Cybernova, page 8
Long story short, we never did find out who did it or why. The news barely reported on it, given how often something like that happens in this hellhole of a city. They said it was “likely an act of teenage rebellion.” To be honest, it could’ve been. Who knows. I gave up long ago on trying to figure out what happened.
When the explosion went off, I barely had time to regain my senses before I realized that a massive steel beam was coming down on Astra. Without thinking, I dove toward her, determined to get her out of the way, regardless of what happened to me. I did my best to shove her out of the way, saving her life, but at the cost of her left leg and my right arm. We rushed to the hospital. Zeke drove us in his van since an ambulance is too expensive, not to mention they’re reserved for the elite who can afford health insurance. Neither of us could afford the procedure, but we didn’t care; we were going to bleed out if something wasn’t done immediately. They ended up amputating my arm and her leg, fitting us with cybernetic replacements. All things considered, it could’ve been much worse, but having your arm crushed by a steel beam is a pain that sticks with you. On rare occasions, it feels like my arm is still there, still crushed and mangled, searing me with pain.
A change in the song snaps me back to the present moment as I notice Astra is looking right into my eyes. Before I know it, I’m blushing. I stare back into her eyes just as intently, overwhelmed with emotions. It’s been a long time since I had any sort of contact with a person that didn’t involve a fist flying into a face.
After a few minutes, we share a knowing glance and move through the crowd, making our way toward our favorite spot: the roof. We enter the stairwell through a small door in the corner, but not before shoving our way through throngs of drunk headbangers. At the base of the stairs, we find a group of people passing around some sort of stim and lying across the floor.
As we step over them to get to the stairs, one guy with sunken, glazed-over eyes offers us the stim. It’s a half-filled vial of glowing blue liquid connected to a cable that’s inserted into the CYBR Deck on the neck or arm. These types of drugs were developed by CYBR Corp, claiming to ‘reduce cybernetic rejection side-effects.’ Still, it quickly became apparent that they’re nothing more than watered-down opioids that are injected directly into the cybernetic-blood interface, numbing people to the reality that these implants are slowly eating away at their bodies and minds.
To no one’s surprise, people are highly addicted to them. We call them stim-heads.
I shake my head at the guy as I step over him, and he goes back to lying on the floor, staring blankly at the stairs above him.
We make it to the roof after ascending the ten flights of stairs, breaking through to what should be a starry night sky, but Nova City hasn’t seen stars in years. Astra gives me a nod, and we make our way to the edge of the roof, sitting against an air conditioning unit and staring out over the bright, neon city below. On quiet nights like this one, the city actually looks sort of beautiful from up here.
I look over at Astra as she looks out over the city, the lights sending colorful shadows across her face. I notice, only now, that she looks tired. Really tired. Sometimes I forget that everyone in this city has to deal with the nonstop bullshit and oppression of CYBR Corp. Not even someone as kind as Astra can escape their clutches.
“So, Ash…how have you been, really?” I ask timidly, finding it impossible not to wonder if she’s been staying out of trouble or not. In a city like this, it’s much more common to stay in trouble than out of it. Career criminals are the new working class, or so they say.
“I…I’ve definitely been better, Oliver.” The cold Oliver strikes me hard. She didn’t say it was my fault. She didn’t have to. “I want you to know that I gave it some thought last night, and I’ve chosen to forgive you. I want us to be able to move forward. Honestly, most of my problems are because of those damn CYBR bastards, but I don’t have to tell you that.” She says that last bit with a forced chuckle, and I join in, nodding my head.
I don’t know what to say, so I sit in silence for a couple of moments, listening to the bustle of Nova City and watching the last bit of natural light disappear behind the horizon. Finally, I decide to say what I need to say.
“Hey Ash, you may not blame me for what happened, but I do. And before you argue with me, just hear me out. I need you to know how truly sorry I am for what happened between us, for not contacting you sooner, for not dealing with it properly, for…everything.” I pause, trying to figure out her reaction. She shifts her head, allowing the city’s neon lights to shine upon the tears forming in her eyes.
