Log inIt's About Saving Yourself Ch 22
Howdy folks, and good evening. Hope you had a good first week of the year.
I didn't.
But that's neither here nor there.
Here is chapter 22. It is a little shorter than I had initially planned for it, but it came to a fairly good, natural, and smooth stopping point while achieving all the things I needed it to achieve. Hopefully y'all will find it entertaining to read.
Do please drop me a comment and let me know how I did.
I'll hold y'all up no longer. Here is chapter 22, hope you like.
=][=
The lady with the sword paused as she heard her name, she then said something else in Russian-but-not.
Of all the damn times for my laziness on getting my software updated to bite me in the ass!
“Erm…you speak English?” I tried. “Habla Español? Parlez-vous français?”
Her eyes brightened and she began speaking in rapid-fire French. Though I vaguely recognized the word ‘Toussaint’ somewhere in there.
I threw my hands up. “Of course it’s the one I don’t fuckin’ speak!”
The Elf said something, and waved a hand in my direction, as he waved, his hand was enveloped in a corona of energy that shot towards me.
My shotgun was back in my hands and aimed center mass before conscious thought formed, and he came to within a breath of getting filled with enough buckshot to tear him literally in two.
I stayed my hand, but tried to dodge the energy, only for it to twist like a snake and strike my forehead…with no impact or discernible result whatsoever.
“What in the cinnamon toast fuck?” I asked.
“Ah, good.” The man said with an aristocratic air that made me instantly dislike him. “The translation spell worked.”
I held center mass for a few seconds, before lowering the shotgun, not engaging the safety.
Not yet. “I understand why you did it, and I will forgive it due to its necessity. But if you try and mind-whammy me with any more mumbo jumbo, I will be forced to use violence.”
The knife-ear nodded. “Understood.”
“How do you know my name?” The young woman asked, her blade likewise lowered but not sheathed.
That gave me pause.
How in shit the fuck do I believably explain my situation?
…
Lying worked often enough. I tried to channel Misty’s wisdom to aid in my stint as a charlatan. “I…Dreams.”
She scowled. “You saw it in a dream?”
I nodded. “Every now and then, I’ve dreamt weird things; of you, of a swallow in a gilded cage surrounded by shadows, of a grizzled and scarred old wolf with a white pelt and two very long teeth, one silver and one steel. I’ve dreamt it howling in grief over your corpse, before you…you gasp awake and hug it.”
She exchanged looks with the elf, before standing up straight and sheathing her sword.
The elf stepped forward. “As bereft of magic as this world seems to be, it is fortuitous that the portal deposited us before an Oracle. I feel the hand of Fate is at work.”
Whatever works for you buddy.
I took a single step closer, but no further as Ciri tensed. “You are…you are not from here, you can travel to other worlds, right?”
Ciri hesitated before slowly answering. “That…is correct.”
I looked from her, to the elf, and back. “Then...Then I want to make a deal.”
The elf stepped forward, putting himself between Ciri and I. “What would this bargain entail?”
“I will give you a place to stay, clothe you, feed you, and keep you safe. I will guide you through the city and aid you in whatever you need. In return, you will keep me updated on your movements, your timetable, and when you’re about to leave this world for another, you will take my family and my people with you.”
The elf did not react, his face may as well have been carved from stone for all it showed.
Ciri however…
She looked affronted. “You would abandon your world?”
“In a heartbeat.” I said and shook my head. “I want out, I want the chance at a good, safe, boring, long life. I want to die in my bed, a wrinkly fuck surrounded by spoiled grandchildren and smelling slightly of urine. That is not something I can have here. Do we have an accord?”
“We do.” The elf said. “I am Avallac’h, an Aen Saevherne. This is Zireael, her human name is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon.”
“The name’s Ciri.” The girl said with a roll of her eyes.
I clicked on the safety of my shotgun, and letting it hang from its strap, I reached up and removed my helmet and gasmask.
Avallac’h’s eyes widened slightly, Ciri openly gasped when she saw my face. Geebus, I’m not that ugly, am I?
Still no idea what Lucy saw in me.
Shaking my head to center myself, I said. “My name is Alexander Martinez, more commonly known as Redeye.” I stepped forward and held my hand out for a shake. “Glad to meet you and work with you.”
The elf looked at my hand with puzzlement, Ciri stepped around him, spat into her gloved palm and gave my metal hand a firm shake.
Gross.
Once the handshake was done, I used my non-spat-upon hand to pull out a disinfectant wipe, and thoroughly cleansed my metal hand.
…
I could still feel the spit.
I know I don’t have the sensitivity on my right hand for it, but I could feel the mouth germs, crawling, sliming, trying to digest my metal palm. Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew!
This was going to bother me all day.
“The uhh, ‘spitting on palm before shaking’ isn’t really a thing here.” I said for her benefit. “Now, let’s get you two somewhere comfortable, as well as something to eat, you look like death warmed over.”
