Alexander89
patreon
Of Noble Intentions - Chapter 6: Don't Stop Believin'
🕑 Added 2024-07-22 20:03:51 +0000 UTC"What is wrong with you?!"
"Do you need the full list? Because we would be here for a long time and I'm in a hurry to fill my monthly quota of 'shoot the son of a bitch'."
Kaiser Director and Johnny Silverhand
====
Angel24, it turned out, was a convenience store located just next to the Schale main building, part of a chain famous all through Kivotos. Basically the local equivalent of 7-Eleven, Mark 24 and the other retail store chains that gathered under the umbrella of the Holt Coalition. Johnny had many of his teenage firsts in a place like this, from making out to shoplifting and even getting black-out drunk.
Though he saw no security cameras or bars on the windows, an oddity considering seemingly everyone in this place packed iron; then again, they were also bulletproof so employers likely relied on the ‘insurance’ parked under the counter to deal with punks who thought themselves lucky.
Not that Johnny was even entertaining the idea of walking inside and using his Malorian as a credit card, not even during his gonk-ass years left behind miles in the past did he sink so low. He had principles after all, and Texan convenience store clerks were universally mean sons of bitches who loved exploiting self-defense laws in order to round up their meager salary. Good times.
“Sensei? What are you waiting for?” Arona asked as she turned around to face him, hands behind her back and one leg raised as she balanced her body on a single foot.
“You see Arona, there’s this absolutely unfair conundrum where you need eddies to buy chow. Eddies I currently don’t have.” Because giving him his body back and high-quality Chrome was doable for Ghost Girl, but adding some advance eddies to the package was apparently asking for too much.
Looking around the still-deserted side street Johnny stopped when his Kiroshi highlighted a panel on the wall, identifying it as an Access Point to the local subnet. “So let’s remedy that.”
Striding up to the panel he flipped it open, exposing a mess of wires and other parts. Taking out the Interface Plug from his right wrist Johnny jacked it into the first port available, the plug automatically adapting itself to the opening. His Deck fired, replacing half of his sight with the Breach Protocol Interface: he selected the Datamining Daemons, two should be enough to net him the eddies for a quick chow, then turned his attention to the Code Matrix and laughed. The Rockerboy knew the thing was just a visual simplification of the subnet’s ICE, allowing the completion of important steps as fast as possible while sub-algorithms brute-forced the details, but even he could tell this security software was as basic as it gets. The type they sell without pricey upgrades as part of a computer’s pre-installed softwares, which does its job the same way a plastic door is technically supposed to keep robbers out.
Taking the Daemons Johnny rearranged the data in the Code Matrix until the two programs fit inside, then started the upload.
//ROOT
//ACCESS_REQUEST
//ACCESS_REQUEST_SUCCESS
//COLLECTING PACKET_1………………....COMPLETE
//COLLECTING PACKET_2……………..…..COMPLETE
//LOGIN
//LOGIN_SUCCESS
//
//UPLOAD_IN_PROGRESS
//UPLOAD_COMPLETE!
//ALL DAEMONS UPLOADED!
The counter in one corner of his vision went up, signaling Johnny’s access to part of the digital money used by this country’s banking system. The Rockerboy took out the Interface Plug and with a shit-eating grin faced Arona, who was looking at him with a nonplussed expression just because she had yet to understand how preem Johnny’s actions were. “And just like that, all meal problems have been taken care of. Thanks to the eddies generously donated by an anonymous benefactor.”
“...Sensei. Schale, as a Federal Club, receives a monthly budget from the GSC.” She calmly explained. “Said budget just went down without records of a transaction being made. Did you just rob yourself?”
Now, most people would react with embarrassment after being caught committing such a blunder. Even if it was simply a momentary pause, a sufficiently keen observer would always pick up a sign of them being caught flat-footed.
“Next step is crystal clear then.” Johnny Silverhand wasn’t most people. For most people didn’t lie as easily as they breathed. “Schale’s ICE needs a complete overhaul. A bigger Architecture, better passwords, better defense Defense Programs, the whole shebang! I want something that’ll make a NetWatch agent whistle in approval. Arona, this one’s in your court.”
“Got it, Sensei!” The AI enthusiastically replied with a thumb-up. “There were just a few Shards about the topic I wanted to read, do I have your permission?”
After he was told their titles Johnny checked said Shards, noting the worst they contained were short and bland descriptions of brains getting fried and stuff set on fire by Black Ice. He approved them for Arona’s use and finally approached the combini’s glass doors, which automatically parted at his approach.
