CyberGene: Anyone need a Cyberhand?

Chapter 31: True Colors

Anonymous chat between two friends on the topic of dating a Cradleborn.

Lunarious: Hey girlie, guess what? This bitch matched with a Cradleborn on Chromble!

Justabird: Shit, send me his profile.

Lunarious: Here it is.

Name: Kendrick Rorsche

Age: 29 (But my genes make me timeless)

Occupation: First Investigator/Deputy-Leader (Saving the city, no big deal)

Height: NA

Description: Ladies, I’ll cut straight to the chase — I’m not your average guy. I was born in a Cradle, gene-edited from birth, designed for perfection in every way. Let’s just say… my genes are in high demand to pass on. And as someone designed to acheive great things, that’s exactly what I’m doing at the First Precinct where I serve as a deputy-leader in my squad. So let’s say I know a thing or two about giving out orders ;)

Justabird: What an insufferable prick. Which Cradle is he even from?

Lunarious: I dunno, are there different types?

Justabird: Just saying, if he’s from a Luxury Cradle, he’s probably one of their failed children and couldn’t get the attention of a corpo. More likely he’s from a Workforce Cradle, that’s where they grow children to send over to the military and corporations and shit.

Lunarious: Wait, fr? Is that even legal?

Justabird: Considering that Implants make you borderline infertile and humanity’s gene pool got ass-fucked by nuclear war and a solar flare, what fuckin choice do we have?

7:35 PM

June 17th

Diana

A week had flown by since the Tonguelashers incident. Officially, the blame was put on the younger one for the death of Johnathon Kirby. Delving into their data archives showed a confirmation that Kirby’s brother had paid the younger Tongueslasher — Jayden Overrink — to kill him, while his ‘Uncle Lennon’ took care of the mess. If the younger one hadn’t been so novice, we wouldn’t have been able to track them down.

The analysts on our team managed to piece it all together. The two Tonguelashers first engaged on Abyssnet forum VortexEYE, where Jayden showed interest in Lennon’s taste for human flesh. The two also shared their past, Lennon’s abuse from his mother and Jayden’s… history with his uncle, Nathaniel.

A few more threads of conversation led to a plan, one that conceived in Lennon killing Jayden’s uncle and taking his identity. Afterwards, there was no more digital communication between the two, the reason all too clear. A short while after, ‘Nathaniel’ purchased ownership of the garage, claiming to have gotten a windfall of gambling. In reality, it was a property he already rented from the crime family of the Jaegers, he’d quite literally invited Jayden and his father to live with him.

The most disturbing part of it all had to be the cookbook, notes written down about what meal Jayden’s father would be served best in.

I scanned the mile-long report of everything gathered after our fight, there was a lot. As a mercenary, Tonguelasher had an extensive contact list with encrypted names and identities, not to mention a killswitch. A whole lot of data was destroyed the moment he died, and Choirmen was being eaten alive by Special Investigator Wicket, even while in treatment.

In a hostage situation, me and Anthony had… taken a risk. Choirmen didn’t. We talked afterwards, and the words he said still weighed on.

“I saved your life, Third Investigator Jones. You best remember that. Maybe it was a lack of communication, but my powers are volatile, my blood explodes other people’s blood. It was either your life or the hostage’s… I knew who to save. I trust that you would know who to choose if the roles were reversed, you’re a part of this team and are a damn good asset. Saving your ass means saving my ass, and I ain’t letting my wife become a widow.”

Since then, it'd been relatively slow. If we didn’t have any cases assigned, we still had a duty to join patrols when we could, or to look through all the remaining information in hopes to find something. That’s what I was doing now.

“Everything good, Jones?” Indra Harmony, her mouth clasped in a green mask as always, chimed in from behind me. “You look pretty tensed up for someone so-“

“Someone so what?” My eyes sliced up towards her. “Look, I appreciate the flattery Indra, but… let’s keep things professional.”

Her own gaze was a deer in headlights, she slowly stepped back with a heavy look in her eyes. “Uh, at least you know that about yourself. But no, I was saying ‘for someone so capable’. Heard you took down an alley-side firearms deal yesterday all before the officers could even raise their guns. Four arrests, nice.”

A taste of guilt built in me. “Sorry, just… a bit tired. Last week’s operation is still on my nerves.”

