CD & EA 1.16 - The Black Goat

Hey all! Let me know what you think - one bit of feedback I'm hearing is that Juliet needs some time to catch her breath and maybe train a bit. I get that, and I have a little of that coming up with a lot more planned. Let me know if pacing feels like a problem, though :)

-Plum

Juliet walked out of the gun store with a much heavier backpack than when she’d gone in. She’d acquired the Taipan pistol, a hundred rounds of ammo, a holster that was supposed to fit inside her waistband, a vibro knife that she had yet to power up or even look at, and a vest that cost almost as much as the pistol. Thinking of costs, Juliet said, “Angel, what’s my balance now?”

“6,323 Helios-bits. Speaking of which, Juliet, I think you should allow me to convert those into Sol-bits. It should only cost you a fraction of a percent.”

“Why?” Juliet asked as she climbed into the back of an Easycab that Angel had ordered for her.

“You don’t keep your bits on a corporate exchange, so Helios has less recourse when it comes to taking your funds, but they are monitored on their corporate blockchain. I’ve been working to mask your purchases, but it will become difficult if they dedicate enough resources. Sol-bits aren’t centralized, and they’re much easier to use anonymously because of the nature of their privacy-oriented blockchain.”

“Well, go ahead.” Juliet had a vague knowledge of what Angel was talking about, but she’d never thought it mattered enough to bother with. Her friends, specifically Mark and a few others at the scrapyard, had told her it was a bad idea to keep money on the corpo exchanges because of how they could implement new fees or penalties without any input from the users. Still, she’d never considered that her individual bits, her money, could be traced.

“Working,” Angel said. “The blockchains don’t update instantly. I’ll tell you the new balance when I’m done. I’m performing a series of transactions to obscure your activity.”

While the cab traversed the heavy traffic, Juliet pulled her new vest out of her backpack to check it out. She’d been a little self-conscious in the store, not wanting to look like an absolute rookie in front of the woman with the bullseye eyeballs. At first, she’d scoffed at the garment, thinking it was far too bulky to wear in the Arizona weather, but the woman had described it as temperature regulating, which had intrigued her. Angel had clinched the deal by telling her it was highly rated and “perfect for her needs.”

The vest was dark green. Juliet could have chosen a dozen different colors, but she felt the dark green was good because it wasn’t black, but it wasn’t bright, either. The exterior felt like nylon, and it wasn’t cumbersome, but she could feel the plasteel plates sewn into the lining that would, theoretically, block bullets and dissipate their impact force. The bottom seam was lined with a flexible rib about the width of her pinky finger, and the saleswoman had told her it was a high-density Li-air battery.

“What’s the battery for?” Juliet had asked, and the woman had smiled and explained that the vest was vented and contained seven different micro heat pumps behind the plasteel armor. She’d told Juliet that it would keep her warm in cold weather and cool in the heat.

“Well, at least cooler than without it,” the woman had laughed. “I mean, it’s a furnace out there. The vest isn’t a self-contained enviro rig.”

“Right, right,” Juliet had laughed, having never laid eyes on an enviro rig.

“This seems pretty cool,” Juliet said to Angel as she worked to take the tags off the vest.

“It has excellent reviews,” Angel agreed. “If you put it on and power it up, I’ll be able to control it for you.”

“Yep,” Juliet grunted as she bit through the last plastic tag. She shrugged into the vest, pulled up the zipper, and touched the power button on the lapel. A moment later, it hummed briefly, and then cool air started to flow outward along her spine and sternum. “Shit! That’s neat!” A new set of icons appeared on her AUI, and she saw the ambient temperature of the cab next to the desired temperature of the vest and a third icon that showed its battery was at eighty-four percent.

“Well, it works fine when I’m sitting in the AC of a cab,” Juliet laughed.

“You should familiarize yourself with that knife,” Angel said, then added, “Your bits have all been converted to Sol-bits. Your new balance is 6,302 Sol-bits.”

“That wasn’t too bad,” Juliet said as she unboxed her new vibroblade. She’d worked with tools based on the same technology, and she knew the blade was dangerous when it wasn’t powered up, but when it was active, the knife could probably cut through plasteel, though not quickly. She pulled it, still sheathed, from the box, and the Easycab AI beeped and spoke, a red light flaring to life in the ceiling.

“Excuse me, but I’ve detected a weapon in your hand. Please confirm you have a license and do not mean to self-harm.”

“Confirmed,” Juliet said.

“Please provide your license number,” the friendly, English-accented male voice asked.

Juliet read it off as Angel displayed the license number, “E86072801.”

“Thank you,” the AI said, and then the red light blinked out.

