Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Cybernetic: Summer, 2606 CE

Subject 13 sat on the ground staring at his blood-covered hands, unbelieving of the carnage that he knew they wrought. The Genocider warhost had been crushed on Earth last year, he saw the reports detailing the constructs self-termination and scouring of their fleet from Sol; despite extinction no longer being a significant threat to the Human race the doctors and researchers still insisted that all Subjects continue to perform field tests, and lately they've been dispatched against dissidents.
This mission was the first time since the eradication of the alien host that Subject 13 had allowed his implants to activate and it was very different than the last time he did it. The orders and whispering of the Overmind had been replaced by the echoes of its deathscream. The last moments of the A.I. looped incessantly when he removed the mental block, 13 only felt a screaming incoherent hatred that was beyond his ability to control when he tapped into that power now.
"You were amazing." Subject 9 said, her voice filled with awe.
13 looked up at her, "Was I?" he asked sardonically.
"I've never seen anyone do that before!" Her eyes sparkled with reverence, "Not even the high and mighty Subject 3 could do anything like that! I mean, I just watched you flambe some poor bastard and tear another guy's throat out in like, two seconds!" Subject 9 continued to gush, "You took your collar off and you were just...gone! By the time I caught up you'd already cleared out the building! In an hour you...you just...a whole military base!" Breathless, she sat down next to 13 and gazed dreamily out at the setting sun, "I wish I could kill like you."
A fist collided with her mouth, laying her out on the ground; a strong, gloved hand gripped her throat and hefted her up.
Subject 13 stood there, his teeth clenched with fury, "Don't you ever say that to me again."
Subject 9 sputtered and gasped for breath, her windpipe completely closed in 13's grip. Her vision started to blur and darken at the edges before his grip loosened and she dropped to the ground.
13 watched the young girl alternately cough and gasp before vomiting into the dirt, the look of barely restrained anger still on his face.
"Fuck you Dwin. It was a compliment." She finally managed picking herself off the ground and resuming her place at 13's side, "I think I'm missing teeth." She whined.
He ignored her, "We were supposed to protect humanity." he said bitterly, "So what the hell is this?" He motioned out toward the scattering of dead and the remains of the separatist outpost.
Subject 9 shrugged, "We get a mission, we kill everything we're told to."
13 scoffed, unsurprised at her response. He knew that her casual approach to violence was a side-effect of those damned implants; though she was certainly more of a human than he was if push came to shove.
"While I don't share your sudden squeamishness, I do agree that the old men are losing their way." She added thoughtfully, "If missions like this are any kind of indicator...I don't think they plan for us to survive the war."
Subject 13 nodded his agreement, "I don't think it'll be long now until we have to fight our way out."
They sat there in silence for a long time before 9 interrupted his thoughts.
"So are we about ready to go?" Subject 9 said with a hint of impatience. She surveyed the area one more time and brushed the ashes off her clothes.
13 walked over to her, placing a hand under her chin and gently turning her head. He could see bruising starting to develop around her neck and her lip was bloody from where he'd punched her.
"You still have all your teeth?" he asked
"Yes sir." she replied, "You're going to have to hit me like a man next time if you want it to do anything." She added with a wry smile.
Despite himself he chuckled at her bravado, "Alright then, why don't you prep the shuttle for launch? I'll be along shortly."
She nodded and turned to leave.
"Oh and Talis?"
"Hmm?"
"You know that Autarch Revolver you've been pestering me about?"
Her eyes went wide as she guessed what he meant, "What!?" she squealed with delight before suddenly catching herself, "I mean...thank you Godwin, it should be quite an...adequate sidearm." She was trying her hardest to sound nonchalant and professional, forcing the smile down deep before resuming her walk toward the shuttle, though at a noticeably faster pace.
"It's under your seat!" He called out to the swiftly retreating figure.
13 sighed, most sixteen year old girls don't get giddy at the mention of a new gun, but then, most sixteen year old girls hadn't grown up as a government experiment.
He, at least, had the luxury of volunteering to be a guinea pig.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Cybernetic: Echoes of Madness

