Chapter 1: Initiation
A Long Journey
Chapter 1: Initiation
“Welcome to Trotonto. Visitors to the city, please remove all firearms, or fill out a weapon registration form. Knives and other non-mechanical weapons are permitted within the city limits, but only if they are less than one foot in length and are non-concealable. These weapons may be removed when you try to gain access to certain areas within the city. For example, Celesticorp headquarters permits no weapons of any kind to anyone without special authorisation. Please enjoy your stay in our fair city.” The pre-recorded voice intoned as Gilda stood in line.
The biker fought down the urge to pull a gun and shoot the PA right then and there. How many times were they gonna play that goddamn message? That voice! She wanted to find the woman who they recorded for that little reminder and just strangle that coolly pleasant bitch a little bit. What gave her the right to have a voice that was so fucking happy?
The line in front of Gilda edged forward slowly as the receptionist stamped a form and handed it back to someone. Frustration welled inside of her, as she realised it had taken the woman at the counter almost twenty minutes to process that one form. This was the longest line she’d had to wait in yet! How many different booths and departments did she have to get bounced to before someone realised that she was their problem? How fucking hard could it possibly be, to let one mercenary into your own fucking city, so she could literally give, that’s right goddamn give, you something that you were searching for in the first place?
The first thing Gilda had learned from Luna was patience. That horse didn’t always tell you why she wanted what she asked for, but she expected you to do it anyway. Guess she was used to being in command or something. Patience had been a hard lesson to learn. But over a period of five years and seemingly endless wild goose chases across the Deadlands she had learned that virtue, and the rewards had been well worth it. So, while patience wasn’t her strongest suite, Gilda liked to imagine she was pretty good at waiting for shit.
The intercom chimed again “Welcome to Trotonto, visitors to the city please-”
The voice died suddenly and the crack of a gun marked the moment it did. In Gilda’s hand rested a smoking .44 revolver.
Despite what others might tell you, the .44 was not exactly the best gun to bring into combat. Sure it was powerful, but that didn’t really matter as much as you might think it would. Put a bullet in the other guy and he’ll probably be dead, regardless of whether the slug you put in him was the size of your fist or not. There were two reasons why Gilda had fired the .44: Mainly because it was fairly expendable to her, and also because, holy shit, was it satisfying to put that goddamn PA out of commission with a hand cannon. Sadly, that was her last bullet with this particular gun. The rounds for it were pretty hard to come by.
Totally worth it.
Returning the now useless gun to its holster under her coat, she turned back to the line and noticed a fair few people were staring at her. That made sense. With her appearance, Gilda guessed she must have been quite the sight with a smoking gun.
No longer garbed in biker black, but worn brown leather, she looked quite different from the way she had five years ago. For one thing, she was taller. Before she was almost six foot, but now she was closer to six four. She was still bald, though she now had a brown rag wrapped around her head. Her eyes had changed from a muddy brown to a deep avian yellow. Back then she’d had fairly blunt, almost masculine features; now they had sharpened to be more birdlike. The rims around her eyes had deepened, and the pen ink tattoos she’d dotted beneath each eye had only emphasized that change. Beneath her jacket were various tattoos. No special patterns or pictures were visible in the ink; rather, they were simple single lines of black running across her torso, back and along each of her limbs. She probably looked like some bat-shit crazy tribal warrior to these people.
A long thin rope scar circled her neck, along with a string of fishing wire adorned with various seemingly random objects hanging off it. A rusty screw, a small green pebble, a red feather, what looked like a piece of an egg shell and a small horse shoe. Pinned to her clothes were various white feathers, a few on the chest, one at each elbow and her knees.
These were the fruits of her labour; part of her reward for serving Luna like she had. None of these objects seemed like much, but really they were a large part of the reason that Gilda was among the most dangerous people in all of Badworld. These simple objects were stitches. Using these, Luna had been able to transform Gilda from a fairly average human into something much more dangerous.
Pound per pound animals were almost always stronger than humans, and eagle lion things were no exception. Stronger bones, enhanced hearing and smell from the lion side. Powerful muscles and greater eye sight from the eagle side, and faster reactions from one or the other. Gilda wasn’t too sure which. These stitches allowed Luna to transform Gilda into a superhuman, and she loved it.
That was what the tattoos were mainly for. The ink had come from the first stitch Luna had made Gilda find: an old fashioned inkwell. The ink inside was what now decorated her skin. The tattoos over her body had allowed Luna to redirect magical energy from Equestria into Gilda, transforming her into what she was now. The other various stitches all had lesser uses but the main one was to feed more magical energy into Gilda.
The side effect of being a griffon-human hybrid was the dietary requirements were insane. But with the stitches, magic from Equestria was being converted into substitute nutritional energy that she could survive off. She still needed to eat, and probably ate a fair bit more than the average person, but her diet was normal enough for someone her size. Now she just had a strong preference for meat.
“Excuse me sir,” a blond security guard appeared at her side. “I’m going to have to ask you step out of line.”
Gilda looked down at him and smirked. “Sir...? Dude, I’m a chick.”
The officer seemed startled to hear such a feminine voice come from someone who looked like that. After a second he composed himself, “Ma’am, step out of the line please.”
Her gaze flickered to the radio strapped to the man’s breast, then to the 9mm resting in the holster at his hip. The holster’s strap was done up, the safety was off and, if Gilda had to guess, she’d say there was no round chambered. She turned her attention back to the queue and judged how many people stood in front of her. Her gaze turned to the security camera in the corner of the room and the two other similarly armed security guards by the door.
Planning is a simple thing really. It’s just figuring out what you want, what’s stopping you, how to get it and what will happen because of it. Even if she hadn’t planned on shooting the PA, she now had a plan because of it.
“Alright,” Gilda said as she stepped out of line and followed the man to the door.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Clara Adams was sitting at her computer when the radio at her desk gave a crackle of static. This wasn’t unusual. Even if she had no use for the radio, she was expected to keep one with her at all times. Nobody ever tried to contact her on the device, because the sort or people who used the short range radios were not the sort of people that Clara had much reason to talk to. Every now and then someone changed their radio to her channel by accident, and mistakenly held down the button, causing a static crackle.
This time however, she was surprised to hear a voice come over the channel. “I’m on this channel for any senior intelligence officer in Celesticorp headquarters. Over.”
Clara was startled at first, but once that wore off she picked the device up and held it to her lips. “Yes I’m here. Over.”
“Ma’am,” the voice on the other end paused. “We’ve got a situation at city entry you may want to take a look at. Over.”
The woman shook her head and held the radio to her lips. “I’m nowhere near the city gates. It’ll take me almost half an hour to get there from here. Over.”
“Ma’am, we don’t need you here to resolve it. We just need you to change to channel ninety four point nine, and speak with the woman who’s on the air. Over.”
Clara blinked. “Would you please explain the situation to me fully? Over.”
There was a pause before the man on the other end responded. “We have a crazy woman who’s holding three security personnel hostage. She’s threatening to shoot them if she doesn’t speak to a senior intelligence officer. Over.”
It took her a second to process this information before she answered. “Switching channels now. Out.” Changing to the new frequency, she spoke cautiously into the transmitter. “This is Clara Adams, senior intelligence officer. Over.” She released the button and waited for a response.
Half a second later a voice came over the other end. “It’s about fucking time.” In the background what sounded like pained moaning could be heard. “Listen, have you got- Shut the fuck up already!” The moaning in the background stopped. “It’s only an arm. Stick it in a cast for a few months and it’ll be like I never broke it. Fucking pussies...” The voice finished with a mutter. When the voice resumed it sounded clearer, like whoever held the transmitter was speaking into it directly. “Anyway, listen. Clara right? Have you got access to the security camera footage from the city gate?”
The officer answered hesitantly. “Yes. Over.”
“Good. Patch into it and see if you can find me.”
Very curious and fairly worried now, Clara turned her attention to her computer and brought up the requested footage. It wasn’t hard to find given that she had access to pretty much all of the city’s major systems. Finding it was a simple matter of checking to see which camera was currently getting the most attention from the people who handled security within the building. When she brought it up onscreen, Clara’s breath caught in her throat.
On the monitor, an image of a tall bald woman was visible. At her feet was a duffel bag. In one hand she held a radio, and in the other she held a gun, which was pointed at three men wearing security uniforms. The men were all lying on the ground in various states. One appeared unconscious, another was clutching a broken arm and the third looked fine but he was on his knees, his hands were plasti-cuffed together.
In her life Clara had been given a handful of big opportunities. The first had been almost seven years ago when she’d still been working with Theresa. She’d screwed that chance up badly. The second had come nearly a year later when a Celesticorp employee named Joe had been killed in a Deadland’s border town named Appleoosa. She’d been lucky and the culprit had got away. Due to that bit of fortune and Clara’s own hard work, the whole town was now in Celesticorp’s pocket, along with all the nearby communities and settlements. That was how she went from ‘intelligence officer’ to ‘senior intelligence officer’. Now here was her third big opportunity.
“Have you found me yet?” the voice on the radio asked.
“Yes.” Clara said feeling a little excited.
“Who am I?”
“You’re Gilda.”
The tall woman on the screen nodded at the camera. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m the bitch that’s been doing your job for the last five years.”
Gilda was the single largest bounty Luna Industries ever placed on an individual. For almost five years now, they had found themselves hampered and attacked at almost every turn by the mysterious woman. There was no apparent explanation or reasoning for it. One day the woman seemed to suddenly turn on the southern conglomerate. Over the course of half a decade, she’d waged a one woman war against Luna Industries.
She opposed them at every turn; stitch recovery operations, settlement takeovers, intelligence gathering work and anything that had Luna Industries’ name on it somewhere was targeted by her. Despite hiring some of the best and most dangerous mercenaries and bounty hunters in the entirety of Badworld, sending assault units and specialised field agents, and despite a bounty on her head that was no longer dead or alive at this stage, just dead, she was still causing trouble for them. Without any official support or backing, Gilda had done a better job combating Luna Industries’ influence in the Deadlands than any three Celesticorp employees combined.
The situation was bizarre. Clara herself had once done an intelligence report on Gilda, and she couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening or how. Up until five years ago Gilda had been an unremarkable product of the deadlands. Grown up tough in one of the waste’s scattered communities. She’d joined a noteworthy biker gang, the infamous Bolts, and then had become an actual Wonderbolt. Then she disappeared off the radar the day the Wonderbolts did. Gone, with the only explanation provided being mishandled refined power cells. Except she re-emerged six months later and began to systematically shutdown Luna Industries’ operations with a downright uncanny knowledge of their plans and operating procedures. That was the truly bizarre part. Gilda seemed to have learned almost everything there was to know about Luna Industries overnight. She’d always been a step ahead of them during their repeated attempts to capture or kill her. It was like she knew what they were going to do before they did it.
Celesticorp had of course been interested in the situation, but ultimately decided not to get involved. If someone wanted to fight Luna Industries for them, then let them. But as time wore on, more and more of Celesticorp’s higher ups were itching to get their hands on Gilda and find out just how she knew so much. Other people suggested that they simply put her on the payroll, but Gilda’s high kill count and collateral damage ensured that that was never to be. No real consensus had been reached and so in the end Celesticorp had done nothing to help or hinder Gilda’s work. The northern power had made no attempts to hunt or track her down. That was why no one had noticed her walk through the front door to Trotonto.
This all however raised one very important question.
“What do you want?” Clara asked. “I’m sure that there are ways for us to settle this without the need for hostages.”
“Hostages…?” The woman on screen glanced back at the three unmoving security guards. “Oh right those guys. Nah, I’m not here to make demands or anything. I’m here to give you something.”
The intelligence officer blinked. “Give?”
