Chase into the Net
Just before the mysterious thugs could pull their triggers, Roque grabbed the greenhorn detective beside him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him behind the stairs.
“Urk!”
As Daniel yelped and tumbled backward, flames and bullets erupted from the thugs' muzzles. The narrow apartment hallway filled with a deadly web of incoming fire. Unless you rolled down the rear stairs like Daniel, there was nowhere to hide.
But Roque charged straight into that bullet storm.
He dropped low with astonishing speed, streaking forward like an arrow. It almost looked like his body was being sucked lengthwise down the corridor.
Yet no matter how low he crouched to minimize his profile or how fast he moved, he couldn't dodge every slug filling the hall. The thugs' aim was crap, but once they squeezed the triggers, their submachine guns vomited every round in a relentless chatter.
So Roque raised his Aura Blade in front of him.
A copper-jacketed bullet hurtling toward his forehead met the incomprehensible superheated edge. The point of contact vaporized instantly, the rest ricocheting off at an angle into oblivion. The half-melted slug whistled with a bizarre pew.
The gray Aura Blade barely moved. With a mere flick of his wrist, Roque melted and deflected every incoming round headed his way. The cacophony of gunfire mixed with the eerie ricochets, turning the hallway into a chaotic din.
And before that noise even faded, Roque's Aura Blade reached the thugs and began to dance.
Human or elven flesh parted silently. Chrome implants and synthetic muscles sparked and fizzled like dying screams as they sheared away.
“Fuck—! What the hell is this guy?!”
“Shoot! Keep shooting!”
The thugs bellowed and pulled their triggers, but at point-blank range, even those bullets were casually batted aside by Roque's near-prescient senses and the blade's weightless agility. Some even ricocheted into their own comrades.
The cramped hallway posed no obstacle. Concrete walls or steel bulkheads—Roque's Aura Blade sliced through without pause, leaving glowing yellow lines and deep gouges in its wake.
By the time Daniel scrambled up from the stairs and reached the hallway, it was over.
“...Jesus Christ.”
Daniel, fumbling for his pistol, trembled at the sight of dismembered corpses and heat-scored walls, with Roque standing calmly in the center. It was the first time he'd glimpsed the terror of an Aura Master that his partner had warned him about.
Then Roque glanced down the opposite hallway and shouted.
“Some got away. Check your informant first.”
“Uh? Oh... right...”
Roque took off without waiting for Daniel's dazed reply.
The moment those gun barrels swung up for a barrage, a few had bolted down the opposite corridor. He couldn't grasp the full picture yet, but their immediate gunfire and the way some held position while others fled screamed trouble.
Roque rounded the corner and spotted a door with its lock smashed, swinging loosely. Screams echoed from inside.
He shoulder-slammed the door open. A naked couple clutched each other on the bed; shadows leaped from the window balcony.
The pair screamed again at the glowing light-sword in Roque's hand.
Ignoring their shrieks and curses, Roque rushed to the balcony and peered down. Three figures sprinted across a low rooftop opposite.
He sheathed his Aura Blade and vaulted the railing. His body soared over the crowded market alley below.
Landing smoothly on the far roof, Roque immediately gave chase. His black eyes locked on the trio ahead.
The old city rooftops were cluttered with rusted water tanks, transformers, vent pipes, mystery shrines, and laundry lines strung with blankets— a junkyard of decay.
The fugitives leaped nimbly between obstacles, glancing back. Spotting Roque closing in, they panicked.
Up close now, Roque noted their baggy clothes hiding race and build, hoods and masks concealing faces. Nothing like the street-rat corpses in the hall.
He reached for his Aura Blade hilt, planning to hamstring one for questioning. But just as the blade ignited, they hurled themselves off the roof.
“Why do they all love jumping?”
Roque muttered, scanning below. The narrow market alley teemed with people; the fugitives shoved through.
He smirked—one lagged behind, limping badly, maybe a twisted ankle.
“Not getting away now.”
Roque dropped into the alley. Crowds already buzzed from the earlier escapees; eyes turned to him.
Ignoring the stares, he zeroed in on the straggler. Grab that one, then the others.
The thug spotted Roque slipping through the crowd like a ghost and flailed wildly, hobbling faster. He shrieked something—maybe calling for his buddies—but the mask muffled it.
Roque's hand clamped his nape. The thug squealed like a rat. Tension locked his body as Roque squeezed.
A chill prickled Roque's senses. Straight ahead: another fugitive drawing a heavy submachine gun.
It roared—brrrrt.
In a flash, Roque released and spun, dodging the hail. His right hand dipped into his coat, yanking the revolver. Amid blood and bullets in the market heart, the barrel sighted the gunman's forehead.
One bang—the man's head snapped back. His SMG muzzle tilted skyward, hosing the heavens.
“Aaaah!”
“Gun!”
The alley exploded into pandemonium. The bustling street tore apart in terror.
Roque lowered his revolver amid the chaos. His aim was solid, but not miraculous in this mess. Guns and Aura Masters never mixed well.
Through the frenzy, he saw the surviving gunman stagger upright. The mask had blocked the bullet; blood streamed from his forehead, but he lived. Shattered mask revealed his face: an orc, black tattoos crisscrossing his skin. Fangs bared, he huffed in rage. His electronic eyes glowed red.