March, 2620 CE

Talis Venona lounged in the commander's seat on the bridge of the Warmonger, taking in the scenery and breathing heavy from excitement; the scent of fear was all around her, filling her heart with ecstasy and satisfying something primal deep within her. The bodies of those men who stood against her lay still, blood pooling around them in shapes that pleased her eyes and calmed her nerves.
She prepared an encoded message to Corvis, her employer, informing him that the crew was neutralized and that the ship was only waiting for him to claim it. She added that the appropriate disarming signal for the explosives in the munitions stores would be sent when he wired the funds to the previously specified accounts; in her experience, it usually paid off to ensure the client's cooperation and timely payment.
Satisfied, she sent the message and stood up; it was about time to return to her ship.

The way Talis Venona walked was at odds with the rest of her appearance; reminiscent of the fashionistas or runway models, but dressing in full body armor and carrying a charge rifle mag-locked to her back and a fat revolver holstered around her waist. Not a hair was out of place, no one who didn't know her would guess she had just finished single-handedly slaughtering the crew of this small attack frigate.

She boarded her ship, the Last Resort, and detached from the now derelict Warmonger, figuring it was time for a break. This last job had paid well despite the ease with which she completed it; she recalled a few travel advertisements for Canaan, apparently it had bloomed into quite a gem in the last five years or so.
It was decided then, Talis input the coordinates into the auto-pilot and leaned back in her chair. She had some time to sleep before arriving planetside for the first time in...what was it now? Six months? A year?

---

Talis was awoken by the sudden rocking of her ship, confused she checked the hull camera feed for a source. She was delighted by what she found; apparently Corvis had followed in her wake, his ship was sloppily docked with hers. She didn't think the bastard was crafty enough to follow the Last Resort, as it was equipped with best stealth systems that money could buy, in fact it should be impossible. He proved far more expert than he had let on, she idly wondered what he would look like gurgling from a gunshot wound to the throat.

They also disabled the security feed at the docking port, denying her a visual confirmation of her attackers or their current actions, but she could guess what they were up to.
Working quickly, she restocked her ammunition and waited about twenty feet away from the airlock blast door, confident that whatever charges they were going to use wouldn't have any real effect on her. They were likely expecting her to be caught unprepared; her impromptu nap had saved her the inconvenience of fighting without her body armor or her beloved Autarch Revolver, though they hardly would have been necessary to eliminate this bunch.

She placed a finger to her throat and the chorus began.

There was a muffled explosion and a rush of air as the other ship's atmosphere mixed with the Resort's; the airlock door crashed to the ground. Smoke obscured the doorway, though it didn't do much good for the boarders. Talis's augmented eyes pierced the haze and she could clearly see the attackers move in. It was an instant later that her Autarch roared and the first of the thug's fell to the ground sans the top of his head, torn away by a 12.7mm bullet.
The loud discharge of her revolver was like a lover's whisper to Talis; she derived an almost physical pleasure from unloading its payload into people that insisted on becoming her enemy.
The urge to kill played like a symphony inside her head, she could feel claws gently running across the inside of her skull, ethereal fingers pointed out kill shots, demanding that blood flow.
But the music. Oh God the music. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

She danced to the chorus of screams and frantic gunfire; no harm could come to her and she placed every shot with a surgeon's precision. One panicky brute unloaded on full-auto, fear overtaking his better judgment and precision; Talis capitalized on his loss of composure and charged full-speed. The terrified soldier could scarcely keep her in his sights let alone hit her and before he knew it the barrel of a gun was between his eyes.
She loved watching people die up close.
A second later, he crashed to the floor with an empty skull. The others were still firing short bursts, trying to keep up, but they were hardly a threat. Two quick shots and two more lie dead; the last two tried to run, but instead they ended up unceremoniously dropped from gunshots to the back of the head.
She reloaded.

