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 Way of the Warrior  (20 ratings)by Igor Raffaele Page 9 of 10 Getting to the meeting rooms is easy: I just have to follow the memories of all
the powerless
meetings I've had here, and a nasty smile quicly corsses my lips as I think of
the powerless
meetings with me Jokonosa must still remember. The hard fact remains however
that no one is
going to take him from me, and the judgement he so richly deserved. Jokonosa is
a dead man,
living on time I grant him in exchange for his predictability. People get
killed every day in the
streets, and some lives are snuffed out before they can be born, but this one
has my name
tagged on to it. It is not a high strung or noble emotion, but I plain and
simple do not care.
Once outside the gold gilted doorway leading to Jokonosa's business centre and throne room, I quietly slip into the shadows in one of the side corridors, and bide my time, hoping I did not misjudge my adversary. I did not, and less than an hour later, the doors open and I get a glimpse of the richly decorated imitation ancient Japanese throne room, with its red laquered wood flooring and golden Samurai warrior statues lining the walls, just before throngs people start filing out. They are all the undersecretaries and advisors every self respecting business man must surround themselves with, for the purpose of having someone to shout at and fire when things go wrong, if nothing else. After the assorted human butterflies and courtiers have all gone, the grim grey clad security men come out, lining the way much like the statues in the throne room, and scanning the area for intruders. I retreat a bit further in the shadows and put all my suit's systems on minimalized standby: that done, nothing but a full on metal detector sweep of my immediate surroundings could reveal my position. After the obvious and useless checking behind plants and sexually harassing ariflow grids has been done, the captain in charge of the guard decides he has done enough to look impressive and motions for his men outside to move. In their midst is Jokonosa, with the few necessary whores his station demands he carry around. They cling to his well tailored dark green silk suit, and run their hands on his shortly cropped iron coloured hair. The old man looks well, and he certainly is having fun with all his little helpers. I wonder how many will survive the night, in view of his peculiar tastes, but that is their problem. I made sure that voices of his perversions were well circulated, and it is up to the whores to decide if they want to risk a night in here for the price paid. The group moves slowly along the corridors to Jokonosa's private quarters, and I walk along side passages, always trying to remain more or less parallel to their position. I scan ahead for mechanical devices or human lifeforms all the while trying to make as little noise as possible, not an easy task when one is clad in a cybernetic suit of armour. The attack comes only a few paces from the apartment's doors, timed just perfectly in that one instant when the guard have a first glimpse of their final destination, and relax a bit. The assassin comes out of one of the dark sidepassages opposite where I am standing, and he is wearing a full neoprylene rubber suit, the kind of exclusive and useful garnment that would have guaranteed him virtual radar invisibility at up to a metre's distance. The Demon Shadow attack in silence, and the only noise most of their victims ever hear is the faint rustle of their plycarbonate suits, and perhaps the hiss of their pneumatic guns. It terrifies people, and the impression left on those selected to survive and bear witness of their actions is of a large undefined black blot swiftly moving in from the darkness, striking in the utter silence of death and disappearing into thin air before anyone could even move. This time the assassin has a veritable wall of guards to get through, and he is abviously prepared for it. Discarding the cermonial salutation to the victim, he comes out of his hiding place with his silent guns already rapidly flashing as each projectile is expelled, and five bodyguards silently keel over before the others even start to realize the danger to their charge. Once they do come around, the guards form up around Jokonosa, uncerimoniously shoving his female company to the side. The impressive display of training and professionality won't serve them, but it does give me the much needed time to try and stop the assassin, who is now flowing amongst them with the impossibly smooth motions that clearly speak of body augmenters. There is no one amongst the bodyguard who could even come close to singly opposing the messenger of death mowing their ranks, and the inital surprise and panic he caused are giving him all the headstart he ever needed. I kick the armour into full activity, activate my own body augmentation system to its limits, and rush into the fray straight from my crouching position. As I run towards the massacre, I let my elbow and forearm powerblades snap into life. The subdued flash of light and the slight humming they produce distract the Demon Shadow just as he is about to turn his deadly attentions to his ultimate target. A split second later we're engaged in hand to hand combat, dodging the fallen bodies and trying not to slip in the puddles of blood darkening the crimson carpet. Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2001 Igor Raffaele, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines. |
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