Categories > Original > Sci-Fi > Walker
Chapter 1
Adyoll was typical of Castilian urbania-- tall bland buildings crowded on small land lots hastily built by the mayors during the Transportation years. The address Devdas had looked up in the HaMai clan-owned holobook lead her here--a penthouse building guarded by a portly man resplendent in a bright shade of red, which looked almost lurid against the monochromatic buildings of grey.
The doorman gave off the impression that he would be content crawling with his fellow cockroaches if the Great Deity had not dictated that he would be born human. This would make entry into Armuli des HaMai's quarters somewhat more difficult.
Smart people could be bribed or swayed. It would be expecting too much for Cockroach Guy to correctly spell "potato". Probably had gotten his current job through familial concerns and would hang on to it like a grass tick to a fat puppy--Cockroach Guy wouldn't want to screw up his only chance of living away from his mum..
So...Using the main entrance would be out for her. Illegal ways were always faster, if not easier, than legal means--no one to bow and scrape to.
Looking around, Devdas assessed her options. Either she could try and break in via the roof or she can wait for ugly tourists from the Center and "blend in".
She didn't feel like waiting. After all, she had sixty thousand C-notes burning a hole in her Edo account, with the promise of more to come. She was greedy, who wasn't?
Getting onto the roof would be the hardest part. In rich neighborhoods like this, engineers had made sure that the monorail bypassed rooftops entirely--as if burglars would seriously consider using the system.
With that in mind, she knew she had to go up to the roof of another building, pray like hell, and jump to the penthouse building. Even though Devdas healed faster than normal, she didn't heal that fast.
"One hundred thousand. One hundred thousand C-notes. One hundred thousand," was the only thought that popped into her head in support of the proposed stunt. That much money was difficult to debate against.
Her nerves steeled, or as much as one hundred thousand would steel them, Devdas decided to use the King as her launching pad. It had the advantages of being taller than her target building and a smarter doorman.
The doorman let her in under the pretext of seeing a dying aunt--the dying grandmother story being way overused, in Devdas' opinion. The best thing was that she didn't have to spend a single C-note, which was as good as any recommendation for a course of action.
The lobby was busy with the hum and chatter of holos and the accompanying chirps of people who came attached to them. She swept past them and snuck into the side stairwell. The nook was rather neglected which implied that no one came by here often-a point in her favor. Still, she brought out her silencer and her trusty .45.
Just because no one used it often didn't mean no one used it.
Devdas walked up the stairs. For once she was glad of the zoning coded imposing limits on the number of floors a building can have and still qualify for earthquake insurance-twenty-two floors, to be precise.
Still, did they have to build so high? Her thighs ached slightly but she had to plow on...for five more flights.
At the end of the tunnel there was a light, and it said "Exit" in three separate languages. She pushed the door open and stowed her weapon. The rooftop was empty--Northern Castil was in the middle of its harsh winter--no one would feel the urge to sleep under the stars anytime soon.
It being winter, Devdas walked easily across the rooftop and tried to calculate the angles needed for a jump that wouldn't at least kill her. She was crap at Geometry in school (which may or may not have had something to do with her behavior in the classroom) but was, according to the National Scholastic Association, "superior" in spatial relationships. (They refused to comment on her people skills.)
Devdas hoped the assholes at NSA were right and that Mr. Fathead was wrong.
With that thought, she made a running start to launch herself off the roof. As she ran faster, nearing the edge, she leaped.
Almost automatically, she stretched out a hand to swing herself over the gutter drains.
She wound up slamming hard--ooh; she would feel that tomorrow-against the stucco façade.
Fortunately Devdas had the presence of mind to hang onto the pipe. Gritting her teeth against the sharp metal cutting into her palm, she pulled herself up and swung a leg over the ledge. Devdas allowed herself to roll down onto the other side. How many people survived a two-point-five meter drop and lived to tell the tale, besides?
She grimaced at the crimson gash marring her right palm. The bleeding had already stopped, but the cut was very deep.
