Shadowrun: Steel Rain Part 10

"It's what I heard. This slag. He heard it. He was at some trash bowl by Kennedy Airport. He said this chrome capper started jowling like he was blown on Talking Head BTL. The capper said he was running hits almost for free, for charity. Gonna make the world safe for crazies. Kill the fragging corps. Kill everybody. Till there's n.o.body but chrome-jobs left."

This could mean nothing. Yakei refers of course to the cybernetically enhanced. Those with the greatest amount of enhancements walk a fine line between sanity and madness. The use of mind-altering BTL has been known to push such metal maniacs over the edge, or deeper into psychosis. "This slag who heard this talk. He is a friend of yours?"

"It's a she. Just a chummer."

"She is Triad?"

"I don't know. Maybe one of their pillow biffs."

"What of the mage?"

"This capper said he had a mage for a Johnson. Called him the brain-buster."

The what? "Explain."

"I don't know any more!"

Machiko squeezes pressure points. A look of agony grips Yakei's features. He slips from his knees to sit in the filth gathered against the building wall and begins quaking violently. "What is the meaning of 'brain buster?' "

"I don't know I don't know! "

"What does it tell you?"

"Maybe he's a kick in the a.s.s!"

Or perhaps this mage equips his chromed killers with cranial bombs. "The biff? What is her name?"

Yakei grunts harshly, panting rapidly.

Machiko rises, gestures to the headman of the Yos.h.i.+da-kai kobun. "Escort Yakei-san to my car."

The headman bows. "At once, Machiko-sama."

18.

Evening settles into night. The Infiniti E9 sedans criss-cross Brooklyn county, rolling through Flatbush to Canarsie and Starrett City, then across the line into Queens and Howard Beach, in sight of the airport, then back to Brownsville and finally Bedford-Stuy. It is like a brief excursion around the globe. The signs rising over the streets wink and gleam with the languages of eastern Europe, the Middle East, Asia, the Americas. They pa.s.s corporate enclaves and coffin hotels. They ride past blocks at least nominally controlled by Triad gangs and the Maf, and everyone's third-rater, Seoulpa rings. Crowds change color and clothes with the pa.s.sing blocks. People in the cold dark places trail fiery halos of heat. Humans and metas under the brilliant lights of stores and the strobes of nightclubs and bars gleam faintly with warmth.

The night grows chill, and Yakei-san, seated between Machiko and Lieutenant Enotori in the rear of the second sedan, begins looking forlorn. It is good, in Machiko's view, if he feels that way. It is wise. It will encourage him to be mindful of his friends and to a.s.sume a cooperative spirit.

The hunt, of course, is for Yakei-san's biff friend, a woman politely described as kayabasuke, a "red light district woman." A particularly vile variety that has as much in common with the dreamqueens of simsense celebrity as the average pay-toilet. Yakei-san appears to believe that his hope for a long and prosperous life depends on finding this biff, finding her tonight. This, too, is wise.

While they drive, Machiko takes two calls via commlink. The first is from Ryokai, reporting that he has made many contacts and heard much talk about Triads, but nothing of a definite nature. The second call is from Gongoro.

"This is a waste of time!" Gongoro declares. "We should be questioning informants in the Yos.h.i.+da-kai!"

Fortunately, Machiko uses the ear piece from her commlink. She replies. "You have your instructions," and breaks the link.

Tonight, Serpents walk. A number of senior GSG, Ryokai and Gongoro included, lead teams of kobun and selected Nagato Security officers on sorties throughout the plex. They are prepared to turn these sorties into armed a.s.saults if necessary, but bloodshed is not the objective. Their true objective is twofold. First, they seek persons identified in the shared Nagato Security-GSG database, persons known to be hostile to Nagato Combine, or those who have committed hostile acts. Such persons are to be questioned and any relevant leads should be pursued. What will come of this remains to be seen. Their second objective, Machiko's objective, is more strategic in nature, and affects her with far more uncertainty. Tonight's operation will be noticed. One member of the Guard stopping people in Brooklyn and asking questions would likely be noticed. Numerous GSG moving throughout the megaplex, accompanied by plainclothes Nagato Security officers and kobun of the three clans will almost certainly cause concern and perhaps stimulate a response. Machiko can only guess at what effect this will have on the enemy she seeks, but she hopes it will incite an impetuous response, anything that will prove revealing, and thus better enable her to prepare the Guard for war.

