Neon

I dragged myself to the bar and sat there, still on the floor, trying to use my coat sleeve to stop my bleeding nose, and grinning like a maniac the whole time. It was all just so damn hilarious. They were spineless, every last one of ‘em. After the shit I pulled, they were gonna let me go? Didn’t even pistol whip me.

For a moment, when the big guy stepped forward, I was hoping he’d give me the business. Right in the face, pal. C’mon, give it to me. It’d save me a fortune on plastic surgery. Why pay that backalley doctor to change my face every few months when I could just come here and piss off this gorilla?

But, nah. He just deescalated the situation. They were a bunch of pussies, just like I thought. Even the broad who’d snapped a picture. She looked pissed, like she might kick me in the nuts any second now. But nope. Not even her. The old geezer with the boomstick was the only one who knew how to party.

I hauled myself to my feet, snatched some napkins from the bar and shoved them into my nostrils to staunch the bleeding. This better not be water, I thought as I grabbed a shotglass of clear liquid and tossed it down my throat. Nope, not water. It hurt the way a real drink should. Exactly what I needed.

“So, what’s the point? Why the recruitment drive?” I said to Scarface. Her apology didn’t mean shit to me, but I’d blown up my ride and was in no hurry to hoof it to the metro station, so I may as well pretend I give a damn what’s going on here. “You guys gearing up for war or what?” I chuckled. ‘Neon’ and ‘war’ in the same sentence, ha! “Must be expecting one hell of a pillow fight, huh.”

 

"We are." Hellcat said dryly. "But that's not information I'm willing to share. Especially with an uninvited guest."

"And what does it matter to you anyway?" Samson scoffed, crossing his arms. "You don't want part in this fight. Never did. You'd rather sit at the kiddy table in Bricksburg than eat with the grown ups. Go back to your happy meal John; the steaks are too tough for you to chew."

 

"I don't think I was talking to you, fatass," I said, without giving him the slightest glance. my eyes never left the scarred woman. Seemed like she was the one in charge here, and I don't deal with the hired help. "What's coming? You owe me an explanation, because every time you people drop the ball over here, it makes trouble over there. I could've run Syther out of Bricksburg a dozen times over, but your failures make them bold. Problem is, you people aren't treating this like a war; it's a game to you. Stop toying with 'em and put 'em in the ground, where they belong."

Now it was my turn to cross my arms and try to look like a hardass. But, unlike that overstuffed teddy bear, I actually had the reputation to back it up. If these guys are ready to start taking this seriously, they knew who to call. I'd never say it to their faces, but I know Jimmy was right: this won't end until I knock some heads in Towercrest. The corps have gotten comfortable here, not enough competition. They don't respect Neon, because Neon is trying to make friends when they should be burying enemies.

 

RAM had remained silent so far because he knew nobody cared much about his input in the matter. When the man came bursting in and mentioned the death of a friend, it hit home hard. RAM knew what a man in that state was capable of, he’d been there, so he would have stepped in if he hadn’t seen that the doorman was already on top of the situation.

That last remark was different though. With his voice still distorted, RAM spoke up.

“You think a small group like us killing a few soldiers is going to win the war? And you’re calling us naïve. We’ve all lost people here, so we do what we can to prevent that from happening to others.” He doubted for a second, wondering if this man might take him more seriously if he didn’t know what was beneath the mask, but eventually he decided to compress it back into his collar.

“Believe it or not, some of those soldiers have families too. Not every member of Syther Tech is bad to the bone. Some of them fight for a hard won peace, just as much as we fight against oppression. I kill when I have to, some people deserve to die, but butchering soldiers won’t win this war. It’ll only cause more death. Retaliation. More loved ones lost. Is that really what you want?”

 

"By god I'm going to kill everyone soon." Sabina murmured to herself, no longer rubbing her temple and instead drawing her phone and opening her address book, scrolling down briefly before clicking on the address she needed, once again, Marvin.

If I don't send a message in the next three minuets, tell Mr Carver where I am, and tell him that Neon's here.

Are you sure that's wise miss?

I have a person who appears to have the intellect of a lobotomized chimp here. I stopped caring about wisdom some time ago. And make sure he get's that picture,

With that, she went a different number, the name matching the one she'd sent to Marvin. She was tired. She'd had a long day. She was hoping that this was going to be a quick. But no, it never was. Cat had a horrible habit of indulging people, specifically idiots who were too big for their own boots. Boots she'd have burned while the people were still wearing them, but a mild stamp on the big toe would suffice as well.

Thanks to her job, she'd managed to make contacts within the corporations. The most sensible newcomer was right, though not to a far enough extent. Every Syther Tech soldier had a family, two parents in fact, unlike the slaves of Draxa. What was so often neglected was that CEOs were people as well. People who just so happened to want private tuition for the sons, daughters, nieces, nephews and any other child that might stumble into their care.

"Ladies and gentlemen, and asshole." She added, gesturing towards John. "I've can send the Gragari chief of internal security our location with the press of one button. If the phone's destroyed it happens anyway. So, are you going to shut up and let the grown ups talk? Or do I have to screw us all over?"

 

"Go on," I said calmly, with a nod to the phone. "Make the call, sweetheart. Ain't no party like a zombie party."

It hardly took half a second for me to size up the room and decide I'd love to call her bluff. One kid in a powersuit. One old geezer with a shotgun. Scarface and Teddy Bear looked like they could handle themselves; this wasn't their first rodeo. The bouncer wouldn't die too quickly, either. The only ones I couldn't get a read on were Phone Chick, Blonde Guy, and the bartender... all of whom would probably get wrecked in no time flat if a Gragari assault team rolled in.

