Were they going to kill kids ?
I started to wonder what I could do, which I already knew was absolutely nothing. I couldn't fight a half dozen, obviously heavily cybernetically augmented, gang members, that was for sure. Especially not ones that controlled the building I lived in, the selfish part of my brain added.
I started walking faster, hoping to perhaps warn these kids to take another street. All of the Tyger Claws seemed to be staring down the street, expecting their prey to arrive from that direction, which was coincidentally also the same direction I wanted to go, towards Downtown.
However, instead of a bunch of kids, a large white-panelled van roared from a side street, fishtailing after taking a ninety-degree turn at high speed. The side door was open, revealing a bunch of definite adults levelling automatic weapons in the direction of the Tyger Claws... which was also incidentally also my direction.
Great. I'm going to be turned into swiss cheese by the crossfire, I thought and leapt aside, hitting the deck, rolling and hiding behind a Data Term. I felt good about my cover, Data Term net terminals were ubiquitous, and all of them were bulletproof, as some gangs in parts of the city, especially Pacifica, used them as target practice, just for fun. Alt-Taylor's memories suggested you'd need an anti-material rifle to have a hope of doing more than scratching them.
The two belligerents opened fire almost simultaneously, and the Tyger Claws seemed to have a better aim, but the van had the benefit of being a moving target shooting at a stationary one. I heard a couple of stray rounds ping off the Data Term shielding me. The sound was a cacophony, and I watched as the van came to a stop, crashing into a parked car as the driver was shot. A bunch of combatants leapt out of the disabled vehicle to be met by the Tyger Claw forces.
The Tyger Claws were outnumbered by two to one, it must have been a clown car in that van, but the fight was going more or less evenly and getting a lot closer to my position of concealment, with one Tyger Claw fighter taking a knife wound and slumping right next to me. That was, up until a bright red motorcycle took the same turn at the van, also at high speed. Instead of fishtailing, however, the rider did some ridiculous spinning manoeuvre and came to a stop, leaping off the bike before the machine even came to a complete stop, doing a front flip before landing in the middle of the melee with a katana.
Brave, but I think he would have been better served by hanging back and picking off the highly cybered enemy gang members at long range. Or at least I thought that until I just saw him vanish, and then right after, the heads of the six remaining men departed their bodies, blood flying everywhere.
I gagged and threw up, aiming away from the downed Tyger Claw as a sign of respect. I was already a bit queasy seeing people get shot more or less right in front of me, but watching six people get decapitated by some fucking speedster was the straw that broke the camel's back.
The downed Tyger Claw next to me saw me throw up, specifically saw me move out of my way so I wouldn't hit him with any of it and gave me a rueful nod of appreciation. He glanced down at his chest, winced and was about to yank the small little knife that was sticking out of it, but I suddenly found myself saying firmly, moving my hand to intercept his, " Stop!"
He looked more confused than upset, but that crazily dangerous man with the sword that must have some kind of high-end reflex boostware was suddenly looming over the both of us and asked both menacingly and curiously, "What are you doing, girl?"
Should I not have said anything? I didn't know, but I was already in this mess, so I decided to say confidently, "Saving his life, I guess. That knife knicked his aorta, but it's currently blocking the bleeding like a cork; if he pulls it out or moves around a lot like he is doing now, he will die very quickly."
That caused the downed Tyger Claw to freeze. The man looked down at his compatriot as if gauging the accuracy of my words from his vast experience of stabbing people in the chest. In fact, that seemed to be exactly what he was doing, and he probably did have enough experience. Finally, the man nodded and shrugged, "Does look a little close. Are you a med-tech or doctor, girl? Yuki, you better lay back down on your back and be very still till we get some help for you ." The latter, he said in Japanese to the man, who nodded rapidly and did as he was told.
I grimaced, "This is supposed to be my first day in class at the HSC Paramedic course."
That caused him to grin, "Well, apologies about the unpleasantness in your commute. We have a few med-techs coming, but they're five minutes away. Mind taking a look at my men?"
He worded it as a request, but it didn't sound optional at all. Actually, it made me feel somewhat better about him. Perhaps it was the influence of Alt-Taylor's memories, but a man doing whatever he had to save the lives of the men under his command felt like a virtue.