The woman nodded. “”Yeah. Well no, not give to you, but I mean give to your boss. As in the C.E.O.”
“Then why did you attack our security personnel?”
Gilda shrugged onscreen. “I needed to get your attention somehow. Do you have any idea how hard it is to actually offer help to your damn company? I kept getting bounced over to different departments who all thought I was looking for a job. None of them even recognised me. You’d think my name would be on some priority arrest list you’ve got kicking about somewhere.”
Well that’s not something I ever expected to hear. Someone passive aggressively asking, ‘Why am I not on your arrest list?’
“Ok. So what is it you want to give us then?” Clara asked over the radio.
Gilda grinned and kicked the duffel bag at her feet. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But trust me, you’ll want these.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Welcome to Celesticorp’s Trotonto headquarters. Please remove all firearms and-”
“You know, you’re pretty much quoting the PA, right?” Gilda interrupted. “And that’s the thing that I shot...” She glared at him as she said it. “You know, just putting that out there.”
The man in front of the metal detector looked startled.
Enjoying the man’s fright, Gilda walked over to the tray where she was expected to disarm. Under normal circumstances, she would never willingly do so. She’d walked into enough apparently ‘friendly’ places that soon became a massive shit-fight for her to never feel fully comfortable taking her various armaments off. But in this case it was for a good cause. There was no way they were gonna let her talk to the C.E.O. with a gun in her pocket.
Several different security guards trained guns on her as she reached under her coat and took out the empty .44 revolver before dropping it onto the tray. It was soon joined by a copper plated 9mm semiautomatic, a trench knife (It had a badass barbed hilt guard), a .45 calibre semiautomatic, a switch knife (there was just something about the way those things flicked out), a larger .48 calibre, another knife (It was big, had a flat blade and a cool curve to it), and lastly a 9mm machine pistol with a forward grip and silencer.
Gilda turned to walk away from the table when she remembered the duffel bag. Zipping it open she withdrew a 7.62mm assault rifle with a wooden hand grip and stock, and a 12 gauge pump action shotgun. She was about to turn away again when she stopped. Taking out two frag grenades, a flash bang, a brick of plastic explosives and the detonator for said explosives, the biker turned away from the table on last time.
Duffel bag in hand, Gilda walked through the metal detector only for it to flash red and beep. “Oh, right,” she muttered as she reached under her coat with a sheepish grin. She withdrew a big forward curving knife (he was named Greg) from the sheath on the small of her back and tossed him to the table.
There’s just something about knives, you know? They were just so... shiny… and... pointy. What was not to love? Gilda wished she had more knives on the night that the Wonderbolt’s turned. She wondered if Soarin would be so pretty with Greg lodged in his forehead. How did she ever live with just one knife?
“That’s quite the selection you have.” Clara commented idly.
The biker snorted. “It’s not a selection as much as anything I could get my hands on. There’s not a lot of choice when you’re working alone in the Deadlands.”
Clara nodded as Gilda stepped into the metal detector again.
This time the device gave an all clear and the biker stepped forward to the next security officer waiting for her. The officer was holding what looked like an antenna in one hand, and the antenna was connected via a wire to a small box in his other hand. When she approached, he waved the antenna at her and examined the box in his hand. He looked surprised for some reason at whatever response the box gave.
He waved it again and shook his head, “I’m sorry but this one must be broken. I’ll just go get another one.”
“What’s it meant to do?” Gilda asked.
“Oh. Well it’s meant to detect any trace energy you may have on you.”
“So it’s a stitch detector?”
The man blinked. He was probably surprised that she knew what a stitch was. “Basically, yes.”
She continued, “And it just lit up like fucking fireworks?”
He nodded slowly.
“Yeah, it’s not broken.”
He gave her an odd look.
“Listen buddy, I could strip down naked and that thing would still be lighting up for me.”
He seemed like he was about to press the issue when Clara interrupted him. “What do your stitches do?”
“What do any stitches do? Come on, it’s not like I can use them for a weapon.” In truth Gilda would just be really freaking hungry without her stitches. In the long term she needed them for survival, but she could go a day without them.
Clara raised an eyebrow. “You know as well as I do what stitches can do.”
“Yeah,” Gilda nodded. “And swear I ain’t got any of those ones.”
Clara stared at Gilda for a second before sighing and turning to the security guard. “Are any of them activate-able?”
He checked the readout on his screen. “According to this no, they’re all passive.”
Clara hesitantly said “Alright, then let her through.”
The man glanced at his superior before nodding and backing away, allowing Gilda, Clara and six security guards to step into the lobby’s main elevator. The ride up was silent and boring with the only sound being the dull elevator music and the occasional shuffling of feet. That was cool, Gilda could handle boring. It was the irritating shit that got to her. Clara kept glancing at her though, and it was weird too because she had this hungry look in her eyes. Actually it was less hungry and more greedy. Like she was looking at Gilda like a paycheck or something.
The boredom was enough that Gilda decided to comment. “Are you hitting on me or what?”
The woman’s face was priceless. It was a perfect mix of shock, horror and embarrassment.
“I know I’m hot and all but bitch please, restrain yourself.” It was said in the most sarcastic voice the biker could manage. A couple of the guards chuckled at the joke.
The rest of the elevator ride was uneventful. Eventually they arrived at the top floor, and they all moved into another room. Behind the desk were two bored looking receptionists. The whole room was very plain, all dull white colours and blandlooking furniture. About the brightest bit of colour in the room was the small aloe vera plant resting in a pot between the two receptionists. They looked so alike that Gilda guessed they must be twins.
One of them held down a button on her desk and said into the intercom, “Agent Adams is here.”
A rich female voice came over the other end of the line. “Send them in.”
The bald woman was led into the next room, which was a small and tastefully decorated office. It seemed to be set up for practicality more than anything else, but there were enough colours and signs of being lived in that the whole placed seemed pleasant enough.
Sitting behind the desk was a lone woman. To say she had a regal bearing would be an understatement. She looked impressive even sitting down. She looked young despite having long iron grey hair. No, maybe not young, more like she was youthful despite her age. Strong, vibrant and healthy. And powerful. Everything about the woman radiated power and influence.
As the group walked in the woman looked up and said, “You broke my nephew’s arm.”
Gilda shrugged and said, “He tried to pull a gun on me. What? Was I supposed to just let him shoot me?”
The woman didn’t answer, rather she only maintained her coolly intense gaze. As if she were evaluating every last thing about the bald woman.
Is this really Celestia? Is this really the immortal sun god of Equestria?
“So what do I call you anyway?” Gilda asked as she sat down in a chair.
Rather than answer, the lady behind the desk reached into a drawer and pulled out a file. “This is everything we know about you.” The file was pretty thick and made a respectable thunk when it landed on the desk. “It’s almost one hundred pages. We have everything, from your birth to you joining the Wonderbolts, what you did while you worked for them, and everything we know about the night you left them. After that we have nothing. Then six months later you reappear and we have everything again. Almost anything you’ve done in the past five years is recorded here.
“We have psychological profiling, tactics examinations and a twelve page breakdown of why you may or may not have enhanced capabilities and where you may have gained such abilities.” She paused and examined the folder again. “And still despite an almost complete record of everything there is to know about you, we still know almost nothing.”
Gilda leaned forward and held out a hand. “Can I have a look?”
A nod was given and she took the thick folder. She opened it to the first page and examined the basic profile they had set up on her. After a minute she dropped it on the table and leaned back in her chair.
“The first page is wrong. The picture you’ve got is outdated, I’ve got tats now,” she indicated the black dots beneath each eye. “Also I’m taller. I was six foot then, now I’m more six foot four.”
The C.E.O. examined Gilda again. She turned to the other people in the room and told them, “Leave us.” Clara looked ready to object but was cut off. “That includes you, Clara.” After everyone had left the room, the woman turned her attention back to Gilda. “The next question is what question to ask first.”
“How about you don’t ask any questions and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” The biker smirked at her own pun.
“Indeed,” The woman paused. “So tell me, what ‘gift’ have you brought me?”
“Three letters from a unicorn named Twilight Sparkle to the immortal alicorn Princess Celestia of Equestria about the magic of friendship and what it means to be a good pony.” She smirked again. “I never thought I could say that with a straight face.”
The woman behind the table pretended to be confused. “Are you making a joke?”
“Nope.” Gilda zipped open her bag and took out three scrolls and set them on the table. “There were like, hundreds of them, but the Moonies got those. I would have snagged more, but Patchman showed up with two attack choppers. I barely got these ones out.”
The woman at the table examined them. “These are stitches I take it?”
“Yep, big ones. Dragon fire and everything.”
“As curious as stitches are, and as useful as these might be for projected energy research, why do you believe I want them so badly as to come to Trotonto and deliver them by hand?”
Gilda snorted. “Bitch please, don’t play dumb. I know about the machines you’re trying to build and what you need to make them work. You need these if you want them to work and you need a few other things as well. I also know that you want to build six of them, but you’re just gonna have to make do with three.”
The woman stared at her for a second. “How do you know about that?”
“Your sister told me.”
She blinked. “I don’t have a sister.”
Gilda smirked. “Not that you know of. The bitch is in my dreams every night,” she paused for a second. “And I wish that was a sex joke.”
The woman at the table seemed more confused than before. “And what else has my ‘sister’ told you?”
The biker shrugged. “That you’ll need the Elements of Harmony as well as their Bearers. I don’t know about the Elements, but I can get you one of the bearers.”
The elder woman paused, considering Gilda’s offer. “So tell me then. Why would you do any of this for us?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But don’t worry. I’m working towards a larger goal, one that we share even if you don’t know it.”
The woman at the table seemed to consider her words very carefully. “Then tell me, what are our goals?”
Gilda laughed. “To make the world a better place.” She held out her arms and leaned back. “I know right? Looking at me you’d never believe it.”
The woman at the table sat back and crossed her arms. The look on her face portrayed a lack of trust.
“You can have these.” Gilda indicated the scrolls on the table. “But, if you want my help, and you do want my help, you need to do one thing for me that you’ll want to do anyway.”
“And what’s that?”
She paused. “Somewhere, out there, there’s a kid named Spike. We need him. You find him and bring him here. After that, we do what you wanted to do anyway. We get the Elements and the bearers, and we do with them what you wanted to do in the first place.” Gilda turned to look at the other woman. “I don’t know how much you know, I don’t really know how much I know, but I know what you want and how to help you get it.”
The woman at the table tilted her head to the side. “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know how much I know either? I know that I’m building the machines and that I want to, but I don’t know why or what they’ll do once completed.”
Gilda smiled. “So, are we gonna work together on this?”
The woman at the table leaned back and observed her for a minute. “Very well then.”
The biker smiled and held out her hand for a shake, “and what do I call you?”
The woman smiled sadly. “I’m not sure I know that either. For now C.E.O. will do.”
They both sat back into their chairs and said nothing for a moment.
It was Gilda who broke the silence. “Alright here’s what I need. Don’t worry it’s not hard.” She reached to the string around her neck and took away the piece of eggshell. “You set up satellites and listening posts wherever you can and have them checking all over the wasteland for any stitches. We charge this,” she placed the egg shell on the table, “with as much energy as you can manage. When we do that, the kid we’re after should pop on your radar as about the biggest goddamn stitch in existence. We grab him from wherever he is and bring him to Trotonto. It’s that simple.”
The lady with grey hair raised an eyebrow, “That’s not a simple plan. That would require strike teams with long distance capabilities set up in every city and settlement between here and Manehattan. Speaking of Manehattan, what if we detect him there or in Fillydelphia? There’s no way we’ll be able to have a properly prepared unit close enough to capture him before Luna Industries’ own teams move into striking distance.”
