Issue #27 RRP $8.95 Rory Douglas Abel Aliette ... - Upgrade Systems

Random Acts of Destruction
grim. “Toshiro, who could have gotten your AI addicted to Spam and given it those
passwords?”
The tiger on Katsu’s back has caught the carp on his right shoulder and is devouring
it. “The maintenance man. Alan Green. He came the day the codes were inputted.”
“Give me his address.”
I park on the roof and take the stairs down. Unlike the Yakuza elevator, here I
can judge my progress. I’m taking two and three steps at a time, my hands smearing
grime off the walls and banister. The house AI tells me Alan is in his apartment alone
but his movements are odd. Suddenly, every internal sensor in me goes nuts. There’s
heavy-duty firepower being used in Alan’s apartment, being used on Alan. This stuff
is so high grade and dangerous it scares the hell out of me. It should be impossible to
get that kind of hardware into the city. I increase my speed, tapping into latent genes
and implants installed for just these kinds of occasions. I’m going to hurt tomorrow
but I’ll worry about that later.
I hit the hall at full speed, dodging around hookers, tricks and junkies. They
pass by in a blur, a canvass of empty promises and fragile connections. I smash into
Alan’s door shoulder first, hoping it doesn’t have a re-enforced metal core. The wood
explodes inward, splinters spraying the room like angry hornets. I catch a glimpse of
a trenchcoat, a weapon rising then I’m diving forward.
An incendiary beam just misses me, burning through fabric then concrete and
steel. The hairs on the back of my leg curl up and die.
I come up, my gun drawn and firing. Two years ago a department-wide mandate
went out ordering all plain-clothes to downgrade their guns to small concussive blasts
or stunners. Somehow I never got the memo.
My target is gone; the wall explodes in his place. I don’t see him, don’t feel him
anywhere. Instinct sends me hurtling anyway.
This time it’s a highly localized EMP. The bastard’s on the ceiling. I return fire
again and again he dodges. The light explodes, glass and plaster shower down on me
like jagged snow. My hawk eyes don’t need much light to see. I telescope my vision
searching for any hint of movement.
Somehow he’s behind me, I feel his weapon charging. I fling myself at him,
desperate to get inside his guard. I have to get close enough that he’ll risk harming
himself if he uses any more of his fancy toys. He swats my gun away as though I’m
not even holding it. We dance, two ballerinas trying to kiss each other with poisoned
lips. He’s better than me. I only just manage to block his strikes while most of mine
only find air.
In desperation I try to use my badge. It doesn’t work. It does stun him for a
moment though.
I grab his arm and fling him as hard as I can. He sails across the room somersaulting
like a mad gymnast. He manages to collide with the one reinforced wall. It vomits
plaster onto the carpet but remains strong.
My assailant stands shakily. I don’t have time to find my gun. I point my left
hand at him and launch a spike from between my middle two knuckles. He’s still fast
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