My vision clears after a bitter groan of confusion. "Jez?" I wearily ask.
"Blue jay." She reaches down and wraps her hands around my wrists. Yeah... this Jezebel.
I stagger up with her help onto my feet and find myself caught up in the blaze of the once place I had found some peace of mind in. "Your doing?"
"It was the bar or us rendezvousing at least one more time." She frowns and looks over with me. Although we need to help the injured, we're both constrained to move through this.
"So, Blue Jay. Comms noted a package to delivery to assist in my objective."
She nods and takes my hand to press a small USB stick into it and closes it within with her hands wrapping around mine, "Floor plans for your target and a few asset files to help in between here and there. Upload ASAP and trigger the burnout when you're done. Please." Jez's eyes are dead set on mine, the usual friendly tone lost in the business.
"As per protocol, of course. How had I not known..?" I begin to ask.
"I was a part of a program from HQ to keep an eye on your well-being ever since TransPhix. Survivor's guilt wasn't an option to allow you to succumb to." She smiles warily and gives me a hug, "No more talking. Return to business. We're fifteen minutes late on this."
I had to embrace this hug. There weren't many in my life, and no one can say this will be the last chance or not.
"Thank you, Jez. For everything."
She pats my shoulder and laughs, "Next time you're buying for us both."
"Deal." I clench my jaw and begin moving away from the blaze with haste.
"Wait! You can't forget this." Jezebel kneels to pick up the sword I had almost forgotten. "Wait... is this Cortain?"
"Thank you, I will definitely need her. And yes, although a story for next time."
On my way to Gate 10-3, I try to assess what damage was made from Dreki's boastful toying hits.
Running an internal diagnostic, it's confirmed that I have a ruptured kidney and the right portion of my lower sternum is broken from the back. Bone shards are digging at the lung, and I know that this internal bleeding will be hell by sunrise.
But I can't stop now.
I register use of a hopper to kick up the adrenaline and help me rush forward to make up for the time. I'll rest if I'm not dead.
On my way, about 2 klicks from the gate to Hellrise Heights now, I plug in the USB and run the download and memory implant process.
There is a maintenance-slash-security tunnel through the wall with an entrance near this gate. From there, there's the monorail four klicks whose track leads close to Intellectual Verification.
If the five agents heading for Target 22, a major power plant for the same region of Hellrise Heights as my target, succeed, then my ascent should be... relatively easier. Less cameras, but more darkness and Moroi and tiny-fangs on patrol will be on high alert.
So long as I can reach the elevator shaft and ascend the cables to the private access of floor sixty-nine, the mission should go better than with the main power grid active. It takes being an absolute putz to make that your office for a major surveillance and identification corporation.
I toss the USB and set it to burn out and reach the gate and come to find security lighter as shouting has spread beyond Rhine St. to other parts of Tenth. Gods, I pray for it to be a stance of defiance taken finally. One way or another, it seems that this will help a long way in slipping through.
It is fortunate to slip through without a hitch and have an easy hike under the monorail for the winding path to the target.
At this rate, it takes me an hour to reach the target. 01:30 and with t-minus five hours until dawn for final execution. Much to the misfortune in facing the Moroi, daytime operations are more detrimental than any opportunity to employ our resources at nighttime and adapt to Moroi superior senses. But this will be their undoing for some of these operations with the tools being employed.
Requesting a sitrep, I lay low a block away within an alley. Hellrise is desolate compared to its neighboring slum. Perhaps those monsters know we're making our move now and are laying low and building onto security to try and stop us. And, so far, it seems this may have Target 22 being delayed on being undermined.
"Target 22 under siege. 999 Liberated. Sit, 17." HQ reports with.
In the meantime, I try to finalize my preparation mentally and physically. A minor morphine injection to numb the pain will help further disregard the kidney malfunction. For better or worse, it's ideal to go in with only the objective in mind and not let the harm slow me down. Kensington cannot live. My mission cannot be delayed to sunrise.
