Cheat, page 29
From the way they were listing, it felt more like three of the round things were still there, under them. They drove on anyway, barely able to move, until a third big black vehicle, slammed into them. Then the whole thing moved off to the side, going away from the road, into the trees on the left.
Lisa looked around and swore, several times.
“They have us. We’re surrounded. When they get here…” Whatever the clever plan was, Mason didn’t get to learn, since the windows blew out then.
Bits of glass square safety glass and bullets hit him, since unlike Sam he hadn’t hunched down first. That she’d responded before anything had happened was clear. Mason, trying to work everything out, nodded, mainly to himself. No one else was going to pay attention to him, he didn’t think.
There were men outside the vehicle, dressed in the classic black bad guy uniform, with their faces covered. Who they were was impossible to tell, since they didn’t put any handy decals on their trucks. They were built like the assistants all were, however.
Lisa spoke softly, her voice harsh as she whispered.
“You two run for the trees, Tim and I will try to hold them here.”
It was a good plan, but Mason could see a major flaw in it. If he ran for it, then they’d move at his best speed. Maybe Sam’s, if he was in better shape than she was, which didn’t seem likely. If the two assistants went with her, they could all move faster. Even dragging her along they would be about fifty percent better off than if it was him going. That left him standing there though, which he couldn’t love, to be honest about it. He tried to work out any way where him doing the fleeing was the best route, but it just wouldn’t work.
That left only one sensible thing to do.
“No. I’ll stay here, you three go.” He didn’t have time to explain, and didn’t try, just working at the door that was about to be opened anyway. “Move! Now! I’ll explain later. It’s the best thing to do.” If he lived, which probably wasn’t likely. As it was, he wondered what he thought he was going to do to stall for time while the others ran. Singing was right out, not being a talent of his in particular.
Lisa tried to grab him, her hands a lot faster and more powerful than he could match. He looked at her and shook his head.
“No. I said go. Do it. There’s no time… Stupid people. Just believe me!” Then he saw a man trying to get into the vehicle on the right and kicked at the door, pushing it open fast. On the other side, when he got out, being grabbed by three men that were all a lot bigger than he was, he squirmed.
That would defeat them. Flopping like a trapped animal like he was.
There was a noise as the others tried for the woods, and given that his arms were being held to his sides Mason couldn’t really do much. Nothing he had was a weapon, or could be turned into one, which left him with nothing. Even kicking the people wasn’t going to do much. He tried to push them all off balance, by using the car and momentum, but it didn’t do a lot. If the guys that had him, or, as it turned out, two men and a woman, weren’t nearly three hundred pounds each, then his ability to guess at weights had failed. Which was possible, given his desire to wet himself, and gibber a bit at the moment. His mind might not be working all that clearly, he knew.
To get him to stop the man that had both hands free hit him, hard and fast… Thankfully.
As he’d learned earlier in the week, first hand, being hit, bit and, scratched worked against him, if a normal person was doing it. This guy was nearly superhuman, and his blow had enough power and speed that the copper and carbon matrix in his skin absorbed the force of it. Three times in a row. Then Mason retaliated.
By taunting the man
“You’re weak! Your grandmother is a better fighter than you are.” It wasn’t much of a fighting technique, and wasn’t true, but the man actually stopped, just to stare at him.
Then he grumbled at him, his voice so deep it was hard to hear.
“And you’re tougher than you look. Get the others. Put restraints on him…”
Mason fought then, because it was clearly going to work a lot better to piss these people off than to have them try to coddle him. It seemed backwards, but being hit full force had moved him back, and caused the others to struggle to hold him. Their hands on his arms threatened to crush the long bones, but the being hit part hadn’t done a lot to him, comparatively.
So he kicked, tried to bite, and took several solid kicks to the middle and one to the groin in return. It was then, when he didn’t go down from the move, that the others started to notice what was happening. Mason Sims might not be very strong, and he doubted that he could outsprint any of these people, even if he was lighter than they were, but he could take a beating it seemed, thanks to his imbed. So he did everything he could to force them to do that.
It kept about six of them occupied, which was only half of the people there. There seemed to have been three vehicles, and while all of the people, the men and women, looked to be built like John and his friends, and were armed, none of them had simply tried to shoot him yet. Finally, one of the women walked up and did it, pointing the end of a rifle barrel at his chest and pulling the trigger. It blasted him backwards, into the limo, but other than tearing his travel t-shirt apart, it didn’t hurt him.
The man on his right hollered like he’d been stabbed with a needle.
“Damn it! You shot me… What the fuck?” That last was due to Mason rebounding from the vehicle, which was crumpled on the side and missing several wheels, and stabbing his fingers at the woman holding his other arm. It was supposed to hit her in the eyes, and managed to glance off her cheek, making her wince. A little.
Then the gun barrel that had just shot him closed and stabbed him in the face, causing him to grab at it, and push to the side as it went off, which stopped the formerly grabbing woman pretty well, even as it burned his palm.