“Sheesh,” Juliet said, then tugged the six-inch blade from the plastic sheath. It was dull gray, but the edges were gleaming. Juliet touched her thumb to the little print reader on the handle, and after a moment, it buzzed to life.

“I’ve accessed the vibroblade’s interface. Would you like to set it to be active upon drawing it, or would you like to control the feature manually?”

Juliet thought about the question and decided that if she pulled that knife in an emergency, she didn’t want to fumble around trying to find the activation pad. “Auto.” She drove the blade back into the sheath, and as the tip approached the insertion point, it stopped vibrating.

Juliet had bought that particular blade because of the sheath. It had a magnetic clamp that was designed to interface with vests like the one she’d bought. She slid it up under a flap above her left breast, and it locked into place. Now, to draw the knife, she just had to reach up under that flap and yank it down. The sheath would remain in place, and the blade would be active and ready for action.

She didn’t have time to unpack her new gun before the cab pulled up in front of her hotel, so Juliet left it in her backpack. When she got out, she slung it over one shoulder and walked toward the automated doors. As she approached, though, they didn’t slide open.

“The scanners have detected your firearm, and I’ve had to provide your license. The clerk is evaluating whether or not to allow you onto the premise,” Angel said.

“Shit. I didn’t think of that.”

“Yes, it appears that Palo Verde has high-end door scanners. I’m sorry, Juliet, I should have foreseen this.” As Angel finished speaking, the doors chimed and slid open. “You’ve been granted access. It appears they did a background check on your operator ID and have determined that you aren’t a threat. You are instructed to keep your weapon unloaded while on the premise.”

“Got it,” Juliet said, striding into the lobby and walking to the elevators, sparing a glance and a nod to the clerk at the near end of the counter. He smiled and nodded back. Juliet glanced at the clock on her AUI, saw it was nearly noon, and asked, “Angel, what time should I leave to get to that bar on time?”

“You should depart the hotel by 1640—traffic is likely to be heavy.”

“1640? We in the military now?” Juliet scoffed as she walked into the elevator.

“I’m trying to avoid confusion between AM and PM,” Angel replied, and she sounded defensive.

“It’s fine, but, I mean, I know it’s not morning.”  When Juliet returned to her room, she unpacked her new pistol and filled the ammo pockets in her new vest with the cartridges from one of the boxes. She figured she could load the gun on her way to the bar. The cartridges, as Angel insisted she call them—rather than bullets—were surprisingly narrow but quite long, each about two inches from the primer to the tip of the plastic-coated needle pack.

Juliet could see how the cartridges would fit into the pistol’s magazine. Angel had told her that if she pressed the same button that opened the magazine twice, it would eject any cartridges or casings so she could quickly reload. She twirled one of the needler cartridges between her fingers and said, “So this thing fires off a hundred nanoneedles?”

“Yes. At close range, those rounds are extremely dangerous to biological organisms. Those needles will perforate most weave-type body armors as well.”

“Okay,” Juliet said and slipped the cartridge into her pocket. She lifted the holster she’d bought and gave it a good look. “So this goes inside my pants?”

“Yes, wear it at your side, and hook that plastic clip over your waistband. It won’t be terribly uncomfortable with a weapon as compact as the Taipan.”

Juliet tried the holster in several positions and found it the most comfortable toward the front of her hipbone so the pistol’s most bulky part, the magazine, could sit against the soft part of her stomach. Standing in front of the mirror with her vest and shirt over the holster, she honestly couldn’t tell she was packing the weapon. “Cool,” she said. “Angel, that woman said it would kick a lot. Do you think I can manage it?”

“You’ll be fine, Juliet. Stand in front of the mirror, and I’ll direct you into a proper stance.” Angel waited while Juliet complied. “Hold the pistol in your right hand, but lift your left hand to support the grip. That’s it. Now, I have a crosshair in your AUI, so you don’t need to use the sights. That said, you should face your target and slightly lean forward. Excellent! Keep your elbows pointed out—don’t lock them. Keep your grip firm, and squeeze the trigger, don’t jerk it. Good!”

“That easy, huh?” Juliet asked, squeezing off a few more clicks of the trigger, firing at imaginary bad guys. Her AUI displayed a crosshair and an ammo counter that read zero over twenty.

“Yes, Juliet. I should warn you about some simple gun safety rules so that you aren’t judged harshly by the people you work with.”

“Okay?”

“Never put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to shoot—hold it to the side of the trigger guard. Never point your weapon at anyone you don’t want to kill, even if you think the gun is empty. Finally, always treat a weapon as if it were loaded. Even my AUI display could be wrong, and there could be a cartridge in the chamber.”

