Undercover Ops Ch. 03

Undercover Ops: Ch. 03

Cassidy climbed onto her bike once more. Between the five of them they had positively IDed all but a single missing person. The original file, nothing more than a list of names and dates of disappearances, had grown significantly. Everyone on the list now had their own page dossier. The messages from the compressed file were quickly broken down, their highlights added to the appropriate pages. Each person at least had a single contact should she need answers to questions about their past or skills. Using Wolf as their basis, none of the others were likely to know very much more about the circumstances surrounding each vanishing.

With speed born of practiced instinct, her security code brought the engine roaring to life. Cassidy glanced up, towards the garage's main doors, and realized the sheer length of time that passed during their discussions and brainstorming. Darkness descended with alarming rapidity in the canyons of city streets. In response she keyed the motorcycle's main light. She left the running lights and spotlight off for the moment. The running lights were generally only for uneven or unusual terrain and the spotlight helped with keeping her target and blinding opponents during gunfights.

The bike shot out of the garage. Cassidy let her reflexes take care of controlling the vehicle while she concentrated on her next step. Part of her desperately wanted to visit the Screaming Frenzy in the hopes that Merritt would be there, while another part argued that there was no guarantee he would even be there. There was no way of knowing how much danger Shade and the others were in, how immediate the threat. Granted there was nothing she could do if it was truly immediate and would feel no guilt to discover they had been hurt before she could find them. But if she went chasing off after a man, for merely personal gratification, she would feel guilt. She needed to settle this before she could reconcile finding the man.

Having settled the internal debate she forced herself to the topic of how to find them. While problem solving fell within her daily routine, this was different. This was a mystery. There were answers to the questions, somewhere. She had no idea where to even begin looking for them. When she prepared for an assignment she first grabbed the building blueprints from the vast storehouse that was The Gutter. They were always the first place every Op. went when they needed info. But they were hamstrung. The Owners themselves had come to her to solve this.

A sniper, 2 drivers, 3 hackers, a face, 5 combat, an agent and one unknown. All different levels, all from different parts of the city. Which should I try to find first?

She knew she could only ask around town about a few of the names before potential opposition got wind of it and began to connect the dots.

Cassidy couldn't bring herself to include the pretty-boy in her list to ask around for. Of course, it would be one of the easiest to pass off and likely go under the radar entirely, but in the end her pride simply refused to let her appear to be a love besotted girl. The very slight possibility that Merritt would hear of it and react accordingly never entered her consideration, even if it did pass through her thoughts once or twice.

She decided the unknown name, the only other male on the list, was the likeliest place to start. With so little information on him he could prove the lynchpin of the entire mystery. In truth she doubted it, more likely he would turn out to be nothing more than another newly pressed combat Op. The same motivation that prevented her from seeking out Merritt kept her from ignoring the possibility of a quick end to the confusion. All she knew of the man was that his friend and apparently he himself were from the near suburbs; the only person on the list not technically residing in the city.

She thought once more about the group as her bike raced across nearly empty night-time streets. Assuming the old hands could ride herd on the noobs, it would be one hell of a team for one hell of a job. She was surprised by the number of hackers. Shade herself could deal with anything Cassidy could think of, especially since the number of combat Ops. would almost guarantee they could get her onsite safely. The extra two could, of course, be there to provide backup and act as a distraction in the event of a talented opposition hacker. Still, the generally accepted ratio was one hacker for every driver. Typically this meant only a single one of each such as with the Silent Skills.

The spread of Ops. provided by the disappearances led Cassidy to expect two armored vans as transport. With the number of people, she would have planned three but at least a couple of the other Ops. were known to have at least nominal skills as a driver so it was still possible there would be three. The sniper would be positioned somewhere with a clear line of fire to the entrance and or exit of the facility and likely the face would act as an inside man. As she pictured the personnel assignments she laughed, the sound speeding away as she flew through the night.

With the pretty-boy on the inside, the vans would look like a modern Amazon war party!

While there was no sexual discrimination among Independent Ops., Cassidy had noticed that there were very few all women teams. Although the same could be said of all male teams, the percentage was considerably higher.