Then he was shot from several sides, at close quarters, which hurt, because he kept slamming back into the limo each time. The bullets didn’t do much to him, though they did make his neck ache when they hit him in the head.
Finally they stopped, and not knowing what to do, he bluffed.
“Stand down! Stand down! Operation over.” He was nearly making up words, but given that running and fighting were both out of the question, it didn’t leave a lot for him to try.
“I said, stand the fuck down! Look at yourselves. You call yourselves professionals? This is the sorriest excuse for a takedown I’ve ever seen. You should just be glad we decided to use this to test you, rather than the original plan, or you’d all be dead right now.”
It occurred to him, now that he had half a second to think, that it was literally true. If Lisa and the other guy, Tim, had stayed, these people would probably be dead now.
“You can thank me later. Now, put those weapons away and call your people back in. If they get too close to the assistants, they’ll just die.”
These people might be big, muscular and powerful on a level he couldn’t match, but that didn’t seem to mean they were mentally handicapped. None of them moved to do anything that seemed like giving up, though one of them, the man that had hit him first, did speak through his all black face mask.
“Quarter sec one, report.” He was holding his jaw on the left, to activate the primitive com device it seemed. If anyone answered, it wasn’t done in a way he could hear. “Quarter sec one? Anyone?”
Several of the remaining four that were standing tried it too, then one of them started to shoot him again. He bounced off the vehicle, still on his feet, and grabbed her rifle thing again, this time with it touching his palm over the barrel when it went off. That one hurt, and he felt things inside his hand and arm make popping sounds as it exploded away from the end of the thing. The weapon blew up though, and did a lot more damage to the woman that had been trying, and failing, to kill him.
Then he took advantage of the situation, and got one of the guns that was on the ground. It didn’t fire, being locked to the original owner most likely, but it was harder than his hand, and while he wasn’t doing it well, he did manage to hit the remaining three several times each before a limo pulled up, and four large men and women got out.
This time they were on his side, he hoped.
John pointed a weapon and didn’t close.
“Get on the ground. Do it now, or I’ll get vid of the skinny kid kicking your asses. Again. Do it.”
That, for some reason, worked way better than when he’d tried.
Chapter nineteen
Being alive was his reward. That, and not having to wait for the police, because this was, as John assured him, a military black operation. So instead of sitting on a road side or sipping tea provided by a robot public aid agent, he was shoved into the back of a very tiny electric car, with a woman he didn’t recognize at all. She was one of John’s old unit, and wouldn’t give a name.
She’d even acted like he was being stupid getting Sys’s speaking portal box from the back of the limo. It was fine, not even being scratched, since it was light and sturdy enough to last. That wasn’t the best way in the world to meet a new person, but she did soften a little bit when John pointed at the people on the ground.
“He isn’t half as helpless as he looks. He did the take down on those three, and stayed behind so that others could escape. He has a class one ballistic shield imbed, and used it.”
The large lady, who seemed a lot meaner than the others he’d met so far of that kind, growled.
“Well, fucking great for him. This is my POV and I’ll be damned if I’m taking a bullet for some asskitten. Stuff him behind the seat, and I swear, if you so much as pop your head up or speak the whole time I’ll leave you the road. Understood?”
Mason had some questions, but simply nodded, since it was a long walk to get back to town. As it was he’d lost everything that he’d had with him, except for Sys. So he scrunched down as low as he could, and changed his bio-marker profile, just in case anyone was checking for him personally. John pounded the top of the little blue electric vehicle, and leaned over to whisper something to the mean woman.
She didn’t answer, just taking off. After a few minutes she turned on some music, which was a bit too loud, since his head was pressed up against the rear speaker on the right. Mason didn’t think the lady would be inclined to turn her tunes down for his comfort, and really didn’t want to walk, since he looked like…
Well, really, from what he could see he looked like someone from a poorly produced virt, who was supposed to be a shooting victim, but the wounds hadn’t been rendered properly. His clothing had nice big holes in it, but his skin was pretty much untouched under that. It wasn’t a fashion statement though, and would be noticed if he had to walk down the road for too long.
Mason didn’t know where the closest public transport portal was, but doubted it would be nestled into the trees along the roadside.
The trip took a while, but it was early in the day, and moving away from the beach on a weekend, so it went pretty quickly. Even when they got to the city, the smell in the air becoming a bit more familiar, the large and nameless woman didn’t speak to him. When she did, it was because they were nearly at his building.
“Just drop you off here? Or should I move away from the front of the building?”
How would he know? He spoke though, since he really was home, if she kicked him out.
“Pull up near that tree to the right side of the road? Stop so the door is even to it, and it will be off camera. I won’t leave until you drive away, once I’m out.”
There was a grunt, and she actually followed the instructions well enough. He would have gone about two feet forward, but it would work to keep her face or plate from being seen.
As he got out, moving quickly, he whispered to her.
“Thank you. Be careful.” He didn’t know why he said it, but that got a chuckle from his new friend.
“Always am, and it still never helps. You too, for what it’s worth.”