Inside he didn’t find a burly, hairy man with arms the size of car tyres; nor a haloed girl with a cocky grin and a big shotgun. “We-Welcome!” No, what greeted him was a little blonde girl bowing so deeply she almost slammed her face on the counter’s surface. She had a double ringed halo with an emphasized tear-drop, and on her back were tiny white wings twitching in what Johnny assumed was nervousness.
Name: Hayashi Sora
Status: Middle School First Year (12 years old)
School: D.U. Junior High School Division
Club: None
Occupation: Angel24’s Part-Time Employee
Weapon: Webley & Scott Model 1908 Pocket Pistol
He knew of Webley & Scott before of course, the english arms manufacturer was one of the oldest names in the gun industry, but he never heard of that specific model. First made in 1908? More of a museum piece than proper iron, but maybe the brat just wanted something that looked preem to impress her chooms.
Also, this was the first time his Kiroshi told him info about a person’s iron. Was there a setting like that?
Answering USER Johnny Silverhand’s query…
The modification to the Target Analysis System had been suggested and implemented by Administrator Cool Big Sister Arona-chan.
Explanation provided: “Guns are an integral part of a girl’s charm!”
“Hey!” The self-proclaimed ‘Cool Big Sister’ appeared seated on the counter, glaring with suspicion at the still bowing blonde girl. She bent backward and looked behind the furniture, a shout of triumph escaping her lips. “I knew it! She’s standing on a stool! No way she’s taller than me while being the same age!”
Say the AI designed to look like that.
Starting to think the brat’s hiding a narcissist streak.
No wonder the two of you get along so well.
Johnny looked at the two little girls, then shifted his gaze to the shelf behind the counter. Alongside common items like cigarettes, lottery tickets, prepaid cards, simple medicines and batteries it also contained ammunition boxes, grenades and weird sphere-shaped things with a small cross on top that were also labeled as explosives. On the right side there was a weapon rack with several assault rifles colored white, yellow, pink and other eye-catching colors; on the left, a microwave oven and a screen showing a simple advertisement of their best-selling product, a double-cheese hamburger with extra thick tomato slices.
The Rockerboy couldn’t help himself: he slapped his meat hand on the counter, bent forward and, with the Hand pressed over his stomach, began to laugh like a gonk. This fucking city just didn’t know when to stop surprising him! He has not been here for even a day, yet he could already tell a combini selling both cheap food and iron together as if they were the same type of commonly used items was just so much Kivotos it hurt. Really, what else could he do but laugh?
It was even better because Wilson and every other weapon seller of Night City would have a stroke at the sight. And then he would be the only one among them not trying to set up a similar shop.
“Sensei, what’s funny?” Arona asked with a tilt of her head, halo acquiring an almost interrogative point-like shape.
“Kivotos. Kivotos is god-damn hilarious.” Johnny chuckled, straightening his back and slapping his chest with both meat palm and the Hand. “This morning is shaping up to be absolutely nova.”
“T-T-There is no money in the register!” A shrill scream split the air. The blonde little girl, while Johnny wasn’t paying attention, went from bowing near the counter to curling in a corner, hands over her head and trembling like a crack addict in withdrawal. “Take whatever you want but please leave me alone! This is my first day on the job! I just wanted enough money to buy extra food for the school bunnies but Angel24’s the only place that hires middle schoolers! And when I got here the manager just gave me the training Blu-Rays and left without even a single instruction! And now I’m also getting robbed!”
“Kiddo.” Johnny’s voice cut through the tirade. It was warm, confident and inviting. “I’m not a crook, and this is not a robbery. You’re too cute to rob anyway. Now take deep breaths, calm down and when you feel ready get back here so I can pay for my food and you can earn eddies to buy tasty chow for those bunny friends of yours.”
Arona nodded vigorously. “That’s true! Silverhand Sensei is absolutely trustworthy!”
She didn’t answer immediately, but her trembling slowly subsided until it was just a few twitches. At a snail’s pace she stood up, walked back to the counter and climbed up the stool to resume her previous position. Raising her head, revealing a large forehead, she blinked once before looking further up; blue eyes widening like saucers as she took in Johnny’s appearance. “Y-You’re… Schale’s Adult!”
“Name’s Johnny Silverhand, don’t wear it out.” He grinned, making a show of looking at her nametag. He’ll need to look into Angel24 later, see if they were exploiting minors or just lax enough in their company regulations. Properly rewarded part-time jobs were important for brats, it kept them out of the street and gangs. “Like I said, I’m here to fill my belly. The burger there looks tempting, but what else do you have on sale?”