The black bike sped through intersections at a breakneck pace. She was traveling deep into the poorer districts of town now. She spread her awareness farther, knowing the bike alone was worth more than most of the families living in this area made in a year. Cassidy always wondered, traveling out to the suburbs, how it was that the poorest section of the city sat conjoined to the well-off suburbs. Once, she had assumed the desperate would spill over into the wealthier section and cause a high crime rate if not for some large, well-manned wall. She later learned there was no wall, and very little migration between the two sections. Anyone from either region would be very noticeable in the other and feel fundamentally out of place. The sheer psychology of it all astounded her still.

In a flash she was out of the slums and into the pristine, monotonous, streets of the neighboring town. The immediate area was residential. Commercial establishments chose to bury themselves well within this outlying zone, letting the residential district act as a buffer between themselves and the lawlessness and desperation that they perceived coming from the poor of the city. Where the police were virtually powerless within the city, hampered by the corporations and citizens expectations, in the surrounding towns they had near ultimate authority. They protected the residents, mostly mid-level corporate executives, from the dangers and deprivations of the city.

Cassidy shook her head as she crossed the lattice of streets with uninspired names. She knew it was an unfair, and broad, discrimination but she had never liked the type of people that usually lived out here. These people always seemed to look down their noses at anyone born within the city unless they came from the ritzy section. While she did live there now, her manner gave her away as an IO just as that corporate security officer had betrayed his ambush by simple suburban mannerisms. She just couldn't stomach the implied slight to the city, her city.

She realized her speed had crept even higher as her thoughts turned to frustration. She pulled back on the throttle and focused on the reason for being here. The message about the unknown man had been left by a corporate exec, on the second tier, as one of the only true 'missing persons' posts on the forums. The exec lived in this area somewhere. Cassidy lifted her left arm to view the e-pad strapped there and the map she kept on file for the entire region. As she finally pulled up to the house, identical to every other she'd seen in the last few minutes, she praised the thorough street signs. Other parts of the country were much more lax about consistent use of signs, making directions frustrating at best.

The bike shifted onto its stand and Cassidy punched in the security code, out of habit more than need. She studied the house as she pulled off and stowed her helmet. A two story, spilt-level, whitewashed dream-house. She found herself forced to admit they were attractive, and there was a certain financial logic to owning instead of renting, but she couldn't live like this. Everything was too open, too lonely and too unsecured. Put simply there was too much space.

Self-conscious, she looked down at her outfit. She screamed 'threat'. She was surprised no one had called the police as she rode through town; black leather on black bike at night. She tried unzipping her jacket and letting it hang loose. She realized that exposed her shoulder holster, so she quickly unbuckled the harness and stored it with her helmet. Taking a quick look in the handlebar mirror she judged herself as 'acceptable' as she would get and made her way up the manicured path to the front door.

A man answered the door, opening it only a fraction at first and eyeing her through the crack. Within moments the door shut, a chain slid free and the door opened wider. The man stood in name brand jeans and a button up shirt (corporate casual wear). The door rested along his arm and shoulder, fully prepared to slam shut on her if she proved a threat. She had indeed been pegged not only as a city native but an Op. most likely. She fought to keep the contempt she felt from her expression. If I was here on an assignment I wouldn't have knocked! Simply because she wasn't from his society he expected the worst.

"Yes? What can we do for you?" At least he was trying to sound polite.

"I'm looking for Margaret Tinsley. I'm trying to find out some information about a man named William 'Speedjack'?"

"Why are you looking for William?"

"Actually I'm looking for a friend of mine, however a search of a certain cyber-board suggested their disappearances might be linked somehow."

No one said the name of the board out loud unless they were in the privacy of their home. It was unclear where the tradition began or why it continued, after its existence was legitimized by the megacorps, but it held so 'certain cyber-board' it was in public.

"I doubt your 'friend' is in any way connected with William."

"I'm trying to ascertain that sir." Cassidy's neck was getting tired from staring up. The man was at least half a foot taller than she was and the front door was up three steps. She had moved off the steps and away from the door after knocking in order to alleviate suspicions, but now her choice was beginning to hurt which reflected in her mood. "If you or Margaret could just answer a few questions about William's disappearance, I'll be on my way."