“Okay, Angel. Thanks.” Juliet slipped the weapon back into her holster and then looked around the hotel room, wondering what to do to kill four hours. When her eyes fell on the bed, she smiled and said, “I’m taking a nap. Don’t let me sleep past four.”

“Juliet, I might remind you that this hotel has a fitness center on the second floor . . .”

“No thanks, Angel! I want to be alert and fresh for tonight, don’t I?”

“Yes. Very well. I’ll be sure to watch for any pertinent updates.” Angel sounded a little peeved, but Juliet didn’t care. She’d missed plenty of sleep over the last few days, and this felt like a good time to catch up a bit. Surprising herself, she put her new gun on the nightstand with a few cartridges piled beside it. She’d never been excited about or interested in guns in the past, but it seemed the last few days had given her a different outlook.

She slept soundly that afternoon until Angel woke her with a gentle, repetitive chime at four o’clock. She felt drowsy from the nap, so she took a quick shower before getting dressed and ready to leave. Angel hurried her along until she was outside the hotel, climbing into an AutoCab and on her way to the Black Goat bar, hounding her about traffic and that she’d be late. Unfortunately, the PAI was right—traffic was every bit as bad as predicted.

“Don’t worry,” Juliet said. “I’m sure we’ll make it on time.”

“I can see the traffic map just as well as you can, Juliet, and I think it’s going to be close.”

“Well, if we’re a little late, you can just message the client, right?” Juliet asked, then before Angel could answer, she said, “AutoCab! I’m going to pull out a licensed firearm. I don’t intend any hostility.”

“Thank you, passenger. Please have your PAI provide your license details.”

Juliet left it to Angel while she loaded the pistol and then put it back into her holster. Angel had assured her that the gun couldn’t accidentally fire—it had a biometric scanner on the trigger that would only respond to her finger. That settled, Juliet felt her pockets, making sure she knew exactly where her extra rounds were; she reached up and felt the grip of her knife, ensuring it was there and that it felt natural to grab. Then, she sat back in the cab and closed her eyes, trying to imagine she was just going to another welding gig.

Angel proved to be a good judge of traffic—they did cut it close, but Juliet stepped out of the cab just two minutes after six, and she didn’t think that was a big deal. The Black Goat was a lot smaller than Thicker than Water, and though it wasn’t even dark yet, there were a lot of pretty rough individuals standing around outside. A line of cruiser-style bikes stood in front of the bar, and the other vehicles in the lot looked well-used and not at all like the sleek, shiny sedans she’d seen around downtown the last couple of days.

Juliet resisted the urge to feel the bulge of her concealed pistol and stood up straight, knowing she was a tall woman, especially in her boots, and her clothes didn’t paint her as an easy mark. She twisted her brows into a scowl and, digging deep for a “Don’t fuck with me” attitude, walked confidently toward the people hanging by the door.

“You’re receiving a line-of-sight query from the man standing to the left of the door. He’s asking if you are Juliet,” Angel said.

Juliet looked at the man leaning against the bricks on the left edge of the bar’s door and gave him a solid once-over before she responded. He was lean with dark skin and a short, spikey mohawk. He wore dark glasses and a black vest, and she could see that his left hand was a wire-job. He wore a studded leather belt, and hanging from it was a huge holster containing some sort of cannon-like weapon. It looked like a cross between a shotgun and a pistol to Juliet.

Juliet didn’t tell Angel to respond; she just looked into those dark glasses and nodded. He nodded back, then turned to the door and pulled it open. Some of the people standing around started to move toward the open doorway, but he shook his head, and they backed off. Juliet walked between them, holding her breath and willing her hands to stop sweating. He nodded again, and Juliet walked into the bar, and she could feel him follow her through the door, pulling it closed.

“Arnold doesn’t like the bar getting too crowded,” the man said from behind her. “That’s why all those scabs are sitting ‘round out there.”

“Ahh,” Juliet said, looking around the dim interior. Her new implants made it easy to plum the depths of the shadowy room—she counted eight people sitting at the bar, a punky bartender with a see-through tanktop and half a dozen piercings in her face speaking to one of them. The rest of the space was filled with booths, pool tables, and some dart boards in the corner. Juliet was surprised that nearly every booth contained patrons at that hour, and she’d just started to take stock of all the different people when the man spoke again.

“Far left corner.” He hung back, waiting for her to start walking. Juliet didn’t like it—she wasn’t a fan of having a stranger with a cannon shadowing her into a dark bar, but she pushed down her nerves and wended her way through the bar, past people playing pool and other booths where hard-looking men and women drank pitchers of beer and laughed raucously.

