Bass Leader hated to admit it, but he had underestimated Vinyl Scratch. He had delved into her past before offering her a job at the CyberLink. Her life had been dissected before him, and what he saw was just another tool to add to his extensive arsenal. An unremarkable high school career, a few accounts of vandalism, and a brief stay in jail due to public drunkenness were just a few points that barely stood out to him as he read the reports. People like Vinyl Scratch, loud, reckless, and dumb, were a dime a dozen. He thought that the DJ was broken through his routine of beatings and forced executions. It had worked plenty of times before. So where did this sudden spike of daring come from?
He brought a cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply before adding another burst of smoke into the cloud that had formed around him. He looked at the tiny icon on his heads-up-display that read “Vinyl Scratch File.” He blinked twice in quick succession to open it, even though nothing would have changed. Vinyl’s picture appeared, an awkward smile plastered on her face.
“Why are you doing this to yourself, Ms. Scratch? I had offered you stability in this new world, and this is how you repay me?” Bass Leader wrapped his lips around the cigarette. He let it stay for a moment before taking another deep breath. He tilted his shaved head back and whispered through smoke, “You might just be the dumbest person I’ve encountered in a very long career.”
Vinyl’s picture stared back at him. The awkward smile almost seemed like it was mocking him.
A flash from another icon caught his attention and he banished Vinyl’s file. He looked at the other icon and blinked twice. The floor plan for the hospital appeared, and he grinned. Vinyl Scratch might have shown courage or immense idiocy, but whichever it was wouldn’t get her out of the city alive. Bass Leader had made sure of that.
Vinyl kept her pistol on the door as the pair ran down the stairs. She had seen enough movies where people burst through doors with a shotgun to be more than a little paranoid. Of course, one of Bass Leader’s men could be drawn by the amount of noise the two were making. When they were close enough, Vinyl threw the door open. She was almost disappointed when nothing but a sterile hallway greeted them.
“Are you alright?” Octavia asked.
“Yeah. Guess I just have an active imagination.” Vinyl gave a quick grin and sprinted down the hall before Octavia could ask another question. The sound of someone talking forced Vinyl to slow down. She dared a glance around the corner.
They had reached the lobby. A man stood in front of the door. The way he was dressed, black clothes with a Kevlar vest, could have meant anything in another time. He could have thought he was a badass, for all Vinyl cared. All she knew was that he was standing in between her and the front door. Vinyl looked at the pistol in her hand. She had two clips in her pocket and no armor. She did have the element of surprise, though.
Octavia came to a halt next to Vinyl. “Why did you stop?” she whispered.
“There’s a guy over there.”
Octavia bit her lip. Vinyl was about to take her first shot when Octavia said, “I have an idea.”
“You do?”
Instead of answering, Octavia let out a blood-curdling scream and ran across the hospital’s lobby, well in view of the man by the door. Vinyl could hear his footsteps getting closer. Her heart was still pounding from the fright Octavia just gave her.
Octavia was standing on the other side of the lobby, chest heaving and eyes full of expectations. Vinyl frowned. Octavia was supposed to be the rational one. What did it say about their situation if running in front of armed men was the smartest thing to do?
The man stepped into Vinyl’s sight. He was taking his time, his rifle still pointed to the ground. When he saw Octavia standing at the corner, he turned around just when Vinyl pulled the trigger. Two bullets slammed into his head. He fell with a loud thump.
Vinyl expected Octavia to scream or pass out. Instead, the cellist calmly walked over to the corpse and picked up the discarded rifle. She opened the man’s vest and pilfered his spare magazines. Vinyl couldn’t stop staring if she wanted to. Seeing Octavia pick the weapon and ammo from a dead man without batting an eye made Vinyl’s head spin. This was the same woman who panicked at the mere sight of the Solar Empire’s military, right?
Octavia finished her task and stood up. She gave Vinyl a small smile and handed her the rifle. “I think you’re a better shot than I am.”
