“Eighty-Second Floor” The plain voice stated, as the elevator arrived at its destination. Dixon blinking and bringing the rifle up to aim, the doors slide open and both look cautiously at the empty hallway. Poking their heads out, they see no guards, and exit the elevator, this time knowing the correct route to take to Chester’s place. They work their way around slowly, checking corners and covering each other. Finally, they come to the corner, looking around at Chester’s door and seeing two talon’s on either side of it.
“Shit!” Dixon whispers.
“Don’t think we can pull a spare change on this one,” Jimmy winces. “What are we going to do?” They move back down the corridor a bit, to consider.
As they mull over possible ideas, Dixon suddenly feels a buzz in his thigh. Not pain but a tingle, shortly after, a thump on his head puts him to his knees. Jimmy darts a look down the corridor where they came from. A talon races towards them, having thrown a heavy mace like device at Dixon, realising that his energy pistol had little effect.
Jimmy grabs Dixon’s shoulder, pushing him to the ground and leaning against him as he reels the gun up and sprays needle hellfire in the guard’s direction. The walls shred as the needles pass through. The guard falls to his knees as he pours blood from the fresh holes, his hand holding the pistol almost falling off from the tear it now has in it. Jimmy sighs, breathing with a sense of relief.
“Two more coming,” RJ says, as Dixon grunts in pain at the throbbing in the side of his head. Jimmy whips around to see the two guards covering the door turn the corner to investigate the thump of the body hitting the floor. Jimmy shreds through them as they jump in realisation of their fate. This time Jimmy’s aim is a little more focused than his first spray. A gush of blood comes from the first guard’s chest as he rag dolls to the ground. The other takes a few needles to the face. His helmet getting torn to pieces, revealing a chunk of his face and neck missing, blood pouring down his body, he joins his colleague on the floor.
Dixon pulls himself up, rubbing his head and neck. “Good job buddy, that fucker came out of nowhere”. He pats Jimmy, thanking him. Rising to his feet, he steps over the two bodies. “You coming?”
“Right behind you,” Jimmy says, catching his breath from the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the spray of blood on the walls shaking his nerves a little. He manages to regain focus and joins Dixon at the door. Both stand either side, Dixon readies himself before knocking on the door. Murmurs of a disgruntled voice get louder before the door opens.
“I thought I was crystal fucking cle…“. Before Chester can finish, a mag rifle is pressed firmly against his forehead. He pauses, springs his hands in the air, dropping the glass from his hand. It bumps on the carpet and spills the rum, staining it a dark golden.
Dixon pushes him back into the apartment with his gun, Chester trying his best not to stumble as he backs into the living room. Jimmy quickly follows, closing the door and assessing each room he enters. Quickly moving from room to room, Dixon waits and stares Chester dead in the eye. His trembling lip the only movement between the two of them.
“Clear” Jimmy says, returning from upstairs. His gun lowered and his smile returned. Visibly restored to his original. Dixon relaxes his grip on the gun a little and takes a step back.
“Miss me?” Dixon says, he can see the terror in Chester’s eyes.
“Wh-what do you want?” Chester asks. Their entrance into the apartment had been so quick and controlled, that neither Dixon nor Jimmy had noticed his face.
“Fixed your mouth up a bit huh?” Dixon says, while inspecting the new origin of Chester’s slightly digitised voice. No nose remains at all, his mouth a bizarre mixture of flesh and tendons wrapped around shining chrome metal. It’s not a working jaw but more like a sculpture of one, set in place. Two holes are centred where the mouth once was, one with a grating over it, the other dripping a small remnant of rum. A slight beehive like dome replaces the nose almost looking like an old style car exhaust, eight slits of vents emitting his breath.
“I can’t eat anything now, I’m sucking through a straw thanks to you” Chester’s eyes lower. Clearly the change in his facial structure putting a downer on the rest of his days.
Jimmy peers round, scowls his face in disgust. “Bet you are a shit kisser now too”. He steps aside and leans on the arm of the sofa opposite. Dixon sits down at the other end of the sofa, propping his feet up on the table, gun still firmly squared.
