Ahh, been a while. I'm making a nice long distance call to post this, so I won't be checking my mail much for another 3 weeks or so. Merry X-mas (or whatever). Here's number 9. Later. Copyright 1994 by Jason Kendelhardt, except where RTG got there first. Cyberpsycho 9 The Net, Night City-Pacifica Zone 13:57 25 Oct "Militech, Militech, Militech." Sean chanted the mantra quietly to himself as he drifted in the net. The cop was softly probing the cast-iron castle construct of the huge megacorp. He glided around the perimeter of the defenses, mentally recalling the map of the security he had been given. The construct was in downtown Night City, so it was surrounded by the dozens of other megacorp buildings. That made for a lot of disused alleyways, cable breaches, and pedestrian icons to hide in. Corporate Park's net was usually well guarded by competent sysops and well-programmed Demons, but when you are a cop, doors are open. He made several laps around the virtual castle, making sure there weren't any surprises waiting for him. All the input/output lines were several levels above him, so all the heavy security was concentrated up there, down below was dead space. So far so good, he thought. He made tracks back to the coordinates where he was supposed to meet with his inside man. 14:00. Time to go. Sean hunkered down next to the construct and activated a special Fisher prog he had worked up for this occasion. Thin spirals of code twisted out, digging into the thick walls of dense static that shielded the construct from intruding minds. Come on, baby, he mumbled, make daddy proud. Seconds later he was rewarded with a red color shift in the Fisher code. Bingo, he netted the data file. He started reeling it in, transfering data at the slow rate of a meg a second. It took forever to steal the entire file, all the time Sean kept waiting for that first hit of ICE against his shields. He didn't have any backup, not even a Demon to watch his back. It was simpler that way, but real risky. When the code turned back to its normal white color, he de-rezzd it and bugged out. He patted the virtual lump in his virtual pocket, if Hal had done what he said he would do, then the identity of the brain stealer would be in that file somewhere. ***** Combat Zone, Night City 14:30 same day "So, remind me again. Why the hell are we going into the free fire zone? It keeps slipping my mind." Jay was driving, as usual, so he really had to force himself to steer into the FFZ. Even wrapped in 20 cm of composite armor and controlling lots of Mercedes horsepower didn't make the Combat Zone any safer. Ty just ignored his partner. He chambered a .50 cal round into the M2HB heavy machinegun projecting out the front windshield, and folded the 100 round belt of ammo into a neat pile on his lap. He was ready for trouble. "Sure Jay," the black man imitated his young partner, "We're going into the Combat Zone because I feel like proving what a man I am." Jay hit a deep bass voice, totally unlike the hyper-active Ty. "I really want to drive into certain danger because I got shot the other day and I need to reaffirm myself by tempting every gang in the city to take a shot at me. By the way, Jay, do you want to come?" Then Jay resumed his normal voice. "Hell no, Ty, but since I am your partner and will have to fill out a mountain of paperwork if you get killed, I guess I will have to accompany you on your mission. Being your commanding officer and all, I feel a strange sense of duty to my young and foolhardy subordinates." They both started laughing at the one-sided conversation. "Sure, Sarge," Ty said, "I'll give you a good reason to go in here. Someone stole that cop's brain from the morgue. If they did it once, they certainly did it again. I have no intention of trying to find your puny brain when it gets stolen from your head." "Hey, you're gonna die before me, punk." "No, I mean when you're still -alive-!" "What the hell are you talking about, fool!" Jay didn't have to take that crap from anyone. "Watch your mouth before I assign you to a desk. How'd you like to spend all day back at the precinct, doing paperwork?" Ty got a look of mock horror on his face. "Oh no! Nice safe paperwork! Please boss, no more, no more!" They had another good laugh. Then they entered the Zone. It wasn't a visible line they crossed, it was a fortified barrier made of ancient car wrecks, demolished walls, welded shopping carts, anything that would serve to warn people away and stem the flow of crime out of the FFZ. There were serveral gaps in the wall large enough for the cruiser to get through, admitting the police into a world long exiled from reality. At