//------------------------------// // Ch9: Dead Man Walking Part 1 // Story: Synthetic // by Not Luna //------------------------------// The passenger vessel and the ship-towers gently touched down on Iotian soil, more specifically, the Io dry dock, five miles outside of town. A crowd had already gathered around the barriers set up by official personnel. Reporters, friends and family, and general onlookers gazed intently at the battered and broken ship. The entire right side of the second deck had come off, leaving a gaping hole where bloodstains were clearly visible. The officials confirmed a hijacking when bullet holes were discovered with the stains. Everypony assumed that the hijackers had slaughtered the whole population for an unknown reason. I wasn't until they removed the hermetic seal to the engine room that they discovered the bloodstains weren't from the passengers. Everyone was accounted for, crew as well once they got to the cockpit. It was discerned that the hijackers were the ones that decorated the party deck. Only problem was that the marshals denied any action against the terrorists, there were too many of them to do anything without becoming Swiss cheese. Some unknown aboard had saved them. The only piece of evidence available was the questionable testimony of a griffin who was confirmed to be under the influence, and a single missing passenger. They might have found him, if anyone cared to turn around and spot the bipedal figure striding toward the looming dome of the city. -------------------------------------------------------------- Io City. Not the cleanest or the safest when compared to Canterlot, but one might discern that any city is inferior in comparison to it’s nation's capital. The sad fact, however, is because that is a gross understatement. It used to be one of the better cities in the system before the drug trade and subsequent vigilantes moved in. It also happened to be a border town along the ‘wild’ lands as well, making it prime territory for drug traders, thugs, and White Knights alike. Evidence of such things were shown in the graffiti, the horseshoes hung up on light poles and power lines, and the population itself. The very few citizens that roamed the streets carried an air of caution and distrust, a far cry from the cheery atmosphere of Canterlot. All these factors contributed to Io City being dubbed one of the most dangerous cities since Manehatten took the title back in 35’ A.N. The oppressive air seemed to seep into Jacob while he aimlessly wandered the streets, trying to find something to help him along in his quest. He didn't exactly have any leads to go off of, so he decided to try and run into something along the way. Not the best plan, he thought, but better than nothing. The streets of obsolete concrete were cracked in several places. Cigarette butts and general trash lined the curbs of closed up shops and struggling businesses, the last of the high paying ones having left long ago. Even in the bright, artificial light of the dome lamps overhead, it gave off the feel of an all but abandoned city, not unlike his home town of Detroit before he moved to Breckenridge Colorado. The thought of his home world brought a small smile to his face. He had grown up in a moderately good part of town, where the neighborhood watch was very active and kids were seen as the key to getting Detroit up off it’s ass instead of gang members in the making. He had seen many a good friend from other parts of town get mixed up in all sorts of crap, he even attended a couple of funerals for them. He was never mad at them though, just disappointed, and he voiced as much during the service. It was always what happened after the funeral that made him furious. After he would leave, some sketchy ass looking guys would come up, claim to know Jacob through said deceased friend, and offer him their place, as if his friend didn’t just pass away! He would always decline them calmly, knowing if he got uppity about it, there might be a scene. Never know when someone might be packing. They always gave him some address to ‘hang out’ in if he ever changed his mind too. He would crumple it up because, every single time, it would lead to some broken ass, decrepit, abandoned, house in… “...the suburbs.” Jacob mumbled to himself as he stood in front of a house of said description. A simple two story with the same layout as the others around it, looking like something out of a 1950’s planned community gone horribly wrong. With his enhanced senses, he could clearly see that the house was used recently, despite the eviction notice still taped to the front door. The tagging and the familiar smell of unwashed thug were clear giveaways to anyone who bothered to look carefully. If there was anything he learned about the inner-machinations of drug trade from Celestia that could apply to the situation, it would be that small-time gangs usually got their product from some higher power, commonly a cartel. “A good place as any to start I gue-- Oh god.” Jacob doubled over in the empty street. The fiasco that had been the ride over had started to take it’s toll. His internal clock read that he had been awake for a total of nineteen hours, and needed a rest cycle to properly cool down the CPU and sort the myriad of data collected. He opted for a cheap hotel so as not to seem like he spent too much of the mission cash, and there was