“So, the Corporation finally sent you to kill me?”
The bruise on my cheek stings something fierce, but it ain’t hurt as much as my pride. The factory floor is cold beneath my knees, and I’m uncomfortably aware of the goon flanking me as I keep my hands raised and stare up at my target.
William Shawver. Ex-Corporation, turned to peddling drugs and smuggling weapons. Now he’s started dealing Archetypes, using the Corporation’s own systems to distribute the mind-altering chemicals. Liquid memories, those Archetypes. Not yours, but someone else’s, even someone long dead. A fragment of their experiences, their senses, their secrets. That’s what has Shawver marked for termination – and not the ‘HR walking you to the door’ kind.
“No snappy comeback?” he sneers. “You think I wouldn’t know who Carlise would send after me? Yes, I know all about you, Jennifer Westfall.”
I smile, through the swollen lip. I no longer have my rifle, it was the first thing they took, but the goon still takes a little step back and puts his hand to the gun at his side.
“Reckon you don’t know nearly enough,” I reply. “But go on. Try me.”
Shawver chuckles.
“Mountain Girl. Carlise’s little recovery specialist. Corporate indentured.”
He pauses, flashing that bobcat grin.
“What’s the matter, hillbilly? Couldn’t pay your debts?”
I shrug, testing my shoulder. Shawver’s goon caught me something awful. I can still move it though. It’ll have to do.
“Reckon I’ll be just a mite closer to paying it off when I’m done here.”
Shawver laughs this time, bouncing up and down like a cork on a fishing pole.
“Oh, I’m terrified! I’m afeared for my life, truly. I knew you’d try to sneak in through the upper windows after dark. My man Beckley here was already waiting for you. And before you go thinking of using that infonode implant, I’m not stupid enough to put any of my, ah, private business dealings on the infonet. There’s a dampener over this entire factory, so don’t even think of trying to send a signal out to the Corporate Security forces.”
“How do you know I ain’t already signalled CorpSec before I came here?”
Shawver grins, shaking his head.
“Because I know too much about your employer. Carlisle won’t risk his secrets coming to light in a public investigation.”
“See you did your homework,” I nod, reaching up and rubbing my swollen cheek. “And I don’t reckon I’m going to outfight your man – Beckley, was it? – anytime soon. But…”
Far off, near the front of the factory building, there’s a startled yelp. Shawver hesitates, the bobcat grin freezing as his gaze wanders over the inkblot shadows of the industrial machines.
“You see, the thing about being raised up in the mountains is that you learn to use your environment,” I continue. My hands are aching from keeping them raised, but that shouldn’t be a problem for much longer. “And bye the bye, before I got mixed up with Carlise, I was an Archetype dealer too. D’you know what we were always on the lookout for, back in those days? T’wern’t Corporate Security. It were always the rival gangs.”
Shawver’s grin fades, and he starts backing towards the steel stairs. Beside me, the goon’s face wrinkles in confusion.
At least until the screams start from the far end of the factory, cut short by the sound of gunfire.
“Beckley…” barks Shawver. “Beckley! Call the others! Check the perimeter! Now!”
I nod, cricking my neck and rolling my shoulder back and forth.
“Yep, good idea, boss. A mite bit too late though. They’re already here.”
Shawver’s face turns red, and he turns to run up their stairs, dithers, then turns back to scream at me.
“Who did you tell?”
“All of ‘em, I think.”
Shawver gives a panicked little yelp and Beckley turns, his eyes wild as he scans the factory floor for intruders.
That’s all the opening I need.
My hands are already moving, snatching Beckley’s gun from its holster. Would be good to say I were slick as spring ice, but it’s been a long night and my shoulder shrieks as my fingers close around the weapon. Beckley recoils, reaching down to grab my wrist. He’s already too late.
First bullet goes through his throat. A wild shot – poor work on my part. If you’re going to kill a man, do it clean. Second shot goes through his head.
My aching arms come up, training the gun on Shawver, but he’s already scrambling up the stairs, ducking behind the machinery so’s I can’t get a clear shot. Spot him taking an auto-injector out of his pocket though.
An Archetype? Goddammit. What’s it going to be? Whose memories is he going to stick into his bloodstream? He ain’t the average Archetype junkie, looking for a quick memory hit of drugs or sex or wild adventure.
Shawver jumps out at me, his hands a blur in the shadows. The gun is slapped from my fingers, and I have to dance back to stay out his reach.
Military moves. He must’ve killed a soldier sometime back, rendered down the combat memories. I’m already busted up from fighting Beckley, I ain’t got any illusions against the Archetype of a professional killer.
“What’s the matter, hillbilly?” he snarls, pushing forward till I’m back at the stairs. “Can’t keep up?”
Stepping back into the factory lights, he only has a second to recognise that I’m still smilin’.
“Atten-tion!”
That’s the thing ‘bout the Archetypes. For these quick doses, takes a good second for your brain to over-rule muscle memories that ain’t yours. Shawver freezes, but my hands are already on his jacket, pulling him sideways, up against the stairs, then over the side.
Shawver struggles to pull himself away as I retrieve my gun and walk down to him. He looks up at me and chuckles.
“You’re never going to pay off that debt, hillbilly. Once Carlise has you, he has you for life. Why do you think I turned against him?”
The gun comes up, my finger already on the trigger. Like I said: if you’re gonna kill a man, you do it clean.
My cheek and shoulder still ache as I walk through the night. When I’m finally out of the dampener’s range, I reach up and tap the side of my jaw. The infonode, a hard little bead set into the bone, gives a chirp and I can hear a cold voice somewhere behind my temples.
“Is it done?”
“Yes, Mr Carlisle.”
“And no… compromising material will come to light?”
“No, boss. You can bill this against my Corporate debt.”
A pause, filled with naught but my heartbeat.
“Indeed. However, Corporate interest rates have risen again. You will need to accommodate a heavier workload. I am sending you the datapacket of your next assignment.”
I’m trying not to hear Shawver’s words as I slip away into the darkness.
Leave a Reply