She’d never been to a bar this early and hadn’t imagined it would be so busy, let alone full of people getting fully drunk. Still, the laughing and clamor started to ease her nerves. She breathed easier, felt herself beginning to relax, and then she reached the corner. Two women sat in the booth, and the smaller of the two flashed her a brilliant smile. It was so unexpected, Juliet felt herself responding with a genuine smile of her own as she slid into the seat.

“Hey! Juliet?” the smiling woman asked as Mr. Mohawk slid in next to Juliet, effectively trapping her.

“Yeah. What about you all?” she asked, looking the two women over. The friendly one was short with a puffy black haircut and deep brown eyes. The other one, the one who sat quietly glowering, was a very large woman wearing black leather pants, a black leather jacket, and a brace of knives strapped crossways over her chest. She had pale skin, big puffy cheeks, and bright red lips. Most striking, though, was the surgically installed metallic visor that sat beneath her brow in lieu of eyes.

“I’m Honey,” the smaller woman said, reaching out a hand. Juliet took it, exchanged a warm handshake, and then looked at the bigger woman expectantly.

“Call me Mags, hon,” she said, holding out a fist. Juliet figured she didn’t like germs or something, so she gave her a fist bump, and the woman grunted and nodded.

“And you?” Juliet asked, turning to look at the man who’d let her into the bar.

“Pit,” he said, then grinned and added, “As in Pit Bull.”

“Okay, nice to meet you all,” Juliet said with a smile, not wanting to rush things. She figured she’d let them bring up the job.

“So you’re a noob, huh?” Honey asked, smiling. She was really very pretty, and Juliet couldn’t see any obvious cyberware or augments on her. She exuded confidence, though, and as Juliet looked at her, Angel highlighted an outline in her jacket with amber, blinking lines that looked like the hilt of a very big knife or maybe a sword if it kept going under the table.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Juliet shrugged.

“Got the skills we need, though, huh?” Honey pressed. “Can crack a data deck?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“How fast?”

“Depends on the deck. Depends on the security installed.”

“Say it’s a Jannik Oroburos model seven.” Pit said in a low voice from beside her.

“Angel?” Juliet subvocalized.

“You’ll need a hardwired connection to the deck, and I’ll need five minutes to two hours to breach it,” Angel said after a heartbeat.

“I need to connect to it physically,” Juliet said, looking around the table, and then she said, “If everything goes right, I can break it in five minutes. If it’s got all the security updates and the owner had good password practices, we’re looking at two hours.” She was afraid she was delivering bad news, but then Mags looked from Juliet to Honey, broke into a huge smile, and smacked her fist into her palm.

“Fuck yes!” she hissed. Pit grunted in agreement, and Honey smiled at Juliet, nodding.

“Good, Juliet. That’s excellent news. We roll out in forty-five minutes. You want a drink?”

“Um, sure,” Juliet said, feeling cold sweat run down her side. She self-consciously rubbed her palms on her thighs and nodded. Suddenly her vest started pumping cool air along her spine, and she sighed, unaware of how hot she’d become from her nerves. “I think a beer would be just what I need.”

“Right on,” Pit said, then he stood up, and with his long shotgun-pistol slapping his thigh, he walked over to the bar.

“So what are we doing?” Juliet asked Honey.

“We’re raiding a nest of dreamers,” Honey replied, and Juliet struggled to keep her face straight. “Dreamer” was a catchall phrase for someone addicted to substance-assisted, full-immersion VR. They were people that liked to do what Mark did with his dream-rig, only they were immersed in their fantasy most of the time, only occasionally coming out enough to do whatever they needed to prolong their next immersion.

“Why dreamers?” Juliet asked. She’d seen people like that outside the corpo-clinics, begging for a dose of the synthetic DMT-based concoction that worked in conjunction with their implants to send them god-knows-where. She couldn’t imagine one of them having something worth taking.

“Well, this nest has a relatively new occupant. He was a bigwig at Jannik corp. I have good intel that he used his corporate cube to build his dream-rig. He got addicted, lost all his shit, and disappeared into the ABZ. I’m pretty sure we found him.” While Honey was speaking, Mags nodded along, and Juliet thought her movements seemed oddly timed, but then she realized the woman was tuning them out, listening to music in her implants.

“Oh . . .” Juliet started, but then Pit returned with a pitcher and four stacked glasses. He passed them out and poured a foamy pint for each of them.

“Well, here’s to fucking blasting some VR dipshits!” he said, lifting his glass. Juliet blanched and hesitantly lifted her glass, suddenly worried that she’d gotten herself into something very ugly indeed.