"I'm Margaret." Cassidy blinked in surprise several times. It had been delivered in the same monotone growl with the same cold stare that either he was telling the truth or he should be starring in holos. "And I don't know what you want to know about William or why, but he's no longer missing. The cops found him yesterday."

"Alive?" The deadpan face nodded. "I'm very glad to hear that sir. Even still could I ask what he does and where he was? I still need to ascertain that it doesn't pertain to my friend."

"My son and his hussy girlfriend were hiding out down at a shack by the pond. As for what he does? Nothing. He's a leach. The only reason I posted him missing was in case one of his leach friends happened to know where he was. All of them dabble in computers and like to think they're 'elite'. But they're nobodies." Cassidy nodded. There was no lead here to follow. She thanked him and turned to her bike.

"Hey miss!" She turned. A crack of compassion was etched into his expression. "If you're truly searching for a friend, I wish you the best."

* * * *

The border was almost a palpable entity as she finally crossed back into the city. She was vaguely surprised how touched she had been by the sympathy from the corp slave.

She turned a corner, only a few blocks from the invisible social barrier, when a van pulled into the intersection ahead. Her head snapped left and right, there was something wrong. Her bike slowed even as the van screeched to a stop and people poured out into the intersection. Her thumb went for the trigger to her mounted weapon even before she remembered they had yet to be installed.

The bike slewed to the side as the brakes pulled it to a stop. Looking through the anonymity of her visor, Cassidy noted this was no IO team. These were gangers plain and simple. They were certainly less skilled than a rival team would be, but no less dangerous. Several already had shotguns and automatics pointed her way. A quick scan of the road confirmed there was no cover accessible. An eyebrow quirked under her helmet.

The streets of Oldtown are clear of debris?

She wondered whether this was a standard ambush or if it had been set specifically for her.

"Hand it over!"

In the dark she couldn't tell which of the large men was their leader. Even their guns remained steady in their hands. Unsure how to respond, she kicked the bike stationary and crossed over to stand between the bike and the gang. She shrugged then made a sweeping motion towards the bike before shrugging again.

"Not the bike, the disk!" Cassidy's hand moved instinctively to pat the empty interior pocket despite her confusion.

"I don't have any disk!"

The gang began moving slowly closer, guns still trained on her. Cassidy cleared her jacket from the rear belt holster and snapped the strap to free the pistol from its restraints.

"Hold still!"

She froze. The leader identified himself as his automatic snapped into a shoulder rest so he could site down the barrel. Slight confusion reigned as the other gang members tried to figure out what he had seen that they hadn't. To their credit two of the others imitated their leader automatically.

"Slowly bring your hands out to the sides!"

Nothing to do but comply until they got closer. At this range the automatics and shotguns would pepper the entire area with shrapnel. In theory the impact resistant fabric could withstand the bullets, but she was unwilling to put it to the test at the moment. Besides, she had left her sleeve extensions at home. All of the gangers remained in a very tense silence until her hand cleared her back, empty. Both hands hovered extended at shoulder height.

The leader maintained his vigilance. His head jerked once to either side. Slowly the rest of the gang began to fan out and encircle their prey. They were very dangerous. The problem with gangers was that they were amateurs and inherently unpredictable. Too many were at the mercy of their desires, or whatever substance they took to avoid reality. The slight jitters displayed by a few of these, including the leader, implied they were no exception. Unfortunately, they were also demonstrating a level of competence and discipline that most gangs never achieved, a fact that kept the large units manageable.

Whatever their substance of choice, natural or man-made, legal or illicit, it would invariably slow their reactions. There were a few corporate military issue pharmaceuticals which succeeded in amping up the user's nervous system, but they had all been cleared of any side effects, especially jitters. Some lesser drugs produced a temporary increase in combat effectiveness (with the side effect of jitters) however all of these made the user susceptible to certain psychological ploys if their opponents knew to exploit them. Cassidy herself had written the unofficial report on the subject for The Gutter's forums. She had meticulously left a few out of the second tier files for the exclusive use of the third tier members and anyone dedicated and skilled enough to run their own field experiments.

