Chapter Four – Mean Minion Mode

Chapter Four – Mean Minion Mode

“To say that Samurai are dangerous would be a wild understatement. They aren’t truly beholden to any laws, corporate or governmental, they can act as they see fit, and they can do so with technology and tools that no normal force can match.

Come, my flock, and let us pray for these lost souls!”

–John Johnathan Johns, Twitch priest, June 2034

***

Deus Ex was a meter and a half tall stack of contradictions.

She stood with her back straight and her brow set in a glare, her hands rested on her hips and her lips formed a little line. She was trying very hard to be intimidating, but she looked more like a mildly annoyed puppy.

I kind of wanted to pat her on the head to see what would happen.

“You two, go away,” she said to the guys in black suits. She hadn’t even looked at them.

“Ma’am, we are here on official business,” one of them said.

She slowly turned her head his way, then reached to the small of her back and pulled out a rounded, curved device that unmistakably had a handle and trigger mechanism on it. “Will your life insurance cover damages to the building?” she asked.

“Pardon?”

“Because this weapon will go right through you, and then through the rest of this building. Will your life insurance cover the damages, or will I need to find out who you work for and empty their accounts directly? I use this hotel sometimes, I don’t want them thinking I’m a bad client that won’t pay for damages and corpse removal.”

“Um,” the guy said. His whole stoic attitude was really getting tested. “We can return later,” he said.

“Please don’t,” I said. “Send me an email or something instead. I don’t do cryptic much.”

A few seconds later, Deus Ex and I were the only ones left in the entrance lobby area. I gestured with a nod towards the inside and started walking over to the couches before the television.

“Were you injured?” Deus Ex asked as she followed. “You’re walking crooked.”

“I’m fine,” I said before sitting down and leaning back. I was surprisingly tired. Maybe a nap would feel good once everything was done. “So what brings you here? Wanted to bask in my presence some more?”

“No,” she said. “The incursion is pretty much done with. All that’s left is the sewer crawling, and I’m not going to participate in any of that.”

“Alright,” I said. Couldn’t blame her.

“I’m actually here to give you some work.”

I blinked and paid more attention to her. “Some work?” I repeated. “I don’t recall being on your payroll.”

“I’m paying for these rooms. And you owe me a favour,” she said.

“Uh. Usually there’s a bit more communication than this,” I said.

She pouted again. Or maybe she was trying to glare? Either way I wanted to pinch her cheeks. “Don’t be an ass. You’re still a newbie, and you have a bunch of normies to take care of.” She gestured in the vague direction of the kittens. “I don’t mind paying for this place for a bit longer, but that means you’ll have to be my minion.”

“Your minion?” I asked.

“Yes. There are things I need to do that I don’t feel like doing. You’ll do them for me.”

“Do I get a say in this?” I asked.

“You’re too weak to get a say,” she said.

I glared at the little extortionist pain in the ass. “You’re not as cute as I thought you were,” I said.

The little bitch actually seemed proud of it! “Good. I don’t have time to babysit you or anything, and your profile says that you’re too stubborn and stupid to join up with a proper group, so you get to be my minion.”

I laughed. The situation was… well, it was funny, in a weird absurdist way. “Okay, great boss-girl, what do you want your humble minion to do?” I played along. I did kind of owe her a favour or two.

Deus Ex didn’t answer me right away. Instead she glanced over to the television. The screen came on, and an image of a young woman appeared on it. She looked bored, with her shoulders set and her eyes looking into the camera. An ID photo, probably.

Brown hair, with a purple streak in it. No piercings or tattoos. Blue eyes, though one was a lot lighter than the other. Probably some eyegear or an aug.

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“Who’s the girl?” I asked.