Out of eight people, three would probably die. Didn't count myself, because I don't give two shits if I live or die, as long as I take a few corp bastards with me. I like them odds. So, yeah, she could make the call. No skin off my back. If all else fails, I get to die in a bar, surrounded by booze. This place is a Molotov factory. We might not win, but we can make 'em work for it, have one hell of a barbeque, and go out in style.

"I'm waiting," I said. "Go on. Show this kid what real war looks like. And when Gragari kicks in that door and starts shooting, I don't wanna hear no shit about 'they have families.'" I glanced at the wannabe Power Ranger when I said that line. "Heh, gimme a break."

 

Sabina’s threats were surely impressive. She’s made contacts with the top heads of Gragari... interesting...

Gragari know I worked with them. Neon does not. I'd be intrigued to see how the situation would have turned out.

But still, I really, really wanted to avoid fighting for now. It was not the time. The argument had to be brought to an end.

I stood up from the bar, facing the crowd, and started speaking.

“Corps don’t give a damn about empathy. They just kill the folks on the wrong side of the fence. Empathy brings a soldier a bullet in his head. Think of it.”

“If they gave a damn, Towercrest wouldn’t be this way, and you wouldn’t have to fight them either. So, this “family and children” stuff on the battlefield is basically like handicapping yourself. They don’t care. And that’s what makes them so dangerous. He who has fought them, knows.”

“Open combat with the Corps won’t bring results. We all know what happened last time. Better to resort to more indirect approach. Those who do, survive to fight another day. Cowardly? Maybe. Effective? It’s the best option we have.”

Then I recalled the glass of tequila still waiting behind me. I grabbed it, took a solid gulp, and put it back. That was my initiation ritual. So overdue.

“Save all you want. I’m okay with that. God’s okay with that. He wishes to preserve the life of everybody, but even he knows it’s impossible. There will always be people on the wrong side of the fence. He gives you the right… to end their life’s burden.”

“So…” I turned towards the Hellcat, hoping for any signs of strong leadership qualities. “What was the task you wanted to assign us with?”

 

Threats of a Gragari raid were not nice. Even worse was the dumbass mocking the one making the threats. Paul wasn't a violent guy but this crowd was really starting to get on his nerves.

"Let's all just take it down a whole fucking bowl of notches, okay?" Paul said anger in his voice

"Now you, with the phone... Sabina was your name right? Do you think it would be wise to call in a death squad on your location? I only see one exit and I doubt anyone will let you leave if you make that call." He cracked his neck. "I guarantee you I won't."

"And you" Paul turned to John "coming in here waving a gun was bad enough, but you really need to shut up before we have a fucking zombie invasion on our hands. You might not care about your own life but in case you weren't listening, I have a wife that I would very much like to see again."

Paul took a deep breath trying to calm himself.

"I do agree with this guy" he said pointing at the older gentleman who'd just downed his shot

"The corps don't care about anything but themselves. They are blinded by greed. They have pretty much infinite resources, yet their life is dedicated to acquiring more, no matter what happens or who gets killed in the process." Paul stopped and took another deep breath. His knuckles were white as snow. "I know this because I've seen it happen."

He lifted his shirt to reveal his old scar.

"I'm not saying I've seen it all." Paul glanced at Hellcat and Samson, then John "But I've seen enough. The corps are a cancer on this world, and they must be stopped."

He approached the bar and took a shot glass in his hand. For a few seconds he stared at it and, with a nod, he downed its contents.

 

The squabbles and bickering going back and forth was enough to make Hellcat regret her decision, a lot of these potential recruits were hotheads, including the most recent squad member Sabine. This group didn't need blind threats, it didn't need recklessness and it definitely didn't need a war.

War. That was a word Hellcat used ever so lightly, and each time it was carelessly thrown about by the group she would give Samson a irritated glance, to which he replied with an equally frustrated look. None of these individuals had been in a war, not like she and Samson had. It wasn't just friends and loved ones lost, but thousands upon thousands of people who stood up for freedom and decided they would be happy to die fighting for it. And they did. Mercilessly.

Now that same group of idealists had been whittled down to the small few that stood in front of her at this bar. Yet she sighed. There was one big difference between the freedom fighters of The Patriots and these potential Neon recruits. Here they were individuals, arguing and one upping each other at every chance, instead of working together as a team and achieving far more than they could possibly imagine.

Hellcat exhaled with a weary look on her face. "Enough." Crossing her arms she gave each of them a hard look, her eyes sizing up every one of them, including John. "We have said our piece. If this is a fight you wish to join us in, then drink the tequila and keep that black coin close - it will show you when we need you and where. If not, well enjoy the bar and then get gone. This place won't be here tomorrow."

With that Hellcat put a light hand on Samson's shoulder and they both turned to leave through the back exit. But Hellcat stopped abruptly, holding up an arm to Samson and putting a finger to her ear. "Wait..." She stood stone cold for a moment and Samson watched intently as her face grimaced. She looked at him, to the group and then back to him. "Shit. We gotta go."

Samson nodded then looked to the group, "What about these guys?"

"If they're Neon... they gotta come too."

 

Great Job RAM, you finally meet some new people and they already think you’re a wuss. He never meant to tell them to keep the kiddy-gloves on when fighting these guys, just that going out of our way to kill soldiers, making it a primary objective, is a waste of time and resources. The only reason he mentioned friends and families was because of Jade. Ah shit, I didn’t actually mention her did I?