first glance the inhabitants of the Combat Zone were no different looking than the millions of citizens of Night City. Then you took a closer look and saw the poverty, the hack ware, the gross deformities caused by bad drugs and worse breeding. Few vehicles ever penetrated here, the streets were clogged with refuse and human vermin. Whores displayed their attributes, pushers stalked the streets, fences dealt in food, clothing, weapons. Malnourished children scavenged the junk heaps, earning their keep by recycling things that had been castoff in a more prosporous era. Gangs controlled the streets, selling "protection" and recruiting from the thousands of rejects living in the slums. Jay and Ty couldn't give a shit about these people, about their problems. They thought they knew the score, believed it was the criminals own fault for ending up here, abandonded by society. Maybe they were right, maybe someone did make an consious choice to live in conditions worse than the 1800's gutters of London. Maybe not. An armored police cruiser, with a .50 cal cannon projecting out the windshield, tends to go where it wants to go. The sanguine "13" spraypainted on the side of the BMW 350 gave them more influence. Everyone knew that car, knew the cops inside. The inhabitants of the Zone knew they would get no quarter from the 2 cops inside. The broad ram on the front of the cruiser helped clear the way in front of them. Concrete rubble, an occasional car hulk, maybe a pile of rags, a boby or two, all were swept aside as the car traversed the sea of filth to get to their destination. "Ever wonder when it will be when the scum around here finally decide to stop being wimps and attack us?" Ty asked Jay. The blank faces of the people around them send tiny chills through his spine. It was like some zombie movie, he was just waiting for the mad rush to begin. "They will never do it. Only the gangs got the power to crack this baby, and that .50 cal says they don't get the chance." Jay comforted himself with that thought. "Besides, we can have an airborne assault team in here in minutes if we get in trouble, and those jokers know it." "Sure." Ty sounded a litle sceptical. Whenever they entered the FFZ, he always had the same doubts. I know what it's like in here, he thought, can't ever escape from the pull of this place. "We're looking for a bar. It should be 2 or 3 blocks from here." "Sure we are going to find him there?" Jay didn't know where Ty got his intel on the Combat Zone, but it was usually damn good and detailed. He would love to know Ty's source. Jay suspected Ty had kin in there, family willing to feed him info. Ty lived in Seattle until a year ago, so he sure didn't live in the FFZ himself. "Bingo!" Ty said, after a few more minutes of grinding along the street, leaving a wide swath of clear road behind them. "There it is, on the right side. Pull up and I'll go check out the place." "Want backup?" "No, you wait in the car. No one gonna take me down, not with you out here to light them up." "That's bullshit. Most of the guys around here would kill their own mothers in front of the police station if they had to. I'll coming in right behind you. I'll wear the panic button." Ty took a deep breath. "Ok, but I'm going to have to talk alone, ok? My source is a little touchy about the police." "Sure thing, pal." They both made quick scans of the surrounding area, making sure no one was planning to take a shot at them when they left the car. Nothing suspicious. They bailed out together, sliding forward the doors and coming out low. They didn't draw their pistols, no need to alarm anyone. The doors slammed shut and the pair were ducking into the bar within seconds. A cloud of dirty opium and pot wafted over them when the door opened. The reek of cheap alcohol and cheaper flesh tainted the air more. The lighting was so low Jay turned on his IR goggles just to see what the place looked like. There were about 20 or so drinkers, most alone at small tables or at the bar. He made out 2 moving women, waitresses, or whatever passed for them here, serving drinks to the customers who were conscious. Ty was moving up to the bar, run by a guy with an arm much to cold to be organic. Jay moved over to a fairly clean wall near the door, and waited. "What's up Ratz. Long time no see." The bartender squinted at the cop standing in front of him. No cop was a friend of his. He flexed his hydralic arm in a nervous habit. "What do you want, friend?" Best play it calm. He had done nothing wrong, and the cops had tossed the Chatsubo to the gangs long ago, yielding their power here to the razorboys. "Don't remember me do you? Here, let