by Mike Doom
Hunter News Network
Alert - Babydoll Judah Stardust
Wanted - Dead or Alive
Rank - S (Updated)
Bounty - 500,000,000r
Caller - Peoples Republic of Hess
Call - Babydoll Judah Stardust is wanted for questioning involving the appearance of an unidentified satellite station appearing near Hess moments ago, just to pull away from the controlled space-network. Stardust also is wanted in the theft of a mining colony ship, as well as numerous previous incidents. She is to be considered highly dangerous and should not be approached by any hunter below A-Grade.
Update - She is likely in the employ of one, Last Chance, a supermodel/actress from Selba Prime. Additional persons are unknown, but likely. Take extreme caution.
Last Seen - Hess Station. 10 minutes ago
Deliver to - Closest Federali Installation
Truckee steps back on to his viewing platform, scanning the crowd, looking for something that he would have been 'pulled away' to be kept from seeing. Not that that makes any sense.
"Anything down there?"
"No. Jor pulled his helmet off just a minute ago. He is either not afraid that I'll find him, or he thinks I already have. I've been running through the other racers, but they all seem clean."
Truckee eyes the match, perhaps his feeds have something that Cirrhosis isn't seeing from his angle. In his left eye he has the list of racers, in his right he pulls windows for each rider from various sources in the crowd, telling his eB to switch viewers if the rider moves out of range. Suddenly.
"There are only fifteen people on the track!"
"Fuck! Why didn't I notice that?" Hacking a few racers, making targets, and tailing Jor must be more than he can handle at once while doped up on painkillers. Not surprising, but this isn't the time to not be hard on one's self.
"Code can hack people's eyes in real time. Whoever is missing- Bychos. The Bychosi rider isn't on the track. Code is down there with you!"
"Hell." Cirrhosis eyes the track in front of him, switching his visual input across spectrums in an attempt to find Code. Then realizing his true retardation, he promptly cuts all enhancements and connections. Which makes his side hurt like a bitch, but he can see Code ahead of him about eight lengths or so, but across in the far lane. He concentrates as he turns his enhancements on, feeling the drugs flowing heavily into his veins, he marks the area Code was in and uses multispectrum analysis to attempt to find some sort of tracking mechanism. Nothing registered, he instead focuses on the disturbances to the track's surface. The vibration caused by his horse's movement is plenty, and not easily reduced. It isn't a great marker, but it allows Cirrhosis to take a few shots while his eB sets up a subroutine to follow them.
"He's shadowing behind Jor. Whatever they have planned, they have to do it together."
"What could two people with crossbows do in front of this many people that would be worth all of this trouble?"
"Got me." Cirrhosis mutters, shooting four targets as he clears the corner. In his vision is the central pillar, which he has to aim around to make points. Something is off in its pattern, it's speeding up. Cirrhosis looks up to the top, barely visible with the lights in the plaza, the spiraling ramp they came down a few minutes ago, but-
"Shit! The gate! Something is coming through the motherfucking jumpgate!" Cirrhosis says, Truckee drops his drink and looks up. The smell of ions is there, the glow of the pillar is growing steadily higher. This isn't good. If anything large comes through the dispersion of exotics could kill anyone without proper shielding, which is really only the beginning. If this is the plan, whatever comes through might fucking explode. Truckee has to think fast, the time a gate like this takes to charge and spit out its contents is less than a minute. The gate is still alive from the racers going through it, so something could appear as soon as the connection with the opposite gate catches. No time for a emergency evacuation. No time for much of anything.
"Big, who do you have in the stadium right now?"
"Sixteen lances, four in each section."
"I need them to put up some kind of barrier or something. The central pillar is going to spit something dangerous out and it might kill everyone."
"They can cover about forty people with personal shields. Forty a piece."
"That isn't enough. Just do it, I need them in the stands immediately!" Truckee screams as he takes his floating platform off the pillar. He isn't sure why, but whoever is doing this didn't actually want him dead. He was supposed to get stuck with Apocalypse in some argument in the President's suite...
"Cirrhosis. I can't get enough people to safety, is there anything you can think of?"
Cirrhosis thinks of how someone would foil a giant explosion. Massive shields? Those aren't really available, personal shielding, but anything that major would have to micro-tech far beyond what humans are capable of. Cirrhosis has an idea, but he has to peel his eyes on the crowd. Looking for aliens.
"I have an idea. Do you have anyone on staff with any weapons?"