I nodded and stood up, and he walked with me about ten metres to where a few of the Tyger Claws were laid out on the ground. He casually kicked one of the dead enemies who were in our way, causing the dead man to roll over. When that happened, I saw on the back of the dead man's leather jacket text that read "NIGHTKIDS," along with a stylised representation of a cartoon Dracula.
That made me want to do a comically cinematic face-slap. These were the "kids" that one man was talking about, I guess. God, I was so fucking stupid sometimes. The Tyger Claws may be a murderous street gang, but why had I thought they'd mow down a bunch of girl scouts out selling cookies? I should have done an about-face and gone straight back into the NCART terminal.
Two of the Tyger Claws were shot in the head, and the man said rather sadly, "I guess these two are a lost cause."
Well, that was definitely true for one of them. He was dead as dead could be.
The other, though, although it looked bad, was a lot more minor and a different story. The world was so violent that they had a very accurate way of predicting the survivability of a penetrating wound to the brain, and I stopped to do a quick assessment, which surprised my escort.
"He stands a good chance of surviving if you can get him to a trauma centre in less than an hour," I said, sighing. "But I don't know what kind of deficiencies he might have after recovering." I actually did, he would have trouble with his long-term memory and speech, but both of those could be mitigated with speciality implants designed to help those with traumatic brain injuries. I definitely didn't want to seem like I could detect that just by a quick, mostly visual inspection, though.
My proclamation caused the leader to raise his eyebrows in surprise and possibly suspicion, "Are you sure? People don't often survive getting shot in the head like that."
Actually, the truth was that they survived that all the time. Even people trying to kill themselves often survive shooting themselves in the head, but I didn't out and out correct the man with a katana and super speed and no compunctions about killing people in job lots, but I did qualify, "Over ninety per cent sure, yes."
He nodded, smiling a little, "That's good. His wife is pregnant." I thought that was a rough break; he might be recovering for some time. He said in Japanese to one of his men, " Sanjuro and Yuki are priority one, take them together, straight to Watson, don't stop for anything when Monotori arrives."
The rest of the Tyger Claws were only minorly injured, although I could detect one had taken shrapnel from an exploding high-velocity flechette ricocheting off something in his neck.
"It isn't a cut; it is an entry would of a small piece of metal. It might be fine, or you might get a neck massage and suddenly die someday. Or you might keel over dead in an hour if you keep rubbing at it. I'd recommend you get an x-ray at a hospital," I told him churlishly after he said he was fine.
"Really? That could happen?" asked the decapitator.
I sighed, "Most wounds I have read about similar to this actually never progress to that stage, but I can't tell exactly where the piece of shrapnel is." I could, of course, and it was true he wasn't actually in any real danger. But saying get a pair of tweezers to get it out seemed wrong.
The last man he had me look at was one of the "kids." The only survivor. His left leg was shredded beyond any saving, absent immediate nanomedical intervention. I frown, "I'd rather not help you, even indirectly, torture this man." I finally say quietly. There was probably only one reason they wanted him to survive, and it didn't bode very well for him.
I wasn't that sympathetic to him, as he and his friends almost killed me, but I had some morals, at least. Besides, they had already done the correct thing in applying a tourniquet, anyway.
That caused the man to grin at me and say, "I'm not really used to having people tell me, no, you know. How refreshing! You know what, Taylor, I like you. My name is Yukimura. Yukimura Kato. People I like can call me Kato."
Because, of course, he knew my name. Well, I suppose that was why I was paying fifteen per cent of my rent in protection money so that I was easily identifiable to them.
Was this some kind of weird samurai thing? I like you; then he was going to stab me? You have the heart of a samurai, so die!
"Well, Kato, it is nice to meet you, I guess..." I said, lying through my teeth.
Kato laughed at me, "You know, you're not a great liar, Taylor. Go on; I won't keep you anymore."
I just nodded and proceeded with prudent haste towards downtown. That entire battle, including the first aid on the Tyger Claws, had only taken ten minutes, and although my hands were covered in blood, I managed to keep most of it off my outfit.