me make it easy." Ty reached up and pulled off his helmet, allowing Ratz to see his full face. "Ha Ha! Flash! Last I heard you got sent away by the police! Look at you now, wearing the uniform. What happened?" "Long story, Ratz. I'll tell it to you when I'm not being shadowed." He jerked his head back to indicate Jay, glowering from the back wall. "I need some info. There's some bad deals going down, a lot of nice people are getting hurt. I need to talk to a bodychopper, one who knows all the others." Ratz went back to polishing his glasses, a futile chore in this swill of a bar. "I don't think I can help you, Flash. Things aren't like you remember them. There's been a few changes in the power structure, new gangs are in charge." "Don't give me that! This is Flash you're talking to here, not some shakey undercover cop! It doesn't matter what I wear, I'm still the guy who took down Emilio and the others; still the guy who got the water flowing in here during the purge. You owe me, Ratz, you all do." "Ya, maybe we do. But you're not a color anymore, you don't have any swing here. Sure you may be a cop, but unless you want to go through the gangs, you're high and dry." "Take a look outside, Ratz. See what's parked in front of your bar." Ty waited while Ratz quickly checked his outside cameras. He smiled when the Russian's eyes got big. "Ze number tirteen! Vhat are you doing in zat car? Zust who are you?" Ratz was excited, his accent started showing. "That's right, I'm one of the devil cops you guys hate so much. That's my partner in the corner. He's got an itchy trigger finger, you never know when he might waste everyone around him. Not even the gangers in here could stop him. You got no ground to stand on. All I need is a name and a place. Nothing much, nothing fancy." "Damn you. They will know you have been here, they will make the connection back to me!" He wrote something on a soiled napkin. "Here, take this. You have killed me, Flash, killed me as if you pulled the trigger yourself." "Take heart, Ratz," Ty said. "You never know what might happen." He stuffed the napkin into a cargo pocket and turned for the door. A pair of seedy toughs blundered into his way. "Hey, you copper, oink oink! What you think you doing in here, huh? Dis is the Combat Zone, man, we don't like you jelly beans in here!" One tough, a flabby slob to poor to buy bioware, breathed a foul wave of stomach bile at him. Ty reached the end of his patience. It was over in 2 punches, blood and teeth covering the floor. Never mess with a cop wearing Hardcore gauntlets, your teeth will lose every time. Jay had his revolver out, ready to dish out hollowpoints to anyone trying to move. Ty didn't press his luck. A uniform went a long ways, even here, but he didn't want to end his life in a firefight in some red light bar. Back in the BMW, he checked the napkin. It had a name and a place all right, both of which he knew from a long time back. "Ok, Sarge, we got a new destination. Do a U-turn and take us to 8th street." The computer picked up the address from Ty's voice and automatically plotted the route on the holo map. Jay just had to follow the green arrows. "Mind telling me what went on in there?" He asked Ty. "It looked like he knew you. How'd that be, Ty? You've never lived here before have you?" Jay knew what Ty's service record had about him, it never mentioned any prior visits to Night City. "Awww, I knew that guy from Seattle. I used to be a little hell raiser up there, kept trying to scam drinks off him when I was underage." Ty hoped that lie would find root. "He needed a little persuading to get vocal, but he came around. He gave me the name of a chopper, someone who might know who did the number on Sunn." Jay didn't really believe Ty, but wasn't about to argue in the Combat Zone. They drove for a few more minutes until they found the shop they were looking for. -Ernest Eddie's Medical Clinic- read the window sign. "Looks like a Ripperdoc shop to me." said Ty. "This place might not be so receptive to cops." He unlocked the Hurricane shotgun from it's door case. He chambered a round from the 40 shot magazine. Jay did the same with his A-80 rifle. They both clipped panic buttons to their armor, small radio transmitters able to call for police reinforcements when activated. "Let's rock." The same SOP for leaving the cruiser, except this time they had weapons drawn. Ty dashed up the short flight of stairs to the entrance. He pressed the open button, but the door was locked, as he expected. With Jay coming up the stairs, Ty used his police electronic key to override the lock and open the door. It slid away just as Jay