nothing closer. Finding the pony version of a Super 8 wasn't very hard in the part of the city he was in, and soon he found himself standing in a spartan room for one. Collapsing on the bed wasn't hard either. Sleep didn't want to come as easily. He was alone with his thoughts again, and his mind kept wandering back to what Gull had said to him back on the shuttle. He tossed and turned in the stiff bed, mind buzzing with activity. Why did Celestia not tell him about that? Why would she need to keep secrets like that? Did she not trust him? He churned in the bed for a good hour before he managed to calm his thoughts. “Of course she trusts me, why would she trust me to do such an important mission if she didn't?” He decided she probably had her reasons for doing what she did, and finally managed to stay still. With stillness came silence, and silence came sleep. Unbeknownst to him, however, with sleep came a ‘corrupted’ file restoration and cleaning. -------------------------------------------------------------- Jacob awoke gradually the next morning, refreshed, his internal clock rousing him gently from his hibernation state. He felt markedly better than the night before, his thoughts were clear and a comfortable cool had settled itself in his noggin. Best of all, his clothes didn't even smell! He probably didn't need to take a shower though, but the familiarity of it put a sense of even greater calm over him. For a moment, he forgot where he was again, just like at Twilight’s place. He was snapped out of his daydream by way of moaning and banging from the bathroom wall. He took that as his cue to leave. Some things change, some things stay the same. Like hookers! Jimmies slightly rustled, he checked out and stepped back into the dilapidated city. His first thought was to head back to the house and see what he could find. It was likely that the small-fry that operate out of abandoned buildings were careless like the ones back home and left correspondences lying around for the world to see. In no time at all he was back at the same house from the day before, this time in the stark blackness of the artificial night. One of the unnoticed benefits of sleeping during the day. He would have a much better time sneaking around there than in a cramped, well-lit transit shuttle. He would try the direct approach first, knocking on the door and being let in will beat Solid Snaking your way in any day. He was trained to take every opportunity and exploit it, so no sense in letting a perfectly good one go to waste. If he was caught or turned away, he could just go to plan B or C. That is if they would answer! He knocked on the door again in the same fashion, using his fist as a substitute for hooves. Bang twice, jiggle the knob, bang on door in alternating spaces on top and bottom, and finish with a soft tap… Nothing. “Must be empty tonight.” That means he has free reign over it until they get back. If they come back. Sometimes gangs migrated, settled in new places, like birds! He started to examine the door in more detail, running a diagnostic scan over it. A thin blue line made it’s way up and down the door several times before data began streaming to Jacob’s HUD. It was a newer model built by a dying company that goes by the name of Lock n’ Key Security Solutions. Constructed in 4085 A.N., the door was a model 22538 third generation homestead barrier, serial number 1055-3. Clearly not many were built, leading Jacob to believe that it was poorly made and not well received, contributing to the status of the company’s near bankruptcy. “Breaking and entering should be a piece of cake then.” It was. A simple decryption bug later, and he found himself in the surprisingly clean looking foyer. Nano machines still kept the place clean, even after the previous occupants were ousted. That’s determination right there. He decided to check the upstairs first. It was an easily defensible position in the house should one get caught with the second-story windows serving as good escape routes. He almost immediately stepped on a hypodermic needle at the top of the stairs. He looked down at the crushed piece of plastic with barely restrained fury, knowing it was the object that indirectly killed, tore apart families, and sowed danger in a once fair city. He knew he shouldn't place so much hate on an inanimate object, but it made some unpleasant memories resurface. A long time ago, a needle of similar design nearly tore apart his own family. It would have succeeded too, had Jacob and his father not stepped in and confronted his little brother about the bundle of heroin they found in his gym bag. It was the whole reason they moved to Breckenridge where drug usage is heavily regulated due to legalized marijuana. He snapped out of his trip down memory lane and left the flattened needle to it’s business. If he were to stop any more misery caused by that damn needle, he needed to get moving and find any evidence connecting the local gang to Nirvana. He began to search the house earnestly, hoping for something to be left behind. -------------------------------------------------------------- A dark figure stepped out of the police station into the streets. It had just undergone some questioning about the recent flight from Equus that had been hijacked. The figure had requested to be anonymous during said questioning, and using a particular set of skills acquired over