Chapter Twelve - Almost Cool

“Omg! When Deus tripped over a pipe and bashed her face against that wall?

That bit after, where she stomps her feet, it’s already a meme.

How can someone so dangerous be so cute?”

--Chat from Samurai Bloopers.net, 2048

***

“Myalis, got a bead on Manic?”

Her location is known. She’s past the west-side barricade, about three hundred metres out, close to the waterfront. I can guide you there, if you wish.

“That’d be nice,” I said as I stood up. Sprout had run off to check on things already, and Gomorrah and Johnny--who really needed a proper samurai name already--were walking out. She’d pointed to a hive just to the south, which was close enough to both Downtown and River Heights that taking it out would help both.

By the looks of it, Manic was faffing about some ways from the place everyone else was working to protect.

I couldn’t blame her though, she was killing aliens and that’s all that mattered. There was a suspected hive a few blocks over from where she was, so we would hit that after saying our hellos.

“I feel a little under-dressed for alien hunting,” I said with a tap against my chestplate. The gear I had was probably more than enough to tango with some single-digit plants, but if we were going to hit a hive, then I’d want something a little tougher.

Besides, I wasn’t properly armed.

I nipped into a washroom, because while I didn’t mind eyes on me, the body suit I was wearing under my coat was so tight in some places it looked painted on, and I didn’t need Lucy seeing images of my ass across her media feeds. Scoring higher on the popularity boards wasn’t worth it.

“You remember that armour you showed me in the Mesh?” I asked Myalis.

I don’t forget much. Is that what you want now?

“Yeah,” I said. “But make sure it’s heat-proof. Good cooling and stuff. We’re working with Gomorrah often enough that not having something fire-proof is just asking for trouble.”

That’s understandable. Do you want the usual otherwise? Thagomizer tail, finger-mounted blades,shoulder-mounted guns?

I nodded along. “Sounds perfect, yeah. Oh, and those jumpjets from last time.”

Those will be difficult to fit in... I can add smaller ones, but their range will be somewhat limited unless you want to purchase a whole new catalogue specifically for that kind of technology.

“How limited?”

You won’t be jumping any higher than five metres vertically.

“That’s more than enough, I think. Make sure it’s got the usual stealth stuff.” I said. There were a few gizmos I didn’t use much. The claws were something I’d never messed with, and the tail was almost more for show than anything else. Still, it kind of fit the image. The stealth stuff was a must-have though, I was getting used to going invisible. “I think... the usual colour scheme? Oh, and I’ll need a scarf too.”

I’m on it.

A box appeared next to me with a dull thump. The top unfolded and a metallic figure unfurled itself until it was standing as tall as I was. The sides of the box slid to the ground, and I was able to shuck my coat and just walk into the armour, hands fitting into the glove-like spaces for them and chest pressing up against the front of the suit.

It closed around me, and for a split second I felt claustrophobic before it passed, like a wave of vertigo.

Shifting my shoulders then my hips, I made sure I had full control of the suit even as the space before my eyes flicked on and ran through a diagnostic so fast it was more of an after image.

I was left looking at the inside of the unisex bathroom through a screen with better resolution and frames than my own flesh and blood eye. The HUD was small and out of the way, easy to forget. The way I liked it.

“Sometimes I think you’re too good at this,” I said to Myalis.

I am.

I walked over to the mirror after picking my coat up and slipping into it. The person looking back at me in the mirror was armoured from head to toe in sleek black power armour with a few dark sections over the more armoured parts and some glowing pink highlights along the edges. I had a scarf around my neck, bunched up nice and neat under my coat. The trailing edge had that cat-head logo, with the grenade pin in its mouth.

“That’ll do,” I said.

I could pick up a weapon later, when I needed it. And I had my Trenchmaker for those ‘oh shit’ moments.

I left the box behind--it wasn’t littering if the stuff you left behind was worth a lot--and headed out of the washroom and through the mall’s cafeteria.

It was interesting to note how much more attention I was getting now compared to before. I guess my more casual outfit didn’t scream ‘samurai’ as much, and even Gomorrah’s gear looked very nun-like. This was different.

Once I was outside, I checked a map, found Manic’s location, my own, and the simple route I’d need to take to get there. It wasn’t all that far.

I could have gotten a car, or hitched a ride with someone, or even just splurged some points on a scooter or something, but I didn’t mind a short jog. It was only a couple of kilometres.

I regretted my decision about six hundred metres later. The power armour was great, it took out a lot of the effort I had to put into moving, without that, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to move at all with its added weight. Still, moving was moving, and I wasn’t in the most perfect of shape.

You might want to consider either more cybernetic enhancements or, seeing as how you’re wary of those, perhaps supplements to help your body grow more comfortable with this degree of exercise.

“Like steroids?” I asked.

Yes.

“Well, I don’t have a dick to shrink, I guess,” I said.

I’d hardly give you something with negative side-effects.

“I mean, fair, but isn’t that cheating?”

You could argue that everything a Vanguard does is cheating.

I laughed until I had to stop to focus on my breathing. Soon enough, I was by the barricade and I stopped my run to a slow jog and finally a normal walk.

The barricade wasn’t much to look at, but it was still impressive in its own... mishy-mashy way. A group with brown bands around their arms were off to one side, grinders screaming as they cut through some metal plates. Others were behind a small partition, the actinic spark of welders going off brightening up the entire street.

The wall itself was made of cars turned on their sides, with metal braces bolted in place to keep them there. There were enough of them stacked up that they rose a good five or six metres up. They’d built catwalks behind the cars just high enough that someone could stand up and see over the edge of the wall. A few guns were mounted up there too.

“Hey,” I called out to a militia guy who jumped to attention. “How do you get to the other side?” I asked.

He looked at the wall, then back at me. “There’s a tunnel, under the street,” he said. “We use it to get to the other side when we need to burn the corpses. Um, you can get around through that building too, but it’s locked up to hell, ma’am.” He gestured to one of the buildings next to the barricade.

“Ah, that’s alright then,” I said.

I walked up to the wall, bunched my legs up under me, then jumped.

And then I landed about a foot ahead.

“Myalis,” I growled.

Yes, Catherine?

“Was it not obvious what I was trying to do?” I asked.

It was. But now I have a video of you doing a bunny hop while thinking you’d look very cool.

“Don’t you dare,” I said.

Sent to Lucy already. I apologise, Catherine. She asked nicely.

I grumbled. Well, Lucy would enjoy it, and I was pretty much immune to embarrassment at this point. “Just turn on the jumpjets this time? People are watching.”

Certainly.

I jumped again, and this time the jets near my ankles fired with a nearly-quiet hiss that propelled me up and to the side of the catwalk. I latched on and used the momentum to swing myself over, then I planted a foot on a small ledge and basically stepped over the top of the barricade and leapt off the other side, coat flapping with a snap behind me.

I landed with a grunt, knees bending so much that I almost hit myself in the chest before I stood and continued to walk. I was vaguely aware of people over the wall staring.

“That’s more like it,” I muttered. “Now, where’s Manic?”

***