Indra lowered her head. “Anthony’s report was enough to make me queasy. Geez, didn’t know it would go so south… sorry you had that as your first mission. Doesn’t normally happen like this.” She grabbed a chair to sit beside me. “My first mission was rough… you weren’t there but I was sworn into the police as a Third Investigator about three years ago.”

“That’s… wait, so you had an Implant before joining?” I never learned much about my squadmate’s pasts… never really was the type to get sentimental here. Better that way.

“Still on the same one. Iron-Grade Network BUG… used to run in with an old merc group that my older brother was in charge of. I was always fancy with tech so I became the brains, had a stupid frame strapped to my neck when I was thirteen. Outgrew it too quickly. Messed up the nerves of my mouth, that’s why I wear a mask.”

Guilt now festered fangs around my throat. “Shit, Harmony… I’m really sorry.”

She snorted. “Please girl, call me Indra when Rorsche or Wicket aren’t around. But other than my mouth, it wasn’t too bad honestly. We had fun, robbed a few gangs and corpos, until one day I got caught by Rorsche himself… and yeah, I exchanged their whereabouts in return for immunity. Call me a snitch, heard it before but… it was a way out. I didn’t know how bad I wanted it until I got it.”

“How’d that end with you joining the police?” I asked curiously.

A teasing twinkle sparked in her eye. “Ever heard of Juliet’s Gambit?”

“Can’t say that I have.” I shook my head.

“It’s actually named after Anthony’s mother.” Indra’s eyes smiled where her mask couldn’t.

“Anthony’s mother?” I didn’t know much about Juliet Grazhe… other than that she had passed away.

“Don’t uh…” Indra tapped her mask as though she regretted bringing it up. “Just forget that, it’s basically an unofficial protocol where a First or Special Investigator takes a look at an incarcerated criminal and decides they’re better worth with a job than rotting in a cell. They effectively become your parole officer as long as you do some work for them… in my case, it was Kendrick Rorsche. Stay in line long enough and they officially integrate you into the force.”

Her eyes skirted around the office, almost sneaking around the cubicles. “My first mission was to hunt down my brother and well… it didn’t go too well. So let’s just say I know a thing or too about missions that end up with bodies you didn’t want. What about your case got your hair in knots?”

She scooted past me to lean over the computer, not letting me get another word in regarding her revelation. I felt like I should have shared something, anything, but in the end I felt safer just remaining a mystery.

“It’s all a dead end.” My worries clenched up in my fist. “Sure, there are contacts in the data, but a search of a ‘Mr. Skeleton’ and other shit on our archives pulls up nothing. Like… look at these weird names.”

“Underworld pseudonyms…” She started looking through on her own. “Their civilian IDs are disabled half the time. An Datashield encrypting their signature, masks and a false name prevents us from reading them with our archives but… Mr. Skeleton? I think I heard that one a while ago, fixer in LR. Is it your access-level not letting you dig through?”

“Probably. It’s remarkable how much they don’t share.” I laughed.

“Yeah, they don’t want the rookies stumbling onto something above our level. That’s what they say, clear as Haithama’s nutsack they’re just protecting some of these scumbags… gimme a sec.” Harmony began to work on my laptop, pulling up long pages of shifting code that she typed through before opening up a new page on my screen. “Got you into Rorsche’s access.”

“What?!” I looked through for a moment, and where my ID should have read ‘Diana Jones’ now held ‘Kendrick Rorsche’. “This is uh… couldn’t we get in trouble for this?”

She waved it off. “Nah. I do this all the time, don’t worry, just made them think you plugged off the main network for a moment. Anyway, look through.”

Begrudgingly, my curiosity got the better of me and I began to look up a list of names I’d recorded and didn’t find any information about.

A blurry image of a metallic skeleton in a suit flowed over the screen, I swore those red eyes were staring right into the camera despite how zoomed in the image had been. “Mr. Skeleton…. Known criminal arms dealer and fixer, works primarily out of Little Requiem like you said; estimated grade: Silver-Gold; been active for a decade and even more so ever since Los Diablos were jousted out of Little Requiem. Has ties to almost every major gang.”

Indra hummed. “Seems like he’s pretty big. Probably off the lower-records by providing the police some fancy intel or weapons.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” I sighed as I looked up more of the names Tonguelasher had either been in contact with or mentioned. “Let’s see, Stranded. Assassin with a bounty of 70,000… get’s her name from leaving her victims stranded in abandoned warehouses alive but without their legs. They die trying to escape. Lagoon, another merc with a bounty of 65,000… an Esper capable of launching water out as blades. Sunspit, flame-thrower wielding pitfighter in Little Requiem, has a bounty of 90,000.”

