Chapter 11

April 15, 2021. 00:35. Vancouver.

The next few minutes are painfully awkward, at least for me. After leaving Blake's room, gangsters escort us downstairs. Most of them give me and Remi funny looks, but out of respect for their boss, they don't do anything more than that. Word spreads fast in the building about what happened earlier. Now, it feels like every pair of eyes is on us.

I keep my cool, maintaining a confident composure, but Remi? He's giving everyone the stink eye like he owns the place. Mister leads the way at the front, composed as always, while the rest of us hang back. Not that I blame them. I'd rather not walk too close to Remi either. Thankfully, it doesn't take long before we're back outside, the cold air hitting me like a relief I didn't know I needed.

Mister stays behind to speak with some contacts, including whoever Timothy is. That leaves the rest of us waiting outside. It would've been a good opportunity to relax—if our group didn't immediately burst into conversation.

Shock taps me and Remi on the back, her face lit up with a mix of enthusiasm and concern. "Wow! I like totally thought we were gonna get into massive trouble there!" 

Tetra leans against a nearby railing, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, so… is this kind of thing normal when working with gangsters?"

Azure shakes her head, arms crossed. "No, it was just Remi being stupid."

Remi snorts, flaring his nostrils. "Hey! I stood up for myself! Ain't no way I'm letting those guys walk all over me." 

"You're just lucky that the solo over here"—Azure gestures at me—"was there to save your ass."

"Ey, I won't lie, she did come in a lil clutch but nothing would've happened if none of those fuckers got in my way." 

"Right..." Azure chuckles softly before nudging me with her elbow. "Mind showing me that move later?"

"Maybe." I shrug in response.

Tetra raises a hand like he's in class, genuinely curious. "Wait, Remi, why did you come in with us? I mean, you didn't have to." The poor nomad genuinely looks confused about social customs. Depending on how sad this gets, one of us might have to help him get adjusted to living in the city. 

Remi shakes his head. "Aight, choom, lemme tell you something." He gestures Tetra to step closer, which he does. "Ain't nobody messes with me, and I'm not about to be anyone's bitch."

Tetra looks skeptical, tilting his head. "Uh, I don't know man, I feel like that's just asking for trouble."

"Nah, I can handle it." 

At this point, I snort so loudly everyone looks at me. "Dude, you can't be serious. We almost got screwed over because of your 'beef' with them."

"Eh, we were fine."

"Based on what?"

"Just saying, Blake was pretty chill. If the leader is chill then we're fine."

"That's… a massive assumption."

"It's called facts. Anyways, we've got a team that can kick ass if things go south."

"You haven't seen all of us in action yet."

"I don't need to. Vibes don't lie."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"I just got the vibes, choom. You ever look at someone and then know if they're gonna be chill or a bitch? Yeah, it's like the same thing."

"So what you're saying is that you genuinely believe we could've won?"

"Yuh."

I roll my eyes, giving up on the argument. Tetra looks just as dumbfounded. Shock and Azure, mercifully, shift the conversation to Blake.

Shock jabs Azure in the side. "So, anyways, what do you think of Blake?" She wraps some hair around her finger and plays with it as she speaks. "His face and the way his voice sounds, he's kind of… hot." 

Azure furrows her brows but nods. "I'm more interested in how implanted he is. The guy's a full borg, minimum. That's not stock, it's a heavily modified General Products FBC. Looks like it started as a construction frame." 

Tetra looks even more confused. "FBC?"

Azure glances at him. "Full-body conversion. Basically, everything from the neck down is cybernetic. And that armour plating? Custom job. No way it's corporate standard."

Shock, meanwhile, swoons further. "Do you think he's… natural down there, or is he borged out completely?" She gasps dramatically. "How does he even use the restroom?"

I roll my eyes. "Girl, what do you even see in him?"

"A ride..." Shock blushes, avoiding everyone's gaze.

I blink, utterly flabbergasted. "I… see."

Remi shrugs. "Ey, valid, I guess."