“OK, so it may not be that simple, but it’s still what you need to do. Believe me when I say that our goals match up.”
The elder woman nodded. “We’ll see. First though I’d like to discuss this “sister” of mine that’s apparently giving you orders.”
Gilda smiled. “Believe me when I say that’s one thing you and I are never going to discuss.”
The woman looked unamused.
The biker continued. “So… Tia,” she smirked, “do we have a deal?”
The moment the biker said Tia, there was the slightest dilation of the women’s pupils. To someone of normal perception it wouldn’t mean anything, but Gilda knew what it was. A keyword, a subconscious command buried in the C.E.O.’s memory. She had no idea how it got there but the important thing was it would make her agree with Gilda.
The lady nodded after a while. “Very well then.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck fuck fuuuuuu…” Gilda cursed as she slowly dragged the bent shrapnel out of her leg. With a final bit of effort the piece came loose. Tossing the bloody metal away, she began to move her leg around, testing to see if it was all still working. Everything seemed fine. Now that she was no longer pulling things out if it, the wound didn’t actually hurt that much. Gingerly touching it with her finger, she idly noted how deep it was. Yet another benefit of being stitched up: Way higher pain tolerance.
Contrary to popular belief, close range fire fights (particularly indoors) were not complicated things. It essentially always boils down to who’s faster and can hit the other guy first. This simple process can be complicated by automatic weapons, body armour and explosives. Or in this case: a crazy ass mother fucker with all three. Oh, and Gilda hadn’t had a gun. That had made things fun.
Partly to put off what she was about to do next (and partly because she had to do it anyway) Gilda raised her finger to her earpiece and said, “Cadance, it’s all clear.”
A second later she heard the response. “You called me Cadance again.”
Inwardly Gilda cursed.
“Whatever Clara. Moon men are dead so just get here already.”
There was a pause. “Roger that, we’re coming in.”
Gilda sighed and sat back into the deck chair. After putting it off for another minute, she took off her backpack and took out some salt, fishing wire and a needle. Sure she would've used Celesticorp’s own medical equipment, but she couldn’t trust them not to spike the antiseptic with nanobots or something. With a hiss of pain she began rubbing the salt into the wound.
“Ma’am?”
She glanced up at the speaker. He was one of Celesticorp’s little cronies that they sent her in with to clear out the Luna guys. He had the look of a professional with enough years of combat under his belt that you might want to think twice about taking him on. The other guys in the Celesticorp strike team all looked just like him. It was actually a little uncanny how similar they all appeared.
“I’m not with Celesticorp. Don’t call me Ma’am,” Gilda muttered as she threaded the fishing wire through the needle.
“We have a medic with proper equipment who can do that for you.” He said it like it was an offer.
“No thanks.” She began to sew the deep cut together.
He watched in silence for a second. “What happened to your gun?”
“It took a chunk of shrapnel when that last fucker was getting crazy with the hand grenades,” She muttered as she slowly drew the wound shut.
The man stood there, watching for a second, until he shrugged and turned away to help another person clear the bodies from the roof top. It hadn’t been a particularly bad fight. Fifteen Celesticorp guys, plus Gilda, sent in to clear out Luna Industries’ presence from the desolate ruins of Canterlot. The plan had more or less worked, but the final ten Moonies had put up a bit of a fight. Somehow they got alerted and managed to set up a good defence in the tight confines of the building’s upper floors. Now there were just six of the original strike team plus Gilda alive to remember the battle.
Now that the Moonies were gone, Cadance and the rest of the intelligence dweebs would come in to set up their equipment. The chances were that Spike would be in or near the ruins of Canterlot. The C.E.O. had wanted to be certain there were no Moonies in the area; she did not want Luna Industries getting their hands on him.
With her bit of sewing done, Gilda stood up and tested her leg. It was fine, there would be no limping. That done, she strolled over to one of the corpses. Even though she now had official backing and proper equipment provided to her, Gilda still had a strong scavenger’s instinct. Bending over, she began to strip the body of its weapons and equipment. Nothing special, just some ammo for her 9mm, a frag grenade and a new assault rifle that would temporarily replace the one she lost in the fight.
With her new gun slung around her shoulder by the strap, she dragged the corpse over to the side of the roof and tossed it down. She watched it fall almost ten stories before it landed with a wet crack.
Gilda felt an otherworldly satisfaction looking down at the bloody mess on the pavements below. Now that she thought about it, she kinda liked the sight of blood and corpses now. Not in a creepy get off on it way, but like... It just seemed satisfying. Maybe that was a side effect of the being made a griffon hybrid or something. She never used to like killing (well actually, killing was always kind of fun) but now she couldn’t deny a slight rush when she took someone down. That should have been scary, but for some reason it didn’t worry Gilda all that much. Maybe the griffon thing also explained why she liked knives so much now too?
She turned around and began helping the other guys move all the corpses off the roof. The Celesticorp bodies were moved to the side to be carried back to Trotonto for a proper burial.
With their makeshift helipad clear, the guys stood to the side and waited for the chopper with the smart people to arrive. They didn’t have to wait long. Soon, the thump-thump-thump of a big two rotor transport was audible.
After it landed, and Gilda had to admit she was impressed that pilot could land such a big bird on such a small pad, the men immediately began unpacking. Soon it was completely empty and Clara stepped out.
“Gilda,” Clara didn’t offer her any kind of nod or rank. “What were the casualties?”
“All the Moonies are dead, and we lost nine guys. No wounded and no prisoners.”
Well, technically I’m wounded but whatever.
“Is everyone accounted for?” The bitch asked like she didn’t know.
“Yeah,” Gilda answered.
They stood together as all the different people set about their work. It wasn’t long before numerous camp stools and collapsible chairs were set up across the roof. A tarp roof was erected, and underneath it several laptops were set up. A portable satellite dish and several radio stations rested on the table next to the laptops. All in all, it had taken them about half an hour to set up this portable communications centre.
“I still don’t think the C.E.O. should have agreed to this,” Clara muttered.
“Believe me, Celestia needs the kid just as much as I do,” was the taller woman’s tired response.
“You did it again.”
“…Did what?”
“You called her Celestia." The officer paused. “Why do you keep calling me Cadence or the C.E.O. Celestia?”
Because that’s what the horse I talk to in my dreams at night always calls you.
Gilda shrugged. “No reason.”
“You called the C.E.O.’s nephew Blueblood.”
“Yeah,” Gilda chuckled at the memory. “The guy almost pissed himself when he realised I was talking to him.”
Cadence -No Clara- Clara merely shook her head with disdain. “They’re done setting up. Come on.”
Together, they stood under the temporary shelter and waited for the signal from Trotonto. With their listening post set up and the chopper ready, it was just a matter of waiting for the kids signal and then going to pick him up.
“OK they’re doing it,” one of the techies said.
At that time, almost a thousand miles away, the tiny piece of dragon egg-shell that she had given Celestia was being charged with enough stitch energy to put Gilda to shame. At least it would be, assuming Celesticorp actually planned on holding up its end of the bargain. All the calculations they’d done had said that Spike would most likely be in or near the ruins of Canterlot. Luna wanted Gilda to help Celesticorp, but that didn’t change the fact that the biker didn’t trust them.
“OK… nothing… yeah, we’re picking up nothing. He’s not here.”
“Not here?” Gilda asked sounding angry. She’d killed damn near thirty guys today to make sure they could pick that kid up safely. “Then where the fuck is he?”
Clara bent over the laptop and examined it for a second. “One of the satellites has found him… south of here.”
OK, that was bad. If he was south of Canterlot, that meant he was in the southern half of the Deadlands, or worse, even outside of the Deadlands. Anywhere north was Celesticorp turf, but south was Luna Industries.
“Where south?” Gilda asked.
Clara stood up and looked at Gilda directly. “Fillydelphia.”
“… Of fucking course!’ she shouted out. “That’s so fucking typical! That could only be worse if it was goddamn Manehattan!” She was quiet for a moment as she tried to calm herself down. “Well… what the fuck are we gonna do about it?!”
Clara was silent for a moment as she tapped away at her keyboard. “We have assets on the ground in Filly; we can still get to him before Luna Industries does-”
“Yeah, you bloody well better, or else we’re utterly fucked,” Gilda interrupted angrily. “What kind of assets?”
Another technician answered. “We have a proxy in place with seven vials of nanites along with an accompanying satelite drop.”
Gilda gave Clara an ‘are you a fucking retard?’ look. “That’s shit! One proxy! What have they got, three guys to their name? Who’s your proxy?”
“William Iron,” answered Clara.
“Who’s that?”
“He runs a large hunting ring in the Fillydelphia region. He has a few notable hunters working for him,” Clara answered while distractedly typing at a terminal. “Best of all he cooperates. According to this, just last week he helped set up an op to turn over one of his own bounty hunters.”
“How’d that turn out?”
Clara grimaced as she examined the information on screen. “An un-successful op. The target apparently didn’t trace it back to William, but we lost three agents and lost track of a nanite asset.”
“Huh. Sounds like a shit proxy to me if he fucked that up. Who was the target?”
“I don’t know...” Clara mumbled sounding occupied. She checked something on her screen. “Err... someone named Jacqueline Smith.”
“Never heard of ‘em.” Gilda shook her head.
“She’s better known as Jack.”
A look of realisation dawned on Gilda’s face. ”Wait, Jack? Tall girl, blond hair and dumb hat?”
Clara paused. “That matches her profile.”
Gilda chuckled feeling relieved. “Not surprised that your plan didn’t work then.”
“Why?” Clara asked turning around.
“Because that bitch is badass.” She pointed to her throat. “She gave me this.” Clara glanced over to see a scar circling Gilda’s neck. “Lost count of how many dumb-shit bounty hunters I’ve killed. I’m not just talking about small time randoms either. Had people like Lulamoon and Gustav coming after me. None of them ever got as close as Jack did. Had to cross the whole freaking Deadlands before I got her off my tail.”
Clara blinked in surprise. “As impressive as that is, how is it relevant?”
“It’s relevant cause she’s perfect. Get your guy William to stick her with a vial of nanites and boom, we’ve got ourselves a great start to our get-Samuel-and-get-him-out-of-Filly party.”
“Maybe,” Clara answered cryptically. “We need to contact Iron first, and then we can discuss this.”
Gilda recognised when she was being told to shut up and wait in the corner. She clenched her jaw. Whatever, there was shit she had to take care of anyway. “Whatever, I gotta take a leak anyway.”
Clara waved a hand at her absently while she busily worked the computer.
Stepping away from the group, Gilda made her way back into the building. The dimly lit fire escape was easy to navigate. She noticed a few blood stains from the earlier firefight, but those disappeared as she went lower into the building. After she’d walked about twelve floors down she took a right and made her way into the office complex. She lay down in the middle of the floor before closing her eyes. This was another one of those things Luna had taught her. How to sleep anywhere. Gilda grinned; Rebecca was so much better than she was at this. Seriously, Gilda swore to this day that once upon a time, Rebecca had fallen asleep while standing up.
God, she wished Rebecca was here. No, no. Things were better this way. No way in hell was Gilda going to let Rebecca get caught up in any of this crap until it became absolutely necessary. Come on brain, shut up. She needed to talk to Luna.
With a little time, her heart rate lowered and her breath evened.
O
Gilda found herself in the familiar black stone platform that represented the dream world. And as always Luna was there waiting.
“Does it go well?” she asked. “I assume you have something you think I should be informed on.”
“Yeah,” Gilda nodded. “We cleared out the Moonies, but when we charged the shell the kid wasn’t in Canterlot. Turns out he’s in Fillydelphia.”