“Tonguelasher senior had one of 40,000… placed by us obviously.” Harmony mentioned. “Looks like he was targeting someone with a higher bounty, wanting to prove himself better. Any addresses mentioned?”

“Nothing like that…” I scrolled through a few more names I didn’t have access to before. Until curiosity got the better of me.

Missy… and her search came up with nothing.

Sighing, I continued with the rest, delighted as I could finally sort of get a start on understanding who these people were and why T.L had an interest in them. Then there was an oddity, except for Missy only one other name came up blank.

It was mentioned in a log between Tonguelasher and Mr. Skeleton — who appeared to be Tonguelasher’s source for Shardware. Specifically, the name came up in a threat.

[Don’t go after Simon Jugosla, unless you want Soul Killer after you. It’s too soon for that.]

Simon Jugosla wasn’t even on the police’s hidden archives, pinging him normally I found that he was a famous, award-winning, chef who worked out of a hotel. Tonguelasher must have been going after that guy, either as a meal or to force into cooking meals of human flesh. As for the other one…

Soul Killer. There was something odd about that name, a sense of foreboding dread grabbing me just from reading it, and my search came up with no results as well but I didn’t have a second to mull over the confusion before Indra Harmony slammed my computer shut and rebooted it.

“Fuck! They pinged that? How?” Harmony was alert and confused, had that name been under special attention? “Uhhh… nice talking to you, Diana, but this is where we part. Good luck!”

“Good luck? Good luck with what?” I screamed as she leaped past the empty office cubicles, hurrying out door. Whatever! I wasn’t done getting to the bottom of this! Continuing my own search, a sudden noise pulled my head aside as I turned around to the door swung wide open like a gaping mouth.

My commanding investigator, Kendrick Rorsche, had his arms folded. The veins on his muscular forearms were ready to pop, his body seemed suffocated in a sense. “Basement. Now.”

The ride down was quiet, nerve-wracking. It only gave me time to reflect on my own discoveries as a means to distract myself from whatever was to come. Soul Killer… and the use of his name was a threat. In fact, that simple message was only ever read and never responded to, as though the name was enough to ward him off.

So let’s see, a Mr. Skeleton who organized a web of all these various criminal freelancers and gangs within Little Requiem. Then there was Soul Killer, someone who seemed to be above the food chain.

“Get out, follow me to my car. My personal one.” Rorsche’s voice was quiet but demanded an urgency. I complied, following quickly behind him to a sleek and out-right designer looking car — entirely black with opaque windows, it was almost like the typical american muscle car but slimmed down to race city streets instead of mountain highways.

Having limited expertise on cars, even I could tell this was a beauty. And the inside of the car seemed just as luxurious as the outside did. It was a brief respite from the nerves I’d felt coming down, but I was then all too shocked as the First Investigator heaved out a breath that he seemed to be holding in for too long.

“In the name of Trask’s beard, Jones! Next time you want access to information… ask me!” He didn’t seem panicked, rather worried. “You poked a bee hive with that last search.”

So I had landed on something. “You mean Soul K-“

“Don’t even say that name!” His voice snapped like a whip. “SK is a boogeyman for the cops, a force of nature like a plague that takes out anyone too interested in them. You’re good — good enough that you could feasibly make progress — but believe me, progress is the worst possible thing you could get. Even Special Investigators run away from them, just treat SK as a myth like they do. That’s the safest option.”

Soul Killer… a mythical cop-killer? How had I never heard this before? “Is this… well known?”

“No. And stop asking questions about this, you’re going to get yourself killed.” His voice held the sternness he normally weighed against Anthony, and it seemed like he recognized that as he sighed apologetically. “Look it’s just, you’re a fish who’s searching for a long-lost kraken in the sea. I don’t know anything about SK, just that when I was in your position, I got a much harsher warning. And that I’ve seen what happens to people who push it. They die at best, at worse… families go missing.”

“Yeah.” I released a worried chuckle. “You’re right, barely survived a merc copycat. Need to get my feet a little more on the ground before I’m ready to race a proper criminal athlete.”

Rorsche nodded, the silence between us growing but not awkward.