"I have a full kitchen?"
"No good. Okay. I'll handle this, just promise you'll exonerate me after it's all over."
"What?"
Cirrhosis shoots Jor Asukta in the shoulder, throwing his balance, he falls off the horse and hits the outer wall. Cirrhosis makes a show of it, aiming and firing. The crowd erupts. He takes aim again, he sees three Z'arkadar about six rows back. His aim will have to be an arch, over the clear guardian wall. He shoots, and luckily misses. The point being, the Z'arkadar are telekinetic and have access to technology illegal in human hands. He hopes that by drawing their attention upward-
The jumpgate opens, ions shooting out in a strong jet. The Z'arkadar throw up shields, as do several other higher races, and the androids in the audience. A strong wind blows, and the more perceptive in the crowd begin to scream and run, not that they will have enough time to handle that.
Truckee about loses balance on his board as he dives it down. He hacked the servitor running its limited functionality, swooping towards the track as hard and fast as it will go. The electromagnetic disturbance throws off connectivity, but short range is fine.
"President! Get down!" Apocalypse yells, diving for the President of Selba. Agent Lipservice throws up a barrier around the front of the booth. Big is completely confused, but takes the time to run encrypted instructions to his comrades all around the stadium. Everything is happening, quickly.
The ship, as it is, arrives in several chunks with fire blasting in a plume from the jumpgate. Exotic particles light banners on fire, and the shockwave detonates the windows in the buildings surrounding the stadium. Glass showers the spectators as they attempt to flee down the stairs, and across the bleachers. Escape routes are clogged with people and reporters covering the carnage.
Truckee pushes his platform to maximum output, but risks losing his footing in the process. Just a little more.
Cirrhosis expected to be killed instantly for firing on the aliens, but instead gets knocked from his horse by Code Name. The man bowls him to the ground, which knocks the wind out of Cirrhosis and re-cracks some of his ribs.
"Fucking shit. What the hell did you do that for?"
"Payback."
"For what?"
"Some people very high up the food chain owe you a lot for what you've done. You are to be the key to his future."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Just stay down." Code yells, the second stage of the entry occurring overhead. Metal pillars shoot through, wedging themselves in buildings, and bouncing off shields. The stadium to the right of Cirrhosis is being covered in shrapnel, but the fire and radiation are buffeting both sides equally. The sound of people screaming is irrationally loud, and the shit falling all over the track isn't helping. The speed that the ship was going, far too fast for a rational jump, is giving unreasonable kinetic energy
to the bits and bobs that are raining out of the portal. About three feet to Cirrhosis' right a desk chair wedges itself six inches into the crystalline floor.
Truckee makes it to the ground, landing a few yards from Cirrhosis and Code. Truckee wishes that he had some kind of weapon on him, he looks in both directions, seeing a bit of railing wedged in the ground he pulls it free, stumbling backward when it gives. He knows that he will have exactly one shot, so he takes it running.
"Cirrhosis!"
"Truckee?"
"What?"
Clang!
Big pulls a gun on Agent Lipservice, unsure as to what other action would be logical in this situation. Signs point to this being the Agent's fault, and don't even corroborate that he is even a real agent.
"Sir, you are under arrest for suspected terrorism!"
"Oh, really? I think that I am doing the opposite of that right now, child."
"What?"
"Play your cards right and you can be part of the new world order too." He says, as a large chunk of a crystal television scrapes across his barrier.
"Oh, oh hell. Did I kill him?" Truckee says mostly to himself. It is rather loud.
"I don't think so. I think he was trying to protect me though." Cirrhosis says, dusting himself off.
"Oh, sorry."
"No big deal, that guy deserved it after all this shit." Cirrhosis yells, and then shoves Truckee to the ground. A group of overhead panels wedges itself like throwing stars into the ground near their previous location. Cirrhosis laughs as he helps Truckee up.
"We need to run away."
"Definitely."
The boys make a break for the stairs below the jumpgate, which lead to the waterways underneath the stadium. While running towards the danger is generally ill-advised, the plaza seems to be holding it's own against the onslaught. Meaning, that hiding underneath it is probably the best choice they have. This means running away from debris, but towards fire. Truckee keeps his eyes forward, while Cirrhosis is looking up. The fire isn't stopping, as spaceships have lots of flammable goods, but the junk seems to have stopped. World access is still largely scrambled, but Cirrhosis can still run vector analysis on the meteorites and keeps correcting Truckee's sprinting.