Luna’s eyes widened. “That is unacceptable. He cannot be allowed to fall into Luna Industries’ hooves.”
Gilda nodded. “Cadance says we can salvage it, but I don’t trust her. She’s got a proxy in Filly, and a few good mercs and one great one under him, but still. It’s a shit storm and we need a lot of luck.”
Luna pursed her lips. “Luck? Even in this world without magic, destiny still has a hand to play…” She paused. “Return to Cadance. I’ll see if I can do something to help.”
“Alright,” Gilda said. “But we’re gonna need a miracle to get to Spike before the Moonies do.”
Luna closed her eyes and appeared to be meditating. “A miracle or a fool?”
Getting the impression the comment wasn’t meant for her, Gilda shrugged and stepped off the platform.
O
Gilda opened her eyes and dusted her jacket off as she sat up.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Simon rubbed his fingers across the paper ball in his hand carefully as he gazed at the dustbin across the room. His mind was focused, concentrated. This was it. The single most important thing in the world. No rushing it, take all the time you need.
Sean watched with baited breath, his t-shirt that read ‘snip-snip’ marked with an image of scissors and stained with his own nervous sweat. “Come on Simon,” he whined. “Take the shot.”
A notepad lay next to him on his desk, the score marked in blue pen exactly even.
“Sshhh…” Simon murmured in response. The small fan between him and the dust bin altered the room’s air currents as it waved left and right. Simon waited. Waiting for the perfect moment to throw. He felt the tiniest bit of air tickle his brown hair, and he tossed the ball forward.
Time slowed to a crawl as the ball arced through the air. Sean’s eyes widened as he fearfully watched the wad of paper fly along its intended trajectory. Simon’s grin widened as the ball slowly, perfectly arced to the dust bin. He felt manic glee. This was it! This was it! There’s no way it could-
Bounce off the rim of the dust bin and land next to it.
Sean cheered and fell back into his seat, the office chair spinning to match his joy.
Simon could only curse his bad luck and ram a palm into his face.
“I win!” Sean cheered. “H-O-R-S-E my friend. You, are, a, horse!
The emotion only lasted a few moments before both parties returned to complete boredom. God, office days were boring. Manehattan may have been the last bastion of civilisation in the Badworld, but was civilisation really all that it was cracked up to be if it meant office hours and paperwork?
Simon leaned back into his chair and sighed. Great, one hour down, just the rest of the day to go. The room was a small cramped affair, with most of its space taken up by their computers and the desks which they rested on. Pit stains had formed under the arms of Simon’s cartoon snail t-shirt due to the lack of air conditioning. A single rotating fan was a poor substitute. Good god was he bored.
Being a techie, he’d been condemned to spend his working career inside and achieving little all day, but still. Surely there was some job that Lunar Industries needed doing more than monitoring for stitches in Fillydelphia. The sound of snoring attracted Simon’s attention to its source: Sean leaning back in his chair and dribbling onto his snail-adorned tie.
No stitches ever appeared in Filly. That was a fact. That city was a teaming cesspit of nothing worthwhile. Close enough to Manehattan to scavenge off the wealthier city’s dregs, but too far for anyone inside to care. Luna Industries had made no effort to tame Filly’s violent drug and weapon-rife streets. Criminals and gangsters of all sort shacked up the city and called it their home. The fact was there was nothing there that the moon men wanted, so there was no reason to step in and fix the place up. As far as Simon could tell, there was no reason at all to keep an eye on the place. The biggest stitch they’d ever gotten from there was a rusty screw that had less energy in it than a double A battery.
No, it was the monitoring stations that kept an eye on the Deadlands that had fifty guys, working all hours to keep an eye on and prioritise all energy reading that came in. Recovery teams fully equipped and ready around the clock to go out and fight Celesticorp for control of the items. He’d heard something about troubles in Canterlot this morning, but he was hurriedly pushed out of the room before he could learn anything.
With a tired sigh, Simon rubbed his eyes and returned his attention to the monitor. Yep, just like five minutes ago there was a massive spike in the energy readings that went off the charts and-
Wait, what?!
“Holy fuck!” Simon shouted as he stared at the monitor in shock. With a click of his mouse, he highlighted the section of the graph that was spiking and brought up more details. There was more stitch energy here than… ever. Simon had never heard of a find this big, let alone in the middle of Filly. It had been picked up by one of their listening posts.
No, it had to be a glitch. There was no way that this was genuine. Simon rebooted the page to make certain, but nope, the reading remained the same. Still unconvinced, he checked the listening post uplink that was sending this info in. Nope, that appeared fine too.
Frowning, Simon tapped into a satellite feed from Filly to take a look at the area that the Stitch was apparently originating from. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened.
On the screen in front of him, a large circle of green grass was radiating outwards from… a vaguely person-shaped black mass in the middle of a street. That couldn’t be grass. That was rare enough in Badworld, let alone in the middle of Filly. But nope. Everything he saw told him that this stitch was creating a grassy field in the middle of the city.
What the hell.
Simon’s hand reached for his phone. It was time to call this one in, and dispatch a recovery team immediately. He went to press line one when another hand batted the phone from his grip.
Simon looked over Sean in shock. “What the hell are you-”
“Shhh...” Sean silenced him. “Think about this,” Sean’ said slowly. “Think about our recovery team.”
Simon blinked and paused for thought.
“Nothing eve happens in Filly. Our team is four old drunks who washed out from Canterlot. Can they really handle something like this? If they fuck up then they pass the blame to us. Even if they can take care of it do they deserve the credit?
“But we, on the other hand, have been in this office for years. If we were to take care of this ourselves, and bring in a nice gigantic stitch, we might get promoted.” He waved a hand at the office around him for emphasis. “Get out of here.”
Simon nodded slowly. “Yeah…” Then he paused and thought about it. “Alright, so how do we uh… bring it in without sending this to them?” he asked unsurely. “I’m not going to Filly,” he added hurriedly.
Sean paused for thought with a frown on his face. “We go to the bounty hunters,” he offered with a smile. “I’m authorised to make payments up to a million dollars, right?”
Simon nodded. “Alright, so uh… how we do that?”
Sean rolled over to his computer and went online. “Uh… I think we just post up a public bounty and someone will bring it in.”
Simon nodded, thinking ahead. “Alright, we just need to know what they have to bring in,” he turned back to his screen. “We just need to know what the stitch is and we’re in business. Huh, apparently the stitch is… a kid? Huh. Never heard of a living Stitch before.”
Sean smiled. “Man, you’re lucky I stopped you. There’s no way this can go wrong!”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Jack’s phone beeped in her pocked and she brought it out. Flipping it open, she checked to see what the alert was. It was set to inform her every time someone set a bounty larger than fifty grand online. Jack paused for long enough to see what the warrant was.
One million dollars? She must have misread that, so she used her hand to shield the screen from the sun’s glare. No, she’d read that right. Eyebrows drawing together, Jack took the time to carefully read the rest of the deal. She snorted with laughter at what she saw.
Who the in heck was dumb enough to publicly post a million dollar bounty, on a child, in the middle of Fillydelphia? Holy hell, she almost wished she could be there to see it. Every desperate and crazy hopeful in that city would be taking a shot. The whole place was gonna turn into a warzone! Did they honestly expect that they’d get the kid alive with that? He stood a butterfly’s chance in hell of not being killed in crossfire. Jack almost felt sorry for the poor guy.
With a shake of her head, she returned her phone to her pocket and continued her walk uphill. No bounty hunter worth his salt was gonna take that one seriously. The kid would be dead by the time anyone got there, not to mention the utterly ridiculous amount of competition they’d face. Nuh, leave this one for the dumbass waste gangs and vultures of the city.
Her trek uphill brought her to the dilapidated ruins of some outer city mansion. To think that Filly had once been a nice place, and ruins like this dotted the city’s outer limits. The guard standing at the gate greeted Jack with a cool nod.
“Jack,” he said, his goatee bobbing up and down with his chin. “Mr. Iron said you’d be coming.”
She nodded in response. “Yeah, Ah know. He’s the one that called me.” Which was convenient, since she’d been meaning to talk with him for a while anyway. She waved a hand at the gate. “You gonna let me in?”
“You know you gotta disarm first,” he responded, pointing his gun barrel at a plastic tub next to him.
Jack oh-so graciously withdrew the revolver from the holster under her duster and dropped it into the tub. “Alright, get the gate.”
“Not till you disarm,” he repeated. “Your ammo included.”
With an irritated sigh, she undid the belt around her waist and dropped her bullets in to the tub with the revolver.
“And your hatchets.” He was a bit too familiar with her armoury by this stage for Jack’s comfort. Funny that he knew her so well and she didn’t even know his name.
Jack reached under her duster once more and took out her two small hand axes that she dropped into the tub.
“Now your bowie.”
Jack just looked at him and raised her eyebrow.
“I’m serious. Get that knife out of your boot.”
“William scared of me today or something?” she asked as she bent over for her knife.
“Who isn’t?” the man asked with a light smile. When she didn’t return it, he continued. “Jack, don’t pretend this isn’t the usual fair. You want to see the boss, you disarm.” Once the knife was in the tub he turned and buzzed the gate.
No one ever remembers the rope, she thought as she ran a thumb along the familiar coils under her coat.
She walked up the cracked and ruined driveway until she arrived at the door, which was opened for her by another guard with a goatee.
Inside, she saw cracked and ruined marble with matching tiling. As she walked up the stone stairs, she made note of the ruined statue leaning out over the railing. It looked like it was close to tipping. Jack was let into William’s office by the two guards that stood outside it.
He was in the middle of a video conference or something when she entered, because he was talking into a computer screen.
“- ra I understand. The kid will be unharmed. I’ll take my usual fee, plus extra for the nanite assets.” He glanced up at Jack. “Speaking of which, I got business to take care of. I’ll be back in a second.” He got up out of the seat and walked over towards Jack.
He was an utterly huge man. Tall enough to dwarf Jack by a fair margin (and she was not short by any stretch of the imagination), and thick enough in the shoulders to be plenty intimidating. His arms were thicker than most men’s thighs and Jack could practically smell the fake hormones in the sweat oozing from his pores. His over-large neck muscles were a dead giveaway to the sheer amount of steroids this man had to be taking to maintain this size. An unzipped sleeveless denim jacket covered his torso, and a comically out of place tie rested against his chest. His hands were ludicrously small in comparison to his meaty forearms.
“Bill,” Jack greeted with a tip of her hat and a lazy smile.
“Jack,” he leaned forward to shake her hand, but when she didn’t take it he shrugged and headed over to his liquor cabinet. Out of it, he dug up a bottle of scotch and poured two glasses.
Jack dropped her smile and noted this very carefully. Never once had he ever offered her a drink before. She also noticed the little web camera on top of his computer swivel around to look at her. She gave her smile again as he turned around to face her, and she took the glass from his hand.
“Let’s talk business,” he said to her.
“Ah’d rather talk some old business first,” she responded to him.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“She’s gonna kill him,” Gilda warned as she watched the exchange on the screen from over Clara’s shoulder.
“How would you know that?” Clara asked with a tired sigh.
“She’s got that killey face going. Believe me, she plans on killing him. I know the ‘I’m gonna end you look’ when I see it.”
“Don’t be foolish.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Old Business?” William asked cautiously. “What sort of old business?”
“William, you know what a proxy does, right?” She asked as she took a seat at his desk and put her feet up. “A proxy is a middle man between a bounty hunter and the corporations that’s setting the bounty. Ah mean that’s just good business sense, right? Celesticorp’s got somethin’ like thirty thousand riding on mah head, and they corner about two fifths of the market, so damn near half the business Ah do is through you, right?”