Then, as soon as he was out, holding the black box with a smiley face on it under his right arm, she drove away, never turning her head to look back at him. It was smart. This way only the back of her head would be seen by Watch, on the cameras. Anyone else observing them by camera, too. Unless they had a micro-drone following them, or something.
In that case he was just screwed.
The very first thing he wanted to do was call and check on Sam. That would take some doing, since he had no clue who’d been after her.
Luckily, he had a friend that could help him out that way. Possibly. Glancing down at the composite box, he turned and started walking, with a smile on his face, just in case any of his neighbors saw him. Then he took the stairs up to his place, three flights up. It felt familiar, but not safe yet. Like he was still too exposed, and vulnerable.
In fact, he could tell that something was very wrong, as he approached his place. It wasn’t anything visible. More of a vibration, or a subtle scent in the air. A stink that shouldn’t have been there. It might even have been the fact that there was soft music coming from his place, which wasn’t normal. It was a nice tune, with a man singing to a woman about how lovely her eyes were.
Under that, the main voices, there was an even baritone that wasn’t as good as the singer, but wasn’t bad really. The strange thing there was that he knew it had to be Ford, but it had been so long since he’d heard him that it sounded funny. Trying to steel his nerves, he thumbed the pad next to the door. The mechanism popped, the door opening easily, and the music got louder.
A good bit, actually. Enough that he wondered how freaking noisy his neighbors really were. He’d been worried that the party he’d had would keep them up, but the stuff was blaring, and Ford was practically bellowing his part of it. With the front closed up, it hardly made any noise.
His brother had, when they were kids, been the lucky one. Taller than Mason, by several inches, and muscular, where his younger brother had always been soft. Mason’s chin was a bit pointed, and Ford’s had managed to come out looking manly, and like he was several years older than he really was. The girls had loved it, which had gotten him into loads of trouble, or as he’d always put it, fun.
Time had not been kind to Ford Sims, as it turned out. He was only two years older than Mason, but looked like he was past thirty already. He was, in a lot of ways, still better looking, most likely, but his skin was the pasty color of a person that seldom went outside. VR addicts had that look. So did drunks. The place smelled powerfully of cheap mint, and there was smoke in the air.
That was, thankfully, just incense, rather than Mote. His brother wasn’t on that. He could tell. Not that he knew what people actually on the unregulated street drug acted like, but they were all super skinny. Ford was not that. In fact, he was at least a hundred pounds heavier than he had been the last time they’d met, nearly five years before. It was kind of sad to see.
His good body had been the one thing that his brother had always really had going for him. Without that, the women would have probably dried up, because he certainly hadn’t gotten them with his vast and endless charm. When he spun, striking a pose, a bit of the drink in his glass splashed out onto the floor composite. It was blue, and didn’t look healthy.
“Argh!” His brother moved back and cringed, then froze his eyes not really all that clear. Gasping a little, there was staring. “Sorry, I… This is my brother’s place. Mason? Are you his roommate, or… Uh, boyfriend?”
It was clear that his brain fogged sibling didn’t get it yet. It was tempting to pretend to be someone else, but it was probably fair, more or less. Growing up he’d been the heavy one, and just as pale as Ford was now. If it wasn’t for his makeup imbed, he’d still be very light skinned. It wasn’t like he went outside very often.
“Hi Ford. I see you made it all right?”
It still took a moment for the facts to down on the man.
“Wait… Fatty? What the fuck man? You look…”
Mason waited for the insult. For his brother to suggest that he looked like a girl, or that he should have seen the ugly in his eyes. Instead there was just a stammer, and oddly, a hug.
“Man! You look great. Like, I didn’t recognize you, you look so good. I let myself in. I…” There was an awkward moment, and a wincing sip from the pink composite tumbler. “Gah, this stuff is crap. It’s the only thing your kitchen printer would make that had booze in it. Mouth wash. I feel like I’m twelve again. Anyway, you’re probably surprised to see me…” Then he frowned a little and stared at the front of Mason’s clothing. “What happened? Is that a new trend I missed?”
There was a gesture at his clothing, in case the concept of what he was talking about had gotten lost in the translation.
“Nothing like that. I just had a little disagreement on the road. I can tell you about it later. Anyway. How have you been?” He wasn’t going to blame him for getting kicked out, he decided, since that may well have been The Department’s doing. Probably having him actually print out the robot, in order to give their parents a good reason to finally toss him to the curb. Knowing that there was nowhere else for the loser to go. Except when Ford had probably expected to call him and beg, there had been a confirmation of residence already set up, and a ticket to get there that didn’t have a time stamp on it.
He walked out of the room, carrying Sys with him. His work room hadn’t been touched, other than some general moving of things that had probably happened when Ford tried to get the assembler to work.
The VR room stank though, since penchant for real women or not, Ford had clearly stooped to VR for his personal needs that way. Unfortunately he wasn’t all that tidy about it. Maybe he thought the maid service, or their mother, would clean up after him.
If so, he was a bigger creep than Mason had assumed, since making your own mother clean up your spunk was about as low as anything he could imagine.