"Left!"
"Shut up!"
"More left!"
"Still shut up!" Truckee yells back, following directions and avoiding a couch cushion that bounces off the ground and back into the air about sixty feet before coming down a second time.
It would be beautiful, if in a violent way, if there wasn't so much screaming in the background. Elaborate flame patterns curl over the buildings, fire erupts from windows and carries itself along vines and trees running through nearby streets. Using his advanced spectrums, even more elaborate carnage patterns itself from the geyser in the center of the plaza and strobes outward coating everything in particles from another galaxy.
The stairs are ahead, but it has a rather large chunk of wall blocking it for the most part, which also tends to keep people in. Cirrhosis reaches the thing first, running around the stairwell quickly once to check it out. Only one way.
"The airvent system of this chunk appears intact, if we climb down that we should hit the stairs below."
"What if they are collapsed or something?"
"There's water down there." And a restaurant. But who's counting?
"Alright. Whatever, let's just do it already." Truckee yells, getting tired of complaining every time something is life threatening. He scrambles up the piece of wall, looks inside, seeing nothing but smoke, and jumps in. Cirrhosis grits his teeth. Not hearing any screams, or really anything other than explosions, he follows after.
Cirrhosis lands on Truckee about four feet from the bottom of the debris. He is pretty sure that he broke Truckee's left arm. He gets up as gingerly as possible and sits on the stair above.
"Fuck. You alright?" Cirrhosis manages to cough out, his personal health meters are all blinking various things in his vision. He turns off the alerts, and checks on Truckee. Truckee is moaning, which means he's alive.
"This party sucks." Truckee yelps between coughing fits.
"Tell me about it." Cirrhosis tries to right himself, the junk above them makes an awkward metal grinding sound, and he takes that as a queue to get moving again. Cirrhosis gingerly lifts Truckee to his feet, and they take to the stairs as quickly as their bodies allow.
The overheads finally start throwing down flame retardant foam, water being a commodity on an inclosed station. The foam is good for the fires, but it builds up over the shields people are hidng under, obscuring their view of potential threats from above. It is also piling on the overhead crystal, making eyeing any potential issues difficult as well.
"This was it?" Truckee says through grunts and moans. Four more stairs. Then they just need to tread water or something. All the boats are long gone, people have evacuated the area for the surrounding tunnels. Nobody needs to rubberneck that badly.
"I guess." Cirrhosis says as they reach the landing, he looks in all directions, only good place to hide is the restaurant, which is on sort of an artificial isthmus under the pillar. He gets Truckee to wade over there with him, and he eases the injured man over the counter.
"My race devolved down to this." Truckee says, falling in a heap to the floor, more or less sitting. Cirrhosis grabs a bottle of whiskey from the bar, takes a hearty swig and passes it to Truckee. Truckee is almost moved to tears by the kindness, or the pain, Cirrhosis isn't quite sure.
"You asked the Jewel to be famous right?"
"You honestly are trying to blame me for this shit?"
"No. I just think it is funny that even when someone else uses it, it can't counter itself. It is an odd rule, don't you think?"
They pass the bottle a couple times. Thinking.
"Fuck." Truckee says with his arms crossed over his knees, his head down.
"You're going to have to do so many interviews after this."
"That was what I was just thinking. The idea makes me sick."
"I think that's the smell of that foam." Cirrhosis points to the ceiling. There are leaks, some of the foam, and bits and pieces of wreckage, are falling through to hail onto the lake below. It is unnerving to watch people fleeing, fires burning, from this vantage. He uses his enhancements to check for structural issues. Just in case.
"Or that. Any news?" Truckee mumbles, either drunk or drugged or in shock or something. Cirrhosis is sure they need to move, but Truckee is inoperable. He checks his surroundings. A restaurant isn't known for having most things. He settles for items that float.
"Truckee, put on this lifevest."
"Orange clashes with my hair."
"Shut up." Cirrhosis grunts and snaps the vest against his will. With that on, he grabs the folding table they used for cutting and breaks off the legs. All the while watching the cracks in the ceiling get more and more pronounced.
"Oh shit. You see that?" Truckee bumbles.