“You’re, uh, taking this very well,” Vinyl said.
Octavia chuckled. “Yes, well, I can’t always play the damsel. I’ll have a mental breakdown later.”
Vinyl forced a smile, which Octavia returned. Despite the grisly scene, Vinyl felt her heart skip a beat. She shook her head; sexy thoughts could wait for later. She motioned to the front doors. “C’mon, there is no way that guy was alone.”
The two ran through the hospital doors and into a firing squad. Twenty men and women, all dressed in the same black attire as the man before, stood across the road. A pair of Bruisers rose in the back, the sun shining on their armor plating. Vinyl’s mind stopped, trying to comprehend the amount of firepower pointed at them, and found that she could not. Just how many resources did Bass Leader have?
The man himself emerged from the back of a black van. He ran a hand over his expensive suit and surveyed the scene before him. Vinyl felt her blood chill at the sight of Bass Leader, thoughts of his hospitality still fresh in her thoughts. When Bass Leader’s eyes rested on the pair, he smiled. “I see you got my message,” he said, jumping down to the pavement.
Vinyl wanted to say something, if only to try and get under Bass Leader’s skin one last time, but her throat refused to cooperate. If Bass Leader noticed Vinyl’s struggle, he did not show it.
“I will applaud your ambition, Ms. Scratch. Not many people would have done what you have, especially after what I did to you.” His deep voice carried across the street, deserted of everyone but them. The sirens played on, oblivious. “This either means that you are very stupid or you intended to blackmail me. The difference is slight, but I am curious, and I would like to know before you die.” Bass Leader paused before them and spread his arms. “So, which is it?”
Vinyl opened her mouth again, but Octavia said, “She did it for me.”
Bass Leader’s eyes were hidden behind the lenses that had been grafted over them, but Vinyl thought that he blinked in surprise. “Is that so, Octavia?” he asked.
Octavia shuddered at Vinyl’s side and moved closer to the DJ. Vinyl offered her hand and felt her heart flutter when Octavia grasped it. “Yes, it is,” the cellist said to her father.
“What, exactly, is your relationship with my daughter, Ms. Scratch?” Bass Leader asked. His tone was too civil for a man who intended to kill Vinyl in a few moments.
Vinyl felt a cold sweat forming. What was their relationship, anyway? They had had sex that neither of them regretted, sure, but that didn’t mean they were in love. Vinyl could feel Octavia’s eyes on her as well and felt pressured to say something. Where elegance failed, Vinyl’s wit was there to save the day. She held up her hand, which was still holding on to Octavia’s, and said, “Are you blind? What do you think this means?”
Of course, Vinyl hadn’t answered anything, but the look on Bass Leader’s face told her that he had already connected the dots. He pulled out a revolver before Vinyl could react and fired. The bullet flew between Vinyl’s legs and struck the hospital door behind them. “Octavia, get over here,” Bass Leader demanded. “You and I are going to have a talk.”
Octavia tensed and squeezed Vinyl’s hand. Then, to the DJ’s surprise, Octavia let go and took a step forward. Bass Leader smirked, undoubtedly at Vinyl’s shocked reaction. The smirk faded when Octavia stopped directly in front of Vinyl and spread her arms out. “I’m not going to let you hurt her!” she yelled. The cellist lowered her voice and asked, “How are we getting out of here?”
Vinyl checked the rifle in her hands and looked around. The street was full of cars that had been abandoned for some reason. Part of her wondered what could have caused people to leave in such hurry, but the cars would act as ideal cover when the shooting started. Many doors were left open, which provided plenty of possibilities for escape, if they could get to them. The Bruisers could easily be shut down, and the majority of Bass Leader’s troops were young, so maybe they wouldn’t be able to react quickly if their augments temporarily crashed. Vinyl swallowed and whispered, “On the count of five, we break right for the bar five doors down.”
“Alright.”
“You ready?”