William walked back around to his side of his desk. Jack noted that way when he sat down one hand stayed under his desk. Undoubtedly his fingers were curling around a gun.
“Ah mean, Ah can’t go deal with ‘em directly. They’d just take me as well as the guy I’m handing in. So Ah catch ‘em, take ‘em to you, and you hand ‘em in for me. Then you take your share of the cut off the top. Simple right?”
“Jack, I know how this works-”
“Do ya? Ah’m not convinced you do. Guess who Ah ran into on my last job? The one that you set me on by the way.”
He didn’t answer, but Jack was glad to see his hand stay under the table.
“Our old friend Lulamoon. Which is funny, cause Ah seem to recall handing her over to you, to hand over to them.” Jack noticed him blink in surprise. She smiled. “Ah mean, what happened? You paid me my cut, then what? Let her go?” The way he breathed a small sigh of relief confirmed Jack’s suspicions.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Clara snorted. “She’s not too bright, is she?”
“You’re a fucking moron, Cadance,” Gilda answered. “She’s gonna kill him. She’s just getting him to let his guard down.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
William smiled and took his hand out from under the desk. “She must have escaped from Celesticorp or something,” he answered with a shrug. “If they want her caught again, I’ll let you know.”
Jack smiled. “How about the three Celesticorp agents that were with her?”
“Maybe they turned her into a nanite asset?” he responded with a casual shrug. “How did that mission go, by the way? You never got back to me on that one.”
“Well, other than having to kill three corporates, which Ah imagine brought my bounty up again, and seeing Lullamoon, not well at all. Ah couldn’t find a trace of the kid you sent me after.” Jack shook her head. “It was almost like he didn’t exist.”
William shrugged. “Well, you win some, you lose some.”
“Oh!” Jack tapped herself on the forehead. “Afore Ah forget again, one of ‘em had this on ‘em,” she reached under her duster and took an envelope which she leaned forward and placed down on the desk.
William frowned and reached forward to grab it.
Jack’s rope slipped over his wrist and her palm smashed into his nose. He screamed in pain and pulled back, only for Jack to dive across the desk and swing around behind him. Her rope dug into his neck as she coiled it around it. She slipped the other end of her rope down in time to catch the hand that was reaching for the gun under his desk. With all her might, she pulled the rope and got both hands behind his back.
He was a very strong man, and he tried to pull his way free of Jack, but she was behind him with the advantage of leverage and no weakling herself, so his struggles were in vain. She quickly tied it up so he couldn’t free the hands behind his back, and the rope around his neck only dug in more when he struggled. She grabbed the gun from under his desk, a .48 calibre, and stood up, pulling William up in front of her. Now to wait for the two guards outside his door to come in, alerted by his screaming. Sure enough, the door opened and they both hesitated to fire when they saw her hiding behind their boss. She killed the two of them with a shot to the heart each.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Totally called it,” Gilda said.
Clara turned to her. “You do realise that he’s the only asset we have on the ground in Filly?! Without him, we have no chance of getting Samue!”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Now, she pushed him in front of her, and he stumbled forward and fell over on top of his desk. “Bill, we had the simplest arrangement imaginable,” she said into his ear as she took the rope and reworked the knot around his hands. “We- Ow!” she interrupted herself as something on one of his sleeves pricked her. A little sharp pin thing sticking out of one of his sleeves. Whatever, it didn’t matter.
He tried to gasp something out, but she didn’t hear what he was saying. With a little work, she stood him up and moved him around the desk and looped one end of the rope over the rafter near the door.
“Back in mah old home town, we had some pretty simple rules about attempted murder. Oh, and Ah do count selling me to Celesticorp as murder by the way,” she left him there as she grabbed the end of the rope that was hanging down. She turned and kicked his knee cap with her steel-toed boots hard enough to damage it, and stop him walking away.
He screamed in pain.
“In fact, Ah count a lifetime of slavery as a nanite asset as somewhat worse than death, don’t ya think?” She tied the end of the rope around the statue that was leaning out over the railing.
“Jack!” he screamed, but she ignored him.
“So, what was Ah saying about murderers? Oh yeah, what we do with ‘em where Ah come from.” She knelt down at the base of the statue.
She grunted as she heaved, and the top of the statue only just overbalanced enough to tip it over the railing. The statue only fell about halfway to the ground floor before it jerked to a stop with a wet crack. Jack turned around and saw William’s corpse hanging from the ceiling, just in front of the door.
She walked back into his office and cringed at the horrifying angle his neck was bent against the rafter with. “Ugh.” She glanced over at the rope leaning over the other edge, holding up the heavy marble statue. “Too much weight on the other end.”
She raised what was formerly William’s gun and aimed it down at the main door as it opened, revealing the guard from the driveway. Her gunshot damn near popped his head, ripping a massive gaping chunk out of his skull. Now there was just one guard left. If he had any brains, he’d try another entry, or just leave. If Jack was him, she’d go round-
Jack fell to the ground and clutched her heart as she felt it burn with pain, its beating slowing. Her heart rate returned to normal after almost a minute, and she gasped in a ragged breath. Slowly, she backed further into the room and out of sight of the main hallway.
“What the hell was that?” she murmured.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Holy shit!” Gilda smiled. “He got her!” she pointed at the screen as Jack convulsed. “Somehow William got the nanites in her.”
Clara sighed. “Oh, thank goodness for small favours.”
“Get out of the way,” Gilda said as she shoved Clara sprawling out of her chair, forgetting her own strength for a second.
“I would have moved!” Clara shouted in irritation as she rubbed her face where she hit the floor.
“Whatever,” Gilda waved her hand as she unmuted the microphone.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Hey Jack,” a voice called out from across the room.
Jack’s gun snapped towards the source of the voice; the computer screen with the web camera still watching her.
“Yeah, you. Not feeling so great huh?”
Jack stood up and walked over to stand in front of the computer. On the screen was a face she recognised. One with golden eyes and pen ink tattoos. “Gilda.”
She smiled. “Yep.”
“What do you want?” Jack asked the screen.
“From you? Well, right now I want you to drink that shot glass William offered when you first came in.”
“What?” Jack blinked in confusion.
“You see Jack,” Gilda started then paused. “Celesticorp was basically planning on recruiting you via nanite ingestion for an operation that they need done in Filly. But, you didn’t drink the scotch like we hoped, and basically just killed our best plan for this whole goddamn mess.”
“Ah’m sorry to hear that,” Jack stated dryly.
“You will be,” Gilda shrugged. “You see nanites work in two parts. Either one alone will kill the person that gets hit with it. But you get both of them together, and they both calm each other down. In that shot glass is one half of the nanites. The other half is currently inside you. Did William manage to jab you or something before you killed him?”
Jack turned her hand over and spotted the bloody patch on the palm of her hand where she’d hurt herself with what she’d thought was a pin. She gritted her jaw, and felt a pit form in her stomach.
“It really doesn’t take much for a nanite injection to be deadly. A lethal dose is about the size of a pin head. That’s what you just felt. In about ten minutes the nanites are gonna begin blocking the signals your brain send to the rest of your body. That first one was a warning flare to let you know you’ve been injected. To survive you’re gonna need the other half of it, which is in that scotch.”
“Fuck,” Jack swore.
“I know right? Sucks to be you. I wouldn’t want to work for Celesticorp either.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Jack turned her attention back to the screen.
“Hell no,” Gilda said. “I wouldn’t trust these bastards to wipe my ass. Nah, our interests just meet up at the moment.”
“So what do you want from me?” Jack said as she walked over to the desk and picked up the glass. She looked at it askance, trying to decide whether to drink it or not. Maybe Gilda was lying or something.
“Well, Celesticorp wants you to help them get a kid named Samuel Everson out of Fillydelphia and up to Trotonto. I’m sure you know how nanite blackmail works. Do it or else they push a button, you have a heart attack.”
Jack glanced up at the screen and could feel her heart rate rising again and a familiar burning in her chest. With a sigh she tilted the scotch back, and in a few moments everything returned to normal.
“Attagirl Jackie.” Gilda smiled. “Alright. Go to William’s corpse-oh, and did you really need to kill him like that? Couldn’t you have just shot him or something?”
Jack ignored her and walked over to the dead man and untied the knot around his mangled hands. A loud clack was heard as the statue outside hit the floor, and a much more muted splat as he made contact with the ground.
“On him somewhere should be the needle he jabbed you with.”
Jack pushed up his sleeve. Up it she found a simple needle with the plunger partly compressed, attached to a band around his wrist.
“Somewhere on him he should have six just like that one. Find them; we’ll need ‘em.”
Searching his pockets eventually yielded a small black case with six small identical needles resting inside. She pocketed it and stood up.
“Alright Jack, you’re a good bounty hunter, so I’m sure you know about the million dollar bounty that just got posted, right?”
“Yeah,” she answered.
“Well you’re gonna go after it.”
Jack snorted. “There’s gonna be a thousand guys going after that kid. The whole place is gonna be a dang warzone. No way in hell am Ah gonna get that kid out of there in one piece.”
“Just leave that to us,” Gilda answered. “We can cut off most of the competition for you, and find you some friends while we’re at it. But you better hurry, ‘cause that city’s about to go off like a phoenix fire.” Jack blinked in confusion and watched as Gilda’s face turned away from the screen. She spoke to someone out of sight. “Hey Cadance, we need a way to contact her or something right?”
“No, we can tap into her vision with the nanites,” answered a voice from off screen.
Jack winced at that. A complete loss of privacy and a lifetime’s enslavement? She turned to glare at William’s mangled corpse. Yeah that bastard got what he deserved.
“Cool.” Gilda turned to face Jack again. “You better get going.”
“What happens if Ah don’t?” Jack said. “Ah’m the only asset you got in Filly.”
Gilda snorted. “Believe me, we have other assets in Filly, just like you. Nah, you say no, then I push this button and you die. I find someone else I like a little less and get them to do the same job. But I want you. You’re closer, you’re better and most importantly we have you right now, meaning we’ll lose no time with recruitment.”
Jack’s jaw clenched as she tried to read Gilda’s face for any sign of a bluff. After a moment she called it. “You’re bluffin’. You need me too much to kill me off.”
Gilda’s eyebrow rose. With a very deliberate motion she pushed a button on screen and Jack clutched her chest as it tightened in pain. She clenched her jaw and held back screams as her heart felt like it was on fire, its pace slowing.
“All right!” she gasped out. “Yer not bluffin’.”
Gilda pushed a different button and the pain stopped. Jack gasped out a breath as her heart rate returned to its normal pace.
“Believe me Jack, you’re convenient to me, not necessary. Now stop fucking around and do what I tell you.”
Jack rolled her neck and glared at the screen. “You know Ah got a rule ‘bout people who fuck with me, right?” She jerked her head at the mess over her shoulder.
Gilda smirked and ran a thumb along the scar on her throat. “Funny, but I have the same rule. Now get going.”
Jack turned and made her way down stairs towards the room. On the way down she saw the guard from earlier who had disarmed her. In his hands was the tub that she’d dropped her stuff in.
“I’m not interested in dying today,” he said loudly to Jack. He dropped the tub on the floor and turned away, heading out the door.
Jack dumped the gun she’d taken from William; semiautomatics weren’t her preference. She re-strapped her holster on and with familiar hands she took up her gun. The sandalwood handle felt good in her grip. The .357 Calibre revolver returned to her holster with a showy twirl on her fingers. Her hatchets found their place under her duster, and her bowie knife slid into its spot in her boot.
She still wasn’t in a good mood, but reuniting with the tools of her trade always made her feel a little better. It helped her forget for a second that she’d been completely fucked by some faceless corporation on the other side of the world.