And war is the point. It is in expectation of war that Machiko utilizes the threat of violence to intimidate Yakei-san. It is with this same expectation that she will use whatever means necessary to make the unwilling talk and convey the information she needs. Those who refuse to willingly aid Nagato Combine prove themselves aligned deliberately or by default with the enemies of Nagato Combine. If such persons are not responsive to mere words, then they will be intimidated, even brutalized, till possessed of a more cooperative spirit. Gangsters may utilize such tactics, but that is coincidental and of no importance. The objective of gangsters is to eliminate compet.i.tors and improve market position. Gangsters want nuyen, profit. If they cannot have what they covet in a civilized manner, they resort to physical violence. This bears no relation whatsoever to the violence and brutality of war, or the need for warriors to commit acts of utter savagery.

The warrior's Way is death. The warrior's function is to serve as a weapon, to meet the enemy, to attack and to kill, to be prepared to wage war and to kill the enemy in all places, at all times, under any circ.u.mstances, whether facing a single enemy or an army of ten thousand. If, instead of killing, Machiko must intimidate, torture, or maim to defeat the enemies of Nagato Combine, she will utilize all her resources to do the deed and do it with success. The essence of all strategy is founded on the necessity of overcoming opponents and defeating enemies. The means is incidental, a question of spirit and technique. Machiko will do whatever she must to defeat Nagato Combine's enemies, defend the life of the Chairman and the people and property of Nagato Combine. How she does it is of little importance. Whether she lives to see the result of her efforts, the final defeat of Nagato Combine's enemies, is of no importance whatsoever.

They come to a twilit street beneath the rust-plated pillars of an elevated subway line. The buildings rise like soot-blackened sepulchers into the pall of night. The pavement is scattered with litter and anonymous bits of metal. The few people in sight lurk in dark doorways and on the fringes of the twisted wreckage and piles of debris clogging the ends of alleyways. The Infinitis slow to a halt before a gleaming red marquee of a bar advertising "Sliffs! Sips! Simsense!"

"Yeah," says Yakei-san. "This is it."

The kobun behind the Infiniti's wheel glances aside at his headman, and says, "Trouble coming."

The headman looks ahead, then to the rear.

A deep resonant rumbling rises suddenly to banshee screams. A pair of cycles, blurring with speed, flash past on the left. They are followed by three, then a pack numbering as many as eight, all moving at speed. The riders appear like go-gangers, brilliant reflective helmets, gleaming wet-look jackets and boots, vambraces and gauntlets, some perhaps studded and spiked. The cycles have the mercurial streamlined forms of Rapiers, Auroras, and Scorpions, all of them high-powered street machines.

The pack slows and bunches up at the end of the block. The headman of kobun cranes his neck and then grunts. "Duelists," he says, glancing back at Machiko. "A thrill gang, Machiko-sama. Streetscag. They have been causing Brooklyn a lot of trouble."

"Trouble directed at Nagato Combine?"

"No, they make trouble for everyone."

Machiko nods, and looks aside to Lieutenant Enotori. "You may proceed."

Enotori directs a quick glance up the block. The Duelists fill the street, some circling through the intersection, others taking pause. "Perhaps, until the situation clarifies-"

"The situation will be handled," Machiko says, softening her tone to balance the brevity of her words. "Please proceed."

Enotori affects a polite bow and heads into the bar. He is an investigative officer with the Nagato Security Service and has much experience, not in warfare, but in undercover operations. Tonight, he wears an antiqued brown synth-leather duster and the twin cams of his eyes relay everything he sees to Machiko's handcomp. As he enters the bar, Machiko directs Yakei-san's attention to the changing images on the handcomp's screen.

The interior of the bar is stroboscopic. Everywhere trid screens flicker and flash with spectral images, most of them portraying hard-core s.e.x. The tables of booths running down the left burn with the fast-paced action. The bar along the right winks and flashes with adverts for private dances and other services available on the second floor.

"Machiko-sama," says the headman of kobun.

Machiko looks up, looks to the end of the block. Beneath the gleaming red disks of traffic signals the go-gangers now circle like scavenging birds. The thudding and whining of their cycles carries across the night like the murmuring of a distant storm.

"Put one man outside," Machiko says. "Show steel."

The headman speaks into his commlink. The rear door of the lead Infiniti swings open, and a large, powerful-looking male stands up on the street-side of the sedan. An Ingram SuperMach SMG fitted with a high-density 60-round clip hangs casually from his hand.

This is a warning, a sign even gangers should understand. Do not involve yourselves in matters that do not concern you. Be wary of where you tread. You may step under the iron boot heel of a giant.

The view through Machiko's handcomp pans across the booths at the rear of the bar. Machiko catches glimpses of faces and bodies briefly lit by the stroboscopic flarings of the tridscreens; orks and norms and at least a few elves, wearing synthleather and chrome and studded neon-spandex, dreamchippers and slots and party packers. And then Yakei-san blurting, "That's her! That's the biff!"