Octavia’s reply was cut off by a shot from Bass Leader’s line. The shot went high, but Vinyl yelled at Octavia to run. Vinyl activated her augments, which had been forced upon her by Bass Leader, and pointed a hand at the Bruisers. Vinyl never understood the way in which her augments could shut down others’, but watching the two Bruisers fall unceremoniously to the pavement was enough for her.
Bass Leader was yelling at his troops to fire and Vinyl ran, hot on Octavia’s heels. The pair ducked behind the first car they could and Vinyl shoved her pistol into Octavia’s hands. The DJ waited for the firing to stop before standing up and taking a few shots. Someone fell down, yelling about his knee. “Vinyl, we have to go!” Octavia yelled,
“You don’t have to tell me! Move it!” Vinyl leapt to her feet and took a few more shots while walking backwards. She saw Bass Leader glaring at her but making no attempt to stop her. That was fine; the swarm of goons was enough. Bullets hit the car next to her and shattered the windshield. Were all of Bass Leader’s men unable to shoot? Vinyl fired again and watched a woman fall, clawing at the new hole in her throat.
“Vinyl, hurry up!” Octavia yelled. The pistol barked from behind and Vinyl assumed that Octavia had made it to the bar. She turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could. The cellist had dropped to one knee and was taking slow, measured shots. Octavia fired again and Vinyl heard a scream.
Vinyl pushed into the deserted bar. Octavia fired two more shots before joining Vinyl inside. The DJ quickly scanned the building. They couldn’t stay there for too long. Bass Leader had more guns, more troops, more everything. He could afford a few losses. Vinyl grabbed a table and moved it against the door. Hopefully it would slow them down. “We gotta go,” she said. Octavia nodded and followed, making sure to keep an eye on the door.
“I’m guessing there isn’t a plan now.” Octavia said.
“I’m still surprised that we’re alive.”
“Have a little more faith, dear.”
Vinyl tried to grin, but thoughts of Octavia rummaging through a dead man’s possessions came to mind. Where had that come from? She sighed. Would it be a bad idea to ask Octavia about her behavior? Would she want to get into an argument when they should be focusing on staying alive? Vinyl frowned. She would ask about it later.
Shining Armor was facing the window of his office, staring at the Earth. An empty bottle of whisky lay on his desk. It had been half-full the day before. That was before Camelot station had blown up and the channels were clogged with reports of insurrection and mass evacuations. That was before his sister had vanished.
He closed his eyes and fell onto his seat. He activated his augments once again, muscle memory allowing him to find his messages without a thought. There was nothing from Twilight. Again. He felt himself choke and tried to pour another drink. When Shining remembered that the bottle was empty, it took all of his willpower to not throw the bottle against the wall. He ran his fingers through his hair, harshly massaging his scalp.
“Where are you, Twily?” he whispered. Tears trickled down his face and he made no effort to brush them away. Messages continued to stream past him. He tried to pay attention, tried to feel something for the people that were dying. He reminded himself that he needed to take control. Twilight would be furious if she knew that he was shirking his duties.
None of that helped.
Shining sniffled once, loudly, and put his head down. The desk felt comfortable and stopped his head from spinning. The messages kept coming and going in a blue, digital stream.
“Twily,” he mumbled. He resisted the urge to call up a picture of his sister.
A knock on the door stopped him. Shining reluctantly sat up and said, “Who is it?”
“Sir, there’s a situation developing in the mess hall.”
The voice sounded familiar. Shining shook his head. “What is it?”
“A fight, sir.”
Shining let out a loud sigh. He wished the problems had stayed digital. Now he had to move. “Alright, I’ll be right there,” he said. Shining forced himself to stand and ran a hand over his uniform.
Maybe this was going to be a wake-up call. He had spent too much time away from his troops, anyway. If current events had left him a wreck, how would the others have reacted? Shining took a deep breath. He guessed that he was about to find out.