Chapter 1 #2
“Well that was awful,” I mutter to myself, perching on the dead Argos while the gel sets and gazing out over the half-wrecked garden.
No need to rush. Anyone with an Argos won’t be employing humans as well: guards occupying the same space as biosecurity need recog training or at least stand-down access, and that’s such an easy point of failure that owning one of these things would be all but futile.
There won’t be more Argos—Argoses—Argi?—roaming the grounds, either.
They’re insanely expensive, and tend to see one another as intruders.
Even the man I’m here to kill doesn’t have that many tokens to throw away.
Eventually I climb down from the headless, bloodied monstrosity’s back, toeing it cautiously with my boot before limping onward.
It’s a five-minute walk through the rest of the EMP garden to the main house; it takes me almost ten, cursing under my breath for most of the way.
Why does this guy even have this much lawn?
I crouch low as my target’s dwelling finally comes into sight, using shadows and sculpted shrubbery to mask the remainder of my approach.
The building up ahead is pretty typical of the people I tend to kill.
Large, of course. Very large. All stylishly sharp geometric angles, water features, and tastefully lit glass.
No atmoshields needed on a clear night like tonight; the upper-floor windows are tuned to opaque, but I can see him downstairs slouched on the couch, watching the holo.
There won’t be anyone else to worry about.
He’s a lifer, according to his file. They never allow other people to sleep in the same house they do.
I fish the thankfully still-intact Faraday pouch from my pocket and open it.
There’s tech everywhere again now I’m out of the EMP ring, but there’s a reason anyone serious about their safety relies on biosecurity: anything electronic is just far easier to meddle with.
Not my area, to be honest. All I know is that as I plug the q-com into my ear, the drones I can see high above buzz cheerfully to the opposite side of the house, and none of the environmental sensors that surely litter this place indicate to the man inside that I’m here.
“You there?”
“No. All the alarms just turned themselves off as you arrived.” The disgruntled feminine voice on the other end is more than a touch sardonic. That’s pretty normal. “You took your time.”
“Biosecurity.” I shuffle toward the house. Keeping an eye on the man inside in case he turns around, but not bothering to hide myself otherwise. Atti would have already given me a heads-up if she hadn’t taken care of all the tech.
“I warned you. Those Bats aren’t as easy to kill as you seem to think.”
“I took care of the Bats before they saw me.” Bats are a far simpler, cheaper, and more passive form of biosecurity: when they detect an intrusion inside the EMP ring, they simply fly out of it and trigger an alarm. “The Argos was the surprise.”
There’s a long enough silence that I gently tap the q-com, checking it’s still working.
“Oh.”
“Oh,” I agree.
“You alright?”
“I’m a little injured.”
“Define ‘a little.’ ”
I consider lying. “My left leg needs work. Stitch spray and revs are doing the job for now.”
“So at least a week.” I don’t say anything. “Two weeks?”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“Ah.” A small exhalation of breath. “Well… that works out, anyway. Your next job came through a few minutes ago.”
There’s a note of reluctance in Atti’s voice. Not like her at all. “Why does it ‘work out’?”
“It’s… more defensive than usual.”
I keep creeping toward the house. “No.”
“They already know you won’t like it, and they’ve assigned you anyway.”
“No.”
“It’s been four years.”
“No.”
An exasperated silence, then, “The tokens on this one are too big to pass up, Azure. And even if that wasn’t true, you can’t afford two weeks in the air. You know that as well as I do.”
I reach the entrance, pulling the printed thumb from my pocket.
“Look, I’m here. I’ll tell you ‘no’ some more later.
” Before she can argue I tap the q-com off, and press the rubbery pink digit against the door handle.
It recognises the fingerprint and DNA—locally stored data, easier to fool than hack—and the way clicks open.
The man inside doesn’t hear it over the holo.
“Good evening,” I say wearily as I limp inside and shut the door behind me.
He scrambles to his feet. Thick, curly black hair, fit, and clean-shaven.
Looks about nat-forty but I know from his file he’s closer to ninety years old.
His surprise quickly becomes panic as he takes in what has to be a pretty grim sight, given I’m wearing shredded clothes and copious amounts of drying blood.
He’s frozen, then dashes for the far door. Atti’s already locked the house internals down though. He batters the glass, howls his security overrides. Manages to turn the holo off, but that’s about it.
“Calm down.” I make my way around the couch toward him, massaging my leg as it threatens to stiffen up.
He turns back to me, slow acceptance dawning that there’s no way out. His breath is shallow and fast, loud even from across the room. “How did you get in here?”
I gesture at the length of my viscera-covered body, and keep coming.
“Right. Right.” He’s wide-eyed. Grasping for something to say to make me stop. “You’re here to kill me?”
“One hundred percent.” I keep my revs active. Most people don’t have weapons secreted around their living space, but this guy had an Argos.
“I can pay you.”
“No, you can’t.” I allow him an apologetic smile. He’s undoubtedly someone important, probably someone I’d recognise if I ever watched the holos. I try to remember his name. Jax? Pax? Something like that. Names rarely stick with me. Not that it matters. Tonight, he’s just Guy I Have to Kill.
There’s a pause. Still that glimmer of hope. “Then why are we talking?”
I draw my Ceramic. Still smeared red from earlier.
“Honestly? I don’t normally let people see it coming, but I really hate surprise biosecurity.”