The Wake Up Call
Division
Sitting there in the drifting ripples of light from the shuttle terminal's main halogen flood illuminations was the expensive housing and entertainment block called The Milton Citadel. Its vast super-structure decorated in expensive environmental protection systems and state of the art filtration. Enormous domes covered the outside like a golden pineapple with a thousand dedicated communication satellite network dishes packed onto the distant roof top. Far below stood ornamental archways branched out in all directions like an unearthed tree root system, torn up by a giant eager to demonstrate its fearsome brute strength, its towering height and its power over gravity itself. Encapsulated down its front was a gigantic waterfall of silicon and gold beads which easily dropped 300 feet or more straight down before being channelled around the sides and down under the ground to form a vast lake filled. This highly designed underground sculpture could be seen through the tough, transparent walkways and bridges which led up to the entrance of the Milton Citadel. Intermixed with expensive marble stepping stones were spherical water fountains, each propelling a jet of scented water towards the sky. Crossing the acres of walkways and luxury transportation parking spaces was a web of coloured lasers, each of which helped to evaporate the airborne water droplets from the fountains and create a canopy of man-made rainbows. Beyond the large expanse of its major footprint was the shuttle terminal and it seemed dwarfed by the Milton Citadel. It looked more like a garage where the elite inhabitants kept their executive transport rather than a vast commuter portal, able to move millions of people each day.
This building has continued to attract criticism and envy from the city's poorer residents, and it is easy to see why, the slum areas were originally designed by some overpaid designers who wanted to populate the smallest area possible with the most number of low-rent tenants in order to gain the maximum profit. Even now the inhabitants of the undesirable, un-policed parts of the city are kept in constant poverty by the same Milton Citadel professionals. The wealth and power of the elite inside this gigantic monument is truly terrifying; in fact their combined influence can, and does, control most of the city beyond its golden, temperature controlled walls.
Chapter 1.15: The Contact
The bustling mix of transporter pods, people and cargo around the shuttle terminal provided the backdrop for a quad-pane, temperature controlled window. This window was a polarised eye into a huge luxury apartment filled with expensive looking gadgets, gizmos and other generally pointless toys of the rich and famous. Hologram projectors occupied almost every wall, casting high resolution scenes onto the soundproof wall panels. An army of concealed lights created a clean but cold feeling room devoid of any signs of human occupation, in fact it looked like a showroom, something built to look perfect from every angle but bore little resemblance to a home. The security systems helped to reinforce this idea of a clinical workspace where the elite would be entertained while vast deals where finally signed and sealed, along with a heap of the latest designer drugs no doubt. Heat, light, sound and motion detectors lived behind each and every surface including the gentle sloping ceilings. The furniture was equally as expensive as the intruder alarms, and equally as uncomfortable looking. Square corners and mathematical angles all looked great on the designer's drawing board, but translated into seating which was simply painful; a classic example of 'form over function'. A pleasure on the eye, but a pain on the ass.
There in the shadows, behind a sloping half wall, sat a very tall, well built individual dressed in a designer suit and whose frame clearly showed that he was a regular visitor to the Gym and the other bio-enhancement departments inside the Milton Citadel. The dim lighting created an eerie atmosphere in which the figure raised a glass of expensive alcohol to his lips every so often. A glimpse of colour flashed around the large room as a passing shuttle flew past the window. The only sounds which could be heard were that of the glass being refilled from a freshly opened bottle and that of a digital clock as each hovering silver sphere ticked another passing second. The shadowy figure looked at the 3-dimensional time sculpture in front of the far window and watched as the suspended orbs jumped above their magnetic beams.
The intercom buzzer gave out a synthetic warning voice that the apartment's private elevator was being used. The figure gulped down the last of the alcohol in the glass, placed it down then flicked it across the shiny table surface like a oily eel on a frozen lake. The high-pitched sound echoed around the room before melting into the darkness, like the figure himself.
The sophisticated layout of the Milton Citadel meant that the more expensive apartments had their own, external elevator system on the outside of the structure. This served as both a scenic pastime for its passengers and to allow the various tech. surveillance systems, bugging devices and weapon detection devices to interrogate the entire elevator as it moved up the building. For added protection most tenants fitted a spectrum of defence equipment such as electrified rails, sleeping gas agents or even explosive charges in order to deter all but the most determined intruders.
The figure exhaled a lung full of cigar smoke, sighed, then refilled it with a fresh batch of nicotine. The ash fell from the cigar onto the dull coloured floor tiles which were covered in tiny, micro holes each just big enough to trap a particle of dust until the automated cleaning droid was deployed. He paced across the hard sounding floor towards the triangular shaped gadget near the door. With a casual press of his palm against the cool metal he initiated the viewer. The holographic scene changed to a half scale model of the elevator's passengers and slowly rotating around the vertical.
A few seconds of examination later he switched off the device and waited by the two, small steps which led from the main room down into a smaller, even darker corridor. It was clear that the figure was expecting those visitors and from the tension in the air, he wasn't looking forward to the encounter.
P-I-N-G
The elevator had arrived beyond the heavy looking doors.
The dark figure rushed over to the table, and attempted to pour himself another glass of strong alcohol, but his trembling hands cast most of the green fluid over the table.
The keypad gave a sequence of tones as someone outside entered the door code. It would only be a matter of a few seconds before those visitors would be on the inside.
He gulped down the near, empty glass.
Retinal pattern: Accepted.
spoke the second-level security system in a soft, female voice.
Request processed. Welcome.
The figure turned to the now open door and nervously scanned each of the two individuals who each entered the room carrying a small metal case.