Her name is Choca. For a dwarf she is not unattractive, voluptuous in form, covered with glinting, winking techno trinkets, crowned by ma.s.ses of yellow-striped sable hair that cascade about her head and shoulders. Standing on spike-heeled boots that add much to her height, and now taking a seat, joining a husky ork on the cus.h.i.+ons of a narrow booth.

"They're forming up," says the headman of kobun.

Engines roaring and whining, the go-gangers move their cycles into a battle line that crosses the end of the block. They have seen the warning of the kobun and they answer it with the threat of combat. They leave Machiko no choice. She cannot summon police, nor merely turn and leave. The threat of the gangers must be met. Nagato Combine must stand firm in the face of battle or it will be perceived as weak, and all manner of violent elements will be encouraged to strike.

"Prepare to fight."

The headman barks orders into the commlink on his arm. Kobun scramble from the sedans. Machiko strides up the sidewalk to the front of the lead Infiniti and the roaring of the cycles rises to a cyclone wail. Two of the gangers start forward, raising a churning cloud to their rear. Their intention is plain. Machiko unlimbers her SCK M-100 submachine gun, clears the safety, and opens fire.

The fusillade that erupts immediately around her is deafening, full of the stammering of Yos.h.i.+da-kai's SMGs and the rapid thumping of clan automags. The first of the gangers to start forward veers suddenly to the left and careens over the curb. The cycle flattens itself against a grim-faced wall of brick. The rider, going airborne, smashes against the metal slats of a security shutter at the front of a shop and falls out of sight behind the burnt-out husk of an automobile. The second of the gangers to start forward, front wheel rising high, topples over backward and sprawls skidding onto the pavement.

The rest lift weapons as if to fire, but thunder is already raging. A third bike falls over sideways. Its rider staggers around and drops. Two more gangers are clearly hit, swaying as if struck by bats, but manage to keep to their saddles. The man at Machiko's right stumbles to his knees on the curb. Then the cycles are roaring as never before and bunching into a phalanx of macroplas and metal and hurtling up the block.

Gunfire rises to a crescendo. Machiko draws her Beretta 200ST and empties both automag and SMG into the swiftly advancing pack. Two more of the howling cycles crash. Machiko draws her katana, chooses her opponent, and strides into the roadway to meet him. The ganger hunches low behind the windscreen of his machine and wrenches at the throttle, setting the engine to screaming.

In the final instant, Machiko steps sideways and cuts. She cuts with all the power of will and spirit. Her sword cleaves through macroplas cowling, through chromed steel and synthleather and flesh and bone and casts a foaming wave of gore and blood across the breadth of the street. A bisected corpse tumbles to the pavement, trailing a broad smear of red. A riderless Scorpion flips over its front fork and crashes tumbling down the asphalt.

A fuel tank explodes. Two bikes collide and crash to the pavement. Another smashes through a barricade of metal drums and trash and slides into an alleyway. The three surviving machines hurtle to the end of the block, and turning, skidding, shrieking, round the corner and vanish from sight.

Machiko sheaths her sword, retrieves her guns and reloads. A Nagato SDF combat medical team soon arrives to tend the wounded. Three kobun require a.s.sistance, one is serious. The fallen gangers are all dead. The headman of kobun calls for additional men and turns to Machiko like a victorious general, his spirit huge and full of pride. The sharp nod he gives Machiko erases any questions she may have entertained concerning the loyalty of the Yos.h.i.+da-kai, or the views of the clan's rank and file on metas.

"Your instructions, Machiko-sama!"

Machiko motions at the bar. "Guard all exits."

The headman gestures. Kobun head down the alleyways flanking the bar. Machiko pushes through the door at the front of the bar and enters a cataclysm of noise, rant rock so loud it rises to the level of static. The air is humid with heat and sweat, but the glimmer of feverish bipedal bodies shows clearly against the dark, as though human and metahuman burn with an inner light, and skin and clothes, flush with heat, are merely the shades enclosing many lanterns.

She finds Lieutenant Enotori at the rear of the bar counter. He points to a dark pa.s.sage leading to a door at the building's rear. "Women's lavatory!" he says loudly into Machiko's ear.

The door to this room is marked with a holographic image of a female lying spread-eagle. Walking into this room is like walking into a brightly lit open sewer. The air reeks. The only toilet has overflowed onto the floor. The walls, the mirror, sink, and floor are all covered with the evidence of former patrons' uncivilized habits. Yakei-san's dwarf female chummer kneels by the sink, giving service to a husky ork.

Kayabasuke. Joro. A wh.o.r.e.