=][=
“And what is that?” Ciri asked, pressing her face to the glass window of the large horseless carriage (of the ‘truck’ as Alex had called it) as something enormous, a metal edifice, blacked out the sun as it traveled overhead.
“A freighter.” Alex, Redeye when he wore the mask, said. “Like a mercantile ship but traveling overland. People used to have to go all the way around the continent and get to this side of the ocean via the Panama Canal, but with the invention of the anti-grav module it became much cheaper to ship bulk overland. It’s still prohibitively expensive to use such a ship to cross the Pacific or the Atlantic, and on a straight line, regular maritime freight is cheaper, but the cost saved on months of travel is, largely, a worthwhile tradeoff. They guzzle fuel though.”
Cold air blew out of vents in the carriage’s frame, a luxury normally reserved for Sorcerers and Sorceresses, and yet he took it for granted.
A great light ascended from the edge of the city, Ciri vaguely made out what appeared to be a great metal dart flying into the air in a column of smoke and fire. “And what is that!?”
Redeye glanced at it. “A rocket, passengers going on a trip to the moon.”
“Your people have gone to the moon!?” She demanded, turning around.
“Yeah, over a century ago.” He answered in a bored tone. “There’s a few colonies on the moon and out by the asteroid belt, but nothing all that big. It’s not wholly sustainable but they make do. There’s talks about them once again being ruled by people down here but I don’t think those are going to go anywhere.”
He spoke about world-shattering achievements so casually! The greatest Sorcerers theorized that with the right spell and magic well, one might be able to teleport to the moon, but it would be a one-way trip. And it was just that, a theory. Yet his people had achieved something so wondrous, and he treated it as an everyday occurrence.
No…his people were so advanced, that to them, the wildest dreams of the most learned scholars from Ciri’s world…were an everyday occurrence.
His demonstration of what the boxy contraption he’d carried could do had been sobering. She’d thought Avallac’h and her had had the advantage in their encounter, that his weapon was a blunt instrument for very close combat, and he was outnumbered.
He’d demonstrated that they’d been completely at his mercy the entire time, blasting a rock several stone throws away into powder by barely lifting a finger. Like a crossbow with magically enchanted bolts, except according to him he used entirely mundane munitions, and rather than be an artisanal work, the ammunition he used was produced enmasse and largely without the use of human labor.
And then he’d informed them, that this wondrous weapon that outclassed anything Ciri had ever seen…was considered archaic, and he used it largely because when he’d begun his mercenary career, he’d been impoverished enough that he’d been unable to afford anything better. Unfortunately, people had assumed it was his way of bragging how much ‘better’ than everyone else he was, and now if he were to stop using it, he’d lose ‘style points’ and it would affect his bottom line.
What strange place she’d found herself in.
“And you just want to leave this place?” Ciri asked, she couldn’t fathom it. She would return home to be with Geralt and Yennefer, but he didn’t have anything calling him to leave a wondrous place like this.
Redeye remained silent for a long time before speaking. “The surface looks beautiful, vibrant, wondrous. And at the surface level, it is. As a people, we have achieved so much, things that would have once been a miracle are now common occurrence. A crippling injury is merely an inconvenience. We used to be able to communicate across the globe in seconds, though now it takes us a few hours. We have the capability for all living beings on the planet to lead a life of leisure, to drown themselves in the arts, to ask the deep philosophical questions without worrying about where their next meal will come from.
“But if there is something you need to understand, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, it is this; that is just the surface, the gilding hiding rot that runs to the core.” His hands tightened on the wheel that was used to move the carriage. “There was a war, decades ago there was a war for the soul of this world. A war that once and for all settled things between good and evil.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It is a war that good lost. All of those lifesaving procedures that may as well be miracles? Beyond the reach of all but the richest of individuals. Half the people out there who had to replace a body part or an organ do not own the replacement! They’re squeezed for every Eurodollar they can pay, and more besides, and if they run out? Their body shuts down. We have at our fingertips the knowledge of giants, we have subjugated some of the greatest most inscrutable secrets of the Universe, yet precious few of us can spend the time to admire them, too busy trying to secure enough money for a mouthful of mostly clean water. Our forests razed to the ground, our rivers and oceans ruined beyond repair, our air tainted, our food is algae and treated worm meat, the rain itself has become poison! Only the one percent of the one percent of the one percent know what an actual egg tastes like!