a very long career, revealed no evidence they hadn't already heard. The figure had been a passenger aboard the shuttle. It hadn't counted on the delays of being found and taken into custody like the others. It figured it would just slip away into the darkness of the domescrapers and shadow it’s charge. Now it was behind on schedule and needed to work quickly to meet the time frame. It pulled out a foreleg-mounted computer and checked the local map. A small ping was sent out from the center of the map, it being the current position of the computer. Nothing else of note was present, so the figure used a hoof to expand the search range to several miles in every direction. Another ping went out, this time with a small dot lighting up in a northeasterly direction. In the Io City suburbs. “There you are.” The figure moved swiftly, knowing a great deal was at stake should the HVI slip away again. Mistakes could not be made and actions needed to be fast. The figure knew that better than anyone else in the system. -------------------------------------------------------------- Nothing. Not a single piece of written evidence or otherwise any where! He searched high, low, the middle, even the empty trash cans, for anything relating to Nirvana. The only things he found were more discarded needles, trash, and used condoms. Either they were not literate, very, very lucky, or they were just more thorough in their practices. He sighed and resigned to the fact that it was probably the last option. Gang violence was relatively new anyway, so it most likely hadn’t gotten to the level of sloppiness that humans were at when he left. He knew there had been activity though. He scanned one of the needles a while back and found out that even though they destroy STDs and DNA traces, they still had some residual body heat on them. He estimated that he had missed them by less than a day, maybe even as close as a few hours. Talk about shitty luck. In any case, he knew at least one member frequented the house often. That was enough to convince him to perform a stake-out. He felt like the vents were a good enough place, though they would be a death trap to him should he alert any to his presence. “So don’t get caught then dingus!” He internally rolled his eyes. He was already doing so well, how could he get caught now? -------------------------------------------------------------- A bullet whizzed by and struck a brick wall where the thing’s head used to be. “There! In the alley!” The small group that had been chasing it all tumbled into the narrow alley, searching for the weird thing in the vents back at the place. Double Edge and his group stalked around the alley, looking behind dumpsters and in trash cans for the thing that was eavesdropping on them while they were getting ready to have a party with a couple of hookers they picked up. It was just sitting there in the air vents, waiting! Probably some weird attempt by the police to finally do something about them. It didn’t work though, and they found the monkey-shaped robot. Then they chased it all over town, while firing at it to make sure it sent the message that the Trips were not to be trifled with. They continued their search until it got boring. They figured it ran back to the station to relay what it saw to the officers there. Satisfied that it didn’t hear anything too incriminating, they set off back to the house. -------------------------------------------------------------- Jacob uncloaked from atop a dumpster as the last of the gang members disappeared around the corner. “Well that plan went to shit fast.” He probably should have known that a pile of assorted drugs was in the vent with him. It’s what he would do. Suffice to say, when they went up to retrieve the stash, they saw him. He ran from that house at a dead sprint, activating the Overdrive halfway through when he felt a bullet graze his arm. Now that he had a moment to himself, he could recall what that one pegasus said, almost as a passing comment, at the house. “Dude, I hate that place. I don’t care if it’s the best Egg Salt in the entire damn system, a pegasus does not belong underground!” Key word there was ‘underground’. That narrowed down all possible bases for Nirvana to caves out in the Wild Lands. He knew exactly where to look now. “Now where can I find a hovercraft store?” His GPS read that as a command and told him where. He set out to the city’s more touristy part of town, toward the edge of the dome. A fair distance away, atop a tall domescraper, a dark figure lowered it’s binoculars and nodded it’s head in silent admiration. -------------------------------------------------------------- *Dingalingaling* “Hello? Anyone here?” Jacob called out to the empty shop as he shut the door behind him. “Just a sec, I’ll be right out!” Came the muffled reply behind the office door at the counter. Jacob took that as his cue to browse. In Luna’s tour of ‘The City of Tomorrow!’ not even a week after his initial arrival, she had shown him the wonders of the hovercraft. A very fine machine that looked like the beautiful offspring of a fighter jet and a crotch-rocket. However, the craft he saw hanging on racks in the shop were more like white-water rafts, obviously for a family oriented experience. The ones Luna showed him were more likely the expensive single rider ones, like jet skis. “None of these will do. I need something fast.” “Something fast you say? Why I have a fine selection of-- Judas!” “Oh fuck.” There was only one being in this entire system who knew his name and still screwed it up. Jacob turned around slowly and grimaced at the widely smiling griffin. Gull saw this-- Yes his name is actually Gull-- and his full smile turned very bemused. “Yeah yeah I get it ‘Oh, it’s that griffin again.’ I've heard it all before. I’ll have you know I am very sober now and am able to take any completely reasonable request you may have.” He said with a dramatic roll of his emerald eyes. His other features also came out now that they were in a more quiet setting. His caramel fur and feathers blended so perfectly you couldn’t tell where which one ended and which one started if you didn’t look closely. The feathers of his head were tipped with a white hue and messy, like he had just rolled out of bed. Jacob was actually rather surprised by his change in attitude. On the shuttle he was loud, obnoxious, and invaded personal space often. Sober however, he was a changed bird; very professional. You would never be able to guess that the hovercraft store owner in Io City was a stoner. Jacob didn’t actually have many problems with marijuana. With the legalization in Breckenridge, he had several friends who were stoners. They were very cool people and you had to do a lot to make them mad. His real problem was with the hardcore stuff. Back to the shop. “Hey Gull, I need an Io caves map and something really fast.” Gull seemed to pick up on Jacob’s decreased hostility and reached underneath the counter. His claw reemerged with a small disk and tossed it in Jacob’s direction. “Go ahead and copy the files from that to whatever you're using. It’s a little outdated so sorry about that. When you're finished, I've got the fast stuff in the back.” With that, he disappeared behind another door and left Jacob to his own devices. He mind melded with the small device and copied the files into his own drive. What he saw didn’t really surprise him. The entirety of Io was covered in cave systems, but only three of them were candidates suitably large enough for a base and far away from civilization to not be found. But that’s not saying that all of them aren't bases. He let that thought drift around while he placed the disk back on the counter and made his way into the back room. “Ah there you are! Now I have all the single-rider ones right here. Pick one and you can be on your way, with the right amount of dosh that is.” Jacob looked at the selection before him and silently scanned them. They were all very old models, and probably didn’t even hit 150 before plateauing. He needed something even faster, something that could hit at least 250, like the ones Luna had. He needed… “What’s that?” He said, pointing to the suspiciously craft-shaped piece of cloth in the corner of the room, surrounded by discarded tools. “Huh?-- Oh, that one!” Gull strutted over to the sheet and whipped it off, showcasing a… “No way.” Jacob gawked. “Yes way! This here is a gen-ew-ine Lunar Munitions SV-29 ‘Dust Devil’ Diamond Dog variant. This thing plateaus at about 550, turns on a bit, and is durable as all Hell. I fixed ‘er up when I found ‘er out in the desert a few years back. Added in some nitro too, because fuck it, right?” Gull chuckled and rubbed his chest with a claw, looking smug. Jacob continued to gawk, seeing that Gull had every right to be smug. “Right… Fuck it.” “Mmm I see you eyen’ ‘er. Now normally I wouldn't do this, seeing as how she’s been my little pet project since 29’, but I’ll cut you a deal, cause’ we’re ‘Dire Situation Brothers’. I’ll let you have 'er for forty-five thousand if you promise to have as much fun as you can on ‘er. Okay?” Jacob was speechless. Gull was offering him one of the fastest military hoverbikes to date for a fourth of what it costs LM to build one, on a promise. It even had nitro! Nitro! “Gull, I don’t know what to say man… I.” “Then don’t say anything. Think of it as a ‘thank you’ discount for saving all those passengers on the shuttle, Mr. Android.” Jacob immediately turned around to confront Gull. “Wait! How did you--!” “What the Hell did I just say? Don’t say anything. Your secret’s safe with me. Remember? Dire Situation Bros?” At first he was suspicious of the griffin. He knew a secret that could be potentially leaked to the general populace. That was not something Jacob wanted floating out there. When government secrets are involved, there is only one thing that can solidify a promise like that. “Pinkie Promise you won't tell?” “Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” As he finished, he pushed out a clenched claw. That's… not a Pinkie Promise, but it’ll do just as well. Clenching his own appendage, they made contact, forever solidifying the eternal bond of the Dead Space Pinkie Promise and the initiating the ancient rites and sacred rituals of the bro code. “Alright, I’ll ring ya’ up. Follow me.” -------------------------------------------------------------- The dark figure watched as the military bike carrying the HVI sped out of the hovercraft shop toward the airlock at the base of the city dome. Said airlock opened it’s rusty and unused doors to welcome the outgoing bike into the harsh sulfur desert. The figure locked it’s dark helmet down, started it’s own hoverbike, and sped out toward the same airlock. The figure would not lose him a second time