Devdas hoped to Deity that her shots were still good-she had a streak of fourteen years of not going to the doctor, and didn't want to ruin it.
"Worry about lockjaw later--get to Armuli before the repo' guys show up," Devdas thought.
She got out a Banku Express Metro Card and jimmied it against the lock of the rooftop exit. Devdas pushed the card just so against the bolt and turned the knob. The old door gave way easily and she let herself in.
The address indicated that Armuli lived on the thirteenth floor. Devdas' legs were begging her to take it easy and use a lift, but every paranoid bastard knew that all lifts had security cameras in them, offering rent-a-cops a high-res, 360' view.
Devdas was paranoid.
So she took the stairs for the umpteenth time today. Going down was far easier than going up, fortunately. She came to the thirteenth floor's landing and found that Apartment 13-A was right in front of her.
Maybe the Deity hadn't forsaken her after all.
Devdas tried the door and found, to her dismay, that it was unlocked. Not even a deadbolt or three on it.
Shit.
Either Armuli was expecting her or--
He was not in a position to close his door properly.
By the smell, Devdas knew it was the latter. It was sickly sweet and permutated everything. She walked slowly, drawing her weapon. She avoided touching anything and edged her way around a miniature Red Sea that was forming around the body of Armuli des HaMai.
He was pale with death-perhaps even shock--after all, he was shot in the throat. Armuli would have bled to death, and whoever had "mowed" him would have stuck around to make sure Armuli was dead.
Maybe not. The shot, from Devdas' POV, looked like a through-and-through. The laser--since Armuli had blood tracks on both sides-- had severed the spinal cord.
He would have suffocated to death, basically.
Click. Please don't let that be a blaster barrel engaging.
"Turn around very slowly," intoned an accentless, male voice.
Devdas, with her hands up, complied.
The man was rather an Average Joe-- brown eyes, light brown complexion, black-brown hair.
"I'm afraid that you're a bit late," he went on, "as you've seen, Armuli is dead."
Okay, maybe the Deity had forsaken her after "after all".
Adyoll was typical of Castilian urbania-- tall bland buildings crowded on small land lots hastily built by the mayors during the Transportation years. The address Devdas had looked up in the HaMai clan-owned holobook lead her here--a penthouse building guarded by a portly man resplendent in a bright shade of red, which looked almost lurid against the monochromatic buildings of grey.
The doorman gave off the impression that he would be content crawling with his fellow cockroaches if the Great Deity had not dictated that he would be born human. This would make entry into Armuli des HaMai's quarters somewhat more difficult.
Smart people could be bribed or swayed. It would be expecting too much for Cockroach Guy to correctly spell "potato". Probably had gotten his current job through familial concerns and would hang on to it like a grass tick to a fat puppy--Cockroach Guy wouldn't want to screw up his only chance of living away from his mum..
So...Using the main entrance would be out for her. Illegal ways were always faster, if not easier, than legal means--no one to bow and scrape to.
Looking around, Devdas assessed her options. Either she could try and break in via the roof or she can wait for ugly tourists from the Center and "blend in".
She didn't feel like waiting. After all, she had sixty thousand C-notes burning a hole in her Edo account, with the promise of more to come. She was greedy, who wasn't?
Getting onto the roof would be the hardest part. In rich neighborhoods like this, engineers had made sure that the monorail bypassed rooftops entirely--as if burglars would seriously consider using the system.
With that in mind, she knew she had to go up to the roof of another building, pray like hell, and jump to the penthouse building. Even though Devdas healed faster than normal, she didn't heal that fast.
"One hundred thousand. One hundred thousand C-notes. One hundred thousand," was the only thought that popped into her head in support of the proposed stunt. That much money was difficult to debate against.
Her nerves steeled, or as much as one hundred thousand would steel them, Devdas decided to use the King as her launching pad. It had the advantages of being taller than her target building and a smarter doorman.