“Yes! Give me a moment, I’ll get you the menu!”
The selection, as expected of a convenience store, wasn’t very large: beside the burger, donuts and the usual processed foods within plastic wrappings all choices consisted of those lunch boxes Asians love so much called bento. Which, to be fair, are handy and easy to carry around. But it was not that which sparked Johnny’s interest.
“You mean this is real rice?” He pointed to the box Sora took out as a sample. “Not just glucose powder mixed with water and pressed together?”
“Eeeeh?!” Eyes darting left and right in utter confusion, the little blonde turned the box around and read the words on the back. “Uuuhm, the label says the main ingredients are rice seasoned with sesame weeds, eggs, pickled vegetables, seaweed and soy sauce! It was made in Kivotos! That’s the end of it! I’m sorry!”
“And those…” The Rockerboy tilted the box, still within Sora’s hands, upwards to look at the food again. “Are real vegetables? Actually grown within soil?”
Both Arona and Sora stared at him as if he just admitted he secretly was a flying pink horse. Which was just plain rude, he wasn’t drunk yet.
“Sensei… where else do vegetables grow?” Sora slowly said. “Oh, you mean hydroponic gardens? It’s possible, yes, but I heard on Momotalk those are common only within Millennium. Even then they’re used only to grow small vegetables or new experimental crops. As a general rule, it’s still easier and more convenient to grow plants through traditional methods.”
“Nova.” Grin growing twice as wide, Johnny used his meat hand to pat the little angel’s head. “I’m taking the burger and one of each bento type-”
“Three!” Arona interjected immediately.
“-Correction, three burgers and three of each bento type. Where are the drinks?”
His purchases completed, with the addition of all the cans of beer and cigarette packs he could find, Johnny put the whole bill on the Schale tab and left Angel24 a much happier man than he was upon waking up.
Meanwhile, back inside the store, Sora was staring at the register and trying to understand how Sensei managed to complete the sale just by gesturing at the device.
-0-
After a quick shower to remove all the grime and sweat from yesterday, with the added benefit of getting soaked in water that didn’t stink of chemicals, Johnny sat down and rested his boots on the desk. “Let’s see if the hype is real.” Taking off the plastic covering from one bento the Rockerboy picked up the chopsticks, spent more time than he was willing to admit remembering how to use them, and then scooped up some rice to put into his mouth.
Johnny immediately knew he hit the jackpot when the stuff tasted like and had the consistency of actual rice instead of feeling like throat tablets sprinkled with artificial flavors.
Holy shit! Is this what organic food tastes like?!
We’re eating like Euros, V. Today and for the rest of our time here!
Fucking Euros, always keeping the best stuff for themselves!
He was about to scarf the rest, then wash it down with three or four cans of beer (Akashi Super Nya? Well, as long as it didn’t taste like literal cat), when he finally noticed Arona staring with deadly intensity at the bento. She was standing on the tips of her feet, hands on the desk as she leaned forward. There was a trail of drool coming out from one corner of her mouth, dissolving into pixels once it hit the wooden surface.
“Senseeeiii.” The little girl who could probably fry several dozen Netrunners at once with little effort droned like a starved man, pupils turning into golden stars. “Me too. Me too. Meee tooo.”
“Sure… Once you tell me how to turn physical stuff into data.” Johnny joked.
“That’s easy!” Arona, rather than picking up on the sarcasm, simply pointed at her tablet. “On the back of the Shittim Chest there’s a camera. You just need to open the app called [3D Analyzer], point the camera at the bento and press the button. Like taking a picture!”
“Oh?” The Rockerboy thought Arona’s desire to eat was just her imitating how a young girl her age usually behaves, but there was more than that? After all the weird stuff of yesterday he wouldn’t be surprised.
Only one way to find out. Picking up the tablet he opened the app and pressed the button. There was a sound like an old-fashioned camera taking a photo, while on the screen the snapshot of the bento box turned into a 3D framework from top to bottom before changing back to normal. He was asked to name the file, so Johnny simply typed ‘food’.
The moment he saved the file a perfect copy of the bento box, down to the missing portion where he took a bite, materialized atop the desk. Arona grabbed it, picked up the chopsticks and inhaled the food.
Johnny blinked. He was relatively sure his Kiroshi didn’t malfunction in the last few seconds, yet he still missed the whole process of Arona eating: one moment the box was still full, the next it was empty. Licked completely clean too, it was almost sparkling.