It feels that half an hour passes before I check in, "Need support at 22?"
An immediate negative responds in five long beeps for 0. Alright. Then I will relocate as a sitting duck is dead as fuck, and I won't let that be on my gravestone.
Moving to position myself two klicks north, I hunker down once more.
All of my life has led up to a point of no certain of survival in a cause I would die a hundred times for. Always having been a Tenth District slummer, this life has come to about breaking the bars of the cage down and to reach for the throats of the jailers inasmuch as they've done so with us.
It feels that little more was lived beyond training and pursuing missions far less holding the implications this one has. I suppose that means that I have breathed every moment in the hope to kill one of the Directory board members. Something that will be known for all of Æon City so that men and women alike can know that they aren't untouchable.
As my mind wanders through the moments of playing football with the other children of Tenth, enjoying the few moments of friendship, and regrets in not having taken advantage of more of it whilst my mother urged to make use of the free time even as she was sick, the lights around me vanish.
I look up to the night sky, seeing the crescent moon and stars smile upon me.
"17. Proceed."
"Alright. Going ghost."
I turn my NavCom access off to go radio silent.
Clearing my thoughts from the past and returning to the present, I make my move for the east side of the target. From there, there ought to be a less commonly used route that can offer a direct shot towards the elevators.
I reach the building, looking out for any backup generators operating security cameras. Unfortunately, this would be a strong likelihood for a company that generates billions from surveillance technologies. Thus far, though, there appears to be a delay in it kicking on.
Turning back, I see the dark streets flash at odd intervals of six, twelve, and fifteen seconds. It's hard to discern a pattern without wasting anymore time, though. I slip through and will assume these intervals are designed to disrupt the normal startup procedure for backup generators.
I draw a small knife from my boot sheath to wedge between the double glass doors. To be fair, had I considered better, a riskier outdoor ascent may have done better in being more straightforward, but the suction cups to allow for that are hard to come by anymore. Trying to minimize the noise in moving in is the greatest challenge. The shattering of just one of these ten plus feet tall panes of glass will alert everyone inside, and many around here.
I inch the knife to press its tip against the locking mechanism. After a deep breath, I slam the back of my closed fist against the butt of the knife. Although a shatter ensued, it was of a partial amount that took only the lock down. I can't wait to assess this, though, and rush through to the interior plants that surround the lobby and lay low for a moment as I listen out for security.
Although no one is speaking nor rushing, I can at least hear that two individuals go to inspect the broken lock. With them sweeping the lobby, I wait and move around the raised space and fake foliage to keep me concealed. With fortune, this was enough, although as I leaned to see the two communicate, they were making eye contact. Either some stranger telepathic form of communication or knowing protocol for what would be such a dangerous situation, one of them makes way to a door that opens to the staircase that goes almost all of the way up.
I give it a moment after the one disappears up the stairs before I use the first of the flashbangs.
With a loud and bright pop, I slip out and fire a three round burst from the ULR-80 at the guard, paying no mind of if they're Moroi or not.
Wedging the elevator door open, I slip through and use the ULR-80 to help add reach in opening the maintenance hatch to the elevator shaft. With the hang cord, I launch it with a hook to catch and help myself ascend with.
Carefully closing the hatch, I'm left in the darkness of the elevator shaft and slowly feel my way through to find the cable and wrap my hands and ankles around it to inch my way upwards.
Breaking down what I can estimate with how long this will take, roughly two feet every pull upwards, it will be around 320 pulls upwards to reach the top. I'll drop a flash bang and look upwards to check. This would give away my presence here, however it will be a necessary evil to ensure that I make it to the floor that I otherwise wouldn't be able to.
The ascent, forever it feels, is more wearing on the muscles more than my mind.
The crawl was a crawl to destiny. Even if I fail, the Directory will know that we will continue to creep in through the crevices of their rotten world and will be the maggots to consume their corpses to make room for new space.
That alone is enough.