Talis waltzed boldly into the ship, gunning down anything that moved until finally arriving at the bridge. She guessed that less than three quarters of the ship's crew was left; which meant that it was effectively stranded.
Fearlessly she walked out onto the bridge and into the waiting gun of her erstwhile employer. He wasn't taking any chances, firing as soon as she was visible. He couldn't keep his hand from shaking and it showed; Talis barely had to twitch to avoid the bullets.
"Come now Corvis, I expected more from you." She twirled her gun and cracked the butt of her pistol across Corvis's head, "I mean, you found my ship. You're more capable than this pathetic attempt at piracy."
Blood ran freely between Corvis's fingers as he glared at her, "Damn it, what did you expect?" he picked himself off the floor with some effort, "I've seen your work monster, you're too good at what you do. If I didn't take a shot at you now, I'm sure I'd be on the receiving end of one of your contracts."
Talis giggled manically, "That's it? You're just a paranoid freak?" She clapped her free hand to her head, "you seriously tracked a stealth cruiser to the border of Imperial Space for the sole purpose of killing me for fear that someone at some point in the future would maybe hire me to kill you?"
Corvis remained silent as the girl laughed loudly at him.
"Corvis Corvis Corvis! You never perform a hit on a former employer, no matter how good the money is!" She managed to stifle some of her laughter, "it's bad for business if you kill former employers who did right by you! Otherwise, you'd find yourself up to your eyeballs in folks who like to interrupt girls while they sleep."
After a slight pause, "did you track me down yourself?" she asked placing a finger to her chin.
"Yeah, if you know how to read the charts; no ship is untraceable."
"Is astro-navigation your only talent?"
Corvis scoffed at the insult, "Hardly, I got to where I am by finding my enemies wherever they hid."
Talis nodded as she considered this.
The longer he waited while she thought, the more nervous he became. Corvis was so terrified that he couldn't stand it, but he figured he was managing to keep it off his face considering she didn't immediately dismiss him as a man who would say anything to survive.
Finally he interrupted her thoughts, summoning up the last reserves of his boldness; figuring if he read her correctly, sniveling like a weasel now would only end badly for him, "Well now what? Am I a dead man?" She returned to the present, her mind made up. Smiling she began to undress.

This was perhaps the single least likely thing he expected to happen, short of spontaneous combustion, and he absolutely didn't trust it.
"What's your game monster?" He never thought the sight of a woman undressing could inspire so much dread, he was more terrified now than when she held a gun to his head.
"No game Corvis. I'm yours now, exclusive contract. Your enemies are now my enemies, your friends are my friends; anything you wish I'll do." She said, placing special emphasis on that last part.
The last of her armor fell to the floor and she turned to face him, "You've got talents that I need, there are people I want tracked down." She cocked her head, "I'm assuming this wasn't a one time fluke of competence?"
Corvis noted the sincerity in her voice, though he was disturbed at this obvious attempt at manipulation; she used her body simultaneously as a bargaining chip and a way to throw off her would-be pawns. There was something else too; something about her that seemed to force him to pay attention and appealed to his baser instincts, like an aura or some other kind of nonsense, though the fear for his life kept it from affecting him the way she clearly wanted it to.

He eventually concluded that if he didn't accept her deal then he would be killed right here. He seemed to deflate, like the fight had just gone out of him. He nodded his agreement with the Devil as she came closer.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Cybernetic: And the Forgotten

Godwin Tulla awoke in total darkness and already on his feet; he couldn't see but could tell his clothes were soaked through and that, wherever he was, it was cramped. He fumbled about, looking for a light or a way out, running his fingers along the wall, relieved to find it wasn't anything as sturdy as a prison box. He firmly knocked and pressed his ear to the wall; waiting for some kind of movement or response and, when he was confident that no one was in earshot, struck at the walls. He managed to tear open his prison and found himself in a devastated apartment.
It was clearly a tenement, but even that hardly excused the mess that he was seeing. He realized that he had been sealed within the wall of this room. He looked down at his hands in horror, only just noticing that they were red with blood. Tulla sprinted toward a mirror and gasped at his reflection; blood covered him entirely, he strained his mind as he tried to remember what happened and the sudden rush of recollection nearly made his legs buckle.

