"Except he somehow does it using nothing but his brain."
"Yes. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to able to hack any system. And he can't replicate the process with human minds, or we'd be in real trouble. No, synoid brain cores are his specialty. Linked remotely, he can control any model he chooses."
"Well, it's highly unlikely I'll ever get an opportunity like this again. Guess it's back to groundwork."
"Yes." He fixes his eerie gaze on me. "You spooked him, you know. When you said his real name, you showed your hand and let him know what we had on him. That was a terrible lapse of judgment."
"I thought it would settle him down. My mistake."
"I hope it was a mistake, Scyther. I would hate for you to have startled him on purpose."
"What? Why would I do that?"
He grins, white teeth flashing from crimson lips. "Deceit is in your nature. That's why your leash is so tight around your neck."
I repress a shudder, hand drifting to the back of my head unconsciously. "Well, I didn't tip him off if that's what you're thinking."
"I don't think anything. I run the data. And there's a forty-eight-point seven percent chance you're lying right now."
I force a tight smile in return. "That only means there's an over fifty percent chance I'm not."
"Yes. That's the only reason you're not in excruciating pain." He turns and walks into the alleyway, blending with the darkness until he's nearly a part of it. "I'll be in touch when I have new orders. You continue your work here and follow up on any leads. I'll be watching."
Of course he'll be watching. He's the perfect warden. Always processing information, tied into every surveillance feed in the area. He can trace my every movement even without the tracker embedded in my spinal cord. I catch myself reaching up to feel for it and settle for chewing on a fingernail instead.
"That's a disgusting habit, you know."
Zen sidles up beside me, lips twisted in disgust as she makes sure Kage is gone. "Man, bioroids give me the creeps."
"They don't like being called bioroids."
"I don’t care. You can't get all those ugly implants and not expect someone to slap a label on you." Folding her arms, she slumps against the alloyed surface of the Grand Center building.
Short and petite, she compensates by dressing in aggressive cyber-bondage gear complete with a skull-embossed corset, along with endless buckles and straps. Her hair is dyed a loud blue color, shaved on one side, and enhanced with cyber-dreads by a metallic headband. A complicated series of tattoos start at her neck and continue to cover her entire left arm. She completes the look with thick eyeliner and black-widow lip gloss. I can't tell her that her attempt at rebellious fashion makes her look like a cute little cyber-pixie. She'd punch me in the face if I did.
"You've got implants, Zen."
"Yeah, practical ones. Optics, audio, and data port. Who doesn't? I'm talking about going full Frankenstein to become a living computer like your pal Kage there."
I shake my head. "He's not my pal. And you know Frankenstein was the creator, not the monster, right?"
Confusion flashes across her face. "Wait. Frankenstein was a real dude?"
"Never mind." I motion to Agent Rogers, who stands a few yards away practically ready to combust with impatience. "We're done here. Let's assemble at HQ in the morning."
"Fine." He barks orders at his suits, who fall back from their posts and immediately blend with the crowds passing by. Pausing to give me one last suspicious look, he slides into a waiting all-black skimmer. The door hisses shut, and the vehicle silently joins the heavy traffic.
Zen sticks a finger in her mouth and makes a gagging sound. "What a bunch of asshats. Remind me why we're doing this?"
"Because we don't have a choice."
"Right. Like I can forget." She gives me an empathetic look. "Still can't believe they implanted that minder in you."
I shrug it off. "Nothing I can do about it. Just focused on finishing the mission."
"Finishing? It's been close to a year, and we're still no closer to this guy. Now we're back at ground zero."
"No. I sat face-to-face with Specter. Saw firsthand what he can do. That's progress."
"Yeah, he progressed himself out of a skyscraper window. Not exactly the response you were looking for."
"It's something. In fact, it might be everything."
"How's that?"
"He took the meeting. Which means he needs money right now. Which means he'll be working for someone very soon."
"Plenty of ways to make money, Enigma. Too many to track."
"Not for him. He'll go back to jacking synoids. I'm sure of it. I need you to compile a list of every known black-market synoid dealer. Focus on anyone we know he's previously worked with. Cross-reference the search with the locale of the stolen report for the model he just used. At the very least it will give us a starting point for our search."
She nodded. "I'm on it."
"Good. Get back with me when you come up with something. I'll be in my room."
She rolls her eyes. "Your room? How long have we been in Haven Angeles? The City of Angels, baby. A lot of people would gladly saw off their hands and feet for a chance to even visit here, and you still won't go a block outside your hotel unless someone orders you to. C'mon, girl. Take a night off. Do a little exploring. Who knows? You might even accidentally enjoy yourself."
I shake my head. "This isn't a vacation. It's an assignment. I'm a Scyther, Zen. No amount of distraction is going to change that. I'll be in my room."
Her face turns stubborn, eyes defiant. "We'll find a way to change that, Enigma."
I put a finger to my lips. "He's listening."
"Kage? Screw that bioroid."
"Don't push it, Zen. He tolerates you because you help me out, but he can pull the plug on our arrangement like that." I snap my fingers for emphasis.
Zen has sense enough to look chagrined. "I know. Sorry."
"Look, I'll be fine. Just get that search done for me, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. I said I’m on it." She waves bye as she heads toward the Skytram depot. I watch her until a towering figure separates from the crowd and follows on her heels. Brutus doesn't talk much, but he's always nearby. I don't have to worry about Zen when he's watching over her.
I turn and head the other direction, walking against the flow of foot traffic. Crowds of people flow past me, most staring into space as their vid-lenses display news, entertainment, and calls from friends and family. They dress in the latest styles: black and white contrasts, intricate silver and stainless enhancements, asymmetrical cuts. My grunge biker jacket, simple tank top and jeans mark me as an obvious standout, worthy of a curious glance or two from the rare resident who doesn't have their vid-lenses activated.
My gunmetal rumble bike remotely drives from the parking garage conveyor. I hop on, zipping into the busy traffic lanes. Sleek, aerodynamic vehicles hum quietly alongside, fusion thrusters keeping them hovering over the surface of the road. My bike's tires squeal as I weave back and forth between the nearly gridlocked lanes as I head toward my beautiful prison in the downtown sector.
Hazy light diffuses through the barrier shield of the Haven as if trying to imitate the pre-Cataclysm smog that used to suffocate the city, turning the silhouettes of structures and towering buildings murky in the distance. Flying traffic cruises back and forth on digitally-controlled airlanes overhead, taking residents to the upper sections of the city, where the wealthier residents live. The shadows of the massive skyscrapers smother the streets, casting the lower sectors in gloom that requires illumination even in daylight. Fortunately, the city is never short of brightly-lit street signs and storefronts, multi-language characters blinking and flashing endlessly. Together with the enormous advertising holograms and billboards plastered on nearly every building, the lower city glows in various shades of electric hues.