“The rest of us are left to scrounge in the dirt for what scraps we can. Murdering each other to eke out a living from the poisoned, dead ground, suffocating under an artificially produced and maintained scarcity. Anyone who tries to make the world a better place is murdered, because that might affect the profit margins of those at the top by a few fractions of a percent!” Redeye brought the carriage to a stop, and turned to Ciri, the malevolently glowing eye glaring out of the green skull made her swallow, her hands itching for her sword. “Make no mistake, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, this world is dying, those who control it suffocate it more each day. There is nothing that can be done for it. Nothing that could ensure a brighter, better future. The only thing that awaits us all here, is to scrabble in the dirt and wait to die surrounded by marvels that will do nothing to save us once the air is too poisonous to breathe.”
He turned forward again, and the carriage began to move with a muted roar. “That is why I want to leave, that is why I want to run away. I am not abandoning my home, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. I am a rat trying to escape a ship whose back is broken and will soon sink to the bottom of the sea. You represent an opportunity far more valuable than mere gold. You are the first taste of Hope I’ve had in this life. So, worry not about my allegiance, I need you far too much to ever dare betray you.”
Ciri…wasn’t sure what to say to that.
As she mulled over his words, Redeye looked attentively to the side, then maneuvered the horseless carriage to the loud dislike of the others sharing the road.
“My apologies.” He said as he parked. “Something’s come up, I beg your indulgence, it shouldn’t be a long delay. Please do not leave the vehicle.”
Without a further word, he left, went to the back, and picked up a huge, angular, ugly machine, and lumbered away awkwardly with it.
Avallac’h chose that moment to speak. “You can trust him, Zireael. He has not told us the whole truth, not by far. But in his own mind, he has not lied about anything of import.”
Ciri blinked and looked over her shoulder accusingly at the Elf. “You layered the translation spell.”
“I believed it prudent. Having learned of the gulf in battle prowess between us thanks to the technology of this world, I am certain it was prudent.”
Ciri snorted. “I can take him.”
“Indeed.” Avallac’h’s quick agreement surprised her. “But not without using the powers of your Blood. Which would be entirely counterproductive for our goals. We did not go through the trouble to come to a world with this little magical energy, to immediately throw a flare to the Wild Hunt.”
Ciri scowled, but rather than acknowledge his point, she asked. “Why was our entrance so rough? That’s never happened before.”
Avallac’h remained silent for a long time before explaining. “The vast ocean between spheres is prowled by many things, Zireael. Most of them are uncaring, too vast to bother with the relative pinprick of your existence even if you ran full on into them. A few are hostile, destroying any life they come across, though in truth we have little to worry on that front, they might spot a fleet, but a lone wanderer is beneath their notice. No, the ones we need to fear are those who have staked a claim upon a particular Sphere. We may have inadvertently trespassed upon the domain of a Greater Being, one that deliberated before ultimately granting us passage.” Avallac’h shrugged. “Of course, there is also the possibility that the portal was only barely strong enough to get us here, and thus the spells used to strengthen our connection to the sphere via artificial Conjunction backfired.”
Ciri grunted. “Could I punch one of those ‘greater beings’ in the face?”
Avallac’h sighed with a clear air of disapproval but answered the question. “Once you have mastered the Gift of your Bloodline, there is little you will not be able to do, Zireael.”
Ciri would have asked something else, but that’s when the explosions started. She listened to them for several seconds before asking. “Do you think he’ll be alright?”
Avallac’h pulled a crystal ball out of a pocket that was too small to hold it. After a moment, the magical focus flashed, and she could see Redeye in it, the muted roar of his weapon thundering in time with flashes and explosions wherever he pointed it.
=][=
The MK. 31 was a bitch to lug around, it was extremely heavy, I had to turn my entire body at the hips to change where the barrel was pointed, unless it was mounted on a vehicle or tripod the only way it could be aimed was via a HUD, as it was impossible to shoulder it, and its report was so loud that I could feel it damaging my eardrums through my ear protection.
But as the Animals that had been in the middle of a firefight with an NCPD patrol could attest. It was undeniably effective. Their grotesque over-muscled bodies coming apart in welters of blood and macerated meat meant that whoever had to clean up this storefront was going to have their work cut out for them. Every Animal that turned toward me had their cyber-ware and weapons suddenly malfunction, the two idiots with the brilliant idea to charge me head on got reduced to mincemeat for their trouble.
With every shot the barrel slammed back, driving the weapon system into my hip where I braced it, the bruise I was giving myself would absolutely be worth it.
One of the Animals was smart enough to want to die tired. Not feeling like running the fucker down, I used the heavy machine gun to obliterate his legs from mid-thigh down.
Engaging the safety, I set the weapon down on a spike-covered bench (seriously, why even have the stupid thing if you’re going to invalidate the one thing it’s good for?) and walked through the debris of what used to be gang members, my boots squishing in ankle-deep blood with every step I took. The animal, a brick-faced asshole with a face only a mother could love looked at me over his shoulder, and rather than pull a side arm or try to fight, he whimpered and tried to crawl away, his hands and the jagged bones of the stumps of his legs failing to grip on the blood-slick pavement.