reached the doorway. The 2 cops dashed inside, each taking a 90 degree arc covering the entire interior of the clinic. A dozing guard fumbled for his submachinegun, but a quick chop with the Hurricane's ceramic barrel dropped him. The 3 or 4 patients waiting in the small lobby all ducked low, one even went for his large cooler-like briefcase. Jay covered the distance between them in a heartbeat and smashed his face in with the small stock of the bullpup A-80. A small pistol went flying through the air. The other "customers", each with large cooler-like briefcases, stayed put and made no quick moves. As Ty dealt with the guard, Jay headed over to the plastiglas enclosed box for the receptionist. She was a petite beauty, with the flawlessness only surgery could provide and the ebon skin only dyes could replicate. "Hi there. Is Eddie in?" He asked. The receptionist started shaking, obviously new to the job. "I...I'm not sure. Let me check." She reached for the com. Jay tapped the glass with his rifle barrel. "Not so fast lady. Why don't you just open the door and we'll go see Eddie ourselves? We want to surprise him." The receptionist, her nametag said -Angela-, faltered under Jay's bluff. She meekly opened the door to the back rooms of the clinic. Another ignorant person suckered into doubting the effectiveness of their bulletproof glass. Provided Eddie installed bulletproof glass in the first place and not just cheap old tempered plexi. Jay smiled at Angela, then headed for the open door. Ty joined him as he went through. The back rooms were much like every other clinic the two had ever been at. Clean and neat. And much too quiet. Only 4 doorways led off the main corridor, so they took the rooms one at a time. The first 2 were generic patient rooms, so apparently Eddie really did see actual patients, or did at some time. The third one was a lab, but not large enough to process bodyparts, just enough to synthesize tissue and blood, run a few tests, and cure most viruses and infections. That left the fourth door. Jay figured that Angela, programmed doll that she was, had notified Eddie by now. Either Ernest Eddie had split, and this raid was going to be a bust, or he was prepared to defend his turf, and the raid was going to end up bloody. Jay had money on bloody. "All right, last door. Get ready." All the other doors had been unlocked, but they were taking no chances with this one. Ty stood to one side with his shotgun at the ready while Jay tried the door release. It was locked. He nodded to Ty and used his electronic lockpick. The device scrammed the door computer and opened the panel. Ty got a glimpse of movement just before a tight cloud of flechettes peppered the wall next to his head. Ty coolly blasted the shooter with 00 buckshot, knocking him back into a walk-in freezer. Another figure made a dash for a solid looking desk. He would have made it but Jay riddled the plastic furniture with 7.62mm slugs, robbing the desk of the illusion of cover. "Freeze, Eddie. This is the police." Ty said belatedly. He kept his shotgun trained in Eddie's direction as he did an eyeball check of the gunman he shot. Still alive, but bruised and bloody from the close range gunfire. The shooter had a vest on, enough to save his life but not to keep him completely unharmed. A 5 shot flechette revolver lay near his hand, looking more like a grenade launcher than a pistol. Jay got the ripperdoc on the ground, belly down. He wove some sticky cuffs around the doc's wrists, using the thick strands of adhesive goo to bind the medic up to the elbows. Ty kicked the body of the gunman into the freezer, stashed the pistol in his cargo pocket, and shut the door to the freezer. Maybe someone would let the guy out, he hoped not. The doc was tied to a chair, legs bound as well. Jay sat down across from him and pulled off his helmet. "Howdy. We just want to ask you a few questions. Be good and I won't set you outside like that." Eddie realized that he was in the hands of madmen, cops with no respect for the law. But then, any cops that dared to enter the FFZ had to be insane anyway. "Yeah, yeah, what ever you want. I got medical supplies, progs, equipment. Anything." Eddie was a short man, thin and weasely, not prone to brave heroics. This was going to be easier than I thought, Jay said to himself. "Dude, we don't want any of that stuff. If we were going to rob you, we would have just killed you, wouldn't we?" Ty walked over behind Eddie, started cocking and dropping the hammer of his pistol. He kept his helmet on. He didn't want to get recognized now, with Jay right here. "What we want," Jay began, "is the names of the guys