They had her virtually surrounded now. The ones behind her undoubtedly knew she was armed. Slowly they settled into their final positions. Encircling her completely were all eight members, with the leader directly in front of her, both were classic tactical mistakes even a rookie could exploit. While the rest in her line of sight stood with weapons ready for trouble the leader lowered his and took a step forward.

He trusts them to follow orders but not enough that they could anticipate or deal with problems.

Cassidy guessed it was probably an accurate assessment of the group's dynamic. As the leader swaggered forward, she noticed two things very out of place that made her blood run cold. Around his waist was wrapped a set of very heavy gauge manacles. While chains, and even classic handcuffs, were a standard part of ganger attire these were clearly utilitarian rather than fashion.

More frightening still was the device attached to his belt, half hidden by the thick chain. He had a 'netic inhibitor. The small box was originally designed for use by the police and corporate security in order to deactivate a prisoner's cybernetic and bionetic implants. It worked by sending electrical interference through the nervous system to jam the offending equipment. More telling was the fact that no IO would carry one, except on a bounty hunt, as their mere presence tended to erase data storage of all kinds. These boys didn't care about any 'disk'! She wasn't on assignment so they weren't corporate security or bounty hunters which left only a single possibility.

Slavers!

She tensed as the leader moved within ten feet of her. It was time to begin messing with his head if she wanted to remain active. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder to the second story of a random building behind him. She quickly memorized the spot before returning her gaze to him. Two more steps and she steeled her expression before returning to the point, switching her focus quickly between the leader and the spot a few times before coming back to lock with his eyes. The proceeding steps slowed as the implication settled. She had friends and their 'ambush' was nothing more than a well choreographed trap they had fallen into. By the time he was five feet away she saw the muscles in his arm tense as he tried to keep from brining the gun swinging up and around in search of her backup. The willpower that he poured into watching her was clearly evident by the tension in his neck. Her eyes grew hard and annoyed as she repeated her bluff. She was rewarded as he stopped.

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. He was smart enough to know there was something going on, that he couldn't comprehend, and was suspicious. If the man hadn't been addicted to the drug, he would likely have been a formidable IO. In fact, Cassidy reflected, he may very well have been one, once upon a time, before his dependence. Against his determination, his eyes darted left then right. As they crossed over her, to the opposite side she moved. Sensing the motion his arms reacted with superhuman reflexes. Unfortunately the drug subsumed his instinct to higher brain functions and his arms responded by following the focus of his eyes, rather than track her. Peripheral vision became a detriment on the drug.

Cassidy's full weight collided with the big man and dragged both of them to the ground. Only a single shot rang out during the space of the heartbeat of movement. One of the watchers to her side reacted in the split second, to fire before the two tumbled. None of the others felt the confidence to try, for fear of hitting their mirror across the circle.

The leader punched outward, the solid hit connecting firmly with her jaw. She tried to lock her hands on his arms or wrists, as they wove around for a better angle against her. Finishing the skirmish would be a simple matter. Unfortunately it would leave her at the mercy of the rest of the gang. While she was on the ground the others need not fear hitting each other in the crossfire. Standing, at least one would get a bead on her. No, her only protection was to wrestle the leader to a stalemate until more of the group closed in.

Pain jolted through her, radiating outward from her left arm. Instinct forced her to punch out, only to discover her arm useless. She punched out with her right and the leader staggered back. Her left arm sprung into motion once more and she realized the struggles had activated the 'netic inhibitor while it was pressed against her. The pain was unbelievable. She swore at the man, grabbed the belt strap and tore the device free, causing it to tumble to the ground. Adding as much momentum as possible from her prone position Cassidy brought her fist, driven like a hammer, down on the cursed instrument. There was a brief reprise of the pain before the small box collapsed in on itself.

Breath exploded from her lungs as the leader used her distraction as opportunity to drive an elbow into her exposed stomach. Cassidy leveled two devastating rabbit punches at his shoulder as she gasped to regain her breath. He began to roll free but she caught his collar and dragged him across her body once more.

