Chapter Fifty-Two - A Cat''s Strut
Chapter Fifty-Two - A Cat''s Strut
A lot of the media aimed at younger audiences in the 70s-80s and into the 90s had conflicting messages about how violence isnt a solution to actual problems, while also using violence as a primary source of entertainment.
This, of course, conflicted with the reality at the time wherein in most first-world countries, violence was heavily frowned upon as a solution to any societal woes.
Nowadays, however, that has changed significantly. Much of our media centres around samurai, who often use violence, fear, and intimidation as their first resort to solving even the smallest of inconveniences.
--On Dystopian Child Rearing, Excerpt, 2035
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The River Heights people, in a show of what I supposed was camaraderie, had all decided to bunk together.
Well, I said bunk together, it wasnt quite that simple.
The River Heights group seems to lack any direct system of leadership and instead relies more or less on the voices of three important members to make decisions that the rest seem to follow.
Alright, I said as I stepped out of the mall. I didnt have a technical waiting for me, unfortunately, and being that it was stupid o''clock in the morning, there werent any buses to take. Hey, wheres my bike?
Back in New Montreal.
Right... can it drive itself over to here? I asked.
Certainly. Though it will take at least half an hour to arrive.
Which meant that there was no point in splurging on a new ride. Id just have to walk, like some sort of peasant. I laughed at myself, then took off with a bit of a strut. Myalis hadnt filled me in entirely yet, but she did place a waypoint on the map stuck to the corner of my augs, so she must have known where Id be heading in any case.
As I was saying. The group is led by three members, though they were not elected to any position of leadership. They seem to control the others by dint of being the richest and-slash-or because they are in positions of relative power outside of the community.
Who are these guys? I asked. Bunch of old white men?
Thats an accurate description of one of them. Stanley F. Johnson is the owner of a chain of mid-level housing accommodations across this city. You visited, and destroyed one, about ten hours ago. He has ties to several smaller real estate companies, and runs a few businesses on the side, mostly selling furniture, HVAC services, and security.
Ah, alright, I said. And the other two?
Meredith Jones. She owns the states largest insurance company. Her portfolio is also diversified, but it mostly lies in intangible assets. And finally, Will P. Brown. He inherited his familys assets, making him the fifth richest person in Burlington. He owns shares in nearly every large industrial complex in the state and many beyond.
I got to the hotel, then slipped into an alley next to it and went invisible. It was almost unfair how much of an advantage that was.
Then I realized that theyd installed these little laser sensors across the lobby. I wasnt sure if my suits invisibility would foil that. So I went around to the back of the hotel and through a service door that Myalis conveniently unlocked for me. One of the guards was around, and he heard the door opening, but I squeezed myself against a wall and left the door ajar.
He poked his head out, then pulled it back closed and made sure it was locked. And then he reported it over their internal comms. Smart guy.
I followed him out of the room, moving slowly so that I wouldnt make any more noise than I had to.
I considered riding the elevator up, but that would have made it too easy to spot me.
Then I did it anyway because there was no way I was walking up forty flights of stairs. But I did it smartly. I climbed up two flights, avoiding motion sensors and a rather shitty laser grid as I went, then rode the elevator up from the third floor to the floor just below where the River Heights group was waiting.
I walked up from there. They had a guy sitting next to the door out of the staircase one floor up, but his head was knocking back and forth as he fought off sleep, so I just squeezed on past him without making a sound.
The penthouse floor was nice and swanky. Not as cool as the hotel wed stayed at in New Montreal though. There was some nice carpeting and the walls were all done up in this faux-roman style, with marble all over and big arches over each doorway. A pair of guards were walking a patrol across the main corridor, but they seemed both tired and bored out of their minds.
I paused next to one to check out their gear. A small, compact gun, and a handgun on their leg, chest armour with a rig for ammo, and a visored helmet with all the bells and whistles.
Basically, the kind of shit Id expect to see on a top-quality PMC. No markings or anything though.
We could probably use these guys over on the front line instead of wasting their time guarding some VIPs. What were the chances that someone would actually come all the way up here to mess these folk up anyway?
I shook my head and continued on my way to mess these folk up.
Myalis kindly provided me with an aerosolized sleeping agent in grenade form. Fortunately, it wasnt noisy. I waited for the guards to be out of sight of any of the cameras mounted to the ceiling, then underhanded the grenade between them.
They were quick to act. The moment they spotted the grenade one jumped back and away and the other spun around aiming down the corridor from where Id tossed it.
Then they both just flopped to the ground bonelessly.
Anyone spot that? I asked.
I have the cameras running on a loop. Though if you could be so kind as to move his foot back?
I walked over and did just that. Alright, that worked pretty well. Lets see if the locals can handle the same treatment.
***