I duck into the first public bathroom on campus and use a liberal amount of hot water and soap to clean off my hands. Things could have gone better, but surviving my first small-scale gang battle when I was directly in between the two groups fighting was something to be proud of.
Should I have kept my big mouth shut and let that guy Yuki yank a knife out of his chest like a "gonk"? Probably not. It felt like the wrong thing to do. Besides, I didn't really demonstrate much skill beyond what any med-tech could do, after all. Even diagnosing the man with the GSW to the head wasn't that unusual. Gunshots to the head were so common that even basic med-techs generally knew, or at least had on their implants, the penetrating brain injury survival score test. The injuries in this battle were remarkably fatal ; beyond the one guy with the knife in his chest, I didn't actually have to do anything.
After I finished washing my hands, I went into one of the stalls and threw up again.
previous chapternext chapterchapter list
Fit Right In
I got to campus on time and not looking like I had stepped through an abattoir. I already had my schedule, and the first class was an orientation in the same building as the library, which was a little bit weird judging from my other classes. The campus was shaped like a circle with an outer area that had some buildings like the library, student union, recreational building and administrative building, along with a few others. By contrast, the inner circle area had the buildings classes were taught in.
Both areas had a security perimeter, but the information in my student packet told me I wouldn't be permitted into the inner area except on days when I was actually scheduled for classes. I had to admit I was curious about what was inside.
Well, I supposed I would find out today. I was already very familiar with the library building, and I had even peeked in the few classroom-style buildings that I was headed to for orientation, thinking they were large conference rooms.
The library was an interesting building. While there were some physical books, mostly there were areas set up for private reviewing of books and media electronically, as well as more communal study nooks if you had friends. You could use your implants to check out anything, or if you either didn't have one or did not want to, they offered tablets to rent.
I spent most of my days sitting in one of the cushy chairs they had in a study nook, browsing the list of titles of books I could borrow for free. I didn't have complete access to their library, which I wasn't surprised about, but I did have access to more things than I probably would ever read in my life, even if I dedicated my entire life to only reading books.
I had decided to dress up a little bit today, but not as much as I had to get my cybernetics put in. At the same time, what I was wearing was very conservative, dark black and grey colours. In Brockton Bay, I suppose they would call it "power dressing," although updated somewhat in style. It's a domineering aesthetic, and although I had two outfits in this style, this was the only outfit that I owned that was an actual dress. It was a black dress, but not a little black dress. The skirt reached almost my ankles, and the neckline was high-cut if anything. My Alt-Dad had bought it for me and said it made me look like some of the most terrifying people in the world, an auditor.
I wasn't sure what to expect at this school, so I wanted to set a good impression, at least on the first day.
Finding the classroom with a good ten minutes to spare, I walked in to see that at least half of the class was already there before me, including the instructor, who was standing by the door inside, greeting everyone who walked in. He smiled at me and said, "There should be a little tent with your name on it; take a seat there."
Assigned seating, huh? I nodded at him and looked around. Rather than individual desks, there were even rows that faced the podium where the instructor would stand, going nearly the length of the room. Sure enough, in front of each chair was a small piece of paper folded into a triangle with people's names printed in bold font on the front and back. I finally found my tag in the middle of the lower right quadrant of seats, which I felt was pretty good. Not too close, not the very last row, either.
I sat down next to a man in his mid to late twenties who was wearing a suit in a similar colour to my dress, except that he skipped the tie to give him a casual flair. He smiled at me in a friendly manner after I got settled and introduced himself, "I guess we're desk buddies. Hi, I'm Antonio Thurston."
I gave him a closer inspection as I smiled and reciprocated, "I guess so. I'm Taylor Hebert; nice to meet you." Now that I was looking at him closer, he featured a lot of cybernetics, much of it was combat-related. His left arm had been completely replaced, and I was pretty sure it could deploy into a mantis blade, and the coat he was wearing was tight enough to reveal the outline of boosterware on his back, probably a Sandevistan, as most of the others didn't really protrude too much out of the spine. My Alt-Dad had very similar cybernetics, except he had both arms replaced.