“Thank you for the food.” The blue-haired girl clapped her hands before immediately holding them out, palms pointed upward. “Another portion please!”
“…I know what I said and I’ll keep my word. But how about you explain what happened?” To add an incentive he grabbed another bento, this one with shrimps, and held it up with the Hand while his mean fingers kept hold of the tablet.
“The 3D Analyzer is a unique app that makes use of a special function of the Shittim Chest.” Arona began to explain with a smug tone. “It allows the complete scanning, down to the atomic level, of an object and the creation of a detailed digital blueprint of it. The level of reproduction is so high the copy is virtually indistinguishable from the original!”
So the tablet made a blueprint of the bento, and Arona… absorbed it? Johnny snorted at the mental image of the AI opening her mouth and swallowing a file whole like a computer’s recycle bin. “A preem function, I’ll admit. But if you want more, why not make copies of the file before eating?”
“Uuuh, the 3D Analyzer is great but it’s not perfect.” She admitted with a slight hesitation. “It cannot analyze living beings, and blueprints of items containing organic materials tend to degrade quickly. It’s even worse when you try to make a copy, if I did it all I would have obtained would have been an inedible sludge. This function of the Shittim Chest is meant to be paired with the Crafting Chamber to quickly build all the specialized items Schale would need, and the latter don’t include food.”
Johnny hummed as he absorbed the deets. One click and the shrimp bento was copied, Arona descending on the digital copy like an Animal on steroid withdrawal being presented with an yearly supply of ultratestosterone. Another click and the burger suffered the same end.
As far as lunch entertainment goes it beat the news and talk shows.
“Now that our bellies are filled-” The Rockerboy said once all the food, both real and digital, was gone. Arona was laying on the desk, one hand on her slightly swollen stomach as she burped happily. “What is the Crafting Chamber?”
“I didn’t explain? That wouldn’t do, the Chamber is very important. I-” Arona raised a finger, stopped and then turned to look at Johnny. “Can I have dessert?”
“Didn’t buy any. Also, I bought a dozen bento and you ate three times that. To say nothing of those poor burgers.” Despite his flat tone Johnny’s lips were curled up in amusement. “The trusty secretary already got her salary, now she needs to work.”
“Uuugh, fine!”
Showing more strain than was reasonable Arona tried to sit up, slipped and fell off the desk with a yelp. Half a second later she reformed a few feet away, standing and looking like nothing happened. “Follow me Sensei, I’ll show you the pride and joy of Schale: the Crafting Chamber!”
Skipping happily with a jaunty tune the AI approached the glowing pedestal with a stone floating above it. A finger was pointed, a thin beam of blue laser shooting out of the tip and hitting the center of the ring-like symbol on its surface. With an electronic hum the stone descended and sank halfway into the pedestal, causing a hidden passage to open in the wall behind it.
A set of metal stairs lead the two deeper underground, the odd twists and turns making Johnny suspect the corridor was sneaking around existing rooms and was added later in the utmost secrecy. Whatever Ghost Girl hid under the building was something she truly didn’t want to make public knowledge. On par for the course for any kind of politician or corpo, really.
There was a blast door at the end of the stairs, which again opened with a slight prompting from Arona. On the other side was a large subterranean hangar, half of it filled with workbenches and tools that would make any Techie cry in envy. Johnny actually recognized some of them as stuff he saw during his adventures with V, the kid was more of a Netrunner than a Techie but they knew enough to recognize most things on sight.
The other half of the hangar, surrounded by freight elevators and robotic arms for the movement of goods, was a fully automated assembly line. It reminded the Rockerboy of Delamain’s garage, though much bigger and advanced.
This is something I wouldn’t be surprised to see as the prized possession of Militech. What the fuck was the girl doing with it?
If my suspicions are right? Went collector on crafting specs, paid only for the raw materials and filled her base with nice toys.
Can’t blame her, it’s what I would have done.
“Let me guess.” Johnny leaned against a workbench and picked up a nanotorque screwdriver. Exactly what he needed to do basic maintenance on his Chrome. “Elevators are connected to loading zones on the ground floor?”
“Correct! The workers just need to put the crates on the platform and scan the delivery order, the elevator wouldn’t move if it registers people or animals on it.” Arona had one arm akimbo and the other pointed upward. “The Crafting Chamber, as long as the necessary materials are available, can build anything! Well, except food of course. And if something is too big it will come out in pieces to be assembled. But if you need cars, tanks or helicopters then the Crafting Chamber has what you need.”