“Needed some protection, did you? Can’t blame you for being a little scared I guess” Dixon says “I’ve got to say, I’m very impressed at how you managed to get elite talons guarding you”.
“I, uh, I’m an important guy at Fenghuang. I deal with big accounts.” Chester says, speaking to the floor.
“Bullshit! Elites only go to the top dogs of Feng, you may be hot shit, but you certainly aren’t top dog material” Dixon leans forward.
“They look out for their employees” Chester reasons.
“They might for the top dogs like he said” Jimmy butts in. “But after you got a glory hole and vibrator strapped to your face, you aren’t ever making it to executive.” Dixon’s eyes don’t hesitate, fixed on Chester’s, they almost inflict pain with their intensity.
“Look, Dixon”
“Oh, so you do remember me?” Dixon smiles a little.
“I do, now. Brought up your file when I was in the hospital. I get it. You’re pissed at me. I killed your daughters” As Chester explains, Dixon’s famous grimace crawls onto his face a little, pushing Chester deeper into the seat.
“I may be an asshole for that. You don’t want to mess with these guys though.” says Chester.
“The documents I saw upstairs, explain,” says Dixon, nodding at the office upstairs.
“Legal shit I have to take care of. The execs put it in place, but wanted it kept hush hush. Nobody tracks paper these days - but it’s still official. I’m to take it to Halo to get it processed. Would have done before you came in and nearly put me in a coma.” The digitised voice breaking from his natural tone occasionally. The implant must not be great at dealing with a lack of breath.
“Who is it going to at Halo?” Jimmy asks.
“I don’t know, some bitch called Leanne Watkins.” Jimmy looks to Dixon as Chester reveals the lead. Dixon doesn’t break his stare. “Her receptionist set up the appointment the day you attacked me. Hey, wait. Isn’t she…“. As Chester connects the dots and points to Dixon, a loud crash explodes from the door. Smoke billows out of the entrance corridor. Jimmy and Dixon quickly stand and spin round, fixing their guns on the cloud growing. Dixon grabs Chester and throws him into a chokehold in front of him. He hesitates a little, as the far smaller man sputters spit and strange noises, while he chokes.
“Drop your weapons” A loud metallic voice states. Dixon fires a look at Jimmy.
“Drop your weapons, now!” the voice rings again. Neither move. Gunfire suddenly springs out of the cloud, painting the kitchen area and shattering three of the large glass windows. Jimmy ducks behind a table as Dixon throws himself and Chester behind a sofa. Three talons appear from the smoke, each one holding an energy rifle. One has a nine-inch blade, another a baton spitting out electricity, and the last one a katana strapped to his back. They scan the room, not noticing the men due to the mess their blind fire caused.
The man with the baton quickly goes upstairs. The other two spread out, one looking around the kitchen area and moving toward the bathroom. The other slowly edges around the living room. He moves closer and closer to the sofa Dixon and Chester hide behind.
“Documents secured” the voice of the guard upstairs echoes down.
“Hey!” Chester manages to call out between the strong grips of Dixon’s arm around his neck. The talon quickly adjusting his gun, points it at the sofa. Dixon grunts.
“Shit” He quickly throws Chester out of the way, hoping for the talon to take the bait. He doesn’t; looking quickly at Chester and then back to the so
fa.
“Fuck” Dixon shouts again as he springs from hiding as the talon lights up the sofa with energy. It bursts into flames and splits in two. Dixon quickly side steps as the talon brings his gun around to shoot again, releasing an energy charge out of the window. The baton swinging quickly in and smashes off Dixon’s hip, the energy dissipating over the armour which takes the brunt of the hit. Dixon needs only to correct his stance slightly before Dixon grabbing the talon’s arm with the baton and swinging it down between his legs. A gulp of pain can be heard, followed by a scream, as the talon feels the voltage through his genitals. Dixon brings his mag rifle to the chin of the man and pulls the trigger. A needle flies straight up through the ceiling and into the floor above. The body instantly goes limp and falls to the floor.
