Chapter Forty-Five – Air Superiority

Chapter Forty-Five – Air Superiority

“The field of psychology has always been keen on studying Samurai, not just because of their celebrity status, but because their entire way of life is so different from the norm. They’re normal humans until something triggers and they gain the ability to become more.

It’s a murky, and rather terrifying scene to behold.”

–Cynthia Eastwood, head psychologist, New Burkely U. 2051

***

I stared at the sleek platform, then at the girl standing with hands on hips before it. “You want me to what?” I asked.

She flicked a thumb over at the hovering machine. “Sit your ass down on that, and hang on.”

“That doesn’t seem safe,” I countered. I’d just gotten a new limb, I didn’t want to have to replace the rest of them when Little Miss Pouts-a-lot crashed into the side of a skyscraper. “Do you even have a driver’s permit?”

She blinked. “No, no I don’t. I don’t have a permit for the anti-tank laser cannons either, but most cops are too busy shitting themselves to ask. I know you’re a total newb, but seriously, what gives?” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“Nah, I’m just, uh.” I looked at the platform she wanted me to sit on. It looked like the rear end of an old F1 racecar. All sleek, molded metal and not a handhold in sight. “How do I hold on?”

She sighed, then a few sections slid open on the back of the platform and a pair of wrist-thick tentacles slid out. “They’ll hold onto you,” she said.

“That is less reassuring, not more. How old are you to be going around with a tentacle machine?”

For a moment, Deus Ex’s expression shifted into the sort of juvenile disgust I was used to seeing on the kittens whenever Lucy and I did a bit of recreational tongue jousting. “Longbow said you were a newbie, not a fucking perv.”

“No worries, you’re not my type,” I said.

I think I reached the end of her patience because she stomped–cutely–over to me, tugged my wrist forwards, and bodily flung me onto the platform. There was no way a pipsqueak that small had that kind of strength, but Deus Ex seemed to give no shits about my expectations as she pushed me into the arms of a couple of mechanical tentacles. “I’ll make it easy on you,” she said. “So shut up, and you get to sit down and enjoy the flight back. You mouth off like some punk, and I’m delivering you to the FOB gift-wrapped. Your choice.”

“Fine, fine,” I said. I didn’t want to admit that the girl scared me, but, well, she scared me.

“Good.” She huffed, arms crossed over where her suit said her chest should have been. “I can’t stand folks who talk shit without being able to back it up.”

I wanted to point out that I could totally back it up, but a pair of tentacles grabbed my arms just above the elbow and then wrapped around my waist. In no time, I was pressed, sitting up, onto the hood of her platform thing. “Uh, I surrender?” I tried.

“Don’t try being cute,” she warned.

“That’s your corner of the market?” I asked.

She glared.

It had about as much effect as a Lucy glare.

Deus Ex decided to take the high ground of ignoring me. She glanced around, took in the few forms flitting about, then looked back at me. “How long have you been a Samurai?” she asked.

“About… three hours? Four?”

She sighed. “Fuck me sideways. Look, I’m going to be the adult here–” She ignored my aborted snort. “–and try to help you, alright? That’s what we do?”

“Help people?” I asked, just to make sure.

“No. Fuck people. I mean we help each other. You’re a Samurai now, which makes you, I don’t know, a cousin or something. Even if you’re an impolite burden that I had to fly ten minutes out of my way just to save from some Model Ones.”

“Hey, I would have been fine,” I said.

“Sure,” she said. She started running towards the edge of the roof, cannons lining up next to her.

“H-hey!” I was about to protest some more, but between one second and the next I was jerked forwards and found myself gripping onto the edge of the platform and holding back a cry. The building wasn’t under me anymore. In fact, there was a lot of nothing under me.

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“You’re pretty low on points, right?” Deus Ex asked. She seemed perfectly okay with the idea that she was just hovering in the air and telling gravity to fuck right off.

I couldn’t answer because I left my heart somewhere on the roof she just casually ran off of.

“Please don’t piss yourself while sitting on my gear,” Deus Ex said. “If you do, you’re cleaning the entire thing off yourself.”

“You could give a girl a warning!” I shouted when my senses returned. I was a little busy burying my fear in a nice heavy layer of indignation.