“Well hello there Michael.” I said in a sing-song voice, the Animal squealed like a stuck pig and tried to crawl away faster.
Rude.
I put a stop to that by stepping hard on his upper back. It irked me that he was physically strong enough to ignore that, but he got the message.
“What was the plan here Michael?” I demanded, readying my shotgun. “Why attack a jewelry store with a platinum subscription to the NCPD? What did you think was going to happen, Michael?”
“I dunno!” He blubbered. “I wasn’t in charge! I’m sorry! I surrender! Please stop, I don’t wanna die!”
“How many people have asked you the same, Michael?” I asked calmly, pressing the barrels of my shotgun to the back of his head. “Tell me, how many?”
“I dunno!” He answered, transitioning to full-on ugly crying. “I dunno! Please! I’m unarmed!”
I pulled my shotgun back and inch and squeezed the trigger, the slug tore through his head and into the pavement, pelting me with shards of concrete, titanium-reinforced bone, and a not insignificant amount of blood and grey-matter. “So was my mom, Michael.” I told the mostly headless corpse softly. “Wherever you end up, I hope it hurts a lot.”
I broke open the action of my shotgun and replaced the spent shell. Clicking on the safety, I let it hang from its strap and squished my way back to the MK. 31 Heavy Machine Gun. I could see why Rebecca wanted one, even if she couldn’t really use it.
I’d have to see about making her a drone or some other way of quickly deploying and redeploying the weapon. With how fun these things are to use it will absolutely make her stop being mad at me.
I picked the gun back up and made my way back to my truck, tossing an offhanded “Officers.” To the NCPD thugs whose call for backup I’d answered on a whim.
“Hey! You are not free to leave! We need a statement for the…report.”
The cop in question began very authoritative and full of certainty I’d bend over for whatever he wanted, but his words lost volume, authority, and conviction when I turned to look at him over my shoulder, my eye glowing red as blood and brain matter dripped down my gasmask.
I did not, however, say anything.
I merely held his gaze.
“Th-The report.” He muttered.
He made several more attempts to say something, before someone with more brains stepped past him and meekly said. “You erm…you are free to leave, s-sir.”
Not honoring him with anything resembling a response, I turned back around and continued on my way to my truck.
“Are you fucking stupid!?” The Daemon I’d infected the cops’ neuroports with transmitted the words of the NCPD behind me.
“What!?” The dumbass hissed back. “We do need his statement for the report!”
“You know we can’t call Max-Tac unless that fucking cyber-psycho causes the minimum casualty threshold! Guess who would be the first names on that minimum threshold list Mendoza!?”
Feeling reassured they weren’t going to start something stupid, I instructed the Daemon to self-delete without causing any issues or harm, and tossed the heavy machine gun back onto my truck’s flatbed. I patted myself clean as best I could before hopping back behind the driver’s seat.
“Apologies for the wait.” I told my passengers, who were looking at me like something was wrong. “Did anything happen while I was away?”
“Erm…n-no, Redeye, nothing happened.” Ciri said after a moment of silence. “But umm…why did you…get involved in that battle?”
“Battle?” I asked, taking off slowly and merging back into traffic. “That was just a tiny firefight, most of the actual battles take place in the Pacifica district…and probably Dogtown, but nobody who can avoid it goes to Dogtown. As to why I got involved? I’m an NCPD subcontractor, they normally pawn off police enforcement actions or human trafficking busts on people like me, because those calling for help don’t have a high enough subscription service or the projected costs are deemed too severe for them to bother doing their jobs. I’m supposed to answer any call for backup from NCPD officers, but honestly? I have a…grudge, with the gang that was involved, otherwise I wouldn’t have answered. The pay for answering a call for backup is pretty abysmal.”
“Geralt did often say that city guards are just another gang.” Ciri muttered quietly.
“Pretty much, they stick to Corpo Plaza and their response time anywhere else that doesn’t have the highest-paid subscription is pretty much shit.” I brought the car to a stop in front of an electronics store. “Okay, please wait here, I’m going to get you two some Agents, after that we’ll go clothes shopping, the whole ‘medieval warrior’ look has been out of fashion for at least thirty years, so you stand out like a sore thumb. Once we’ve taken care of that, I’ll take you two to a restaurant, and then to the place you’ll be staying. Any questions?”
“What’s an Agent?” Ciri asked at the same time that Avallac’h said. “No.”
Well, pretty girl wanted answer, so I pulled out my own Agent and showed the smartphone off. “An Agent is a device that allows you to interface with the CitiNet, they’ve largely lost prominence since Neuroports are all but implanted standard shortly after birth, but they can still be found. Though Netwatch tried to get them outlawed last year, it didn’t take, with this you’ll be able to play music, watch videos, and more importantly, exchange currency and it’ll act as the key so you can enter the apartment where I’ll be setting you up. That way—”