"We gotta go now, buddy. Come on." Cirrhosis grunts as he throws the table over the side of the bar. His ribs are in serious pain. He half lifts Truckee and Truckee sort of rolls and drops over into the water. Which is luckily only about six inches deep near the bar. Cirrhosis manages to finagle Truckee onto the table, and pushes the raft deeper into the water, Truckee yelps when Cirrhosis jumps in after him, at act as propulsion. They have maybe two minutes to get to a side road before all of this shit starts falling on them. Cirrhosis turns to see Code Name behind them.
"Oh shit."
"I get that a lot." Code says with a weird look on his face.
"Who is that?" Truckee gurgles, half awake.
"The guy who stole your thing, hold on." Cirrhosis says, pushing Truckee once with everything he has. Truckee gets to drifting a little in the general direction of a tunnel. It will take him hours to get there if Cirrhosis doesn't do something about it. About a couple of i
ts.
"What do you want?"
"I want to get the fuck out of here. I don't get to do what I want very frequently anymore."
"Who are you?" Cirrhosis says squinting at Code, unable to turn his functions off as he would literally pass-out almost instantly from various injuries. That said, he can't trust his eyes, but he knows that Code isn't like this. Code is a junkie. He walks back towards the bar, not sitting, but making sideways glances to various glasses and knives.
"An interested party."
"Interested in me specifically." Cirrhosis says through gritted teeth.
"I have been told to care for you like you were my new boss."
"I don't recall being in charge of you, even back then."
"Not who I seem, remember?"
"I was talking about a long time ago."
"Oh, you are smarter than I thought." Smirk appearing on his face, which subtly changes. They really do look rather similar, Code is just a bit younger.
"Stephen Corialis." Cirrhosis says, letting the words settle in the air as his eyes dart about the bar area, looking for something blunt. The ceiling is making more unfortunate noises.
"I am saddened to be here and not there." Corialis says, looking and pointing up at the mess he made. Wait..
"There are more than one of you?"
"Yes."
"Androids... or..." Jewel, mixed with a general disregard for laws. Clones?
"A person of a certain stature can have things others are not allowed."
"Non-destructive cloning is against both GovNet and Coda." Another edict from the Federation. That said, religious leaders had already beat the Federation to that particular punch. It had been illegal on Earth before Jupiter had its first station colonized. Said, Cirrhosis remembers Code from years ago. Was he always a clone, or switched out, or...
"You didn't even age this body normally did you?"
"Of course not. I needed this to be perfect. I planted a faux personality into him, let him go about his business with a bit of... pruning... to his decisions. Then on his last rejuvenation, he got my case instead of his own."
"That must have taken years." Cirrhosis mutters under his breath. This guy is in-fucking-sane.
"A means to an end. Consider it a momentary lapse, a use of executive privilege during a time of martial law." Corialis says, waiving his hand in circles, imagining taking this conversation for hours, in circles.
"What do you want with me?" Cirrhosis decides that understanding this is just making it take longer. Truckee has drifted quite a bit out now.
"A new world order. I need someone to lead it."
"You come to me talking about order, but you are just stomping around killing everyone."
"A startling event is the only way to make quick and decisive change. I needed to disprove the Hunt using the Hunt itself to show its dangers."
"What does that have to do with me? With Truckee? With all the rest?"
"There are certain prices that needed to be paid as well."
"So you just decide what justice is? Who gets it?"
"When it comes to that day. Yes. If you could remember you would understand."
"I really don't think so."
"It is not so different from what happened to you back then. To your lover." Corialis' voice hangs on the last word, but he seems sad somehow. Cirrhosis' eyes fill with rage.
"Where the fuck do you get off?!" Cirrhosis says, grabbing a nearby chair to hit Corialis across the face. Corialis ducks, hooking his foot into Cirrhosis, who falls forward, but catches his balance before tumbling.
"I do not want to fight you. I want to propose something to you."
"Generally you do that on one knee." Cirrhosis says taking a second slash at Corialis quickly, the chair coming from below, legs first in an arch. Corialis blocks right but stumbles into the water, Cirrhosis takes this moment to twist the chair on Corialis' wrist, kicking the man in the chest and pushing the chair up swiftly at the same time. Crack.
Cirrhosis stumbles to a stop, throwing the chair away, mostly because he was afraid he would be unable to block it if it were used against him. Corialis falls backward, clenching his wrist and landing on his ass in shin-deep water.
"More like it. Now, what the fuck do you want with me?"
"You saved me back then. You must know that." Corialis says through a hiss.
"That was a long time ago. I was a different person, most likely."