This was not how he’s expected this night to go at all. Shit was seriously hitting the fan and the only other actual member of Neon besides the two veterans seemed to be either a high-stakes card player with a very strange way of bluffing, or she was mentally unhinged in a way RAM had not yet encountered.

The one person who seemed to be at least resembling normal, finally flipped, like any normal person would. RAM started to think back to the first time Syther Tech ruined his life. Although the guy was obviously older than him, he reminded RAM of a younger version of himself. Prowling the streets. To busy trying to survive to satisfy the rage for vengeance burning in his heart. He didn’t have a wife though, that must be nice.

“…if not, well enjoy the bar and then get gone. This place won't be here tomorrow.”

Ah rats! What did I miss? Are we leaving?

"Wait... Shit. We gotta go."

"What about these guys?"

"If they're Neon... they gotta come too."

Was this the zombie invasion knocking at the door? No, that was too fast. Whatever it was, it was bad if it was enough to spook the legends. Over the course of the evening, RAM had started to have his doubts about joining, but hey, he’d already drunk the booze. No turning back now right?

“I’m in, where are we going?” A hint of nonchalance in his voice. He decided he’d just go with the flow and see where it led.

 

Shit, is that what the Tequila was for? Well, I didn’t know it was some kind of initiation rite. Doesn’t count if I don’t know in advance, right? Good thing I only drank one. Then again, this is Tequila -- ya can’t have just one shot.

And now Scarface was sayin’ this place wouldn’t be here in the morning. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but I can’t let all this booze go to waste.

I vaulted over the bar and hunted for the disc I’d thrown. Didn’t take long, it was sitting in a puddle of spilled liquor and broken glass. “Clean this place up, kid. How’s a guy supposed to get shitfaced in this dump?” I grinned at the bartender as I pocketed the bottle of Tequila. Fit in my coat real nice, nestled right next to my gun.

“Count me in, I guess. Long way home and nothin’ better to do,” I said as I stepped out and joined the crew. I paused, pulled the bloody napkins outta my nostrils and blew my nose on my shirt. Fashion tip: that’s why I wear black. “Heh, sounds like the setup to a bad joke. Four idiots step out of a bar…”

 

"Can you be ANY slower about this"

"You wanna try fucking around in here?"

Two people, A man and a woman, were having a short argument in the utility room of the 101st floor of a highrise tower. They were both undercover corp operatives, unbeknownst to generally everyone else in the tower. One, Charles, was currently rigging the gas mains to the building to explode and wipe out the floor and essentially everyone on it while the woman, Sarah, was keeping watch on the door. Right now she huffed at his last sentence and looked at the door again.

"Thought so" Charles said whilst turning back to the pipe and finishing the job "there, that should go off in about five minutes, lets go" the original plan had been to covertly eliminate a few targets in the building but this alternate solution had been proposed, approved, and then passed along to them, much to Sarah's dismay.

they both exited the room and went different ways, however Sarah noticed Samsara, or Ezikiel as his name turned out to be, in the Hall, Both his eyes were currently blue but she knew about the contacts and his eyecolor and couldn't resist taking the jab at him "oh, I like your eyes, how unique" grinning as he passed by her and went to his room after only a forced smile in return.
----
Ezikiel opened the door to his room and stepped in, closing the door behind him and then leaning back on it and bringing a hand up to facepalm himself, he couldn't believe he forgot something so simple, he only even realized he forgot the contacts when the girl in the hallway complimented his "unique" eyes. He responded with a smile of course but he knew then how he'd screwed up. Taking a deep breath he pushed of the door and reassured himself that things would be fine as he moved to pack his things, this was only a temporary hideout and it's time is running low.

While he was packing he couldn't help but hear a few booms going on somewhere else on the floor, he thought nothing of it until they started getting louder. He only had seconds to dive away before a blast tore through a wall in his room, setting most of it ablaze. Izzy sat back up and saw that the fire was dangerously close to...BOOM...the small pack of his remaining explosives went off and he fell through the floor into the room below. He did not have many bombs left but it was enough to absolutely ruin the structural integrity of the 101st floor.

Things progressed rapidly from there, fires raging on several floors now and all the inhabitants panicking and running through the halls to grab loved one, friends, and maybe even personal belongings and escape the inferno. None of that was Izzy's current concern as he turned over on his front and curled up to protect himself from falling debris as the entire 101st floor collapsed, with the 102nd floor meeting the 100th and leaving everything above dangerously unstable.

Izzy wasted no time in scrambling up to find an escape, only stopping for a double take on a mostly broken mirror. What he saw shocked him, His eyes, both of them a deep blue color, he had not forgotten his contacts. He stood there for only a moment before his realization was cut short by something collapsing. This floor was not going to last long. He ran for the door and looked out into the burning hallway, as he got there falling debris blocked off one direction leaving him with one choice, so he took it, sprinting down the hall in hopes of finding a way out.
----
Sarah had wound up caught in the blast as well, cursing Charles under her breath as she got back up, suddenly a floor lower than she was before, she was making her way off the floor to the rendezvous when she saw that Ezikiel had somehow lived through that explosion. Her earlier grin returned now that she had an excuse to kill him herself.

She rushed him, coming from his side and tackling him through a weakened wall. The scuffle that followed involved some punching, kicking, bit of clawing, a little groping, a few bites, and a knife that narrowly missed a very sensitive area. It's end result was Ezekiel lying on the floor clutching a hand over a knife wound on his inner thigh and Sarah's body a few feet away.

With the building still collapsing around him, worse off from that little delay a moment ago, Ezikiel didn't have much time to deal with his injury, quickly getting up and limping through the burning hallway, unaware that Charles was still somewhere in the building, and that he knew of his partner's death.