Azure just laughs and shakes her head while Tetra looks like he's trying to process Shock's comment. The doors behind us open before the conversation can spiral further, and Mister steps out. 

He adjusts his coat collar and looks at us. "I'm back, and I know where they are now. Did I miss anything important?"

Tetra shakes his head. "Nah, we were just talking about what happened earlier." Yeah, that's one way of wording it.

Mister nods. "Understood. I went back to grab Blake's number in case anything went wrong. Also, the Dead Kings won't bother us as long as we don't start anything. You have my word." His head turns to Remi.

The rocker smirks. "Good. If they don't start shit with me then I won't either."

"Now, let's move." Mister gestures toward the silver van. "We're heading to Surrey."

We all turn and head to the van, leaving behind the bustling hub of activity.

…

April 15, 2021. 00:47.

The van hums softly as we cruise down the highway, leaving the bright lights of Vancouver behind and passing by its neighbour, Burnaby. The ride is mostly quiet. Shock sits near me, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. I clutch my duffle bag, staring out the window at the rapidly changing landscape. Remi sprawls in the back, probably on his phone too, while Azure is silent alongside him, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. Up front, Tetra listens intently as Mister explains the situation.

"So, to make sure everyone is on the same page. Carl, one of the Dead Kings' men who was part of the railgun team, retreated to Surrey. They were chased by a bunch of the gangs from Richmond all the way to Burnaby. Getting back to their main base, in Vancouver, was impossible. So, Carl and his team retreated to Surrey as a last-ditch effort."

"Why Surrey?" Tetra asks.

"Because it's a combat zone, there's no law enforcement and it's overpopulated. The only form of control is found through gangs like the GTown Boys. Whatever happens there, no one asks questions. Vancouver is still rebuilding after the economic crash, and neighbouring areas only recently got the same treatment. Anything beyond, like Surrey, gets little attention."

Shock glances up from her phone. "Wow, so this place is like… a total dump?"

Mister nods. "Most of it. Burnaby and Richmond get modern expansions thanks to corporate funding, but places like Surrey and Langley are still lawless until Vancouver finishes stabilizing. Beyond that? It gets progressively worse—practically unlivable."

"Wait, so what's the whole deal with this 'economic crash'? It looks like North America got it worse than us. Back in Europe, we didn't really have a problem. Once the markets crashed, it took only a few weeks to reset and we're all brand new." 

"Canada didn't have the same corporate infrastructure as Europe. The country relied more on traditional industries, and when the crash hit, those industries crumbled and took many cities out with them. Cities like Vancouver were the first to get rebuilt because they were profitable for trade and tech. But cities away from the water and further inland are still on the list of planned fixes. The government just can't keep up."

I stare out the window as we pass rows of run-down buildings and flickering streetlights. I'm still listening to the conversation, but I care very little about the financial situation of Canada now. Back then it was a different story of course. 

My eyes catch the glint of broken glass scattered across cracked sidewalks. We pass a damaged sign that reads "SFU," once marking Simon Fraser University's satellite Surrey campus. I stare at the weathered husk of metal and shattered neon, a hint of melancholy creeping in. Memories tug at me—I used to study here, though at the main Burnaby campus, as a kinesiology student. And now? I'm just a college dropout, forced to leave and make ends meet… illegally.

The van rolls to a stop on King George Boulevard, a sprawling road cutting through the entirety of the combat zone. Barely maintained apartment complexes and derelict stores loom around us. Faint neon signs buzz, casting uneven light onto the streets. Broken streetlights flicker weakly, illuminating scattered groups of people that walk by.

Shock wrinkles her nose. "This place is… not it."

Tetra leans forward, peering out the windshield. "Yeah, no kidding. It's like the city just gave up on it."

Mister parks the van and adjusts his coat. "They did, at least temporarily. Surrey was abandoned to prioritize Vancouver's expansion. The farther from Vancouver you go, the worse it gets."

"Gestalt's been ambitious," Azure adds, finally breaking her silence. "He wants to rebuild Canada faster by relying on corporations, but his political rivals think he's overreaching. The local companies can't even survive here, let alone make a difference. It's… complicated."