Her peripheral vision came alive as the others began to move in at last. A single shot ricocheted off the ground near her head, followed quickly by the cursing and berating of one of the other gangers. The group now ranged from around ten to fifteen feet from the struggle on the blacktop. Still too far to begin a battle. Once a majority were relatively close, five to ten feet or so, her pistol would have a decided advantage over the mass destruction weapons they were using. Automatics and shotguns were more likely to hit friend than foe in this kind of melee.

Cassidy felt the cold metal clamp around her wrist. Her arm jerked back, tearing the other end of the manacle from the leader's grip. Another jerk brought half of the chain back against her body. The bound hand grabbed the chain two thirds of the way along its length to use as a weighted flail. She grabbed his shoulder with her other hand and brought the impromptu weapon crashing into the side of his head. Bone cracked and blood began to pour from the wound. She reigned in her strength as the rest of the gang stopped dead to once again aim their guns at her and the struggling leader.

Even as she began to breath normally, the leader's fist crashed again into her stomach and forced her breathless once more. She thought his attack much weaker but found it hard to judge as the world swam with her growing asphyxiation. The shadows at the edge of her vision began to shift once more with the leader's renewed vigor. Surprised, she found herself wondering how his simple attacks were having such brutal effect through her armored clothing.

She flung the improvised weapon up, to bring it back against the man that pressed her to the ground. Suddenly she found herself unable to move the chain at more than a crawling pace. One of the approaching gangers threw himself on the other end, used his entire mass to hold it. She struggled to remain awake despite her oxygen deprived body. Her other hand came up in an effort to yank the chain free. Her legs became entangled as the leader grabbed them and rolled to one side. Through the haze before her eyes, she saw another ganger leap to cover her. She could no longer distinguish between the various forms.

Cassidy managed to gasp a deep breath and her vision cleared slightly. She felt the hands and looked down. The newest participant was working frantically at her belt. Green eyes turned to ice, glaring at the man astride her. The buckle came loose as her free hand came crashing down to shatter his shoulder. The man collapsed to the side crying and clutching his broken body. Another ganger quickly replaced him, tearing at her pants. They reached her knees then his hands came up to work his own clothes free.

Thunder broke the night. The ganger who pressed her hips to the ground with his own stared blankly down. His pants were half off but it was the red moisture in the center of his chest that enthralled him. The gang watched in surprise as he reached up to investigate the growing stain and the large whole centered within.

Cassidy's free hand whipped across, tossing the self-denying corpse aside. As her pistol barked once more, the skull of the one lying on the chain flew to pieces. Free of the weight she spun into a crouch, thrown slightly off balance as her pants slid completely free to leave her half naked but completely unhampered.

The leader scrambled for his long discarded automatic which placed him far down the list of threats. There were four men still standing, likely with weapons in hand. Cassidy rolled straight towards the gang's makeshift roadblock. She finished the move in a crouch, firing twice at a shotgun wielding ganger who was already taking careful aim. His gun roared to life as he collapsed around the stomach wound.

Cybernetic strength slammed the pavement and launched her toward the falling opponent. Her manacled hand reached down to drag against the ground and flip her into another crouch. A single shot took another shotgun boy.

Bullets ripped the terrain towards her, tracing her path a few moments behind her movements. She traced the path back to the shooter even as she sprang in the other direction. Crouched low to the ground, she ran as she brought up her own weapon. The poor man's eyes widened as he realized he wasn't fast enough to catch up to her. He jerked slightly as a single bullet pierced his heart and exploded out his back.

The final ganger and leader were on just the other side of the bike. Cassidy crouched, slammed her hands to the ground and launched herself towards the Lynx. The shotgun blast roared over her head as she rolled to a stop behind her bike. Her legs hurt badly, from scraping against the road as she soared, but she ignored it. She placed a hand on the bike and vaulted over it in a round-off cartwheel. One foot came down on the shotgun, wresting it from the surprised man's grip, while the other landed firmly on the street. With a quick pivot and a sickening crunch, her leg flew high to impact his head. The ganger collapsed, dead, his head tilted at an unnatural angle.

Her leg came around to plant on the street. She caught her breath while she leaned back against the bike, feet spread wide. She surveyed the scene for the last opponents. One hand rested on the fuel tank while the other lay across the seat.