Another fugitive tapped his shoulder and fled. The orc snorted blood-flecked fury but wheeled away.
Roque holstered his revolver and checked the ground. The gunman lay shredded, gasping final breaths. Mask off: a gaunt elf, junkie-thin, staring blankly before wheezing out.
Roque tossed the mask onto his chest, eyes sweeping other bodies. Civilians caught in the crossfire between orc and elf—heads and torsos blasted open, limbs severed. His gaze darkened.
He rose and pursued the vanishing pair around the alley corner. Weaving through screaming crowds was effortless; they barely registered him brushing past.
But turning the bend, he caught only a gray vehicle's taillights, crushing trash piles as it merged onto the sunlit avenue and vanished.
Roque stood a moment, staring down the avenue.
“...Getting under my skin.”
A thin smile tugged his lips, but his eyes stayed cold.
Sirens wailed from the avenue; cop cars arrived. Officers piled out, shouting to calm the market madness.
Roque turned before they spotted him.
* * *
“Damn it...”
Daniel bit his lip, examining the body on the bed.
Emaciated corpse, net socket behind the ear jacked into the bedside computer via long cable—socket charred black. Likely fried by another mage's spell, or melted hacking some corp database.
Either way, his informant mage was dead.
Refusing defeat, Daniel ransacked the room for clues. Gunshots had drawn cops; his presence bought time via dispatch report, but more were coming.
“This place is a mess too.”
“Gah!”
Daniel jumped at the voice from the door. Roque.
“W-what happened? You get 'em?”
Roque shook his head. Daniel's face fell.
“That body's your informant, huh.”
“...Yeah. Not certain, but a mage linked to the Tree's Children. Brass thinks they hit random factories with bombs, but partner and I figured smarter—hack corp servers for guard shifts, pick easy targets. Or fudge the data to make 'em easy.”
Roque approached, tilting the corpse's vacant face, then eyeing the computer.
“Hmm. Mage's toast, but computer's intact. Any way to crack it?”
“What? Hack that?”
Daniel looked pained.
“My cyberdives? Just cat pics on Humor Cyberweb...”
Under Roque's stare, he rushed on.
“Hey, I'm no mage, no need for deep dives. Nobody does unless cops with open channels...”
Roque sighed softly. Pure human, no net socket—nothing they could pull here.
“Fine. Grab the computer, take to another mage—”
Footsteps at the door. Roque gripped his revolver, whirling.
“...Told you to stay in the car.”
Peeking in: black-haired girl, Elizabeth.
Ignoring him, she stepped inside. Daniel froze at the sudden kid, then tried blocking the body.
“H-hey, kiddo. Not safe up here. Back to the car—I'll get ice cream later...”
“Trouble, Roque?”
Daniel gaped at Roque, like what the hell? But Roque's heavy gaze stayed on her.
Her eyes—light rings around pupils—flashed toward corpse and computer.
“Mages and computer broken, Roque. No normal way to learn anything.”
Roque grinned, teeth flashing.
“...Yeah. Knew you weren't just human.”
He glanced at Daniel, baffled with question marks.
“Huh? What's going on?”
“Out.”
“Hey, I'm a detective. Crime scene—”
Something flickered in Roque's eyes; Daniel shut up.
“...Right, out I go. Deep talk time, huh? Haha.”
Face ashen despite the laugh, Daniel left, carefully closing the door. Not clueless—maybe eavesdropping.
Alone with Roque, Elizabeth, and the silent corpse.
Roque spoke first.
“Gotta ask again. What are you?”
“Elizabeth is Elizabeth. Can't accept other Elizabeth.”
“Real human?”
“Elizabeth human for sure. Heart beats, starve without food.”
Roque's eyes narrowed. Hand on Aura Blade hilt.
“Not answering straight. Think kid looks stop me?”
“Elizabeth knows Roque not that guy. Roque kinder, gentler than thinks.”
Expressionless but sad-eyed, she looked up. Roque froze.
A whisper brushed his ear.
—I love you, Roque.
“You...”
Elizabeth approached corpse and computer, fiddling cables.
“Cops in 10 minutes. Outside man can't stop them. Roque and Elizabeth dive now.”
“...Cyberdive needs net socket. Never had one, don't think you do.”
She grunted, yanking wires.
“Elizabeth dives without. But just swims aimless. Roque finds info.”
“...Me cyberdiving?”
Roque felt rare true bafflement. Never dived, even training as Aura Master or after. Felt the gulf sometimes, but never abandoned his path for the net.
Elizabeth grabbed net gear, looked up.
“No time, Roque. Trust me, or abandon chase.”
Black eyes met black. Something in hers made him draw the Aura Blade hilt.
“Why trust you?”
“Elizabeth trusts Roque. Roque trust Elizabeth.”
He huffed a laugh. Met how long? But he sat, setting blade down.
“...No clue what I'm doing.”
“Most live clueless. Knowing that? Roque better.”
Gibberish. She donned the net gear, pulled to eyes, approached sitting Roque.
“Ready?”
“Do it.”
She nodded, touched his forehead. His eyes widened. Vision curled round, went black.
Then infinite grid-space of glowing lattices unfolded before him.