" Let's make this quick and painless. "
The figured nodded while wiping the alcohol from his mouth and chin. The second visitor pushed him into an uncomfortable looking seat and looked at his accomplice, who threw his eyes in the direction of the door, indicating that something else needed to be brought in from the elevator.
" Okay. Did you bring the cargo? "
The figure asked.
The first visitor opened his case, unfolded the portable bio-scanner then placed it onto the table.
" You should know the rules by now. No deal without ident. "
" Right, let's do it! " said the figure slamming his palms on the table in a state of excitement, fear and alcoholic stupor.
Another shuttle flew silently past the window, its lights darting around the room caused the first visitor to become angry.
" Fix it, now! "
" Window: blinds on. " ordered the dark figure.
A fraction of a second later and the liquid-crystal windows turned inky black.
In the extreme darkness the second visitor returned dragging a very large, long crate behind him and propped it against a rounded wall unit. The first switched on a lamp in his open case. The small cone of light shone out onto the table and travelled along its prism-like surface like a bad fibre-optic cable.
" Ready for the scan? "
" Wait. Give me a few moments. It burns like a son-bitch. "
" Ohh... poor little cry baby. " mocked the second visitor.
The dark figure looked up. There in their eyes were the tell-tale reflections of bio-enhanced vision, something most professional hit-man and special forces troops have. This pair were 'the real deal' for sure, some serious upgraders, not the normal half-ass 'mizers'. A thick gun like object was pulled from the case, fitted with a plastic mouthpiece and then pressed into the face of the dark figure. His features and body grew tense as the two small pistols on the device made their way slowly up each nostril. It would take a few moments while the probes did their work and examined the indent. implant code in the subject's frontal lopes.
Upgrades and 'Mizers'
Scattered throughout the city like queen bees in a polluted toilet-bowl of a hive were the elites, handfuls of individuals packed with state-of-the-art bio-technology and top grade hardware. These puppies had real bite. Their very lives often depended on milliseconds, having the most up to date neural cartridges and being ruthless enough to eliminate the competition before they knew what had hit them. They are cold blooded citizens given almost ultimate power and resources to maximise the efficiency of their minds and bodies. Body parts were replaced, memories erased and emotions strictly controlled by toxic drugs. This was far beyond plastic surgery and mind control; this was a chimera Frankenstein. It was a Pandora's box with a backdoor.
The 'mizers' are the extreme body enhancers. Prepared to challenge nature in every conceivable way. Their lives are corrupted by badly cloned enhancements and impure steroids mixed with deadly filler chemicals. From the point of view of the illegal traders this is a 100% blessing. Their 'customers' always come back for more upgrades and of course the suppliers are more than happy to hand out another dubious patch, at a price. The poor, blighted souls are called 'mizers' because of their obsessive habit of 'customising' their minds and bodies with chemical, nano and biological transplants.
Places liked the Tek. Emporium is a prime example of bio-tech shop, selling both legal and illegal hardware in similar quantities. Mewco had been a major re-seller for the Milton Citadel, trading used implants for illegal substances and other forms of late night entertainment. Another regular visitor was Splice, the paranoid, drug-filled tech. genius whose security system still forms the basic skeleton for the entire protection network. At first these two individuals from the ass-end of the city would seem like the last people you would expect to meet here, but the elite, professionals are smart enough to recognise talent; and of course to leech it for all it's worth.
Implant indent: successful.
said the synthetic voice.
" So pretty boy here checks out. Shame, it would have been nice to pull his arms out of the sockets. "
The dark figure looked at the lamp and tapped his finger on the table.
" Where are they? " ordered the first visitor as he stood up, grabbed the tapping finger and yanked it right back towards the wrist. The figure had no option but to slid off his chair and onto the floor.
" Fuck! You're breaking my finger! "
He cursed out in pain.
His two guest dragged him feet first down the steps, crossed the floor and into the bathroom. His head and arms flapping wildly like a newbie octopus in a wind tunnel. With a well practised lift and grab his violent visitors held him upside down above the large Jacuzzi. The bubbling hot water looked like a giant cauldron, ready to boil him alive. These two individuals were incredibly strong, easily able to hold the 6 foot 5 figure between them over the whirlpool by putting a leg over one of their shoulders and holding his arms behind his back so he could not struggle.
After a few minutes of ducking into the water, the tired looking figure started to choke and cough up inhaled water. It seemed only a matter of time before their victim would either die or give them the information they wanted.
B-A-N-G
His head struck the bottom of the bath and his body stopped moving.
" Like shooting fish in a barrel man. "
" Better give him another whack to make sure he isn't faking it. "
The second visitor bounced his victim's head against the sides of the bath to make sure he was completely unconscious before they dropped his body onto the floor. Water and blood trickled down the sides of the bath like a red, mini imitation of the huge waterfall outside.
After searching the entire apartment and pocketing any valuable items the pair packed up the portable scanner and headed for the elevator. The first paused by the large, coffin shaped box and knocked his large knuckles on its lid.
" Good night sweet Prince, sleep well. "
They both roared out laughing and disappearing behind the entrance door.
There in bathroom lay the water soaked body, a small capsule of designer stimulant drugs and a hefty looking hand gun.
Silence and the occasional passing shuttle filled the time for almost half an hour until a faint audio recording bounced around the quiet apartment.
" Can't talk. The 58th junction. Trace Risus, Monkfish and someone called Kurane. Get a tech. there, like yesterday! I really need help. Please, please help me. "
The recording stopped with a burst of line noise and the sound of the recorder's artificial voice unit.
Connection: Closed.
To be continued...