“I want you to know,” I say, gently grasping her hand, “that no matter how difficult it is, no matter if things go back to the way they were between us or if we’re just friends, I want you in my life.” My voice cracks as I say those last few words, and tears are forming in my own eyes now, but I don’t bother wiping them away. “This world we live in is so full of hate, so full of pain, suffering, and loss. I’ve lost so much because of this damned city, and I was a fool to let myself lose you, too.”
At this point, tears are streaming down both of our cheeks, like little neon raindrops sliding down my apartment window on all of those sleepless nights. Astra is quiet for a few minutes, then she responds with a five-word question, a question that shakes me to my core:
“How can I trust you?” Her voice is shaking. She sounds hopeful yet unwilling to trust the words I’m saying to her. It would be a lie to say that her mistrust is unwarranted. After all, a person’s ‘word’ isn’t worth much in this city, and more importantly, I’ve let her down before.
“I…guess you can’t really. To be honest, I wouldn’t trust me either. Whatever you want to do, I will respect that. I know it doesn’t mean much, but I swear I meant everything I just said to you more than I’ve meant anything in years. Why else would I be a blubbering mess like this?” I gesture to the tears running down my face, my voice shaking uncontrollably. Her face seems to soften slightly as she nods, tears still streaming down her face.
“But hey, tell you what, you did agree to help me steal that fusion core, so how about we just see what happens between now and then?” I figure we could both use a distraction and working together on this might bring us closer together.
Her expression lightens, a hint of a smile cracking across her lips. “You always were a smooth talker, Oliver Wolf. You’ve got yourself a deal.” She holds out her hand for a handshake, but as I move to accept it, she pulls her hand back and says, “But, if you push me out of your life like you did last time, you’re gonna wish the Retribution were all you had to deal with.”
I’m trying to decide if she’s joking or not, but knowing her, she’s simultaneously joking and dead serious. I grasp her hand firmly in a handshake, staring deeply into the hazel of her eyes as we share a hearty laugh. For only a moment, the tiredness lifts from her face, and the Astra I once knew returns. She’s so beautiful.
After a few quiet moments, I lean back against the AC unit. The beeping of my portable battery rudely snaps me back into reality. Fifty percent remaining. Looks like this battery doesn’t quite have the amount of juice that Zeke thought it did.
“Shit!” I exclaim.
“What is it?” Astra looks concernedly over to me.
“It’s this battery. It’s running out too fast. I only have about an hour of charge remaining, then it’s down to my internal battery that’s been fried to about thirty minutes of charge!”
“Shit!” Astra echoes me.
“Well, I better tell you the plan then while I still can. Dex is going to get his inside guy to put you on the ‘Friends of CYBR Corp’ list, or as I like to call it, the FOCC list…” I pause and give her a cheesy smile, earning a chuckle from Astra before she slaps my arm.
“Olly! Focus!”
“Right, right. Sorry. So, you’ll be our decoy, posing as a buyer of the fusion power cell. Once you get the manager of the CYBRnetics Outlet out in the open, and they’re showing you the power cell, that’s when we spring into action. I’ll wear an obscurer and wait just outside of the Outlet while Dex triggers a blackout of their lights and security cameras. Once it’s lights out, you distract the Outlet workers and guards by causing one of your famous Astra dramas while I come in and snatch the power cell. If anything goes wrong, I’ll be armed.” I say that last bit with a self-confident smirk.
“Sounds simple enough. Let’s just hope you don’t have to fight anyone in your condition,” she gestures to my battery pack, “or things might get ugly. Also, don’t think I didn’t notice that comment about famous Astra dramas. Nice try there, wolf-boy.”
I chuckle, then shrug off her comment, saying, “we both know you’re more than capable of kicking some CYBR Corp ass yourself.”
“I may be a little rusty, but I guess you’re right.” Astra agrees reluctantly, grinning.
She never really got into the fights or anything like I did, but I taught her how to defend herself with martial arts, and she’s damn good at it. She can pretend like she isn’t excited about kicking some CYBR Corp ass, but we both know she’s just as ready as I am to teach those bastards a lesson.