He killed them. All of them.
Tulla remembered the irate gangsters: how he butchered and torched them. He recalled in sickening detail when he finished with the three, turning on the homeless in the alley that hadn't run away. If his memory was correct, and it was damn near perfect, he killed thirteen more people before closing any wounds he sustained, climbed into a nearby tenement, and carefully insinuated himself into the walls of an abandoned room.
It would seem he hadn't forgotten his bag in the chaos, since it was laying by the rotting bed-frame; he quickly changed into an alternate set of fatigues and stuffed his bloodied clothes away into his pack.
If this was anything like the other times, he was sure he left no survivors and any surveillance equipment is more than likely destroyed; he hurried back onto the street

It was another beautiful day, though it did little to cheer him up; the screams of the people he killed still echoed in his thoughts so loudly he couldn't think of anything else. It was early in the morning, listening for sirens, he watched hawkishly for police officers on the move; when nothing could be heard, he reasoned that local authorities hadn't been notified yet.
Tulla took a deep breath and exhaled, renewing his resolve. He was careless last night and wouldn't make a mistake like that again; he was going to do his research on the area, intent on avoiding trouble and getting on with his life. He was sick of hurting people.
Though if he was being honest, Tulla was just glad that the beast had contented itself with addicts and criminals in the alley and not, say, hunting suburban families.

The big man walked aimlessly, just letting his thoughts settle before he would deal with room rentals and property acquisition; he whispered litanies as he relaxed his mind, entering a sort of meditative state and exercising some control over the excess of emotion that plagued him. When he was finished he walked with renewed purpose and buried apprehensions, confident that he could keep a cool head in front of the sellers.

If he was lucky, he could disappear and finally be forgotten.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Cybernetic: The Lost

Godwin Tulla stepped off from the shuttle into the cold winter air of Pas Dammim, the capitol of Canaan, hefting a single bag over his shoulder and marching out into the busy street.
He looked like a vagrant, with worn out fatigues and a military issue high-collared greatcoat; coupled with his unkempt hair simply adding to his homeless appearance.

Canaan was said to be a place to start again and make something of yourself; the idea appealed to Tulla, he hoped that there were some devils of his that he could finally lay to rest.
He had money despite his ragged appearance, his...former employers had paid him well, of course they hardly expected him to survive employment. He stopped in a small cafe somewhere out of the way of the bustling main street; coffee would help warm his bones and his voyage had been a long one.

"Afternoon sah!" a boisterous little round man loudly called from behind the counter, "What can I get for you tahday?"
"Coffee. Black." Tulla grunted in reply
"Sure sure, right away sah!"
Tulla took a seat at a small table and waited, absentmindedly staring out the large storefront window.
When the barista returned with his coffee he sat down with Tulla, intent on chatting.
"So my good man, are you a soldjah perhaps?" He inquired rather ham-handedly
Tulla stared at his coffee then back at the barista and sighed, "I...guess. I served in the military and ...participated in the wars."
"Ah ha! I knew it! You have this air about you, like you've seen things." He clapped Tulla on the shoulder, "You sah, have my thanks for your service at least! Don't worry about payment, its on the house!"
Tulla forced a smile and thanked him, continuing to sip on his beverage.
"My good sah, if you don't mind the inquiry, which wars did you see action?" The pudgy barista asked hopefully.
Tulla considered his words, "During the War for Survival and...the Corporate Rebellions..." He stared sadly back down at his coffee, remembering a time long since ended.
Even the oblivious barista was aware of the effect recollection was having on the man and quickly changed the subject, "Soldjah's blood runs deep in my family. The first recruits of the 1st Fleet! Yes sah! A proud martial history!" He smiled wider (something Tulla didn't think was possible), "Some may not think so, but we owe a lot to you boys. You should know that." He stood up and offered Tulla his hand, "Eduardo Bessene sah, at your service."
Tulla took it, "Godwin Tulla." He offered a polite smile.
Eduardo nodded and went back to work.

