Chapter Eighteen – Gotcha

Chapter Eighteen – Gotcha

“Every niche has their celebrities. Every community has a few charismatic, or at the very least talented, individuals that everyone gets to know.

There’s just something about the people chosen to be Samurai that makes them stand apart.”

–Extract from a post on the PsychologyForever forums, 2036

***

“Alright, so what can you tell me?” I asked.

Stepping forwards, I started to weave my way through the scene, passing between the legs of the mercenaries and looking up at them from new angles. There wasn’t that much more to see, really.

“This and that,” Dial-Up said. “First, your girl here is using a cheap weapon. Twenty-Five points, it’s a rifle that fires guided micro-missiles.”

“Like the Hummingbird?” I asked.

“That’s an example, yes,” he said. “Though this one’s reloadable and a bit more reliable. Bit more expensive. You know how that works.”

“Alright.” I said. “What else?”

Lag was the one to step up, his feet clunking on the floor in contrast to my cat’s paws silent tread. “I’ve got nothing on these guys. Their gear is just about all aftermarket stuff. Sold to SWAT and some police units. You know the sort.”

I nodded. “And?”

“And this guy stands out.” Lag pointed to the one member of the group with the big backpack covered in high-tech gear. “That kind of equipment doesn’t come cheap, and it isn’t exactly mass-produced. I’m getting… about a thousand pings for sales in North America in the last half decade.”

I eyed the guy’s little antenna and heavy backpack, most of the details were covered in black cloth. “Can you pin-point the guy, then?”

“Not from that alone,” Lag said. He gestured again and a screen appeared next to him. Lists and information scrolling by faster than I could read. “See, these things aren’t meant for nice commercial uses. It’s the kind of equipment you’d give to an IRL hacker on a squad just like this.”

“Any Samurai with similar stuff?” I asked.

“Yes. Us,” Lag said. “The point is, as distinct as this thing is, it’s not going to be easy to trace. The people who buy this stuff make a point of that. But, this little guy was cheap.”

“Cheap how?”

Dial-Up chimed up. “Software. He used some custom software to shut down the CCTV systems they crossed. Nice stuff. Well coded. A bit of overkill for the level of tech this building has. Still, it left its mark. Purchased right over here, in the Cube.”

“So you can track it? Point to me who wrote the code?”

Lag and Dial-Up looked at each other.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I said. “Please tell me you’re not going to have me go on a fetch quest just for you to tell me who made it?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just that there are rules. Unwritten rules, but rules nonetheless,” Lag said.

“Giving up a member of the Cube to someone else, at least, when it’s not a referral, is a bit taboo,” Dial-Up added.

“Aren’t you two the bosses here?” I asked.

They both shook their heads. “No bosses here,” Dial-Up said. “We’re heavy hitters, popular in our own way, and we have good reps.”

I bristled, then pointed with a paw–which was pretty damned difficult–to the wide-eyed still image of a girl. “And you’re not willing to risk that? Not even for her?”

The two stared at me. “Of course we are,” Dial-Up said. “Look at her. She’s a kid, she’s probably terrified. No one here should be selling anything to people that would kidnap a kid, regardless of if they’re a Samurai or not.”

“I’m PMing the coder now. He’s a kid by the name of Zoobreaker. Fourth circle,” Lag said.

“Think he’ll be able to point us in the right direction?” I asked.