Her breath caught as she felt the cold metal barrel press against her underwear. Nerves tormented and bedazzled only the night before, for the first time in seeming infinity, betrayed her. Her knees grew weak as muscles clenched at the lethal intruder, through the fabric. She looked down slowly, careful to avoid threatening movements even as her heart raced. The leader lay on the ground. One hand clutched his damaged head while the other pressed the automatic where he would have himself. He glared proud hatred at her.

Although fast, she could not kick out quickly enough to move the gun free before he would move finger to trigger. She stayed frozen and awaited the outcome.

"Slowly drop the gun over the far side, bitch!" Careful not to let the barrel waver towards him she lifted her arm straight out, holding the trigger guard. A flick of the wrist sent the gun well beyond her reach across the bike. Slowly still, she moved back to support herself on the bike.

"Good. You're a little slut once I got something playing inside of you aren't ya?"

Her breath caught again and a flare of excitement warred with revulsion as he shifted the automatic slightly back and forth. The fabric of her panties slid slightly to the side and the barrel brushed flesh, sending a shudder through her body. He was fascinated. He moved the gun more, pushed the material aside completely, and began to press deeper. He grinned at the short scream of her response. His grin widened as he felt the resistance of her muscles grasping for it.

A single shot rang out and the leader fell. Her manacled hand shook as it held the pistol she kept concealed in the travel bags on the bike. Barely able to stand for the enticing need, her free hand slowly reached down to tenderly pull the weapon from her body. Once clear, she collapsed into a ball, shivering in a mixture of desire, frustration and rage. She wept as the memory of her first time cascaded over her; the helplessness and terror she swore she would never feel again.

She heard the movement and spun on the pavement. A quick glimpse of the grey metal shotgun was all she needed to see. Manacled hand flew accusingly forward. With a gentle squeeze Cassidy vented all of her pain, all of her rage, through the barrel of the heavy pistol. The ganger with the shattered shoulder, the one who first opened her pants, exploded in a satisfying shower of gore. Once more she curled against her bike, gun clutched close to her chest.

Slowly she relaxed. Still, no one came to investigate the noise. They wouldn't come, not until one vehicle was heard moving off. With all of the noise and devastation someone was surely dead and the winner would kill for the spoils in this neighborhood. Everyone assumed they wouldn't kill someone for simply being a witness, so long as nothing was reported.

As she uncurled and went to retrieve her pants, she realized how the leader had managed to wind her. Intending rape, he instinctively grabbed for her clothes as she barreled into him. Her shirt came free of her pants, exposed her to the brutality of his fist. Although her arms might be strengthened to the point she could defeat any man, much of the rest of her body lacked the stubborn resilience of the men around her. It didn't matter though. She was alive and they were not.

She needed to see about securing her shirts better or simply forgo them altogether in favor of the bodysuits. The later was far more practical as it provided her with many layers of armored protection. She pushed away the thought that it would add complexity the next time someone tried to force their way into her. She was easily one of the most lethal people on the planet, such thoughts did not become her.

Throwing her bike in neutral she rolled it over to the van. She cocked her head as she finally noticed the condition of the vehicle. It was new, pristine and white. The gang hadn't even had time to tag it in their colors. She slid open the door to discover some high quality, and very expensive, tracking equipment. As she wheeled her bike inside, she considered the new development. The trap had clearly been laid for her. There were notations on the monitor about her exit and entry into their zone. Fortunately they all mentioned a "dark IO on black bike" so the trap wasn't truly personal.

"Why would they target someone they assumed was an Operator!?"

Cassidy was back outside to collect the weapons and search, briefly, futilely, for any identification. The only possible reason to target an IO, for something as intense as forcing themselves on her, was thrill seeking. True, if they could get away with it they would get a major ego boost but did that outweigh the risk?

Cassidy might be the exception, that could take out an entire gang without injury, except to her pride, but even Shade would have taken out at least a few before she forced them to kill her. And no mistake, every IO Cassidy knew would die before being forced into such indignities. She let the bodies remain as she drove off with a new 'deposit' for her agent.

Copyright 2006, By Deathlynx