I check the portable battery, and it’s at forty-five percent. “Well, I’ll see you when I see you. Keep an eye on your ‘comm. I’ll keep you posted on updates to the plan.”
“Sounds good, Olly.”
I go to stand up and leave, but as I begin standing, Astra suddenly grabs my wrist. The suddenness leaves me stuck in place, dumbfounded. Then, she does something really unexpected: Astra pulls me down toward her, staring into my eyes for a moment, and then she kisses me, flipping my world on its head and sending my heart into a frenzy. It’s a single, meaningful kiss, and then she pushes me away gently.
“Now get out of here before your battery dies. I am NOT going to carry you back to wherever you live right now.” She laughs, and I join in, a big, dumb smile crossing my face.
“See you around, Ash.”
I stare for one more moment before heading back to the stairwell, each second stretching into eternity as I try to permanently imprint her face into my brain. I start planning my route in my head as I walk across the roof. I’ll make my way down to the bottom floor of The Museum, avoid the Retribution troops on my way out, and head back to the bunker as quickly as possible. If I get caught out on the street with a dead battery, I could be picked up by the Retribution and tortured or sold to a scrap shop for parts. Either way, I’d like to avoid that at all costs.
I glance at my battery one more time and audibly gasp. The small digital display shows a thirty percent charge. At this rate, I won’t even make it halfway back to the bunker before I collapse from lack of power.
“Shit, I gotta run!” I exclaim, running toward the stairs. I barrel down the stairs three at a time, my feet barely touching the ground before leaving again. I jump over the junkies in the stairwell, noticing the one who offered us the drugs now holding the empty syringe, lying eerily still.
I make my way through the drunken throng of ravers, weaving in and out of headbangers and couples making out, finally reaching the door and breaking through to the street. After that, I break into a full sprint between the lines of buildings, avoiding the Retribution troops from earlier. In spite of my situation, I can’t help but smile as those last few moments replay in my mind over and over again. The image of Astra smiling at me, the feeling of kissing her again after all this time…
Fifteen minutes of sprinting later, I have to take a break. My legs are on fire, and so are my lungs. I nervously check the battery, my hot breath fogging the screen. It reads a shocking one percent. I’m on internal battery now, which means I have approximately thirty minutes until I collapse in the street, and there is no way I’m going to stop at a charging station. As a high-tier public enemy, using such a public facility wouldn’t be the best idea, to say the least.
After briefly catching my breath, I take off again, admittedly at a slower pace than before, but still determined to make it home on time. Just in case, I shoot Zeke a message letting him know I might not make it back and ask him to come looking for me if I’m not back in thirty minutes.
Twenty-nine minutes and thirty seconds later, I collapse on the floor of Zeke’s workshop in the bunker. The last thing I see is Zeke’s dirty grey tennis shoes walking toward me, a faint “you dumbass” echoing in the corners of my mind as I pass out.
Ch 6
SOUNDS of frantic clanging bring me to a rude awakening. After taking a groggy moment to look around, I realize the clanging is Zeke trying to prepare for our heist. I completely forgot that the big day is only two days away.
My senses start to come back to me as I take a closer look around. I’m hooked to a cyber-physical hybrid life-support system, generally known as a Terminal. The screen provides a constant stream of information on my heart rate, blood pressure, cybernetic power continuity, and the works. As far as I can tell, the readings are fine, but my battery is obviously not good in terms of capacity. Zeke’s patched me up enough times for me to know the medical readings well. A little too well, if you ask me. I watch my heart monitor for a while, contemplating how long that consistent thump will continue.
“Welcome, Oliver Wolf, to hell.” Zeke gives me a cheeky smirk as he says, “I’ll be your guide. Feel free to call me Charon.” He breaks into a hearty chuckle as he turns back to the piece of equipment he was working on.
I can’t help but burst out laughing at the thought of Zeke as the somber ferryman of hell’s gates. It’s almost…too fitting.
“Well, Charon, if this is hell, then where’s the founder of CYBR Corp?” I reply with a sly grin. “Anyway, thank you. As always, I owe you one.”
