine.”
Angel pouted.
“You shouldn't be fooling around. You're already late.”

Domino realised she was right: it was already too late to prep the area surrounding the meeting point. She would have to go in blind. She also found herself not worrying about that as much as she should. Something about being around Angel always made her forget herself, made all the tension leave her body. Something which could one day prove dangerous.

“There's enough time for me to get to the meeting ahead of Koralev -”
“But not enough for you to prep your exit routes,” Angel interjected.
“I ran the schematics for the buildings in the area around the massage parlour on my way here. I picked my insertion point. The rest will follow. I don't plan on running into too much trouble. Koralev's the easy part.”
“Don't count on it, Yukiko. I monitored Koralev's chatter after his doorman called in and he's called in extra muscle for the meeting. The Piranha Twins. He already thinks you're not what you seem. I pulled what I could on them...”

Several images appeared on Domino's heads-up, showing near identical monstrosities. The two men were squat, muscular denizens of nightmare: both had surgically enhanced masks of horror. Their noses had been sliced off so only a deformed, porcine snout remained, this set below heavily recessed orbs of unfettered malice. Each had filed their teeth to needle points, their mouths stretched into a permanent grimace, the resulting maw no doubt informing their choice of alias.

“Charming.”
“No, Yuki-chan. They're not. I don't like it.”
“They're thugs. Look nasty, act tough, but no brains. Plus, they fight for money, so they fight weak. Don't worry.”
She knew Angel would worry irrespective of what she said but a little reassurance might help allay her fears. Privately, Domino was less than pleased with the news. It made the task of getting what she wanted from Koralev all the harder now.
Angel remained unconvinced, her brow furrowed as she gestured to the rear of the shack.

“Look, you'd better get ready. You've only got forty minutes before the meeting. Your kit's where you left it.”
It was Domino's turn to pout.
“You mean you haven't pulled it up for me?”
Angel smiled in mock innocence and tugged at her sweater.
“Hey, NaiNai insisted I try this on. Between that and the noodles, I've been busy...”
Domino pulled her legs from the warmth of the kotatsu and walked over to the back door of NaiNai's home. Sheets of card and old movie posters concealed the door from prying eyes. As she pulled them to one side, she cast a glance back at Angel, who was sat contentedly scratching her stomach.

“You suck,” she offered as she stepped out onto the aft deck.

Domino felt herself beaming as she searched for the tell-tale rope she had left marking her cache. She knew she ought not to feel so at peace but accepted the feeling with relief. The past week had been a catalogue of fatigue, stress and danger so if being here with Angel and NaiNai helped her wind down, all well and good. It might even help her deal with what was yet to come.

A glance around the many neighbouring boats showed no-one paying her particular attention as her hands found the rope in the gloom. Not that it mattered much; the box containing her cache was of a type many residents of the floating city used for storage overboard when their houseboats became too cluttered. She heaved the container aboard and dragged it back inside NaiNai's cabin. Angel was stood waiting for her with a fresh bowl of noodles.

“Now that you've written off the prep stage, you might as well eat something before you go.”
Domino nodded as she stripped out of the hacker outfit. The broth was giving off a very appetising aroma.
“I will. Just let me take inventory.”
“I can do that. Just tell me what you want while you eat.”
Domino brushed her fingertips across Angel's pockmarked cheek, pushing a shock of hair from her face.
“Look, I can't eat right now. If I do, I'll throw up as soon as I start running.”
“Okay fine,” Angel frowned, “but I'm still helping you get ready.”
“I know,” Domino smiled at her. “Get me the black shadowsuit, the kunai belt and a wakizashi. Oh... grab a couple of doppler grenades. Just in case.”
“No gun?”
“No gun. I need to send a message, demonstrate what I am capable of. Koralev and his bodyguards will fire their weapons and hit only shadows. Then the shadows will hit back.”

Angel tried her best to suppress the shiver she felt as she watched her friend prepare herself for the battle ahead. Suddenly she felt very, very sorry for Koralev and his crew.

Copyright © A. Flood 2010