Division Zero: Thrall (48 page)

Gangers. From the look of their long black coats emblazoned with a calligraphic red D, a pack of Diablos. Numerous weapons, including pistols, submachine guns, and swords of various sizes glinted in what little moonlight made it through the glowing indigo smog. Kirsten’s body went rigid. Two women would be an irresistible treat for them.

The wisp waved its hands through the air in a gathering gesture toward the gangers before extending a long pointing gesture at Kirsten.

“Kill… Kill…” The phantom whisper sounded as if it came from the back of the mind rather than the ears.

“ Damn, it’s not gonna take much to drive them over the edge,” said Dorian.

The Diablos shook their heads; one or two stumbled into a nearby wreck. Guns came out, faces twisted with the onrush of murderous glee.

Kirsten grabbed Skittles by the shoulders and shoved her to the street against a crushed passenger van. “Stay down.” She popped up, aiming over the smashed front end at the gang. “Don’t you dare. Put those things away and keep walking.”

“K, they’re Diablos. Even without that shadow, they would be a problem. They shoot at cops for fun.”

“But they’re compel―” She dove as four men raised submachine guns and lit up the van with automatic fire.

Fragments of metal, upholstery padding, and glass rained down over her. Skittles sat, back against the van, picking at her nails and brushing the occasional scrap of car off her skirt.

“Want me to help?”

“No, stay down. You’re a civilian.”

Dorian flew backwards, tackled by the wispy shadow. Keening wails echoed into the distance as they sailed through one destroyed vehicle after another. Glass froze and shattered seconds after they passed. Kirsten crawled up to the side of the van, getting her feet under her. When the shooting ceased, she popped up and fired twice. Neither scored, but now she had a feeling of where they were. In typical Diablo fashion, none had bothered to take cover behind the cars.

She yowled as a fleck of shrapnel scratched her cheek the second time she ducked. Fragments rained around them. Skittles swatted some glass out of her hair and examined her fingernails.

“Want me to help now?”

“What are you, nineteen? Stay down, don’t get hurt.”

“Thank you, but I’m twenty-six.”

“Why hello, sir!” cheered a male voice, its electronic origin obvious. “You appear to be running low on ammunition. Minos Corporation is running a special on Class 4 M55 PDW ammunition. The 11.5 mm penetrators are precision milled from the finest high-density metals and would be a perfect complement to your compact personal defense weapon. We even have a discount on M40 PDW for your friends with the 10mm firearms. Act now, and you can get 100 rounds for the price of 70. Only seventy-six credits.”

Kirsten’s fingers laced over the crumpled hood of the van. She pulled herself up, ignoring the sting in her cheek, and gawked at the ballsy advert bot hovering among the Diablos. Fortunately, it had their attention for the moment. Somewhere behind her, Dorian growled and cursed. From the sound of it, he was frustrated, but neither scared nor sounding much in danger.

“Hey, bot!” she screamed. “You can’t sell them ammo.”

The large floating sphere pivoted to face her. “Of course we can, they are almost out. They have credits; we have bullets. It’s a match made in heaven.”

“They’re shooting at me.”

If the orb had arms, it would have shrugged. “I am sorry, miss. What our customers do with their ammunition is not our concern. It is a (mostly) free country.”

“I’m a goddamned police officer! Your company will get shut the hell down if I report this.”

The Diablos seemed amused enough to watch this unfold. One tapped the metal ball with his gun. “Only if the bitch lives.”

“ Do you have identification?” The bot wobbled, simulating nervousness.

Kirsten held up her armband as the orb zipped over. It chirped as it read her Police ID codes. “I am terribly sorry, Agent Wren.” It pivoted toward the gangers for a second and spun back. “Can I interest you in any E-mags for that E-90?”

“Get the hell out of here!” she snarled.

It recoiled from her and glided back among the gangers. “I am sorry, gentlemen. By law, since you are engaging in a violence event with an employee of the police services, I am unable to―”

“We’ll pay double.”

The orb hesitated. “I…”

“Hey, ball… we ain’t shooting at anyone right now, we’re just standing here with our cocks in our hands,” yelled one.

“Good point. I shall process your order straight away. How many boxes would you like?”

Kirsten fired, skimming a burn over the side of the orb. It careened into the night, trailing sparks and emitting a digitized scream of “eeeeeeeeee.”