“Fuck!” Chester shouts as he witnesses the execution. The guard checking the bathroom sprints out to see the situation - only to be dump tackled by Jimmy. The two tussle over control, before Jimmy manages to elbow his arms free, mashing the butt of his rifle into the helmet, dazing the talon but not eliminating him. He grabs for the blade strapped to his leg and pulls it free, swiping at Jimmy in one go. Missing he adjusts the blade in his hand to stab back in the other direction. Jimmy drops the rifle and manages to catch the blade. Straddled on top of him, he turns the blade downward and leans all of his weight on top. The blade slowly descends towards a crack in the talons helmet as he loses his strength, Frustration coming from the talon as he struggles against his demise. Finally, the blade enters the helmet and he struggles no more.
Dixon pulls Chester to his feet as Jimmy leans back, still straddling the body, breathing in exhaustion. Dixon squints at Chester, smashing the butt of the mag rifle into the car exhaust nose of his face. His head springs back accompanied by an audible yelp. Jimmy pats himself down, making sure he has no injuries.
“Did you see how many there were?” Jimmy asks, slowly rising to his feet.
Dixon reels the gun back, ready to hit Chester again. Just as he is about to thrusts it forward, he notices a faint curling in Chester’s brow. A flicker of light momentarily blinds Dixon, his mag rifle dropping out of his grip and hitting the floor. Noticing a sharp feeling in his arm he looks at the display, normally he’d see RJ’s sarcastically smiling emoticon face. Instead, the display has a perfectly straight cut through it. Confused Dixon looks closer, the cut isn’t just through the device but through his entire arm. He tries to turn his wrist, but the limb falls from him. Floods of blood pour from the stump just below the elbow. His forearm thumps to the ground and rests against his feet.
Dixon turns to see the third talon holding his katana aloft, a small drop of blood dripping from it. Still unaware of the pain beginning to throb through his arm, Dixon quickly throws a fist in the talons direction. The man swats his punch away with the side of his sword. Dixon tries to punch with his now stumped arm, the man punches it back. His fist connecting with the bloody stump, Dixon wrenches back as the pain finally devours his brain. The talon whirls the katana around to his back, squatting down as he grabs the energy pistol.
In one graceful manoeuvre, the guard shoots into the air, spinning a full circle and kicking Dixon in the face before landing and ploughing two energy charges directly into his chest. Dixon falls back from the force and shouts furiously in pain. Clutching at his arm.
Stepping over and standing above Dixon, the guard holsters his gun and twirls the katana up above his head. Pointed directly down he bounces to his tiptoes before growling, about to plant the blade in Dixon’s chest.
A faint flutter rings from the kitchen as the man stalls in a pose. The blade shatters and darts off, landing on the floor. As Dixon looks up, he can see what looks like bolts of blood shooting from the man’s back. Quickly followed by chunks of flesh exploding off his body. Finally his body folds backwards, the spine letting off a sharp crack as it splits.
Dixon leans up, seeing the ruin of viscera laid before him. Looking back, he sees Jimmy holding his mag rifle pointed in his direction, the compensator glowing bright white from unloading the entire clip. Jimmy’s face is a picture of shock and surprise.
“So that’s what turbo fire is like” Jimmy mutters. He leans around the corner looking for Dixon’s usual sardonic grin of approval, instead seeing the lopped off arm and contorting a Dixon holding his stump. Jimmy tosses the gun down.
“Fuck, buddy, you ok?” He props Dixon up on his knee, listening to him hide his pain beneath the angry growls.
“Little shit was fast. Thanks for taking him out before he made me a kebab”. Dixon grunts out, amidst the surges of pain, the colour dropping from his face quickly. He shifts his focus to getting up, grabbing his gun from the floor and kicking the corpse that attacked him. Jimmy darts to the kitchen and grabs several cloths, creating a makeshift tourniquet as best he can.
“Holy shit” Chester stands up from his squatted, quivering hiding spot, looking at the carnage laid out across his apartment. Dixon begins edging down the entrance corridor, leaving palm prints of blood. Jimmy grabs Chester and shoves him down the corridor as well.