Machiko takes hold of the ork's right wrist, applies pressure and twists, and sends him stumbling toward the door. Three kobun propel him forcibly through the doorway and out. The dwarf female, Choca, looks on incredulously, then curses, getting to her feet. She is little more than half Machiko's height, yet evokes an expression of impa.s.sioned outrage.

"What the frag? What the frag!"

And as these words are exclaimed, a knife appears. The attack is expected. Machiko allows it only to demonstrate that resistance is useless. She deflects the blade by driving the arm that wields it away to the left, striking, then snaring it by the wrist, and then drives the blade of her right hand against Choca's neck. Choca rasps. She staggers back against the sink and drops to the floor. Machiko takes the knife, tosses it aside, then goes to one knee and seizes Choca's left ear in a ruthless grip.

Choca shrieks, but the shriek immediately goes silent. She convulses, heaves herself out flat on the floor, and lies there jerking and twitching.

"You spoke of a chrome killer who works cheaply for a mage," Machiko says. "The mage was described as a brain-buster. The killer said he will make the world safe for crazies and destroy all corps. You will tell me more."

Choca screams out curses. She screams as one suffering agony when Machiko renews the pressure on her ear.

"Do not deceive yourself. You will talk. If you do not respond to pain, I will summon a mage and he will enter your mind. And when we are done you will desire only merciful death."

"Stop it! Stop! " Choca shrieks.

Machiko eases the pressure.

"You're asking me what I heard," Choca says hoa.r.s.ely. "That's all I know. I heard this gillette in a bar talking all kinds of drek! I never seen him before. I swear!"

"Perhaps you gave him service."

"So what if I did."

"At his doss?"

"I don't remember!"

More pressure. More shrieks and convulsive tremors. "Okay! okay! okay! FRAG IT!"

"The killer's name."

"Jank! Jank!"

"His address."

Choca mumbles an address. Machiko stands and tells the kobun behind her, "This person will accompany us."

The kobun seize Choca. Machiko leads the group from the lavatory to the front door of the bar and onto the sidewalk. She sees at once that the scene outside has changed. Sirens whoop and wail. An emergency service van marked for the NYPD Inc. is just then turning onto the block, blue lights strobing. Several armored patrol vehicles are already parked up and down the block. Numerous uniformed officers are moving about, checking the bodies of the dead gangers, speaking into commlinks and s.h.i.+ning flashlights around.

As she steps onto the sidewalk she nearly collides with a trio of officers.

All three turn to face her abruptly. All three look at her as if astonished. One commands her to halt. Another moves a hand to his gun. The third steps toward her, reaching out with both hands, but before he can close the distance, the headman of kobun steps in and shoves, and the officer staggers backward and falls.

All three officers draw guns. One shouts into a commlink, "Ten-thirteen! ten-thirteen!" The others shout, "We got a situation!"

"Get on the ground! Get on the ground!"

Machiko crosses her arms and waits. Through it all, she hears the footsteps of the kobun exiting the bar, fanning across the sidewalk behind her. She sees the NYPD officers' surprise and uncertainty swelling rapidly toward panic. For every kobun that exits the bar, the NYPD officers s.h.i.+ft back another step, then another. They move to take cover as the kobun from the side and rear exits of the bar join the group on the sidewalk. More excited calls over commlinks. More sirens arising from all around. Before long, Machiko and the others are staring into the guns of some twenty to twenty-five NYPD officers, some in heavy armor.

Machiko waits, arms crossed, spirit settled.

The men of Yos.h.i.+da-kai follow suit.

"Oh, drek!" Choca mutters. "Drek! drek! drek!" Inevitably, one man steps forward. His uniform is marked by gold braid and a captain's insignia. He comes to within about three meters and pauses. He pops something, candy or perhaps a nut, into his mouth, chews, then pops another. He conceals an anxious spirit behind a mask of nonchalance.

"My name's Burke," he says. "We got ourselves a little situation. Suppose we try to talk it out before somebody does something stupid and we all do a lot of shooting."

Machiko replies, "I have no objection."

The captain steps closer. Pops another small something into his mouth and chews. "Busy night for Nagato. For the Guard especially. You got the whole plex in an uproar. What gives?"

It is unfortunate that this captain and his officers wear the uniform of the NYPD Inc. Of the three major corps making a business of law enforcement in the plex, the NYPD Inc. ranks as the least corruptible, perhaps because the union that owns and controls the corp ruthlessly excises any members found to be corrupt. Machiko therefore expects that this Captain Burke will act in accordance with police regulations, and that he would be unlikely to accept a bribe as a solution to his "situation."

"We are engaged in proprietary operations involving a known corporate terrorist," Machiko says. "You need not involve yourself or the NYPD corporation in these activities."

"Not get involved?" The captain affects surprise. "You got this whole d.a.m.n street littered with dead men."