“Mighty tempting.” And it was. With this thing Johnny could go as far as to supply an entire army. Well a small one anyway, more like a PMC, but it was still muscle the Rockerboy and Schale as a whole was going to need.
A new thought popped into his mind. Johnny took out the Malorian and one of his remaining bullets, putting both on the workbench before taking a snapshot. “Arona, try to replicate those items.”
“Hmmm…” She hummed, eyes briefly glowing as the assembly line came to life. “There are no problems with the bullets Sensei! But the gun at the moment cannot be copied, I’m sorry: it’s made of titanium manufactured at zero gravity, the Chamber cannot replicate the conditions without anti-gravity generators. Actual updates to its structure are much more complicated, there is a lot of delicate stuff inside.”
“No big deal, one Malorian is all I need.” A conveyor belt popped out a box full of bullets. Taking one Johnny compared it to the original and then put them both inside his gun, grinning when the Ballistic Coprocessor informed him there were no issues. “Nova. Hey Arona, what about those?”
“I see, I see.” The AI scanned through the files Johnny sent her. “They’re less detailed than blueprints taken by the Shittim Chest, but the Chamber can easily fill in the gaps. And if you want to modify them and create variants, you can do it from any workstation.”
“Excellent.” As he went to transfer the rest of his Crafting Specs on the Shittim Chest, V’s loot-goblin tendencies never more evident than now, Johnny’s eyes landed on the rest of the apps within the tablet. One in particular jogged his memories, the name was mentioned by Sora: Momotalk.
Clicking on the icon shaped like a pink peach, Johnny was met with a somewhat nostalgic sight: a social media program, one made primarily for exchanging texts, pictures and other files. Those were just starting to pick up in popularity before the Fourth Corporate War, and enjoyed their golden age during the Time of the Red when bouncing off the comsats was easy even for street punks. Then by 2077 they somehow fell to the side in favor of Holo-calls and, of all things, online forums.
They’re funny and engaging.
So is using coconut shells to have drinks, but you don’t see me using them instead of good old glass.
You’re only saying it because the shells used at the Electric Orgasm were made of plastic.
Please don’t remind me of that monstrosity against good taste.
“Sensei, are you planning to create a Momotalk account?” Arona asked after seeing what Johnny was looking at. “You should definitely do it if you want to quickly talk with your students. You’ve been getting very popular on it too, everyone is talking about what you did yesterday!”
“With a sick-ass entrance like that? Only natural.” Johnny’s initial rise to fame was fueled by concerts and audio CDs, and while he was planning to also spread his music within Kivotos it didn’t mean he had to limit himself. Momotalk was popular, so it was only natural for him to quickly master it.
Creating an account turned out to be super-easy, now for his first post. Just a text was lame, a picture too simple… a video will do. Returning to the basement to pick up his duffel bag Johnny searched inside and took out V’s Zetatech Bombus, the baseball-size drone coming to life with a quiet hum as it hovered in the air.
Time to show Kivotos that Johnny Silverhand was there to stay, and that he was going to do it with style.
-0-
The life of Ogata Kanna included many stressful things. This was something expected of her position as Valkyrie’s Public Security Bureau Director, so she made peace with that and resolved to simply do her best. But there were times when Kanna came very close to regretting her work dedication, and this had never been more true than in the days following the General Student Council President’s disappearance. Things were barely manageable before, with the most problematic cases being sent to SRT to deal with: many Valkyrie students resented the other school for having more funds and freedom than them, and Kanna acknowledged those were relevant problems, but at least SRT using their agents meant she didn’t have to stretch her own strained forces even further.
Then the SCT President disappeared, almost every public service in the whole Kivotos came to a screeching halt and literally every criminal in existence decided the sane thing to do was to steal all the weapons they could carry and party like there was no tomorrow. It was so bad that, when most of the A-Class Threats locked in the Corrections Bureau escaped, she had to send her own girls because SRT had even worse manpower problems than Valkyrie Police Academy. Of course she didn’t expect them to succeed, and none did, but she couldn’t just refuse to do nothing. Thankfully the remaining GSC members eventually managed to unseal Sanctum Tower, giving Valkyrie the necessary gear to quell the riots.
Kanna’s brief moment of relief came to an end when, on TV, she saw the Adult that helped the GSC. Her first thought upon seeing his appearance was: ‘Damn, he looks like a thug.’
Her second thought, after she heard his speech, was: ‘Holy shit I am going to die of stress.’