 

Chapter Two:
Jericho's Oven​

Even on the outskirts of Towercrest you could see the fireball sat within a cluster of high rising towers, the cold lights of the city at night waning against the bright flashes of orange. Jericho Plaza, one of those housing project towers, was lit up like the sun, the flames licking and spewing from within. That hot fiery sun only seemed to grow in mass as it burned through the middle of the complex, spreading both up and down.

The Nighthawk sped through the night's sky towards the tower, the airship dark and ominous, hiding in plain sight with its black matte camouflage. The only lights coming from the beast were the cold blue light of the cockpit and the ion thrusters in each wing -translucent blue rings humming with energy, bubbling in the air as the Nighthawk shot through the sky.

Spinkz slouched cooly in his pilot seat, gliding the joystick effortlessly through the jungle of skyscrapers, keeping low to avoid STE radar and air patrols. The Nighthawk followed his every movement with finesse and precision, causing little turbulence for his passengers in the back. The pilot seemed fairly at ease considering he was flying narrowly between skyscrapers, pitching and ducking ever so smoothly into corner after corner. The crooked smile on his lips said all it needed about how much he was enjoying the flight, and there was no real way of knowing whether Spinkz was actually taking this seriously or not. It didn't help that he was wearing a red blindfold either.

Flipping the switch on his radio he spoke into the mic, "Hellcat I am on approach, ETA 2 minutes over."

Her voice crackled through comms, "Tsk-I read you Spinkz. The fire originated on the 101st floor but has now spread through 99, 100, 102 and 103 as well, over-Tsk."

"Understood, over." He lowered the mic and gazed around his cockpit chair to see the new recruits all strapped in and ready for the drop. "How you'll doing back there folks?" He asked. The group just seemed to look at him and then go back to whatever they were doing, all sitting in silence as the Nighthawk rumbled along. Spinkz screwed his face up a little from the lack of response, but perservered, "So um, nothing like an actual baptism of fire, am I right?" He peered at them all with his blindfold on - which was just a little unnerving - and smiled stupidly as he waited for a response that never came. Furrowing his brow, he turned back in his chair and picked up the mic once more, "You got a real fun bunch here Hellcat, over."

"Tsk-They're just trying to stay focused Spinkz, as you should be too, over-Tsk."

"I mean my fire joke didn't even get a chuckle, and that shit used to slay Lennox, over." He said, the last words sticking a little dry in his mouth.

"Tsk-That's because you and Lennox were idiots Spinkz, over-Tsk."

"Yea, we were." He said quietly to himself.

The Nighthawk turned one last corner around a skyscraper and was instantly enveloped in harsh fiery light. Streams of bright orange shot through the cockpit and into the back of the aircraft, it's intensity causing the group to cover their eyes. Spinkz seemed unfazed however. The inferno was dead ahead and the team watched the building groan and buckle under the heat of the fire. Girders screeched and twisted in the blaze, falling through windows and out into the midnight air, while floors bubbled and boiled, cooking fast in the Jericho Plaza oven.

"We're here." Spinkz said. "Time to show us what your made of folks."

The Nighthawk powered up and lifted higher and higher, past the build up of the flames before stopping just level with the 106th floor. The fire had not reach here yet nor the floor below, but spits of flame were beginning to form inside the 104th floor. The building was fairly cheap in design, with only a few windows and lots of plastic panelling to hide the structure and wiring. Spinkz flicked a couple of switches and watched as a triangular blue light shot out from the Nighthawk and scanned through the entire 106th floor. No civilians found.

With the okay given Spinkz flicked open the trigger on the joystick, waiting for the red light to turn green and listening for the familiar sound of the mini gun forming on the underbelly of the Nighthawk. The final clunck dropped underneath and the light went green. Spinkz squeezed the trigger.

Bullets spewed forth from the mini gun like a freight train, impacting into the glass and plastic panelling with hot glowing sparks and disintegrating everything in its path. The front of the building was torn to pieces with such velocity, ripping open a large hole in the 106th floor. It didn't take long to make a good opening. Spinkz took his hand from the trigger and listened as the mini gun finished its final rotation with a series of slowing clunck sounds.

In a flash Spinkz flipped the Nighthawk around and released the cargo doors, the back of the aircraft sliding open to reveal the hole in the side of the 106th floor. The runoff from Nighthawk floated barely two feet away from the torn hole of the 106th floor and while the whole group watched, the lights in the cargo hold flashed green and Spinkz shouted through his mic, "You're on. Go, go, go!"

 

Saving people from a burning building. At least his first mission with Neon would be something he had some experience with. Of course, the building had been much smaller and… the civilian turned out to be a cat, but the point is that he’d been in a burning building before. Surely that counts for something.

A smile covered his face when Spinkz told that horrible pun. Of course, nobody could see it through his helmet. But he liked this guy. It was a simple man, yet full of paradoxes. Even though he was blind he knew how to lighten up a room. A quick look at John. Well, part of the room anyway. RAM had always had a bit of a fascination with blind people. He was curious about how very different the world must be for them.

Hellcat was right though, focus on the mission. There were several secondary objectives, but RAM had already decided that he was going to ignore those and let the others handle them. There are real people in here in real danger. They always had priority. The moment the hangar doors opened RAM jumped down, hearing Spinkz’s “Go, go, go!” faintly disappear into the background.

