2195 Apartheid (6): Descent to the Frontlines
"...Fuck, not a single one of them is any damn use."
I slammed shut the hundreds—no, nearly a thousand—network windows cluttering my vision. After sinking a full half-day into this, my cyberware upgrade attempt had gone up in smoke.
I'd scoured the main city network teeming with every kind of lowlife, checked out the handpicked programs for sale on the Black Market... but none of them measured up. Not a single one was as clean or efficient as the cyberware I'd jury-rigged myself out in the wasteland.
To get stronger here or brace for outside threats, I'd have to either get more implants to overhaul my body or swap out my external gear.
...Why? Hell if I know. Maybe the doc hooked me up with top-tier cyberware along with this cutting-edge suit, gun, and basic implants. Or tweaking it based on Neo Haven's interfaces just clicked perfectly. Or... since this timeline's way earlier than the original game, maybe the tech's just lagging behind...?
Ding!
The elevator arrived at the lobby. I stepped out, dodging the receptionist's weird stare, and plopped down next to Omen and Domino on the lobby sofa where they'd been waiting.
"...? That's surprising. Figured that guy would've worn you out and made you late."
"Worn me out?"
Domino caught my baffled look and made some crude gesture with her hands—one forming a ring, the other finger thrusting in and out in that oh-so-subtle way...
"?! Are you insane?! We didn't do that!! I just humored his whining...!"
The filthy innuendo flowed so naturally from her that it genuinely freaked me out. In a world where group and personal morals were shot to shit by default, I couldn't expect everyone to be cultured like Grandpa or the Schneiders... but this was a bit much, wasn't it?
And sure enough, Omen zeroed in on the tail end of my words like it was scripted.
"Whining...? Hmph! That loudmouth Daredevil must've been yapping. Let me say this upfront. Unlike him...! I have no special attachment to the slums. I despise them! Just beasts scraping by, jerking off to the fact there's someone lower on the ladder, too busy licking their bowls to do anything else..."
"..."
He trailed off, fiddling with his mask. It didn't feel like pure contempt... more like the dark life he'd endured had twisted his feelings into this love-hate mess. Proof? Domino across from him was giving a wry smile. For a battle-hardened vet who looked the part and dabbled in the underworld, she was surprisingly sentimental—it was kinda funny.
Rude attitudes and brutal rumors aside, maybe this was a side you only saw up close...
Hold up.
"...Omen? Domino? How old are you two?"
"? Twenty-three. And during ops, we use nicknames only, Ivory."
"Twenty-two here. Half of Omen's griping you can just tune out."
"...Shut it, Nocturne."
...Shit. In my shock, I pinched the bridge of my nose without thinking.
Guys who looked thirty, forty at minimum, were actually younger than me...? Couldn't tell if I should blame the harsh world or the side effects of drugs and cybernetic overhauls.
"...Daredevil? How old are you?"
Clutching at straws, I asked Horatio, who'd snuck up behind the sofa and was flapping his hand like ask me too!
"Ahem...! As the team's eldest, this humble body is a whopping twenty-four! Oh, and you're still my big sis, so no worries there!"
"...I'm twenty-seven, so please shut up."
"Yes ma'am!!"
Their startled reactions and faces offered zero comfort. Seeing my reliable merc squad suddenly look like fresh college frosh or green recruits fresh off the bus... no one would get it.
...Especially not when I'd have to let these little brothers protect me on the mission!!
Woooong! The massive platform-like lift rumbled to life. Apparently meant for yellow or green citizens commuting to jobs up top... but now it was packed with assembled mercs and brokers scoping the site.
Plenty like our crew oozed personality, but there were also squads in matching uniforms and gear straight out of a movie spec-ops team. Everyone just eyed each other warily, sizing up allies, not a word until we hit Yellow Sector.
Thud! The platform halted, and the packed-dangerous crowd spilled out. Finally, I got a proper look at this "lower neighborhood" I'd only glimpsed from afar.
The purple revelry clinging to upper buildings was scarce. In its place: dingy gray concrete hulks. Walls crammed with signs of every size and color. Add night shadows, gadget glows, holograms... it evoked Seoul's nightscape, like something I hadn't seen in ages.
...Just slap on a few red crosses and it'd be my old workplace. Shame.
"Something wrong, Ivory?"
"...Nah, nothing."
Omen—gruff since the hotel age reveal but starting to accommodate me—noticed me hesitating at the platform edge and spoke up. Whatever else, minding our huge stride gap was kinda thoughtful.
"...Fuck. 'Routine residential check,' my ass... this is full-on war...?"
"Hey! Where'd the cops set up that cordon? Our place isn't included, right?!"
Pedestrians buzzed and backed off from the surging merc horde. Smart shops herded out customers and locked up. Up ahead, riot cops manned barricades of vehicles and fences, letting only mercs into the op zone.
Locals milled anxiously, stamping feet. Not the bleak despair of a raider-hit settlement—this was tense, jittery anticipation.
"!! Right on time!"
"...Even if I hate it, I don't ditch a contracted job. ...Even if it's from some shitty mega corp."
Daredevil ground his teeth or not, the waiting broker flashed our hire docs at the controlling riot cops, urging them to wave us through.
"...Doesn't make the process any faster. Let's see... Horatio, Domino, Omen. And...?"
The cop compared data to faces, then looked up and stared at me.
Some déjà vu vibe I'd felt before...
"...For a cyber engineer, this looks like a pretty rough spot..."
"...?"
What the hell kinda random comment was that? Nearby mercs and the broker eyed him oddly, but he kept his gaze locked on me.
"...Please be careful not to get caught in danger inside. ...At least two people care about your safety."
"Uh... thanks...?"
I tilted my head, crossing the cordon. Teammates marveled at the first polite cop they'd ever met.
Hoo! I shook off the weird cop's effect loosening my nerves.
Painkiller's drug op base was pegged to one of the buildings on Brightside Boulevard in Yellow Sector, per the files. ...Sloppy intel for a corp-backed gig. Op outline was half-assed too.
Neutralize, suppress, recover. Three phases, blitz to minimize asset loss... but doubts exploded on arriving at Brightside Boulevard.
Fuck. ...Ominous comms incoming.
Despite the cheery name, the buildings here were pitch-black. No junkies sprawled against walls or punks glaring at the encircling forces, it could've passed for abandoned... but that wasn't the point now.
Weeeeng!!!
...Paradise hadn't just brought mercs. Chilling mechanical whirs as pre-deployed Exatech mobile turrets powered up. Weaker than the lab models, sure, but no way this gear belonged in a place like this.
Honestly... insane. Drugs aren't illegal here. No evidence meant those trembling thugs weren't confirmed criminals. Cops blocked traffic, but no guarantee of zero innocents inside.
So... calling a full wipe "neutralization" was bullshit. Too... too much...!
"Ah..."
A sigh escaped as merciless flashes blinded my vision.