Standing up, she turned and headed out the front door. She stopped at the top of the drive way and glanced over towards Fillydelphia’s city centre. To think, that poor little kid probably didn’t even know about the tremendous shit storm that was coming down on his head. What the hell could he have done to earn attention from both Luna Industries and Celesticorp?
Whatever. That was a concern for another day. For now she had to get her hands on him and keep him alive. Then she could find out what he knew, and hopefully use that to get an edge up on Gilda and Celesticorp.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Gilda breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. “For a second there I thought she was gonna call my bluff.”
“Which is why you should have let me handle it,” Clara growled at her angrily. “Now get out of my seat, unless you want to take care of the drop as well?”
Gilda rolled her eyes and stood up. “Whatever. Just don’t fuck this up. I’ll be the one that talks to Jack.” She plugged a head set into the laptop and adjusted it over her head. “How long have we got until the city lights up?”
“I’m surprised it hasn’t already,” Clara stated. “At the moment, our best hope is that someone who knows what they’re doing manages to get the kid and stay ahead of the pack until Jack shows up. Honestly, them setting that bounty was a stroke of luck we couldn’t have hoped for.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The phone in her pocket chimed, and Rebecca paused for long enough to take it out. On the other side of the room, Rufus responded similarly to his phone making a sound too. They both ignored the dirty looks they were shot by their boss.
With a roll of his eyes, he turned back to the family that was currently being prodded with guns and other shiny tools of death.
The living room they were in was your standard faded wallpapers and mouldy carpets of your dog-shit standard Manehattan resident. The family in question were two meth head parents and a kid who was destined for a life of fucked-uppery.
“Kid.” The most ostentatiously decked thug in the room poked him in the back of his head. “Tell us where your dad hid our money, or we blow your mum’s head off.”
Rebecca hated working with gangs like this. They were called diamond dogs, small time packs of thugs desperately trying to hold ground in a city as contested as Fillydelphia. The lot of them were your standard pack of post-apocalyptic filth. Mohawks, ear piercings, studded collars, you name it. This particular batch of diamond dogs was particularly pathetic.
Rebbecca checked the info on her phone’s screen again. Nah, that couldn’t be right. But nope, it was the same as before. Her eyes widened and her brows came together. A million dollars? For some… kid?
She looked up and saw Rufus staring at his phone in disbelief too. Undoubtedly they’d both seen the same offer. They both stared at each other and thought the exact same thing at the same time.
Competition.
He reached for his gun first, but Rebecca was quicker and everything seemed to slow as her gun left its holster. The sights aligned on his head and a bullet left the barrel with a bang. His brains evacuated in a glistening ruby sludge, and Rebecca turned her gun on the only other armed man in the room. He was just turning from the family with a surprised look on his face when her shot caught him in the side of the head.
As Rebecca calmed, time seemed to return to its normal pace, and she dashed outside, leaving two corpses and one very confused family in her wake. Another diamond dog waiting on the street looked to her in confusion before she shot him.
She reloaded her gun and pocketed the partially empty magazine. The .45 calibre rounds were fairly common, but there was no reason to waste the three rounds that were left in the magazine. The gun only had a six round magazine plus the one in the chamber, so Rebecca tended to be precise with her shots. Still, she liked the .45 calibre for its blocky appearance that suited her general biker look.
She climbed onto her bike and turned the keys in the ignition before hitting the accelerator. Fillydelphia blurred past her as she sped to the address from the bounty. Rebecca was glad that she was just a few blocks from where she’d supposedly find the kid. Already she could see a couple of other mercs and gang members rushing to their own vehicle as she sped past.
It was a few minutes until she came before the confusing sight of… Grass? What the hell was grass doing in the middle of the city? Whatever. Sitting up and looking around in confusion was some kid who Rebecca guessed was the bounty. It was a weirdly termed bounty that’s for certain; the kid lying unconscious in the middle of crossroads of Quill Street and Sofa Avenue.
She kicked the stand down on her bike and ran over to him.
“What’s happening?” he murmured groggily.
Rebecca ignored his question and dragged him to his feet. Wow, he was a scrawny kid. Hell, Rebecca wasn’t exactly stocky, but next to him she was brawny. His eyes were green and his pupils were oddly shaped. He had shoulder length green hair, which was odd, but compared to Rebecca was comparatively plain.
She dragged him over to her bike, where she lifted up a duffel bag and hung it over her shoulder. She hopped on the bike with the bag resting against her back and threw the kid over the bike behind her. “Hang on!” she shouted out and sped off, just as more cars started to arrive in the crossroads.
They must have noticed the lack of kid in the middle of the street and assumed the bike speeding off had him. Gun shots rang out and bullets smashed all around the moving bike.
“They’re shooting at me!” the kid panicked, finally coming lucid.
Rebecca smiled. “Don’t worry kid, happens all the time.”
With one hand, Rebecca reached behind her back. She rummaged around in her duffel bag for a moment till she took out a rifle. This was the same rifle she’d had those years ago when she saved Gilda. With a little effort she slipped the strap over her shoulder and around her neck.
“Who are you?!” he asked, probably realising he’d pretty much just been kidnapped. “What do these people want with you, and why’d you drag me into it?!”
“It’s not me they’re after, kid!” Rebecca shouted back at him.
He paused. “So are you here to protect me?!”
“Something like that!”
“So where are we going?!” Spike asked.
“Somewhere that’s not here!” she answered, hoping that would shut him up.
Rebecca’s mind was racing, as she tried to figure out what to do in between swerving vehicles and other things on the road. The sound of the pursuit behind them wasn’t fading, and when she checked her mirrors there was a fleet of cars behind her. It was a good thing they were trading fire with each other amongst themselves. Rebecca needed to shake the pursuit, get the kid somewhere she could hide-
Her thoughts were interrupted by something slamming into the road thirty metres ahead of her. A massive cloud of grey gas erupted from the thing that filled the street. She found herself forced to slow down as she passed through the smoke, and she noted the odd metallic smell of it. Her reduced speed was probably what saved her, as she felt her chest convulse and her heart skip a few beats. Rebecca lowered her head and let go of her gun as she clutched her chest. The bike overbalanced and she found herself and the kid skidding along the road.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Jack slowed the vehicle to a stop and shifted the gear into neutral. She left the car running as she pulled on the parking brake and stepped out, surveying the wreckage before her. A mess of smashed cars and dead bodies, caused by the drivers of damn near a hundred vehicles moving at high speed collapsing in pain all at once.
“Alright Jack,” the piece in her ear rang with Gilda’s voice. “You’ve got ten minutes until everyone in there’s dead from the nanites. That’s including the kid. Also, remember this is recruitment time. Those needles of nanites will buy you some friends, pick a handful that don’t look like douchebags and stick ‘em. Don’t worry about the airborn nanites, the ones you have in you will tell ‘em to piss off.”
“Ah don’t need help,” Jack muttered, sounding more annoyed as she made her way to the back of her pickup truck and lowered the gate.
The sound of snorting was heard through the earpiece. “Believe me, the amount of shit that’ll come down on your head is more than enough to drown. You’re the best bounty hunter I know, and I think I know all of them, so when I say I don’t think you can handle this that means you probably can’t. Anyway, I’m telling you to recruit them whether you want the help or not. I’m not putting all my eggs in your basket.”
Jack took a 12 gauge pump action shotgun from the back of her truck and loaded it. With the gun in hand, she turned and made her way into the maze of twisted wreckage that was still visually impaired by nanite smoke. She walked with the gun pressed against her shoulder and the sights aimed forwards. Ahead she could hear the sound of gunfire and people, that meant some of the wanna-be hunters were still up and fighting.
A sound to her left made Jack snap around and fire at some waster punk who’d just emerged from the top of a tipped car with a snub nosed revolver in hand. Blood blossomed from his chest and he fell back down into the wreckage. She turned her attention back to the road ahead of her and moved forward once more. Her boots crunched on broken glass and squelched in blood and body parts.
She stayed calm, despite the poor visibility and the sound of ongoing fighting going on around her. Her heart rate remained steady as she picked her way through the wreckage. Up ahead she saw four gangsters crouched behind a car and nervously peaking around.
“What was that?” one of them asked another. “Should we go-” He cut himself off and his eyes widened as he spotted Jack. “Over th-”
He didn’t finish his statement as Jack unloaded a shell into his head. She racked the shotgun and turned her fire on the man he was next to, but she only scored a partial hit on arm. His frantic scramble to the left while firing a submachine gun had thrown her aim and forced her to take cover behind an old fire hydrant. Jack stepped forward out of cover and fired again, this time killing him, just as the two other gangsters turned around and began firing. Jack dived forward, avoiding their panicked spray. Coming up into a crouch between them, she turned her gun on the man to her left, fired and shredded his legs. The last man tried to turn his gun down on her, but Jack rammed the butt of her shotgun into his crotch. He gasped in pain and unloaded his gun into the ground. Jack’s shotgun smashed up into his jaw, snapping his head back as she turned around and pressed the barrel of her gun to his chin.
Blood and skull fragments filled the air as she racked the shotgun one last time. She turned to the wounded gangster clutching his legs and fired her last shell into his chest. She noticed her hat had fallen off her head when she rolled, so she scooped it up as she walked.
“Stop playing with the losers and find that kid, Jack,” her ear piece warned.
Jack paused for long enough to load another seven shells into her shotgun before continuing. As she passed through the wreckage, she came across a few more gangsters, pausing just long enough to end them, but overall her progress was fast.
“One shell left.” she muttered as she checked her gun.
The haze had started to lift, but her vision ahead was anything but clear as some of the wreckage had also set on fire, filling the air with its oily black smoke.
A man ran screaming out of the smoke at her, his body coated in flame. He fell to his knees on the ground, frantically beating at the flames on his body, but it was hopeless, and he was destined to burn. Jack hesitated for a second before she put her last shell in him.
“Aww, I like it when they do the dance,” an oddly childish sounding voice called out.
Jack’s shotgun clattered to the road as she dropped the empty gun in favour of her loaded revolver. She aimed down the sight as she looked around for the source of that voice, still moving forward through the haze.
“What about you?” a giggle could be heard. “Do you want to do the burny dance?”
Jack traced the voice to its source. Atop an overturned car, near where the man had run from, was a strange looking lady. She was of average height and crouched. Her hair was a tangled mass of pink knots, and Jack could see the manic grin on her face. She was garbed in your standard wastelander outfit, which was unusual for someone in this city, but her clothes were stained at regular intervals by brown patches and grey ash. Sticking up over each shoulder was a sword handle, and another sword rested on each hip. She was odd to say the least.
“Or how about we dance?” The lady tilted her head.
Jack fired, but just as her finger hit the trigger the lady twitched to the left and the bullet passed through the air right where she’d been. The lady dived off the car and rolled across the ground as Jack’s second shot sailed over her head. She came out of the roll with two swords drawn and twitched to the right as a bullet landed right where she’d been. Jack stepped back and fired again, but just as before, the moment her finger touched the trigger the lady was somewhere else. Jack’s fifth shot grazed the woman’s shoulder despite another dodge. Her sixth shot missed entirely as Jack was forced to duck back behind a street sign to avoid losing an arm.
Her empty gun slid into her holster smoothly as she rolled backwards out of the lady’s second swipe, and came up with both her hatchets in hand.
The lady blitzed at Jack and swung her swords in a scissor. Blocking smoothly, Jack stumbled back as the other’s foot almost found her stomach. The lady capitalised on her open stance, almost landing a blow on Jack’s neck and the bounty hunter barely managed to block the attack. Jack growled in frustration as she was pressed further back, deflecting a blow just before it hit her ribcage. Her back hit a piece or wreckage and she side stepped just in time to get a cut on her arm.