Tulla left the shop feeling warmer and, despite the pushy socially ignorant barista, he felt a bit better about himself. Even if he didn't feel like anyone deserving of praise, he certainly couldn't deny it was a welcome change to the disdain most Rebellion veterans are treated with.
It was getting late, Tulla decided it would probably be best to sleep in one of the alleyways for the night and seek out some temporary housing in the morning. He wandered down an isolated alley setting his pack on the ground, intending to use it as a pillow.
He looked around, seeing the occasional homeless laying around or unsavory individuals walking with purpose onto the main street.
"Hey!" Tulla turned around to the voice calling out from behind him, he was barely able to react as the butt of the pistol connected with his temple and he crashed to the ground.
"Just who the hell do you think you are? Crashing in my alley without paying rent?" The man was well dressed and strong looking with a wicked looking pistol and two large goons standing at his sides.
"Rent? From the homeless?" Tulla was disoriented and trying to concentrate on his head wound, blood was running freely from his temple.
"Yes. These nice folks here are customers." He talked slowly and deliberately, mocking Tulla as if he were a simpleton. "You, my friend, are not a customer. You are a squatter and you got to pay the price."
The well-dressed man lowered his pistol and shot Tulla in the knee, dropping him back onto the floor, "He's all yours boys, make sure you beat him good. I've had a bad day and I want to feel better."
"No! Please don't!" Tulla pleaded as he clutched at his ruined leg.
The men only laughed, "Begging for mercy is a waste of words with boss Linus." One of the giant bodyguards grunted with humor in his voice.
"Hey boss, how bad can we beat him?" The other asked
Linus scratched his chin and shrugged, "You can kill this one if you want Percy, he looks like a veteran." Boss Linus poked the barrel of his pistol toward the greatcoat that Tulla was wearing, "Only 3rd Fleet wears something like this." He looked Tulla in the face unable to keep the smile off his own, "So you're from that mad dog outfit? Its about time someone came around and put you down."
"Please, please don't do this, just...please." Tulla begged, fear nearly choked his voice, "I'm trying my hardest not to kill you." He sobbed.
The boss burst into raucous laughter, holding his sides, "That was the best bluff you could come up with? Really?"
Percy followed up by kicking Tulla in the stomach, his partner did the same to Tulla's face.
The boss walked over to the weeping Tulla and grabbed him by the hair, placing his pistol under Tulla's chin, "Alright you piece of shit, I've had the worst day of my life; I got boss Cassar himself telling me that I better get my shit together or its my ass. Now I'm sure absolutely none of this means shit to you, but I just wanted you to know that your shit life ended with purpose." He smiled darkly, "I feel a lot better now."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Tulla whispered, placing his finger on his neck.
Linus laughed and brutally hammered the butt of his pistol into Tulla's nose, enjoying the loud crack of it breaking.
"Hey Percy, Redden! It sounds like he's real sorry! I guess he gets to get the shit kicked out of him a bit longer before I splatter his brain across the alley!"
Percy guffawed like the trained ape he was, lifting the now silent Tulla by the collar off the floor and cocked his fist for some devastating head trauma.
Tulla was no longer crying but looked far away, as if slightly confused. Percy was irritated that he no longer looked afraid, grabbing Tulla and forcing him to look Percy directly in the eyes; he wanted to force the coward back into the moment to make this fun again.
What he wasn't expecting was the look of confusion turning to blind, psychotic rage. Percy's perceptions became confused, he could barely see anymore and he realized he couldn't breathe.
The pain was indescribable, the air in his lungs had been ignited and he burned from the inside out.
The humor had drained completely from Linus's face as he watched one of his henchmen suddenly drop to the ground with smoke dribbling out of his mouth and nostrils.
Tulla stood now, despite the grievous gunshot wound to his leg; his face was twisted into mask of hate.
Redden, to his credit, reacted faster than anyone could have expected considering his size; he pulled a pistol but before he'd even gotten it out of his coat Tulla was on him. The maddened veteran drove his thumbs into Redden's eyes, plucking them out quickly and efficiently before dropping low and punching the big man in the stomach; his organs and spine exploded out from behind him.
A blood spattered Tulla stood up and locked eyes with boss Linus and for the first time in Linus's life, he was unable to run away. He couldn't even speak, no matter how hard he tried.
Tulla smiled as Linus was burned alive carefully and deliberately, unable to scream his torment. The smile quickly turned back to homicidal psychosis after Linus expired.

The vagrants who remained were all frozen with terror as Tulla turned to them with predatory eyes.