“One!? You know damn well you owe me closer to one hundred!” Zeke quips back. And he’s right, of course.
“So…what’s my battery life lookin’ like?” I ask nervously, very afraid of the answer.
“I think you already know what I’m about to say, but it’s not good,” he gives me a grimace of a smile and says, “Your internal battery is close to twenty minutes of charge, and apparently, this external battery is complete shit.” His face looks even more tired than usual.
“Can we make it work long enough to pull this off? We shouldn’t need more than an hour.” I ask.
“That’s the plan, but I honestly don’t know at this point. We’re gonna be pushin’ it, but we really can’t do this without you. You’re the muscle, after all.” Zeke gives me a genuine smile, and I feel myself relax for a moment.
“Thanks, Zeke, I’ll try not to let everyone down on this. With any luck, I won’t even need to fight anyone, anyway.” My attempt to ease the tension is met with a full belly laughing fit from Zeke, so I guess my attempt worked, even if it was at my own expense.
After calming down, Zeke goes back to work on fixing the portable battery and preparing everything for our heist. As he turns to head back to his workbench, he says simply, “if we had any luck, we wouldn’t be in this mess, Olly.”
“You’re right as always, Zeke-erino.”
With that cheesy remark, I slowly rise from the cot and make my way to my room. I feel surprisingly okay, all things considered. Maybe it’s just residual adrenaline from last night, meeting with Ash, or maybe Zeke’s just really good at his job. Either way, I’m thankful I don’t feel too terrible. I flip on the lights as I enter my room, booting up my Cerulean tablet while I’m at it. The cheerful chime sounds off, and the holographic display fills the room with a cool blue light.
“Hey Cerulean, show me local news headlines,” I pause, thinking, “and cross-reference the search with my name.”
“Alright, Oliver, I found three matches for your search,” Cerulean replies, a little too cheerfully, given the circumstances.
Tapping my finger against the link shown in the hologram, I pull up the first article. It’s from the city’s largest and most corrupt news site, the Nova Times. The headline reads, “Mass Murderer Oliver Wolf wanted for crimes against Nova City and CYBR Corp.”
Great. Let’s see what they have to say.
Quickly skimming the article brings to my attention that I’m apparently wanted for a number of crimes, including murder, treason, theft, resisting arrest, jaywalking…the list goes on and on. There’s not much information other than my list of crimes I’m wanted for and a bunch of egregious bullshit about needing more funding for the police, but there is a brief interview with a detective named Megan Maxwell. Her name sounds relatively familiar. She’s probably some sort of bigwig with the NCPD. In short, the detective seems to think that I’m the worst thing to happen to this city in years. According to the article, the NCPD is hot on my trail, but I find that hard to believe. The cops are constantly blowing hot smoke out of their various orifices, acting like the real criminals aren’t the ones who’re running this damned city, the ones bribing them to turn a blind eye to their bullshit.
“Ok, Cerulean, open the second article.”
“Coming right up!”
Next up is an article from Fight Fax, a cheesy and over-the-top magazine reporting on everything relating to the underground fights in Ritorujapan. I used to scan its pages religiously, looking for any clues about my upcoming opponents or which fights to bet on to make a quick Johnny. I was addicted, frankly, but let’s just say updating my email newsletter subscriptions isn’t at the top of my to-do list. Anyway, this article is a minor section of the mag titled “Where is the Wolf? Did He Turn Chicken?” It’s a short piece, only a couple of paragraphs long, but apparently, my absence from the MMA scene has not gone unnoticed. They’re claiming my last defeat was too embarrassing and that I must’ve finally come to my senses and quit the scene. Not gonna lie; it makes me pretty pissed that this is all I get after four grueling years dedicated to the fights. It’s not like I lost all my fights. In fact, I had a pretty decent win percentage, given my more “natural” approach. Well, whatever. They can think whatever they want about me. Little do they know I finally respect myself enough to be doing something meaningful with my life rather than taking a beating for the entertainment of rich assholes. We’ll see who’s laughing when I take down CYBR Corp. Now those’ll be headlines worth reading!