The lady’s other sword was swung at Jack’s neck and she ducked under it, bringing her axe up at the ladies chin. She skipped back out of reach, and brought her swords up in time to smoothly intercept Jack’s axe strike. Swords up, she failed to respond in time to Jack’s knee slamming into her chest. She moved with the blow and the damage was minimal, but she lost further ground to awkwardly blocking Jack’s axe. Before Jack could capitalise on her open stance, the lady rolled away out of her reach and came to her feat with her swords ready.
“You’re good at the game,” the woman spoke. “It’s a shame that I’m better,” she said as she went to twirl her swords showily.
The lady had to stop her twirl in order to awkwardly stop Jack’s axe from lodging in her throat. She was forced to step back and almost slipped on a plate of metal. Jack took advantage of her stumble, her second axe hooked around the edge of the lady’s other sword. She yanked it out of her grip, sending it clattering away. The right axe came in for an underhand strike that almost got buried in the lady’s jaw, but she tilted her head at the last second. Jack’s boot found the lady’s gut and she grunted in pain as she was knocked her back. The lady just managed to draw one of the swords on her hip in time to block the strike from Jack’s left axe. The lady’s left sword came around to take Jack’s head, but Jack ducked under the blow and almost put her right axe in the lady’s side when a sudden pain in Jack’s chest slowed her. She barely managed to block the lady’s much quicker counterstroke and was forced to duck back out of sword range.
The pain in her chest stopped, and Gilda’s voice came in Jack’s ear. “This one’s good. We’re recruiting her, not killing her.”
Jack grit her teeth in frustration.
“You almost had me there,” the lady said. “You’re really good,” she said as she circled around Jack. “I don’t recognise that style, and believe me I know a lot of styles. I’ve never heard of two handed axe cowgirl technique,” she tilted her head to the left, but unlike before she didn’t make the mistake of dropping her guard. “I think I might keep your hat, as a souvenir, for that time I danced with a cowgirl.” The two continued to circle around each other. “Are you gonna make the first move or-” She went bug eyed and grasped her chest in surprise.
Jack wasted no time and knocked the two swords out of the lady’s hands. One of her hatchets returned to its place under Jack’s duster, and she snatched out a nanite needle that she shoved into the lady’s neck. The plunger went down and the lady gasped as she stepped back, clutching her chest and the needle in her neck. After a second she yanked it out and shook her head, while glaring at Jack. She drew her last sword.
“What did you do to me?!” she asked.
“Saved your life,” Jack muttered. “You know how nanite recruitment works?”
The woman shook her head slowly while glaring.
Jack sighed and took out her ear piece. “Here, she’ll explain it. Grab your swords and follow me.”
The woman frowned, but put the piece in her ear as Jack strode back to where she’d come from to retrieve her empty shotgun.
“Patricia,” the woman murmured in response to some question that Gilda asked.
Jack grabbed her shotgun and one of the lady’s swords. She paused for long enough to give Patricia back her sword and reload her revolver before continuing in the direction she had been before. She heard Patricia’s footstep behind her, indicating that the strange lady was following. A tap on her shoulder and Jack looked back to see Patricia holding the ear piece out. She had all four swords back in their sheathes and was giving Jack the I’m-gonna-kill-you look that Jack had learned to hide long ago.
Whatever, just as long as she doesn’t try anything.
She muttered something about ‘ruining the game’ as Jack took the piece back and put it in her ear. As the two of them picked their way through the smoke and wreckage, they came across four people all alive and clutching their chests.
“Recruitment time,” Gilda said into Jack’s ear.
Jack glanced around and picked the only person that wasn’t dressed up in the dumbass leather, mohawks and chains of a Filly gangster. She was a beautiful looking woman, elegantly dressed, particularly for a wastelander, and seemingly out of place except for the semiautomatic in her grip. She spotted Jack coming and weakly raised it to fire, but her hand was pinned under Jack’s boot as the needle was plunged into her arm. After a moment her breathing levelled and she slumped back.
Jack looked over her shoulder at the pack of wasteland punks. Yeah, she didn’t want any of these people’s help. “Patricia,” she jerked her head at the prone diamond dogs and waste punks. “We don’t need any of them.”
Patricia tilted her head quizzically at Jack, who rolled her eyes and jerked a thumb across her throat. Patricia nodded her head in understanding and drew one of her swords. Jack turned to face the lady beneath her as the sound of parting flesh and bloody gurgling filled her ears.
As she looked down at her, the lady was looking back up at Jack with a considering look on her face. “Why did you save me?” she asked with an educated-sounding voice.
“Ya know how nanite recruitment works?” Jack asked taking her foot off the lady’s hand.
She nodded.
“Well that just happened to you,” Jack said as she gave her a hand up.
The sound of a cocking gun caused Jack to whirl around her hand going to her revolver. She froze when she saw a lady in a business suit pointing a gun at Jack. She was leaning heavily against a car next to her and her breathing was laboured. She was wearing a pair of glasses, and in general she looked pretty nerdy, but Jack recognised killer’s eyes when she saw them. They were calm, collected and calculating even as her heart was failing.
“Give me a syringe,” she ordered.
Jack slowly took one of the nanite syringes out from under her Jacket. “You know that this is a nanite conscription?”
“Yes, most likely Celesticorp and judging by my heart-rate I have about four minutes until cardiac arrest. Give me the nanites.”
Jack paused. “Gilda?” she asked.
“Go for it,” the ear piece answered. “Better than all those damn waster punks anyway.”
“Alright,” Jack said as she slowly walked over to her, careful not to make sudden movements.
She held out the nanites, just inside her reach. The nanites were taken, and a slightly shaky hand jabbed them into a vein.
“What’s your name?” Jack asked stepping back, and watching as the lady lowered her gun and took a second to catch her breath.
“Theresa,” she answered. “Theresa Umbrage.”
“And you?” Jack asked as she turned back to the other woman.
“Rachel Diamond,” was the answer.
“Alright, here’s the deal.” Jack spoke out loud for everyone. “Everyone here’s been conscripted by Celesticorp. Ah’m in contact with them right now, and at the moment they want us to find the kid that the bounty was set on so we can stick him with what you all got hit with. Otherwise they’re gonna hit the switch and kill us all. And if Theresa’s right we’ve got about four minutes to do that.”
“Three,” Theresa corrected.
“Three then. So everyone follow me and keep an eye out for him.” Jack turned to walk away when she felt a weight leave her hip.
She spun, around gun drawn, to see some woman standing there with one of Jack’s nanite syringes in her arm, plunger down. The woman was dressed in a grey hoody with the hood up and a Kevlar vest over the top of that. Wrapped around her face was a grey rag and her eyes were concealed by a cracked pair of sunglasses. Hanging around her neck via a strap was a black 5mm submachine gun with an attached silencer.
Jack grit her jaw. “Why didn’t anyone tell me she was behind me?” she asked, turning to the rest of the group.
“Because that would have ruined the game silly.” Patricia was the only one to answer.
Jack raised an eyebrow at her before sighing in frustration. “Whatever,” Jack faced the lady again. “You heard everything Ah just said?”
She nodded.
“Then come on,” Jack turned to leave.
“The child you’re after,” the woman said in a voice so quiet Jack almost didn’t hear it. “He’s this way.” She pointed in another direction.
Jack shrugged. “Then lead the way unless you want a heart attack.”
She didn’t answer, just turned and walked. As they passed through the wreckage, they saw a few more people lying around, but Jack didn’t stop to conscript any of them, and Patricia seemed to enjoy cutting their throats a little too much for anyone to want to stop her.
They walked for about a minute until they came to an overturned, badly damaged motorbike. The lady led them past it; along the road they walked, there were multiple corpses strewn about, riddled with bullet holes. Jack noted that all of them were shot either in the head or the chest. No corpse had been hit more than one or two times, and the wounds were all about the same size, meaning that they’d probably been hit by the same gun. Whoever had done this was a much better marksman then Jack.
“Hurry,” Gilda said in Jack’s ear, and she began running. The others, jogged after her.
It was only a few seconds until they came into sight of someone with a gun in one hand shambling forwards slowly while bent over and dragging something behind them. As Jack got closer she realised that something was a kid, probably the one they were after.
The person who was dragging him slowly staggered to a stop and turned around, raising their gun. But Jack was too fast and knocked the rifle out of their hands, leaving it hanging loosely around their neck. The person tried to punch Jack, but the blow was slow and clumsy, and all Jack had to do was catch it with her palm and hit the person in the gut. The person bent over wheezing and Jack shoved her onto her back. Then Jack turned around and jabbed the nanites into the kid’s arm.
The kid’s breathing evened out and Jack breathed a sigh of relief. As the pain faded away, the kid sat up and looked around at the assembled women who all stared down at him.
After a second he spoke. “Could somebody please explain what the fuck is happening?”
From the look of him he was about twelve, scrawny and fairly tall for his age.
Jack put a finger to her ear piece. “Gilda, is that him?”
“Yeah, I think so. Turn around and look at whoever it was that had been dragging him.”
Jack obliged and turned to face the person who was sprawled on their back.
“Holy shit!” Gilda shouted in Jack’s ear causing her to wince. “That’s Rebecca!”
“Who?” Jack asked as she looked at the woman on the ground.
She wasn’t very tall, with an athletic frame and strange rainbow-coloured hair. She was wearing a sleeveless black leather jacket, and on the ground beneath her was a duffel bag. Her face was pretty in a way and a single stud was in her nose.
“Give her the nanites,” Gilda ordered.
“Why? There’s already five of us to take the one kid.”
“Jack, give her the other half of the goddamn nanites right the fuck now, or I’ll fucking kill you.”
Grumbling internally, Jack crouched down and took out the last of the six nanite syringes which she jabbed in Rebecca’s leg. Who the heck was this Rebecca anyway? Jack didn’t enjoy death threats anymore than the next person did, but at least usually she could rely on her own skills to make that threat meaningless. But now that she had these nanites in her blood, all the skills and personal toughness that she’d developed were useless. Fucking Gilda. Fucking Celesticorp! Fucking Badworld, and fucking everything!
Jack clenched her fists and cracked the nanite vial in her hand. She let out a deep breath and forced calm onto herself. Calm down. You’re not helpless, just at a disadvantage. Like always. You’ll turn this around. It’s what you always do. Dusting her hands, she stood up and watched as Rebecca’s breathing evened out and her eyes went from pained to normal.
“What now?” Jack asked Gilda.
“Now you take the kid and get the fuck out of Filly, that bounty’s still on his head and you can bet the moon men aren’t gonna send a pack of douchebag bounty hunters this time. You got any place nearby?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, Ah got a safe house ‘bout a day from here.”
“Well go there and take your new friends with you. This journey is far from over.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sean and Simon watched through the satellite screen as the strange smoke from the sky cleared, and the street was left with nothing but a pack of car wrecks, and strewn corpses. They searched around a bit but couldn’t find a trace of the kid they were after or the woman that was the first to pick him up.
They were silent for a moment until Simon spoke. “We are so fucked.”
Sean didn’t say anything.
“We are so dead, this was your idea!” He pointed an accusing finger at Sean.
“It might be okay,” Sean answered. “If nobody knows about the stitch, then nobody will know if we lost it, right?”
A chuckle was heard from behind the two of them, and they both spun in their chairs to face the doorway.
“A shame then, that I just overheard you.”