RAM did not pay much attention to the first two floors. He yelled “Fire!” and “Get out!” as hard as he could, but also immediately ran towards the staircase going down. Not one for the slow approach, he grabbed the railing and jumped down the double stairs in one go, down to the 105th floor. Still no fire. Running, shouting, he went on to the second flight of stairs. He jumped down again, but instead of landing on the 104th floor, he crashed through and into the flames of the 103rd.

Panic. First reaction when descending into the depths of Hell. Very normal given the situation. Nothing to be ashamed of. However, RAM soon realised he could not afford to be in that state for very long. The room he was in had only one door and a fiery beam just collapsed in front of it. RAM jumped over the beam and through the door which, luckily, opened from the inside and gave way immediately.

The hallway was fairly clear, but fire was coming from downstairs and was rapidly making its way up. The floor on the other hand was rapidly making its way down, so he had to do something fast. The hallway went full circle with some cross streets running through the entire floor. The centre part of the floor had already collapsed into a big hole quickly widening from the inside out.

There was a room not too far from the hole in the middle. The door was closed and a support beam was blocking it. There were screams coming from the other side, already lessening in strength. The doors were made of a very cheap and weak polymer, so RAM decided to figure out what was going on. He punched a hole through the door the size of his fist and held his head in front of it to look inside. He was blinded for a few seconds as smoke came pouring out with high density and into his helmet. These people did not have a lot of time.

“Everybody, get back!” He compressed his helmet and started kicking the door hard and after the second time the door gave way. Sadly, so did the door post. RAM lost his balance and fell on the ground, covered with rubble and pieces of rock. This was bad. Really bad. People were starting to crawl over him to get out of the room, into relatively fresh air. He was stuck and being trampled by a terrified mob of family members escaping the worst birthday party they ever celebrated. He thought it would never end.

“Quick, can you move at all?” RAM opened his eyes and saw a man trying to move some of the rubble from his back, helped by a little girl. “Take her to safety. There’s a carrier on the 106th…” They didn’t stop. “We’ll have none of that son, now can you move?”

RAM once again activated his exoskeleton and with all his might, tried to push the heavy debris from his back. The back wall of the room crumbled into the big hole and the room would soon follow. He had to get up, NOW!

 

Sabina didn't leave the craft. Instead she went up to the cockpit, knocking on the door with a hard strike before giving a shout. "Can you take us to ground level?"

Afterwards her eyes went to her phone, the bright light reflecting off the green as she scrolled through her contacts. Again she found Mr Carver and ran through her head the likelihood of all the events. She calls him, tells him something's going on, not that she's a member of Neon of course, she wasn't suicidal. They send a squad of troopers, they either kill everyone inside, or rescue everyone inside. The latter was the most likely if they really wanted to piss off Scyther, not to mention that they didn't know who they were saving. All she had was a guarantee that they could hinder STE in some anonymous way, which wasn't enough to base her call around.

"And ask Cat to send me some more information!" She shouted, bashing the door twice again.

Once again she dived back to her phone, finding Mavin and beginning to think.

Architectural plans would be a safe bet, as well as knowledge of utilities. Water and electricity both being important. After that would be the surrounding buildings, finding out what measures they had in terms of stopping the fire from spreading. After that was stifling any response STE might have.

She pressed the button and quickly pressed to her ear. After a few moments, a synthesised voice came from it. "What is it you require?"

"Pinpoint my address and get the plans of the building and the surrounding area. Find a way to keep track of any signals coming in or out. If its the corporation's tell me, after that, get on any network you can."

"Anything else, miss?"

"When I'm heading home start making coffee."

 

I had more experience burning things to the ground than saving them. Well, first time for everything. I can think of a million ways to start a fire, but only one way to stop one: choke it out. Since I’m all out of wet blankets and I’m not nearly drunk enough to piss this thing out, that only leaves one option. We got get water a hundred stories into the air. Easy, right?

Hell, water is the hardest part of building anything this tall. Most folks think its wind or the tower’s weight. Nah, that’s the easy part. We’ve been building shit to the sky since, what, the pyramids. That’s easy. But the Egyptians didn’t have running water… or did they? Fuck it, ask a historian. I’m just a mechanic with a deathwish, what do I know.

Anyway, the blind guy swung the ship around and the fresh meat started hopping out the back, like hot dogs to a grill. Have fun, kids. Ol’ John has a better idea. Ya don’t beat a blaze this big by getting on top of it. The real action is on the floors below.

The real question is, why isn’t this shit putting itself out? Either there’s no fire suppression systems in the whole building -- this is Syther after all, cheap bastards wouldn’t waste a dime on something that might save lives. Or, somebody cut the water supply. Only way to know is to pull up the floor plans and figure out if this place even has sprinklers.

I looked around for the chick with the phone. She seemed the obvious choice if I wanted blueprints. Caught a glimpse of her heading for the cockpit. Hah, big surprise, she’s heading away from the action. So predictable.

I ditched my seatbelt and headed after her. “Hey, smartass. I need you to-”

"Pinpoint my address and get the plans of the building and the surrounding area,” she was already on the phone. “Find a way to keep track of any signals coming in or out. If it’s the corporation's tell me, after that, get on any network you can."

I waited for her to finish her call. See, I got manners. “You done? Good,” I said when she hung up. “Hit me up when you get those plans. I’m goin’ in to see if there’s any water pressure or if it's all stored in reserve tanks topside. A building this tall ought to have pipes the size of my dick. Huge.” I grinned at her. Obnoxious little witch, but I could get used to working with her.

"Let the kids worry about savin' ants. We'll focus on saving the colony. Got it?" I turned to leave, but paused. “No phone. I’ll nab one once I’m in. What’s your number?” I bet she gets asked that all the time. Ha, yeah right.