Were it up to her, Kanna would not be in a hurry to personally meet with Silverhand-Sensei any time soon. Unfortunately, the blonde student frowned as she read the request once more, being the Public Security Bureau Director came with responsibilities. Responsibilities she wasn’t about to skirt, unlike other police officers she could name.
It meant that, yes, Kanna had to contact Sensei to request a meeting. At least he already had a Momotalk account.
This is Ogata Kanna of the Valkyrie Police Academy, Director of the Public Security Bureau.
You can’t prove it.
...What?
Your evidence is false and your witnesses have been paid. Whatever charge you’re planning is nothing more than a barely-disguised power move to silence dissenting voices. Try to force it and you’ll find all of your dirty laundry flaunted to the whole Kivotos.
It’s not that. Nobody’s accusing you of anything, Sensei.
I see, it’s threats then. Show me how Kivotos badges grill people’s balls. Last one said he’d burn my car with me inside, which honestly was tame. Hope you can do better.
Fingers clenched around her phone more than was healthy, Kanna paused to pinch the bridge of her nose. This felt too much like an interrogation for her tastes, she needed to calm down.
One of the delinquents arrested for attacking the Schale building wants to talk with you, Sensei.
One of Wacko-Moe’s posse?
If you mean Kosaka Wakamo, then yes. She requested, if possible, a meeting with you.
Interesting. How much time has she left?
Honestly, our cells are packed to the brim. We’re going to boot out most petty criminals in two, three days.
Gotcha. Send me the deets of your place, I’ll be there in a jiffy.
The blonde-haired police officer spent a few seconds understanding that ‘deets’ meant ‘details’, then sent Sensei the address of D.U.’s Valkyrie Police Branch. Considering the distance from Schale, plus the current traffic, it would take Sensei at least an hour to arrive. Plenty of time to prepare everything.
Half an hour later, after arranging a room for the meeting and doing some more work, Kanna left the office for a well-deserved break. Mug of steaming coffee in hand she stood outside the towering glass building, eyes occasionally scanning the sparse crowd for any sign of suspicious activity. Not that she truly expected for hoodlums to start troubles so close to a Valkyrie Police Branch. Not so soon after the riots got quelled, and not with her own undeserved reputation. ‘Feral Hound’, what a load of crap.
Her attention was drawn to the distant sound of an engine revving, a menacing growl that grew louder with alarming speed. She turned her head just in time to see a sleek, metallic-gray car barreling down the street, tires screeching as it careened around the corner without so much as a hint of slowing down. Pedestrians jumped out of the way, while cars on both lanes hastily moved aside. The car was heading straight for the building behind her, a missile on wheels. Panic seized the police officer, rooting her to the spot as the vehicle closed the distance.
At the last possible moment the driver slammed on the brakes: the car skidded, fishtailing wildly before turning to the side. It slowed down, but its momentum carried it forward, the wheels screaming in protest.
Kanna's breath was caught in her throat as the car rose onto its side wheels, turning almost perpendicular to the ground. For a few heartbeats she found herself staring straight at the vehicle’s roof, her reflection distorted in the polished metal mere inches away from the knuckles of the hand holding her coffee mug.
Time seemed to stretch, each second a lifetime, before the car's wild dance reached its crescendo. With a deafening thud it tipped back down, landing heavily on all four wheels and sending a shudder through the ground. Allowing her to see the words painted within a red band to the side of the car door: [Porsche 911 Turbo S].
The police officer’s heart pounded in her ears, and she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She was just starting to contemplate the absolute hell she was going to rain down on this thoughtless cretin when the car door swung open and Silverhand Sensei stepped out with the kind of cocky swagger typically exhibited by gang leaders whose head grew too big. He looked identical to when he appeared on TV, the only difference was that both his clothes and hair looked like they had been cleaned recently.
Pale blue eyes fell on his left hand, only silvery metal meeting them back. At least she could confirm one rumor: that was definitely not a gauntlet.
Sensei lazily looked around, metal fingers pulling a lit cigarette away from his lips, until red aviators fell on Kanna. The two stared in silence at each other for a few seconds before he grinned. “Preem teeth. What kind of poison do you load them with? Belladonna, arsenic, a biotoxin?”
“...So it’s not stress that will kill me. It will be much, much worse than that." Kanna muttered tiredly before taking a long sip of her coffee. “I’m going to drown in bad metaphors.”
He raised an eyebrow before snorting. "Cops have no sense of humor."
“We do. But next time, if you want to accuse me of having a poisonous bite, just say it to my face directly.”