As Dixon approaches the door Chester sees the grim stump dripping blood. “Buddy, you are fucked up”. Dixon looks back at him, a pale face still booming rage, his eyes dulling as he struggles to remain conscious. Realising he can’t hold himself much longer, Dixon summons all the remaining energy he has and reels the gun up. Jimmy quickly leaps out of the way as Dixon pulls the trigger. Chester falls to the ground with a small and perfect hole in the centre of his forehead. Looking down at his body, Dixon breathes slower, lowering the gun to Chester’s face and pulling the trigger four more times before finally succumbing, and hitting the ground hard. Jimmy looks at the two of them lying in the corridor and at the men in the room. He is the only man left standing on this floor of the building.
Chapter 15
Regaining consciousness in a blur of confusion, Dixon lunges up, pointing the mag rifle at the first figure he sees. Holding his arm as best he can, if a bit shakily, he blinks, clearing his vision, the figure reveals itself, Jimmy stands looking back with a smile of relief. Dixon lowers his arm, realising now that he also doesn’t have his mag rifle.
He looks around, lying in a bed, still wearing his boots, jeans and shirt but his jacket is gone. A throb of a headache reminds him of what transpired. He wasn’t hungover, this pain wasn’t as bad as some of the hangovers he’d had. Running his hand across his head he wonders where he is.
“Jimmy?” He asks, still looking around the dark room.
“We’re at the nearest stitcher I could find.” Jimmy rests his hands at the end of the bed. “Thought you’d lost too much of your juice to come back. You’re pretty tough to kill, you know?” Jimmy says, hiding the choked up feeling in his throat.
Dixon frowns as he squints, focussing his vision as best he can. The room is tiled like a hospital surgery, but this is too dark to be a professional environment like that. It appears clean enough, but the back of the room suggests a seedier tone. Fake body parts hang on a wall like an armoury’s selection of weapons. Posters litter the walls near the entrance to the room. Seeing the staircase through the doorway, Dixon understands fully where he is.
“A god damn stitcher, Jimmy?” Dixon flexes as he starts to lean up. Jimmy raises his arm to calm him.
“Dix, don’t get up, you’re going to want to stay lying down for a bit.” Jimmy circles around the bed, resting his hands on Dixon’s chest, halting him. “I know you don’t like these guys but the nearest hospital is twenty miles away. You’d have bled out long before we got there. Besides, this guy’s got a good range of stock.” Jimmy looks down at Dixon’s arm.
Dixon suddenly remembers losing his arm. He twitches his fingers on his left arm, they move. He can feel some adjusting movement, but it isn’t the same as he is used to. Raising his arm, his eyes widen sharply in awe. A prosthetic arm extends from the stump, partially carbon fibre, partially titanium in its core. The parts that aren’t exposed to see t
he inner workings, are covered by expensive looking white material. Replicating the look of muscles it is lined in blue, wrapping around the stump and up towards the elbow. Dixon notices the logo at the wrists.
“Halo” he grits his teeth, then laughs through his frustration. “Isn’t that ironic” he looks to Dixon.
“I spent a good chunk of my retirement fund on that for you. It’s top of the line” Jimmy’s face twitches nervously. “At least you don’t have a cheeky Irish girl giving you a hard time?”
“RJ?” Dixon looks back to his arm, noticing now that he doesn’t have the display staring back at him. “What happened to her?”
Jimmy lowers his head, “She got chopped in two with your arm. Her processing unit and storage device were ruined. There’s no way to retrieve her. She’s gone.”
Dixon grabs his Halo arm with his right hand, his real hand, feeling the cold material, thinking he can feel his grip. Processing it as best he can he quickly realises he is only having phantom feelings in a ghost arm. He suppresses a gasp of emotion as he thinks of RJ. Hurt that he’d lost his most attached friend, literally, and surprised as he comprehends just how much he really cared for an artificial intelligence.
He might not have felt so strongly for the AI, had he not named it after his daughters. Had the AI not taken on so much of his own personality when she returned after he left the LAF, he wouldn’t have felt this loss. A loss edging so close to the loss of his two actual daughters. It hadn’t crossed his mind that RJ had taken on his personality in the same fashion you would see children take on characteristics of their parents. Somehow RJ had taken on the smart wit that Sadie had. She really was like Rose and Jenny put together in a digital mashup and implanted into his arm. Dixon sniffs and blinks back the tears he wants to shed. Jimmy nods in understanding.
Neon Haze: Snakes and Roses Page 8