 

“Hit me up when you get those plans. I’m goin’ in to see if there’s any water pressure or if it's all stored in reserve tanks topside. A building this tall ought to have pipes the size of my dick. Huge. Let the kids worry about savin' ants. We'll focus on saving the colony. Got it?"

"Yes, and unlike you lets hope they've managed to stay up." She replied, before quickly spouting a string of numbers. "And there's something fun for you as well. Smash any windows possible on the way up. Till I get the plans and find out what the plastic is, I'm assuming that place if full of toxic fumes."

 

Were we really meant to save them? These dozens of people whose fate has been sealed the moment they chose to follow the order? What would they do if we gave them a second chance? Remember: a gift of life should NOT be squandered. Many of them would simply choose to forget the danger they were in. They would bow once more to the oppressors. They would keep disregarding the dangers they face in their environment. How else could they live in such fragile building?

Quit it, I berated myself in my thoughts as I plunged out of the craft. It’s not their fault. Corps have an upper hand when it comes to negotiation, and you know it already. People are not mindless herd; they are victims of a system. And you pledged yourself to the cause. Save people. Give hope. God wants it.

I followed the Armor Boy through the staircase. He outran me in seconds, though; take his insane exoskeleton and my age, and add the two up.

I took some time to look around the first floors from the top. Hallways were clear. The Armor Boy had clearly taken care of that one already.

I went further down and immediately had to stop. I started to choke. I went back a tad bit, covering my mouth with a sleeve.

Too much dust, too much smoke for this old man. Something had to be done with this, and a plenty of others would also be thankful for that. I cocked the shotgun and proceeded to break every window I could get a glance on.

Boomstick played a long forgotten tune. Glass shards fell outside and down, down they went. An influx of air and improved ventilation of the building finally allowed me to breathe and actually see how big of a mess the whole place turned into. But there was no time admiring the view.

Fresh air into a burning building meant bigger flames, so I had to make haste.

I charged down the stairs, or… whatever remained of them, on the floor 103. I heard the stampede. A great mass of people, coughing and wheezing, finally made their escape out of a smoky prison. They tread through the labyrinth of rubble, mindful only of their own safety. Good for them, not good for the others, inevitably trapped here.

I heard a familiar voice from just ahead of me. “Take her to safety. There’s a carrier on the 106th…”

That simply had to be the Armor Boy.

“We’ll have none of that son,” I heard a reply. “Now can you move?”

Then, something chipped off and fell down. Something heavy.

Well, somebody was in trouble. I charged onward. There I saw Armor Boy, trapped by a solid pile of debris. Beside him, two strangers tried to get rid of the pile. Behind him, the room was falling apart.

Talk about the timely arrival, but all I could offer was just pushing off some of the heavier chunks. I could not trust my shotgun to solve that kind of problem.

“It’s not your time,” I exclaimed. “Not yours, not any of you.”

 

"Can you take us to ground level?" Sabine asked.

Spinkz shot his head around the cockpit chair and scrunched his mouth and nose together, "'fraid not, I need to provide support here - the mini gun isn't just for violence you know. There's parachutes just over there if you fancy it," He said pointing to the left of the cargo bay, "But the others could probably do with a hand in there..."

She looked at him with a slight frustration, holding her silence as she stared at him. He stared back, albeit with his blindfold, becoming a little uncertain. Eventually she just shouted, "Ask Cat to send me more information!"

Spinkz turned away back to his cockpit and started typing furiously, "Would it kill you to say please..." He muttered to himself before taping on his mic, "Yo, Cat! Sabine wants building schematics, would you or Samson be able to deliver, over?"

"Tsk-He's sending it through to your hub now-Tsk."

From seemingly nowhere, a large screen divided the back of the cargo bay glowing ominously blue, with blueprint details of Jericho Plaza. The building was built from strong but basic supports, however they only ran across every three floors meaning that cheaper materials were used in between. Currently the floors 99, 100 and 101 were in one heavy structural box, while 102, 103 and 104 were in their own. With the fire originating on floor 101, the fire was taking longer to spread into the upper floors, however now that it had past through to 102 it meant that it would quickly spread between these floors. It also meant that floors 99, 100 and 101 were pretty much hell at this point.

As for the electrical and water lines, the mains for each ran up the side of the building, left and right respectively, before splintering out into the different floors. The water lines were particularly small when running through a floor and had already likely burst, and even if they had survived they would not be funnelling enough water through. However on the far right hand side of the building, thick water pipes and values were secured behind STE security doors that required hacking. Strangely these parts of the building were reinforced structurally with Compound K, an extremely strong but lightweight material which was resistance to heat and gunfire.

What was also interesting was that while the majority of the floors were normal living areas, floors 99 through to 101 had a huge open plaza within the middle of it, which was known as the Jericho Springs Shopping Complex. It was a huge open square with balconies overlooking from floors 100 and 101. From looking at the blueprints many of the housing corridors filtered through and eventually met out at this square where hundreds of shops, cafes and other stores were located.

"Tsk-Sabine and John, it's Hellcat here." She came through on Sabine's mic, "Schematics should be up within the Nighthawk now. Whatever you're going to, do it soon."

--

Charles broke out from apartment 101-B24, thrusting his shoulder hard into the splintering door and falling to the ground as smoke and flame exploded out of the room. The flames thrust forward and converged back like a boxer's jab, leaving him with a singed backpack and a couple of licks of fire that he eventually patted out. It was lucky he'd used all the explosives on the building, he didn't like the idea of being a martyr.