I glance at a row of boarded-up storefronts and graffiti-covered walls. "Complicated or not, this place is a shit show."

Mister cuts in, his tone sharp. "Let's focus on the mission at hand. This used to be the Dead Kings' HQ before they moved to a safer location." He points at a nearby derelict building. "It's been abandoned for a while and most likely ransacked. If Carl's team retreated here, they're desperate."

We step out of the van, the cold biting through the still night air. The silence is broken only by the hum of distant engines and the faint chatter of unseen voices. I grab my duffle bag and haul it over my shoulders, the familiar weight snugly fits onto my frame. Mister surveys the area while Shock pulls out her cyberdeck, scanning for nearby signals. 

"I'll see if any cameras are still functioning."

Tetra and Azure pair up, heading toward the building's main entrance. Azure's voice carries as she explains something about structural weaknesses and needing Tetra to help out. Whatever that means. The two vanish into the shadows as they scout ahead.

Mister turns to me and Remi. "Let's check the perimeter."

…

April 15, 2021. 00:53. Surrey.

We spread out, the tension thick in the air. The once-luxurious towers now stand as hollow reminders of ambitions gone wrong. Glass crunches underfoot as we move, every sound amplified in the quiet. My hand instinctively rests on my holstered pistol, ready for anything.

Remi, Mister, and I weave our way around the perimeter, keeping a low profile as we take in the area. The ruined buildings stand like grave markers, each one telling a story of abandonment. Some structures are barely standing, their walls cracked and crumbling. Others still cling to some semblance of utility, with faint lights flickering in the windows and distant sounds of movement inside.

The streets, though quiet, are far from empty. I pick out the figures scattered along the sidewalks and alleyways. Homeless individuals huddle in corners, wrapped in mismatched layers of fabric to ward off the chill. Others, probably ordinary citizens, shuffle past with heads low and shoulders hunched. Then there are the bums—louder and rowdier types who lean against walls or stumble between streets. God, their voices are so annoying. Their words are slurred as they laugh or argue over nothing of importance.

But what catches my attention most are the implants some of these guys have. It's not uncommon to see cybernetics here, there are plenty of cheap ones out there. Sloppy. Ugly. Overdone. I study them with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. Limbs that look like they've been haphazardly bolted on, mismatched metals clashing in a garish display. Neural links that spark intermittently, a clear sign of poor maintenance or cheap knockoffs.

"I'd hate to live here," I mutter under my breath, my tone laced with derision. "This entire place is ass."

"What'd you say?" Remi asks, glancing over at me.

"This place is a hell hole." I shake my head. As I do, my attention shifts to other men with implants, quickly categorizing each one. I don't know much beyond basics but it doesn't take a genius to know these are low quality. But then, I freeze.

Five men emerge from an alleyway up ahead, their movements sharp and coordinated. At first glance, they blend in with the chaos of the combat zone, but something about them is... off. Their lower faces are entirely cybernetic, metallic jaws and cheeks gleaming under the dim, broken lights. 

It's not just the implants—it's their uniformity. Each one of them has the same setup: robotic lower faces, glowing goggle-like eyes that pierce through the dark, and a sense of purpose that stands out starkly in a place where most people wander aimlessly.

These aren't just random thugs. They're organized. I look at Mister and point them out to him.

"Shit, you see those guys?"

He stops staring at a nearby ruined store. "What is it?" Mister asks quietly, his tone clipped but calm. Remi, sensing the tension, stops fiddling with his jacket and straightens up.

I jerk my chin toward the group. "Over there. Five of them."

"Ah, Melders."

"Ah shit, here we go again." Remi's brows furrowed. He brings his knuckles together and cracks them.

Mister keeps his voice low as he talks. "They're way outside their turf, they must really want the railgun." 

I narrow my eyes, my hand instinctively resting over my pistol. "They're scouting too."

Mister nods. "It's probably stragglers. We need to take care of them soon." 