“You misunderstand. I was asking if you have a vial of poison in your mouth that applies its content to the teeth as needed. Back where I come from that’s usually the case with fangs like yours.” He tapped a finger over his chin. “Ah, right. You don’t have implants, so those fangs are natural.”
There were so many possible meanings loaded into those words, and all of them migraine-inducing, so Kanna immediately decided to change the subject. She gestured to the car. “I can fine you, you know?”
Sensei grinned again. “You remember who pays me, right?”
The GSC… which means his stipend came from governamental reserves. The same place where fine money ends up. Meaning, she can issue him all the tickets she wants and it will always break even. Damn. Kanna finished the rest of her coffee in one big gulp, heedless of the heat. “Welcome to the Valkyrie Police Branch of Utnapishtim District, Sensei. Please follow me.”
“One moment.” From the trunk of the car he pulled out a large trolley, its surface painted with neon purple and blue.
Kanna wanted to ask what was inside, but thought better of it. Instead she simply led Sensei inside the building and to the first floor, asking a passing officer to go fetch the prisoner. “I’m not going to interfere during your conversation, but I must insist on being present for it, Sensei. It’s standard procedure.”
“Fine by me.”
While waiting inside the interrogation room, electing to take a chair closer to the wall than the table, Kanna checked again the delinquent’s profile: Amami Yurina, sixteen years old, kicked out of Trinity General School, a few charges of shoplifting and resisting arrest. Nothing exceptional, all of it very common. A completely average delinquent. Even her appearance, aside from the black facemask with a white ‘X’ that was apparently a recent fad, would fade into a crown: long black hair tied into a side ponytail that rested on her right shoulder, black hair and a simple generic school uniform. Just one more of hundreds of identical delinquents Kanna arrested during her first two years at Valkyrie Police Academy.
The door opened, and Amami Yurina walked inside. She froze at the sight of Sensei, only moving again when gently prodded from behind by the Valkyrie student escorting her. Once she sat down in front of Sensei the other officer gave a salute and stepped out, leaving only three people inside the room. For a solid minute no one said anything, Yurina fidgeting nervously and Sensei calmly smoking. Kanna just waited.
Finally the black-haired girl raised her head to look at Johnny. “Sensei, you… you really came. I thought the cops would just ignore my request.”
“Seems like the badges here are straight-laced. Usually a mixed blessing.” Sensei’s voice was conversational, as if meeting an old friend for a cup of ramen after work. “Say chombatta, refresh my memories since those were chaotic moments: were you among those who fruitlessly emptied their cartridges in my direction before I blew up the tank?”
Kanna held herself back from standing up and shouting. They shot a Haloless person?!
Yurina hugged herself and shuddered. “I’m sorry! Kosaka approached us while we were looting a convenience store, said we could stick it to the GSC by blowing up something important to them. She already had a lot of people with her, even a tank, we thought we had it in the bag. But then you started talking and I panicked, because…”
“Because?”
“...Because it was all true. Your words hurt because they were the truth.” She slumped over the table, looking drained of every last drop of energy. “Being a delinquent sucks. If you’re not part of a school you get no allowance, you can’t rent a room and the only places willing to hire you are the sketchy ones that offer a pittance and at the end of the day you’re lucky if they even fork that much. But you still need to eat, so you’re forced to steal money to buy food but it ends up on your record and people are even less likely to give you a job. Without being part of a school you don’t have access to curriculum materials, so you can’t even try to improve your grades.”
“Living in abandoned buildings without lights, running water and heating.” Johnny continued when Yurina paused to take a breath. “No eddies for clothes too, so you need to patch up what you have until it falls apart or steal new ones. Gangs say you can live the good life if you join them, but at the end of the day the only thing that changes is that you end up working alongside people with identical problems while the leaders get a cut of your meager profits without lifting a finger.”
Both girls stared at him with mouths hanging open. It was the black-haired girl who spoke first. “...Yes. How do you-”
“I have been there too. Just like you, I was once a kid without a direction in life who made very stupid choices and was taken advantage of. I walked among the poor and the downtrodden, saw how the few drained the many of everything worthwhile in the name of pointless greed, and it filled me with such anger it was a miracle I didn’t explode.”
Taking out a small metal box Sensei opened it and put out the cigarette inside. “So tell me chombatta, because this is the most important question that will be asked today. When did Amami Yurina lose control of her life?”
It was like the floodgates opened: slowly at first, with Yurina hesitantly recounting her first days at Trinity, then faster and faster as she vented every single grievance in her life. How her grades started falling once the curriculum grew more difficult, how watching Blue-Rays wasn’t enough and that every attempt to ask her classmates for help was met with mocking and barely-disguised excuses.