Dorian’s head came out of the wall. “Nice shot.” A black hand wrapped over his face and pulled him back in.

“I was trying to hit it.” She dove for cover again as the hail of bullets resumed. “I hate orbs.”

“Break’s over!” yelled one.

“Want me to help?” asked Skittles.

Kirsten ducked low, looking for a shot at a boot under the van; however, other cars had collapsed to the point where no gap remained between them and the road surface. A meaty smack came from the right seconds before the wispy shadow slid out from the same patch of tarnished plastisteel wall where Dorian appeared a second before.

The shadow spun over in midair, hissing at Kirsten. Dorian stomped into view, catching the wisp as it reared and fled from her. He spun with it, holding it in place and punching while it clawed at his side and back. Kirsten sprang up as the Diablos paused to reload, winging one in the arm. With his coat on fire, he dove for cover. Her second shot went through the mangled vehicle in his direction; she estimated where he landed. The look on the other gangers’ faces confirmed a kill.

“Now you did it, bitch,” growled one. “Now we ain’t just gonna kill you.”

“Like they were going to be cordial before,” she muttered.

“Can you get a shot on this damn thing?” grunted Dorian.

Kirsten huddled low as the gunfire resumed. The cold metal she leaned on seeped through the thin cloth on her back, a reminder of her lack of armor. She concentrated on the lash, drawing a curious gasp from Skittles as six feet of scintillating white energy stretched out from her grasp. The woman crumpled her hands to her mouth, cat-eyes flicked left and right as she locked on to the tip of the wavering light, tail thrashing with anticipatory waves.

Dorian flung the shadow at Kirsten, distancing himself from it as she brought her arm up and snapped the psionic whip through the center of the mass of darkness. The patch split in two and broke apart into shreds of vaporous black ether. It fell in clumps to the ground, forming jellying blobs which exuded smoke. Kirsten blinked.

That thing was either weak or I’m scared out of my mind and don’t realize it.

Skittles emitted a frustrated noise that sounded like “
myarp
” and leapt at the lash. She swiped her hands through the air four times, at a speed turning them to a flesh-toned blur. She wound up kneeling on Kirsten’s lap with two fistfuls of uniform, nose to nose with a manic smile.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Does she chase yarn too?” Dorian snickered.

Cat ears flattened. “Your no-see person is very funny. I think it’s from the DNA surgery. Fast small things are”―she shivered― “unable to resist.” She climbed off Kirsten, whining in a demure tone. “Especially shiny ones.”

Dorian stepped up to the van, right by Kirsten. She looked up at him, brushing bits of glass and paint flakes off her sleeves. His eyes glowed as he raised his arm. Soon after, tiny threads of wispy white energy trailed into him. Some of the scratch marks on his arm and face faded away.

The Diablos started bitching about their guns.

“Thanks.” Kirsten smiled, and leapt up with her weapon trained. “Okay, shitheads. You caught me when I’m crunched for time. A spirit just made you want to kill me, so I won’t hold it against you. You have four seconds to disperse.”

“You bein’ a cop makes us wanna kill you. Spirit ain’t got shit to do with it.” The largest of them pulled the trigger of his dead pistol, and growled.

“I am so glad we shifted over to electronic firing circuits,” said Dorian.

“Dorian, that happened before you were born.”

“Want me to help yet?” asked Skittles.

Kirsten grumbled. “Stay down. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

The Diablos tossed their firearms to the side. Kirsten’s forming smile dropped to a look of abject horror as eight men drew swords, axes, and other nasty weapons and charged at her. At least two of the blades emitted the high-pitched whine of vibro inducers. Dorian sapped the power from them as well, allowing Kirsten’s heart to resume beating.

“Run.” Kirsten waved at Skittles. “They’re charging.”

They swarmed over the smashed van, oblivious to the Neko-Chan sitting in perfect calm behind them. Backpedaling, Kirsten fired six times, killing two and wounding one before the other five backed her against a dead car. The lead man roared, hauling a two-handed sword overhead. Kirsten dove out of the way; the blade stopped six inches deep in the vehicle. The horrendous screech of it sliding loose drew a scream from Skittles as she covered her ears.