“I don’t know,” Rorsche broke the quiet with a light laugh, his hand crawling to rest at edge of my carseat until his pinky just grazed my leg, “I saw the way you kicked that kid’s jaw, seemed Olympic worthy and then-some to me. Your mutations are solid, I’d kill to have something like that even with how my own BUG suits me.”

“Yeah I just- I could have kept him alive.” That sensation flashed into my body, the moment of impact as I discharged a lightning bolt into his mouth. It was captivating. It was morbid.

I shifted my leg away, Rosrche slowly pulled his hand back to himself before speaking, but there was a strain in his voice. “You kept Grazhe jr. alive. Speaking off, you had a real influence on him. Never seen the kid so motivated to get things done around here. I was sure he was about to quit a few days ago, but you changed that around huh…”

I rubbed my neck as I tried to find an answer far from the truth; that Anthony was trying to get in his aunt’s favor to get her to trust him with information about Dogwhistler. “Yeah well, almost dying together has a way of bonding. We drank for a bit after the mission, got an understanding of why the two of us were here in the first place.”

He leaned closer, a relief flowing through him. “So are you two sleeping together?”

“No, nothing like-“ I blinked. “What? Excuse me?”

Rorsche raised his arms defensively, but a sly smile played on his mouth. “What just curious, couldn’t help but wonder if you’re wasting your time on a man as sorry as he is. I was just thinking that maybe his new burst of energy came from you giving it up to him.”

“I’m sorry.” I shifted to the edge of the seat, my hands reaching the lever to push the door. “I don’t think that’s any of your business. Nothing happened, now let me out.”

The door didn’t open. A small pit gaped through my stomach, and my breaths came quicker and sharper as Rorsche’s gaze took me in. All of me. Of — fucking — course, his chuckles left me wanting to knock his teeth out. “Hey, what’s there to worry about? I don’t care who you sleep with at all, my lips can be kept silent with the right distraction… Just wanted to let you know that your performance is already on track for a quick promotion. I could help you.”

“Stop it, First-Investigator Rorsche. Don’t push things.” I warned him just as I’d warned plenty of others before… I wasn’t looking for another transfer so soon.

“Calm down, you’re overreacting.” He relaxed into his seat. “I’m just looking out for you. I know plenty of people in this damn job that’ll help me get you out there as a Second Investigator by the year’s end. All I’m asking is that we get to know each other beyond just as coworkers. Founders know that so many others would envy your position. Hell, the things I did for my bosses to get where I am… you wouldn’t want to hear about them. I’m giving you a choice, they didn’t.”

He held a sympathy in his eyes, one that I wasn’t foolish enough to take. “Rorsche, this is going to be a mistake if you push it.”

“A mistake? You mean… if you tell Brian Ulrich? We both know you’re too proud for that. I know you are, you’re just as Cradleborn as I am. A luxury.”

He was born in a Cradle? And…

“You knew?!” My hand touched his dashboard, I could feel the electronics within. The energies lurking within were burning for me to use them. “You fucking knew?!”

He shifted closer to me, uncomfortably close. “The Lieutenant sent a debrief to SI Risa Wickett, she told me to keep it a secret from you and the others. But I want you to trust me, to be able to rely on me. After all, we’re adults here. Choosing to… entertain this between us, it’ll be enjoyable and beneficial. I can promise that, for both you and me. Hell, you can even call me Kendrick. We’re kindred spirits coming from a place like the Cradles… the truth is, we’re simply better than them. You know that, even if you won’t admit it. Deep down, you know that I’m the best choice between all these fuckin’ scrap-brained idiots who envy us.”

Thunder rumbled through my heart, my voice shaking with betrayal, fury and spite. “Well… listen up, Kendrick. I am a professional. I do not want any of what you are insinuating. This is your last chance.”

He laughed it off. “Don’t be so dramatic, it’s not like I’m threatening you. Just saying, might as well cut the chase between us. But if you’re really going to be a tough sell like that, maybe I should try my hand with that friend of yours… what was her name again? Ah, right, Yvette Ing-”

My hand struck the side of his face, energy zapping from his car’s electronics that incurred the fiery rage burning within me. A sharp flash of sparks went towards his mouth which I desperately wanted to shut up, his lips went burnt to gratify me that much. “Keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you perv!”

“What the hell you bitsh, you haf one more shance-“

“No.” Silver eyes crackled with thunder. “That was your last chance, now open this door before I fry it apart! Unless you want to know if there’s more to me than just silver eyes!”