The man that entered the room could barely be called a man. He looked like he’d been stitched together from the parts of others. One eye was brown and surrounded by dark skin, except that skin was just a patch that had been sown into the gap between one top half of his face and the other. One half of his face had pale white skin and a single grey blue eye, and the other half had a darker more exotic tint to it. The lower half of his face was white and a little wrinkled, a grey goatee rested on his chin. Holding this amalgamation of clashing skin tones and attributes together were lines of scar tissue. The smirk on his face was confident, and his eyes held a sadistic intelligence. His clothes were a patchwork of business suits of varying colours and patterns, and even his tie was made from pink and green that was sewn together in the middle.
Sean might have just wet himself.
“So I heard that our two Fillydelphia-listening post operators had authorised a million dollar bounty within the city. I came down here to see what could possibly have possessed them to do so.
“Sir I-”
“Ah-ah-ah.” The strange man held a finger up to Sean. “Let me finish.”
Simon trembled.
“Then I come down here and hear that you’ve lost a stitch. What stitch?” His voice was low and dangerous.
Sean turned away from his computer and hurriedly backed to the corner of the room as the strange patchwork man leaned over and examined his computer screen. After a moment he stood up and turned around to face the two terrified employees.
“So, to confirm my understanding, you two, found the single biggest stitch ever detected by our company, and not only did you fail to report it,” he paused for breath. “You posted a public bounty on it of a million dollars, stirred the city into a frenzy and did nothing but watch as Celesticorp did a nanite asset satellite drop and recruitment. Worse than that, they got away with the child, and now you’re trying to cover it up.”
Sean and Simon looked at each other fearfully but didn’t say anything.
He stepped closer to them. “While I appreciate a good bit of chaos as much as the next man, may I ask what it was that you thought you were doing?”
“Sir we-”
“Oh, I understand what was happening here. This is clearly a suicide attempt, and a devious one at that. Surely no one could be so foolish as to make all the mistakes you two have, and not want to die.”
“Please sir we-”
“No, no I hear you.” He stepped closer and ran a reassuring hand over Sean’s arm. “Your plan was to make me kill the both of you. You’ve clearly had enough of this life and desire some help going to the hereafter.”
“No we-”
“Sh-sh-sh.” The man hushed Sean. “I must reward such clever planning. Far be it from me to be the flaw in your otherwise perfectly executed suicide attempt.”
“Please we-”
A gun sounded off; in the patchwork man’s hand was a smoking old fashioned flint lock pistol.
Simon did nothing but stare in horror. A small skull fragment slowly slid down his cheek, and all he could do was shiver and watch as the patchwork man slowly reloaded the pistol for another shot.
“How was your day?” the man asked as he poured a small amount of gunpowder down the barrel. “Mine’s been pretty terrible so far.” A small sachet of grease was used to lubricate the edges of the gun’s barrel. “One of my dear employees ended his own life today, and I’m terribly emotional about it.” He took out a rounded lead ball and pressed it into the barrel. “I can’t help but wonder if I’m in some way responsible. Was I too hard in him? Were his work conditions too terrible? Perhaps I’m the cause of this.” A thin rod was inserted down the barrel of the gun, and the lead ball was pressed all the way to the bottom. “The worst part is it wasn’t just one of my employees, was it?” He turned and pressed the pistol to Simon’s forehead.
Simon hyperventilated as the hammer was thumbed back. He tried to move, say something or do anything, but he could only stare up into those mismatched eyes. He felt paralysed, helpless.
“Oh well,” the man said as he shrugged. “Live and learn.”
There was a crack and a puff of smoke as the gun was fired.
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Here's chapter 1 where I set up the rest of the story. I haven't checked, but I believe it's about sixteen thousand words. Fun chapter to write, but I'm worried that Gilda steal's it. Still, she was fun to write as always, so I don't regret putting her in.
My prereaders tell me Discord was particularly good, but I don't know. I still feel like he's just a bit... I don't know. I'm just not quite convinced that he carries the scene like he's supposed to. But on their advice I kept him in, and left him unchanged.
Speaking of pre readers, big thanks goes to AlicornPriest for prereading it all in one night and putting up with my terrible grammar, OrphiusOlyandra for prereading and generally being a ideas bouncing board as well as helping me greatly with some of the action, and PiquoPie for prereading and telling me "I'm not going to let you ruin this story". Sir your conviction has both amused me, and made me decide that you should be on my list of permanent prereaders. Everybody give PiquoPie a big hand.
Anyway, hope you folks enjoy.
Be sure to check out my other story Penumbra.
19,000 words sir, thankfully your writing is better than your math.
1384839 I would check out Penumbra...... If you would UPDATE IT!! RRRRAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!
1384942
Well then I'm afraid to be the one to give you bad news. I'm going to put that story (and this one) on hiatus until I finish the one shot I've had shelved for freaking ages.
1384953
Yes!
...?
It is the one I'm thinking of right?
1384976
Yes. I've had it shelved for way too long.
1384953 FINE THEN *grumbles incoherently as he stomps away in anger*
1384982
It's awesome. It's totally awesome. Like, "Dood, that is awesome" awesome!
Total. Hype.
Wooooah dark with thee Discord part, I like it! Also think you made the characters seem like 'themselves'. Good job.
1385010
Glad to hear you liked it. I was actually worried about Discord, but everyone seems okay with him so what do I know?
1384953 No idea what it is but i'm exited
I love this. This is the best! Not sure if I can like another five times but I'm gonna go try now.
1388257
Not sure if it's the best, but if you if you find a way to like it another five times let me know.
Just one silly question. Should I imagine Rebecca as she is in the cover picture.
1425689
Pretty much. The original image was really close to how I imagined Rebecca, but I edited it slightly for my cover art. I all I did was add a tiny stud in Rebeccas nose. It's pretty good cover art given that I just found it, but I still hope to oneday get a real cover pic for my story.
> >142576 Thanks. nice picture by the way.
So I finally got around to reading this and I rely liked it. I especially like that you can write characters that are unique and yet have enough of the original traits that people can still relate to them (There kind of like a hardened version of the mane six). You proceeded to wright Gilda as the main character despite having stated otherwise. (Which I think is fine because I like the way you right Gilda.) I have to say I disagree with the others when It comes to Discord, don’t get me wrong it was a well written character but he just doesn't come off as cool as discord. In my mind Discord is a character that I love and at the same time hate, who walks a fine line between genius and insanity. But you discord comes off more as a sociopath with hummer who you could kill off at any time and it wouldn't make a big impact on the redder.
Loved this chapter can't wait for the next one. (That means hurry up with the one shot.)
1434813
Gilda is stealing this story, and I don't like it. Next chapter she will have a much smaller role. Or at least I'll try to reduce her role, there is a chat she needs to have with a few people that I'll try to keep small.
I tried to make Discord a scary impactful villain. I want it so he only appears occasionally, and when he does appear it's a big deal and you know shit's about to go down. That's why I introduced him like this. I showed Snips and Snails (Sean and Simon) just messing around and bored at work. I tried to make them sympathisable and likable in a naive and stupid way.
Then I brought in Discord and killed the two of them with what I hope was a big scary speech and a good deal of sadism.
I'm not sure it worked personally. I feel like it just didn't make him the scary ass guy wanted him to be. What you're saying is right, this scene doesn't carry the insane genius look at Discord that others do.
Still, rest assured that I have plans (thorough ones) and in those plans I think Discord is going to be a pretty effective villain.
and pinkie is so PERFECT!!
1479396
As to AJ, if you like her here than I might suggest taking a look at What Would Daring Do and it's character Blondie. Or perhaps Merc the Jerk's The Laughing Shadow.
Patricia as Pinkie is always fun to write. Future scenes with her will be... interesting.
1485221 i didnt mean LITERALLY, i was just blown away like 4 times.
thanks for the links thou will look into those. and pinkie as a merc, i expect these interesting things to be bloody. 
1485732
Ok, I was just a bit wierded out when someone told me they jacked off to my story that had nothing even remotely sexual in it. I wasn't really sure how to react to that. But if I blew you away four times then good, I try.
Oh and Pinkie's not a merc. Read the description for the story. Notice in the list of occupation the option ''roundabout crazy person"? That one was made purely for Patricia. Nah, to be a merc, you actually have to have an interest in cash. Patricia is just in it for fun.
1763489
Glad you enjoyed it. Actually, AlicornPriest is my pre reader in regards to most technical and grammar things, and he catches out so many mistakes it's frankly embarrassing for me. I think he can be excused for missing the occasional mistake given how much work he puts in.
Fluttershy is the worst pony. Ever. Of all time. Seriously, she always gives me so much trouble to write. In the latest chapter of this (that's still unreleased) getting her to do anything interesting is a massive damn struggle. She's so... boring damn it! The problem with her, is in the show it's other ponies that force her out of her shell, but in this, none of them are friends, so none of them remotely care about her, and she will quite happily stay in her shell despite my repeated yellings.
Yeah, this fic is more of a winded adventure story (hence the name) but with overarching mysteries. Kind of like a post apocalyptic Firefly with a more clear destination.
Patricia is fun. I'm not sure how else to say it. But some of the oneliners I have for her in the newest (unreleased) chapter have been pretty great. Things like, "Well, you know what they say about sticks and stones and how I can break your bones." and things like that. She's been a real treat to work with.
Gilda only gets cooler later. She's not the deepest character, but there's enough there and she's a lot of fun to write and work with.
Your comment is too long? LIES! more feedback is always appreciated.
You put Discord in. And he's a psychopathic, insane, mixed race beast that just killed Snips and Snails.
I love this story.
1766441
Your comment is win.
But honestly I'm not very happy with the way Discord turned out. He's so... I dunno. I guess I was going for scary when I wrote him, and I'm not sure I achieved that. He just feels... almost funny to my with the way he's mocking Snips and Snails. Whatever the case, glad you enjoyed it.
1766758
That's what I'm here for.
As for Discord, I did enjoy him, personally. I've got a soft spot for villains like that... But I mentioned that before, when talking about Patricia. Anyway, I think the reason he isn't as frightening as he could be is kind of a mixture of different things. Firstly, there's the fact that this scene was so short. I mean, shortness can be good when it comes to impact but it didn't leave a lot of time to show how terrifying good ol' Disco can be. Plus, there was no build up. A good part of a villain who only comes out when shit goes down is that everyone is terrified of him and that's clear in how they talk about him. Here, Discord just appeared and did his business. And we still don't know much about him at this point. His motivations and thought processes and role hasn't been cemented yet. I'm sure that as you continue to write him/other characters talking about him/whatever, he'll become the bad guy you had in your head.
That's just my opinion about your opinion. I loved him and he seemed properly scary, especially that little bit at the end right before he killed Simon.
1766859
I actually tried to give him a little build up. Earlier in the chapter when talking to Celestia, Gilda mentions Patchman:
But I doubt that was really enough to catch peoples interest.
Everyone seems to like Discord, so I'm not too cut up about him not being as 'Oh shit! This situation just got bad!' I wanted him to be. Still, I guess the scene itself was pretty well written.
1767023
Ah, I see. But it was still just a slight mention instead of Gilda saying something like "Patchman showed up with two attack choppers and I got the fuck out of there before he decided to rip me to shreds." Something that would show how he's scary, even to the badass Gilda we've seen so far.
Yeah, everyone seems quite happy with what you've got and as long as you're satisfied, it's all good!
There's a break that shouldn't be there.
Also you spell Lulamoon's and Gustav's names inconsistently throughout the story, not just this chapter. Sometimes you add an extra l and e respectively. Not really a big deal though.
Seems to me like somethings missing there.
Now I get the gist of this...Humanized, post-apocalyptic, trigger-happy Equestria, trying to return to normal by gathering all 7 of them, Spike & the Element barriers.
DAT DISCORD
Holy shit! How did I not know about this one? It's pretty damn good and the characters are easily recognizable even before Gilda calls them by their Equestrian moniker.
Jack's now a nanite slave. Sad.