The doorman let her in under the pretext of seeing a dying aunt--the dying grandmother story being way overused, in Devdas' opinion. The best thing was that she didn't have to spend a single C-note, which was as good as any recommendation for a course of action.
The lobby was busy with the hum and chatter of holos and the accompanying chirps of people who came attached to them. She swept past them and snuck into the side stairwell. The nook was rather neglected which implied that no one came by here often-a point in her favor. Still, she brought out her silencer and her trusty .45.
Just because no one used it often didn't mean no one used it.
Devdas walked up the stairs. For once she was glad of the zoning coded imposing limits on the number of floors a building can have and still qualify for earthquake insurance-twenty-two floors, to be precise.
Still, did they have to build so high? Her thighs ached slightly but she had to plow on...for five more flights.
At the end of the tunnel there was a light, and it said "Exit" in three separate languages. She pushed the door open and stowed her weapon. The rooftop was empty--Northern Castil was in the middle of its harsh winter--no one would feel the urge to sleep under the stars anytime soon.
It being winter, Devdas walked easily across the rooftop and tried to calculate the angles needed for a jump that wouldn't at least kill her. She was crap at Geometry in school (which may or may not have had something to do with her behavior in the classroom) but was, according to the National Scholastic Association, "superior" in spatial relationships. (They refused to comment on her people skills.)
Devdas hoped the assholes at NSA were right and that Mr. Fathead was wrong.
With that thought, she made a running start to launch herself off the roof. As she ran faster, nearing the edge, she leaped.
Almost automatically, she stretched out a hand to swing herself over the gutter drains.
She wound up slamming hard--ooh; she would feel that tomorrow-against the stucco façade.
Fortunately Devdas had the presence of mind to hang onto the pipe. Gritting her teeth against the sharp metal cutting into her palm, she pulled herself up and swung a leg over the ledge. Devdas allowed herself to roll down onto the other side. How many people survived a two-point-five meter drop and lived to tell the tale, besides?
She grimaced at the crimson gash marring her right palm. The bleeding had already stopped, but the cut was very deep.
Devdas hoped to Deity that her shots were still good-she had a streak of fourteen years of not going to the doctor, and didn't want to ruin it.
"Worry about lockjaw later--get to Armuli before the repo' guys show up," Devdas thought.
She got out a Banku Express Metro Card and jimmied it against the lock of the rooftop exit. Devdas pushed the card just so against the bolt and turned the knob. The old door gave way easily and she let herself in.
The address indicated that Armuli lived on the thirteenth floor. Devdas' legs were begging her to take it easy and use a lift, but every paranoid bastard knew that all lifts had security cameras in them, offering rent-a-cops a high-res, 360' view.
Devdas was paranoid.
So she took the stairs for the umpteenth time today. Going down was far easier than going up, fortunately. She came to the thirteenth floor's landing and found that Apartment 13-A was right in front of her.
Maybe the Deity hadn't forsaken her after all.
Devdas tried the door and found, to her dismay, that it was unlocked. Not even a deadbolt or three on it.
Shit.
Either Armuli was expecting her or--
He was not in a position to close his door properly.
By the smell, Devdas knew it was the latter. It was sickly sweet and permutated everything. She walked slowly, drawing her weapon. She avoided touching anything and edged her way around a miniature Red Sea that was forming around the body of Armuli des HaMai.
He was pale with death-perhaps even shock--after all, he was shot in the throat. Armuli would have bled to death, and whoever had "mowed" him would have stuck around to make sure Armuli was dead.
Maybe not. The shot, from Devdas' POV, looked like a through-and-through. The laser--since Armuli had blood tracks on both sides-- had severed the spinal cord.
He would have suffocated to death, basically.
Click. Please don't let that be a blaster barrel engaging.
"Turn around very slowly," intoned an accentless, male voice.
Devdas, with her hands up, complied.
The man was rather an Average Joe-- brown eyes, light brown complexion, black-brown hair.
"I'm afraid that you're a bit late," he went on, "as you've seen, Armuli is dead."
Okay, maybe the Deity had forsaken her after "after all".
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