I saw his defeated look fill him up in slow motion, and I relished it. “You’rfe going to regrhet this, jhust because you have daddy watshing over you doeshn’t mean you’re safe from thish shit!”

The door clicked, and a pull of the lever swung it wide open to my release. My body burned as adrenaline coursed a fury I struggled to contain. “Do your worst… sorry, I meant — ‘do your worsht’.”

He scoffed audibly, almost running me over as he zoomed out of the parking lot. Then I nearly collapsed, the leftover sparks draining out into the ground as I released my Warp Energy’s hold over them. Leaning against the cold, dark wall of the garage. a guttural groan bellowed from the depths of my soul.

“Every fucking time!” My hair tightened as fists curled on them. “I hate this fucking job! Everyone’s corrupt and sleazy and… arrgggh!”

Somewhere in the screaming, tears dribbled down my face and I felt so weak just feeling their wetnes. I had to be stronger, I had to grow beyond them all. This wasn’t the first time a senior officer had tried something, I’d been careful before… Normally I could see the signs. But Rorsche?

I felt like an idiot, I should have known something was up. Being placed in a relatively esteemed squad, my quick promotions up the ladder. There was no escaping my father — he had to have planned this.

I’d thought maybe by joining the police in secrecy after running away that I’d be able to make a difference under his nose. How long did it take for him to figure out I joined? Maybe he always knew, his eyes were everywhere… Was this his way of trying to get me to run back to him?! Was Rorsche meant to scare me off the squad, the precinct? Everything had its reasons now, I was sure of it. It would be easy, so easy with my current abilities to just contact my father and let him know I want out. Or Rorsche gone. But maybe that was exactly what my father wanted me to do. To contact him, to bring myself back into the life he offered me.

A good life. A glamorous life like he’d intended for me to have as a poster girl for NeoCore or the police or whatever for the sake of improving his own reputation. An actress, that’s what he said I would be. It was so business-like and transactionary when he had told me about it. No choice in the matter. Safe. Rich. Famous… I could have everything, but it wouldn’t be satisfying. That man had torn me away from the only family I had, kidnapped me into a part of the world I’d only ever seen on a screen but had promised me wealth.

Fuck that. There was a reason I ran away from him, it was suffocating, it wasn’t human to be around him. Those days out in the raining slums, without a roof over my head, it had been the best sleep I’d had in the months since I’d been removed.

It was all thanks to Yvette, meeting her again after all these years, that I even joined the Precinct. Something I’d been regretting more and more lately, from false charges to protection deals and the immunity these assholes had. I’d grown sick of it all.

Incoming call from: Yvette <3

Speak of the devil…

“H-h-hey Yvette-e.” I tried to stay strong, but a stray sniffle gave me away.

“Have you-u been crying-g?” Yvette’s voice peaked higher, instantly recognizing my strained voice. “D-don’t hide it fr-rom mama bird! What’s got my p-poor baby sad?”

“Men.” The answer came easily.

“T-that’s why you-u should be bi… I’ve been telling you from d-day one that w-women are just b-better! Also WHO IS THE B-BASTARD!”

“Rors-sche.” The name fell from my mouth like dead weight.

“W-what! A-and he was kind of cute too! (Even if he was short) W-why is it always the men-n who actually-y could have had a chance that s-suck so much?”

“I slapped him. I don’t know what’s going to ha-happen next.”

Yvette’s voice panicked instantly. “Oh honey, where are you? Two margaritas are c-coming right up! If he to-uched a hair on your head then screw p-protocol I am castrating this son-n of a bitch!”

“Mentioned your name. I slapped him, it sent electricity into his mouth. Maybe should have done it to his tiny friend.” I let a chuckle through.

“T-that’s how-w you fucking d-do it! Now come on-n we need to find ways to get r-revenge! Where you at-t?!”

“Parking. B-but don’t bot-ther, got somewhere el-lse to be.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve got-t a date after-r this? I th-hought we agreed that men s-suck! Screw them, come with m-me instead you dirty who-“

“Who said it was a man?” And with that I let the call disconnect, that would keep her guessing for the next few hours. After all, it wasn’t a man I was meeting, instead it was someone far more terrifying. Someone who first contacted me a week ago.

The NeoCore Enforcer that fell to the Gold MAL from the club. Archangel.