From the ashes of fire had come the smoke and Charles stood up only to inhale a huge breath into his lungs, the heavy smog threatening to choke the life out of him. He coughed and spluttered and grasped for his singed backpack, grabbing his gas mask and swiping it onto his face. The mask was a small device barely covering his eyes, nose and mouth but it was lightweight and slick, with built in tech to give him vision through the smoke. Taking a few breaths to acclimatise, he leaned on the wall and stayed low to rest. With his all black gear, he would be incredibly difficult to see, but he needed that - no doubt a number of targets had survived. Especially considering that Sarah was dead.

Slinking low through the corridor using the smoke and small pockets of darkness, he eventually found his way towards the plaza market area. He found himself at the top floor of a huge three story shopping complex, that spanned in front of him far into the distance. From what he could see the complex stretched the distance of three football fields and disappeared behind darkness and fire, with a plethora of balconies lining the open area and a spiders web of catwalks and escalators ahead.

A fierce orange hue caked the entire complex, with the occasional store bursting into a ball of fire to add that extra bit of spice. There was a huge statue in the middle that towered up the three floors, the ominous figure of an STE soldier standing tall, with rifle in one hand while the other reached down to a little boy, in a gesture of heroism and safety. How ironic, Charles smirked to himself. Back in his grunt days, he'd have just shot the boy. They all would have.

Times were different now though. With backpack in hand he found a nice crow's nest up on the maintenance catwalks, high above the flame and danger. It sat in relative darkness, giving him the perfect place to hide. He pulled out four different pieces from his bag, metallic and intricate, and started attaching them together to make a menacing sniper rifle. Charles perched himself low on the catwalk laying prone, and notched his rifle just over the edge of the catwalk for a perfect view of the entire complex. The fire would eventually reach him, but not for a while. And in the meantime his little harpies could do all the hard work. Once activated, three flying orbs jumped out from his bag, hovered for a moment and then emitted a low rumbling drone. Suddenly they dashed off with terrifying speed to find any remain survivors.

 

“Dammit,” I muttered as I gave the blueprints a quick once-over. Didn’t take long to see my original plan was no good. I was hoping this place would have reserve tanks, storing water every couple of floors. Blow the tanks, flood the building, fire solved.

Instead, it just had mainline pipes running up opposing sides, presumably fed by some huge ass pumps on the bottom floors or in the basement. If Syther shuts the pumps off, we’re fucked. If someone blows out a mainline on one of the lower floors, we’re fucked.

On the other hand, this kind of setup operates at much higher water pressure than a tank-based system -- can’t get water a hundred stories high without massive pressure. That’s good. If I blow the mainlines on a higher floor, it’ll blast water through the whole building.

Whatever I do, I need Little Miss Smartass to back me up. Every plan’s got a wink link, eh. I snatched a parachute from the rack and turned to her while I strapped up. “I don’t like askin’ keyboard jockeys for backup, but I need two things from you, sweetcheeks. First, make sure the damned security doors ain’t locked when I get there. Second, kill the override on the water pumps so the system doesn’t try to shut itself off when I blow the pipes.”

I tightened the straps on the parachute. I doubt I’ll need it, but… well, it’s always nice to have a plan C.

“Once I’m in, I’ll cut through the plaza on 99 through 101. Seems like that’s the fastest way to get on top of this shit. I’m goin’ after the mainlines on 102 or 103 --whichever is easier to get at-- and I’ll bust ‘em with whatever I can find. Anything’s a bomb, in a pinch.” I grinned at her as I turned ot leave. "All I need from you, sugartits, is to sit here and play the piano while I bang the drum," I nodded to the computer, "got it?"

 

Sabina sighed. She was probably going to regret this, but by whatever cruel deity had decided to put him in the vague proximity of her, she had to. She took a deep, breath, then another, and another, before delivering a rapid slap with the back of her hand. She gave a pleased sigh, feeling much better. "Next time it will be lead through the left testicle." She stated flatly, before overlooking the schematics. After a moment she put her phone on speaker mode, everyone still on the craft able to here it.

"Marvin, can you see this as well?"

"Yes Miss, Cat has given me temporary access to the network."

"Do you have access to the building yet?"

"It is in process Miss, when I do I should be able to access emergency door control, climate control, and generators. The sprinkler system has been damaged however, and I'm unsure how the fire will have affected the doors."

"Just get it done. And bring up the fire triangle as well." As she spoke it came up on the blue screen, a three sided shape with a word on each side. Fuel, Oxygen, Heat. With that she turned back to the asshole. "The doors are going to be locked before you get to them. They should be airtight. The fire consumes the oxygen and put itself out, and you can walk through. Just find a phone and get the number I gave you. I'll be closing off the other floors as well to keep it contained. Any questions?"

 

I didn't even flich as she backhanded me, just grinned like a loon. "Into the rough stuff, aye?" I said, rubbing my chin, more amused than angry.

She had to be the laziest hacker I've ever seen, sitting there, on the phone, calling up people to do her dirty work. This girl needed a reality check. Frankly, I hated her. She represented everything wrong with Neon. Nah, everything wrong with the world. I bet she's a former corp bastard. Hell, she might be on their payroll right now, like some kind of double agent or somthin.' Yet, for some reason, I felt this overwhelming urge to see her bent over a desk with nothin' on.

Nothin' but me, that is.

Heh, focus. Focus. Burning building. What can I say, love-hate relationships get me goin. And fires. Who doesn't love a good fire?