We slow our walking pace and I survey the group of Melders. "Five of them, they all got some iron on them. I tilt my head as I try to recognize the weapons they use. A bunch of Uzi Miniauto 9s. "We can't leave them alive. Too risky. No gunfire of course."

Mister nods. "Agreed, we need to do this quietly. Artemis, would you like to take point?"

"Sure." I focus my senses, my eyes dart from the group to nearby areas I can abuse. Then, I turn back to look at my teammates. "Here's the plan. I'll take the first one—the one on the left, closest to the alley. He's isolated enough. Mister, you're next. Quiet takedowns. Remi, you keep an eye on the rest. If things go sideways, distract them."

Remi grins. "Aight, say less." I hope he doesn't go overboard.

"Let's stay close enough to cover each other, but don't split too far."

I shift my weight, checking my gear. Knife? Ready. Pistol? Holstered for now. Utility pouch? A quick rummage confirms a few sound emitters and a small flash charge among other things. It'll do.

The Melders are spread out, chatting in low voices, their attention half on each other and half scanning the street. Their glowing goggles flicker ominously in the dim light.

"Let's go." I whisper and slip into the shadows. I effectively cross the distance between me and my first target. 

The first one doesn't even hear me coming. One quick hand over his mouth, and a knife slices across his throat. I ease him to the ground while making sure none gets on me; blood pools silently beneath him.

Mister moves next, circling behind another Melder. His movements are slower and less practiced than mine but they're still effective. A quick chokehold silences the second target, and he drags the body into the shadows. Good enough.

I quicken my pace and relocate myself. I signal to Remi, my hand quickly flicking towards the remaining three. One of them turns slightly as if sensing something amiss, but Remi steps out of hiding with an exaggerated yawn.

"Yo, chooms! Lost or something?" he calls out, his tone casual but loud enough to draw their attention.

The Melders immediately react, two drawing weapons while the third shouts, "Who the fuck—"

Remi raises his hands mockingly. "Woah! Bro, relax! Just passing through."

The distraction works. While the Melders focus on Remi, Mister and I close in, taking out the remaining two with brutal efficiency. The final Melder notices too late, his gun halfway raised before my knife finds its mark.

The alley falls silent, save for the hum of distant machinery and Remi's chuckle. "Shiii."

I wipe my knife on a piece of cloth from the nearby Melder. Mister exhales sharply, checking the bodies for anything useful. "Let's hope Carl didn't hear any of that."

Minutes pass and the entire party regroups at the front of the building. We keep low as we report to one another. 

Shock is the first to speak, her voice hushed but confident. "Yeah, it's all clear. Just the five Melders. No signs of reinforcements for now." Her eyes glow a faint purple and her left fingers tap against the air. "There are definitely Dead Kings inside, though." Her right hand swipes at something invisible. "There's a few old firewalls and security systems but they're easy to bypass. I'd give it another ten minutes tops before anyone else catches on."

Azure crosses her arms, glancing at the building's crumbling facade. "The whole place is falling apart. The first floor's got broken windows and doors that barely latch. Breaking in shouldn't be an issue either."

Tetra nods, adding, "Yeah. We also took a look at any other ways to get in. But most of them are either boarded up or too risky. There's a lot of exposed rebar and collapsed sections. The front entrance is our best bet."

Mister scans the group, his expression unreadable as usual. "Then let's move. We've got the advantage, but it won't last. If anyone else shows up, we risk losing Carl or running into reinforcements."

I adjust the strap on my duffle bag, my gaze fixed on the building. Although I doubt my equipment will see use tonight—at least, I hope it won't—but I still plan on bringing it in case. I check my knife and pistol one last time. "Ready."

The group exchanges quick nods, our unspoken agreement settling over us like a weight. The building towers ahead, its broken windows and graffiti-streaked walls a testament to years of neglect. Somewhere inside, Carl and his crew are hiding—or cornered. We slip into the shadows, disappearing into the rundown building as the city's chaos hums faintly in the background.