“Don’t do that! Behave properly! Doing stuff like that is unbecoming of a proud Trinity student! Who do you think you are, a Gehenna ruffian? The exam was so easy, are you sure you’re not just an idiot?” The black-haired girl ranted. “They kept saying the same things, day after day after day! Can you blame me when I snapped and punched one of those bitches? I didn’t even give her a black eye! But then they started yelling I attacked them out of the blue and broke their stuff and the thing I knew I was getting expelled for bad grades and inappropriate behavior!”
“Which reason did they mention first, grades or behavior?”
“Grades! We’re going to school, a place literally meant to teach you stuff, and they treat you having some difficulties like it’s a crime?!”
Kanna shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. She wasn’t going to just take this delinquent’s words at face value, no matter how raw her emotions felt, but even she had to admit that in Kivotos, a student who was not part of a school didn’t- couldn’t have a bright future ahead of her.
What, then, of those delinquents who had no way of stopping being a delinquent?
She needed more coffee.
“I just-” Yurina leaned against the chair. She still looked tired, yet it was also like a great weight was dropped for her shoulders. “I just wish there was a good option among all the bad ones.”
“Glad you asked chombatta. Here’s the second most important question that will be asked today.” From within his jacket Sensei took out a badge, put it on the table and flicked it towards Yurina. It was a club badge, of the type used everywhere in Kivotos, yet also completely unlike one. The logo on it consisted of a cross encircled by a circular crosshair, piercing through a plain halo. They were red on a black background, and below the crosshair was the same demoniac, partially mechanical face on Sensei’s shirt: the top half of the face turned into flames, caught in the initial moments of them setting fire to the symbol above. Below the face, finally, were the words [S.C.H.A.L.E].
“Wanna join Schale?”
Both Kanna and Yurina’s gazes snapped up from the badge to stare at Johnny Silverhand with wide eyes. “What?!”
“You will serve the remainder of your sentence as a community service, just a couple days really, then continue as a normal member.” He nonchalantly continued while lighting up another cigarette.
“No, but…” The black-haried girl struggled for words. “Why [I]me?”[/I]
“Because you tasted on your own skin the consequences of a broken system, and you don’t wish them on anyone.” Sensei’s fingers stopped before igniting the lighter, both expression and tone turning deadly serious: metal fingers pulled down his aviators, revealing brown eyes smoldering with such intensity it stole the two girls’ breath away. “I will not ask you to keep your grades above a certain minimum, but you will have access to all the materials and help you need. I’ll not ask you to get along with everyone, but if you need an ear I’ll always be willing to listen. I’ll not tell you how to handle your money, I’m sure by now you learned how to spend it wisely. There’s only one thing I ask you to do, and this applies to both future members and myself.
Do not avert your gaze from the suffering of others. This is not about justice, retribution or fairness. This is about something much more simple, and yet beyond priceless.
This is about compassion.”
It was only when Kanna’s lungs started to burn that she remembered to breathe. Yurina had grabbed the badge and was now clutching it to her chest, a new fire burning in her eyes. “I’m in! This is my second chance, I’m not going to waste it! And if this is going to prove those bitches wrong, all the better!”
“Welcome onboard sweetheart!” Laughing wildly Sensei stood up, picked up the trolley and slammed it on the table. A warning bell began to ring within Kanna’s mind when the metal table groaned ominously from the weight. “Then it’s time for your welcome gift.”
The trolley opened, revealing rows upon rows of firearms: handguns, SMGs, shotguns, rifles and more. Kanna didn’t recognize any of those models, but each and every one had that cutting-edge feeling to it typical of firearms manufactured within Millennium.
“Uh, thank you?” Even Yurina looked taken aback. “But I already have a gun…”
“Ah well, if you don’t want it-” Sensei moved to put them away.
“I didn’t say that.” The black-haired girl stopped him, eyes already inspecting the various firearms. She picked up a compact assault carbine. “Never saw anything so fancy outside of magazines. What’s this one called?”
“A Militech M221 Saratoga. Producers are bastards, but they know how to make good iron. Take your time.” Sensei turned to Kanna. “Can I talk with the rest of the girls that were at Schale? I want to make them the same offer.”
The blonde police officer felt a terrible premonition settling on her shouldes. “Are you starting a governmental agency or a gang?”
His smile was as sharp as a tactical knife. “Once you ignore the paperwork, is there a difference?”
Kanna was wrong, she didn’t need more coffee.
She needed a vacation.