Another leapt at her with a smaller sword, knocking the E-90 out of her hand as he chased her against the side of a building. She got a grip around his forearm, diverting the blade into the wall just left of her head. With a grunt, she drove her boot into his groin. His eyes half-closed, his mouth agape, he sucked air in through his nose. Dorian dove on him from behind; the spectral assault did little other than cause his coat to flutter.

“He’s on Zerk,” yelled Dorian. “Pain causes euphoria and increased adrenaline. Don’t hurt him, just kill him.”

“Again. That was beautiful. Do it again.” Eyebrows flared up as he leaned his weight into her. He dropped the sword and forced his hands through her grip until he had her by the throat. His other hand pawed at her chest.

“Want me to help now?” asked Skittles, as the other four Diablos at last noticed her.

“Uhh, sure,” gurgled Kirsten, feeling proud of herself for not succumbing to panic. A contest of strength was not one she could win. “
Stop.
” Her eyes glimmered with light.

The ganger froze in place, keeping her pinned to the wall, but no longer strangling or fondling her. Kirsten started to issue another command, but stopped at the sight of Skittles walking toward the gangers without fear.

“You boys have ten seconds.” She counted from one to ten. With each spoken number, a single six-inch claw, curved to a wicked point, sprouted from a fingertip.

The Diablos were not impressed.

At ten, Skittles blurred into a smear of grey hair, black cloth, and pale skin that weaved among the gangers. She stopped behind them three seconds later. Her cute, once-white tank top was now spattered crimson. Her motion ceased before any of them reacted to it. Three of the four Diablos fell to the side, covered in numerous scratches. The first had his throat sliced into several flaps. The next had four burbling puncture wounds between ribs where a straight four-claw stab found his heart. Number three clutched at a torn abdomen to keep his intestines inside. The Diablo in the middle of the alley had so many claw wounds to his chest he seemed skinless, but only laughed at her.

“Shit, this one’s got a subderm weave.” Skittles hissed at him, tail flared and circling.

“That is utterly psychotic,” said Dorian.

Kirsten locked eyes with the man holding her and snarled, “
Let go.
” The psionic suggestion had immediate effect. She dove away, somersaulting over her E-90 and came up aiming at him. “Dorian, I can’t just kill this guy.”

Skittles blurred again, shredding a hole through the other ganger’s coat. Blood sprayed, but all she did was expose the sheen of dark metallic threads between his skin and muscles.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” he growled, two-handed sword falling woefully short of striking his nimble target. The mass of his weapon pulled him two steps after the miss. “I’m gonna make fur boots out of you.”

“Bind the pistol, I’ll do it,” said Dorian.

“He’s not a threat now.”

Dorian gestured at the dodging cat girl. “What do you think he’s going to do to the next innocent person he runs across? Diablos are probably one of the most dangerous non-aug gangs in the city. They don’t usually kill their victims because they want to savor the psychological damage they cause. They are
evil
if anything ever was.”

“I am still not going to shoot a defenseless man.”

“What about him?” Dorian pointed at the walking wound chasing Skittles. “He’s trying to kill a ‘helpless civilian.’”

Kirsten sighed. “Helpless…” She squeaked in an attempt to raise her voice, coughed, then yelled. “You, asshat, drop the sword.”

He ignored her.

One azure laser seared through his chest, sending bloody steam out of both entry and exit wounds. The sudden release of tension within the strands of his subdermal armor implant caused strips of meat to snap free, flopping as he crashed to the ground. Skittles seemed unaffected by the gore, as if she had seen far worse in her life, and walked over with her hands held up like a surgeon after scrub.

“Oh, please tell me you’re not going to lick yourself clean.” Kirsten stared.

Dorian cracked up.

“Uhh, no. That’s nasty.” She went over to one of the first Diablos killed by a laser blast and used his shirt as a rag.

Kirsten searched the last man and removed several more weapons before spinning him around and staring into his eyes. “
Walk to Sector 1.
”

“What was the point of that?” asked Dorian as the man trudged off. “That’s hundreds of miles away.”

“He’ll get found by Division One somewhere between here and the southwest corner of the city.”

“ The doctor is another block that way.” Skittles pointed with her tail, trotting over while working her improvised rag through her fingers. “Ready?”

Kirsten smirked at the ghostly Diablos trying to figure out why they could no longer pick up their weapons. “One minute. I need to call some associates.”