who brought you bodyparts, specifically brains, specifically on December 12 of last year. You got a file on that?" Eddie nodded enthusiastically. Body hawking was something he had a permit for, he wasn't responsible for where the parts came from, just where they went. "Sure. It's in my computer, logged by date. I got a permit for all that you know, it's all legal." Ty flipped on the computer, fortunately spared from Jay's withering hail of fire into the desk. The holographic screen popped up, reflected off a thin panel of crystal fiber. He fumbled with the unfamiliar setup for a few seconds, then found the files on the bodyparts. They went back for nearly a decade. "Been doing this a while now, haven't you Eddie?" "Yeah, ever since I got out of med school. It's an easy buck." "How many docs do this in Night City?" Ty asked as he searched for the specific date that Charles' brain had to have been removed and sold. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe a dozen, 20 perhaps. Usually the hospitals do it themselves, so I don't get many that way. Mine are usually..." he paused for a moment, "uh, spoils of war, I guess you could call it." Jay got real close to Eddie. Met him eye to eye. "Did it ever occur to you that some of these people didn't want to give up their organs? Did it ever occur to you that sometimes these things are stolen?" So that was what this was about, Eddie thought. The cops are pissed off about bodychopping. "Hey, I don't ask them where the stuff comes from. Keeping the dead intact is your job, not mine." He regretted saying it as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth. Jay got real beet red, a fearsome sight in a black man. The cop drew back his fist, ready to pound in the little weasel's nose. Ty saw what was coming. "Hey, Sergeant! I got something here! This is the guy who did Sunn!" Jay dropped his fist and settled for knocking Eddie's chair back into the wall instead. He looked at the file Ty had on the screen. Sure enough, it had a brain sale for the proper date. There was a routine blood/tissue check in the corner of the screen and it matched Sunn's. "Well, Eddie. Why don't you tell us who gave you this particular brain?" Ty wheeled Eddie over to the monitor. The doc looked at the screen for a second, deciphering his own codes. "Oh yeah. This guy sends me lots of stuff. He usually has a good turn in every week or so. Amazing how he gets it all." Jay dropped his hand on Eddie's shoulder and gave a strong squeeze. "Yeah Eddie, real amazing. What's his name?" "Ummm, it's.., uh, Jackson! Yes, Matt Jackson! I remember from his account. He banks at First Bank of NC. You should be able to find him there." Ty got a copy of all the files on one of Eddie's data needles. Lt. Ravine would be interested in knowing that stuff. He had the connections to get Jackson's Bio file. "Thanks Eddie. It was a pleasure doing business with you." He turned to Jay. "Let's blow." Jay bopped Eddie on the head just for the hell of it, then he followed Ty out. There was nothing they could legally do to Eddie, and they didn't feel like facing a court martial for burning down his clinic. The 2 cops had to be satisfied with the data they had gotten. Not surprisingly the lobby was deserted when they got there, the receptionist even. Gunfire tends to do that to places. When they got outside, they were entreated with the welcome sight of their cruiser, freshly painted in hot pink. Only the 13 remained it's original color. The rest of the car, except the paint-slick windows, was a thick hot pink. "Man, I really hate the Zone." Jay grumbled as they scraped of the paint around the doors. Even the Browning was pink, the barrel undoubtedly plugged up with road gunk. "We really need to rearm the explosive strips on the sides. Maybe a few claymores would be nice." "Gee, and I thought Devil-13 was immune to this sort of crap. I thought we had a badass rep and were untouchable." Ty was just as pissed. "Well, better they paint the car pink then paint us red, if you know what I mean." "Hell no, at least I would have a chance to shoot back if they came after us. Poor car never had a chance. 'Bout time we took out a gang or two and reestablish our rep. Whaddya say?" Ty was looking for action. "Sure kid. Wish I had an imagination like yours." "Ahh, blow it out your ass. Let's just get out of here and find a carwash." They had more important things to do. -- ****************************************************************************** Jason Kendelhardt Violence is Golden kendejd9@wfu.edu and I have the Midas Touch ******************************************************************************