"No, you were exactly like this."
Cirrhosis laughs at that. A hearty chuckle as the plaza burns. His eyes are watering. It is getting pretty smokey down here.
"I want you to lead the new branch of the Federalis." Corialis finally blurts out, his eyes glazing with downer programs as various subservitors go to fixing his wrist. Cirrhosis laughs harder at that, hands on thighs level.
"You want me to what?"
"This whole thing. To end the Hunt, but something has to take over in its place. You cannot leave the emptiness of space to itself. Someone must patrol the abyss. The old races don't care about human affairs, GovNet and the Federalis have given up ages ago. The people need something else."
"And that is what exactly?"
"An army of Frees controlled by a human. A human with a strong sense of loyalty and a firm eye for justice."
"What am I a fucking movie poster?" Cirrhosis squints hard. Is this guy fucking serious? Yet, everything to this point, even his being in the race, firing upon the Z'arkadar to get them to save everyone. He wouldn't have thought to do that if Corialis hadn't infiltrated the race. He wouldn't have been ready to fire in time.
"You are getting it now. All of this, sure there were asides for my own petty needs, but this was to put you in a particular place at a particular time. Then when we come out of here together.."
"I am your general. The smiling hero of the people, at cee at cee." Cirrhosis mulls through it.
"We can do it together. The people will never trust me, but you, they love you."
"And you get all the profit."
"If this is about your debt." Corialis says, putting his good hand on Cirrhosis' shoulder.
"I appreciate your concern, but I really must be going."
"I want this to be consensual, but it doesn't have to be." Corialis says clenching the shoulder. Cirrhosis grins, grabbing Corialis' wrist and pushing back with both legs as hard as he can. Assisted by slightly lower gravity, he lands them both into the water, as he rapidly turns to land on top of Corialis. Fighting dirty isn't glamorous, but it does get things done. They land with Cirrhosis' knee in Corialis' chest. Holding the other man underwater.
"I was waiting for you to grab me. I couldn't guarantee where you were until i could feel your slimy hands on me." Cirrhosis says, mostly to himself. Corialis is attempting to develop gills currently, thrashing a bit, but unable to move out. Cirrhosis is a professional athlete, which is a bit more of a cardio routine than being a business man. That said, Cirrhosis is living on borrowed time, his stitches are open and he is losing blood. His eyes are filled with tears from smoke, from pain, and red icons threatening to suffocate what little visual real estate left over.
He grabs Corialis by both shoulders, straddling him, then slams him into the tiles below. Once. Then twice, just for good measure. The struggling stops. Cirrhosis lugs the fucker up to the bar and throws him over the side with the last of his will. He doesn't come up.
"If you survive, remember to forget about me. We will just have to both wait and see what happens with all this. Maybe you are right, maybe not. Either way, this party is played out." Cirrhosis says to himself, to Corialis, waiving a hand around, to whatever.
That handled, Cirrhosis sets his eyes on the raft. Maybe fifty feet away. He dives into the water, maybe earning a four from the judges. A slow crawl stroke gets him to the raft as the ceiling starts making much more discouraging groaning and creaking noises. The screaming fr
om above is getting worse, which is probably not great either. Bits of fire are falling on the water more often. Any time now.
"You okay back there? Cold?" Truckee says as he hears Cirrhosis splash up and grab the table, shoving as best he can.
"Shut up. Just look above us. Can you tell me if anything is falling down yet?"
"Yet? We expecting something?"
"Yeah. Giant piece of ten foot thick crystal."
"Oh." Truckee gurgles. Cirrhosis kicks as hard as he can, but his legs are on fire, and his sides feel like they are rupturing blood, as they probably are. The water is frigid, and their is no real tidal force to help him along. The opening to the nearest section is maybe twenty yards away, but it feels like miles.
"It's falling." Truckee grunts. Cirrhosis can only barely hear him over his own splashing, but he manages to get an eye above, and he sees chunks falling. Not big ones yet, but a four foot chunk of solid crystal falling two stories onto your head is plenty to kill a man.
The water is getting choppy, Cirrhosis feels like he is going to black out. Truckee is sliding around on the table, he isn't holding on anymore. Cirrhosis tries to grab his foot with his left, while pushing the raft more with his right. Everything is water, and grunting, and then Cirrhosis swears he sees that submarine from before. The one made of glass, but he just assumes that it is his death coming for him. Finally. And he accepts it willingly.