She asked if I had any questions. I just laughed, loud and obnoxious-like. Yeah, I had questions. None she'd be willing to answer, though. "We'll be in touch," I said before I turned, got a running start, and leaped across the gap into the burning building. Time to earn my keep. All play and no work makes Johnny a dull boy.

 

"Mr. Roman, I'm sure you understand..."

These words stung. Roman knew he had done something wrong along the way. Roman knew that he had lost control of his source. 'No' is a word sources do not have the luxury to say. Things would have to be unpleasant; an unfortunate series of events.

"I'm sure you won't mind coming into the EO office then, just to help confirm your story." Roman said

"why would we need to go to the equal opportunity office..."

"You know I mean the Ethereal Operations office but --if you wish to be difficult-- we can make it a cell." Roman lied, with a smile. EO did not know he was here. This source was the link he needed to identify the EO agents hunting for the mole in the Towercrest office. Roman was the mole. Roman felt he was the only one who needed to know that, for obvious reasons.

"There's no need to go there, I've told you everything" The source said.

Roman's optical implants scoured the source's face; he could see indicators flashing all over. The half smile – fake. The slight twitch on the lower left lip – fear. The furled brow – concern. The indicators disappeared as quickly as they came but the implants kept them highlighted. It seems like progress.

"All I have to say is: produce something, soon; for your own good." Roman said, the smile having never left his face. "Now, I know you went through all the trouble to come out here..."

"Next time let's not meet in the projects." The source interrupted. His tone dripped with disdain.

"Take this for the ride home." Roman continued, putting down much more money than needed for the ride home. He stood up without waiting for a response. "Remember why we were here?"

"Looking at the installation of EO mood modification devices to improve living conditions and the value of the structure." The source said in a flat monotone, perfected through rote memorization.

Roman walked away. Damn it! EO is onto me and I still don't know how. He knew they were getting close, they must be. Just a few days ago he received a little bizarre black disc. At one point it projected a message telling him to go to some back alley joint and join some rebels; not really subtle. If they wanted a sting operation to bring him up on conspiracy charges they would need to be more original than that. It was clear, they knew he was the mole but just didn't have the proof yet. They needed him to take the plunge off the cliff because they don’t have the means to push him.

The ceiling collapsed, then he heard the explosion. His optical sensors were overloaded and digital artifacts – disjointed pixels – from the sensors crashing. The smell of carpet and flesh burning filled his nostrils. This is a reasonable time to panic. He was not sure at what point he had fallen prone. He was not sure which way the exit was. He somewhat certain he had a concussion; it would explain the blur of running armor he thought he saw running by. He struggled to his feet after a short time. The source was nowhere to be seen.

Note to self: no more meetings at Jericho Plaza.

 

“God, give me strength,” I said, but pleas were to no avail. Strength was one of many attributes of mine which faded with age.

The three of us could not get rid of all the debris Armor Boy had to withstand. We did what we could, but this support beam hindered our attempts to free our comrade.

The chasm still grew. I could see all the rubble forming layers two floors below us. A fall from such height could spell death to any of us… especially with such heavy load on his back as the Armor Boy.

Face death with dignity, I thought. And may you pass the Trial of the Witness. I’ll pray for you.

I heard footsteps, and heavy breathing. There was somebody else not so far away.

Could it be…

I stood up and scanned the surroundings. At the doorway, half the distance from the opposite end of the tower, I noticed someone.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” I said to the Boy and the others.

I made my way to the stranger. This one looked kind of confused with what had happened. But the good thing was, he stood on both feet. I was not picky when it comes to getting some help, unless they would turn around and put a gun to your head, of course. But he didn’t look like that sort in any way.

I grabbed his arm. “You there. Come on over, we need any pair of hands. You with us? Can you help? Follow me.”

I went back to the rest, leaving the stranger free to come up at his leisure, and grabbed that heavy beam which caused so much trouble.

“We try once again. I found someone who could help us… Armor Boy, can we contact the aircraft somehow?”

Even I considered that option unrealistic. I had no means of contacting the ship; I could only draw its attention with my shotgun. Shot in the air, breaking some street lights… yeah, unreliable. I was truly curious if Armor Boy had some legit options.

That is if we saved him from splattering two floors below us, of course.

 

The elderly man didn't wait for a response. a man of action. Roman thought. He didn't have a plan, which was unusual. He had several plans to escape the building or bail on the meeting if some corp showed up but no plans for the building bursting into flame; it was very improbable. With no better options immediately presenting themselves, he followed the elderly man. He was led to the side of the armored man, now pinned beneath rubble, that he had seen before.

A good sign, I suppose this means I am mentally sound after-all. well... a good sign for me anyway...

Roman began to do all he could to move the massive beam. Despite being young and very fit, lifting was not his forte. He strained against the beam alongside these people he had never met. Together they shared an unspoken bond, valuing human life. At one point this would have been considered normal; These actions would have been expected. These days, one's grasp on their own humanity could be much more tenuous. His train of thought was jolted off the tracks as he looked at the encroaching gap in the floor.

Roman quickly assessed the situation. The fire must have started from below. Where is the smoke? He soon realized many windows had been blown out; The floor had been ventilated. Good news, they would have livable levels of oxygen for the short term. Downside, the fire would have all the fuel and oxygen it would need to keep burning. The floors below looked like hell. We won't be going that way. If we go up, the smoke will kill us before too long. I need more information. He kept pushing along with the others.

“We try once again. I found someone who could help us… Armor Boy, can we contact the aircraft somehow?” Said the elderly man

"Aircraft? Are you with the Syther fire response team?" Roman asked, slightly worried. This went from a boring day to a long day in about two minuets