Lines of technical data began scrolling across the screen, displaying the current system status. I opened the "Implants" tab and studied the recent upgrades with care.
"Greetings. I am your virtual assistant, Ethna," said a familiar voice inside my head the same one I'd heard earlier in the lobby. In the upper-right corner of the interface, a feminine face appeared, though the details were too blurred to make out clearly.
[image]
"So, what do you think, Matthew?" asked Henry Baker.
"Can you paint me white? I'd fit right in at a psych ward," I replied.
He chuckled. "Let's stick with the standard paint job. I'm sure you'll grow fond of Ethna eventually."
"Maybe. But probably not," I muttered.
"I'm finished with the diagnostics," Masashi interjected, cutting our conversation short.
"That's it for today. You'll check in again in a month. Don't want to keep you from your duties," Baker said.
"Thanks," I replied. They may be running experiments on me, but they were also helping in their own way. I didn't know their true motives, but I had to acknowledge the assistance they provided.
"Just doing my job. You know the way out," Baker added.
I didn't feel like discussing how I felt. Maybe I'd get used to this update. But the real question was who's in control now: me or the assistant?
Incoming Call: Sebastian Ibarra Accept / Decline
Let's see what he wants.
"No point beating around the bush. I've got a job for you. We'll see how you handle it, and then I'll decide if you're worth working with. You in?" Sebastian Ibarra asked.
"I'm in," I replied. I needed someone with connections in the underworld. In my past life, I had plenty of contacts sometimes I turned a blind eye to their crimes, cut deals. Favor for favor.
"The Tiger Claws stepped into the wrong territory. They showed arrogance and disrespect and I won't tolerate it. I'm sending you the coordinates. Your task is simple: blood for blood," said Ibarra. A hit mission, then.
"No additional intel?" I asked.
"Just low-level punks. Light arms at best. This is your first mission. You'll either prove your worth or your incompetence," he said.
"Got it. I'll need a day to complete the job," I replied. Recon first no way I was storming in blind.
"You've got a day," Ibarra said curtly, then hung up.
First thing's first: prep. I headed straight to a ripperdoc to change my color scheme. Didn't take long, and once it was done, I was about to leave when Santiago stopped me.
"Maybe you'll want a signal jammer," he said.
"A jammer? What for?"
"You want to hide the fact that you're working for the cops, right? You're linked to their network it's easy to track you," he explained.
"And you couldn't tell me this earlier?" I asked, annoyed.
"Didn't really trust you. This ain't the kind of thing you usually offer a badge," he replied.
"So I could've been made already?" I asked.
"Not easily, but a skilled netrunner would sniff out police activity quick," Santiago said. Great. So now the fixer might already know I'm a cop. Or maybe he doesn't? If he doesn't then why work with me at all?
"How effective is this jammer?" I asked.
"Unless someone's actively hacking you, it'll hold up for ten minutes against a mid-level netrunner. Keep a low profile, and you'll be hard to trace," he said.
"How much?" I asked, realizing that without it, my whole cover could fall apart. How could I not have thought of this sooner? In the age of tech, that kind of lapse was inexcusable.
"Twenty," he said flatly.
"Thousand?" I asked, hoping he meant twenty eddies.
"Yeah. But I'll give it to you on installment twenty percent interest monthly."
"Install the damn jammer," I muttered. He didn't make me sit down again. Just grabbed a chip, came up behind me, and started fiddling with the back of my neck.
Unknown implant connected
"Warning: The connected implant may contain malicious code. It is recommended not to interface with unregistered devices," Ethna's voice rang out.
"I shut you down. How are you even running?" I asked mentally.
"In critical situations, I have elevated access to ensure user safety," she replied.
Just what I needed…
With the masking implant in place, I was finally ready for recon. The location was in Westbrook, Japantown. Once everything was set, I hopped on a maglev train and watched the city through the window as we glided several meters above the ground. The moment we left Heywood, the concrete towers faded, replaced by squat gray buildings. The oppressive weight of the megalopolis lifted slightly.
I remembered what I knew about the area: low crime rate, steep housing prices, breathtaking skyline views. The rich and powerful lived here. On the streets, I saw reinforced patrols and armored security vehicles. The wealthy knew how to protect what was theirs and who could blame them?
This was just recon. A quick look-around. I only had a single pistol and barely any rounds for it. No point rushing into a den of vipers, even with my new upgrades.
Only one question kept spinning in my head: Is this suicide?If Ibarra knows I'm a cop, this could be a setup. If he doesn't… well, guys like him don't offer help for free. Power like his doesn't come from nowhere. When someone like Ibarra gives you a job, it's not just a job it's a leash. Say no, and you're done. Say yes, and you're owned.
I'd make the final call after recon.
***************
"Goddamn…" I couldn't help myself when I saw it. A mini-army. No less than a hundred of them armed to the teeth. Small fry? Yeah, right. These were sharks in shallow water.