CyMa: Reunion
It had been Raddick’s first trip home since however long he’d been on the run with a hefty price on his head. It felt like a year, but it could’ve been weeks. Everywhere he went, assassins descended on him within a few hours. Hopping from stage to stage, he’d barely managed to stay ahead of his pursuers, the bounty set by Marson a call-to-action for all miscreants & psychopaths.
The worst part was- he couldn’t risk logging off. Couldn’t leave his body in suspended animation. Despite the life waiting for him offline, it was too risky.
Then suddenly, it all stopped. He managed to catch up on some rest, still waiting for his improvised alarms to go off at any second. The first few days he thought it was a ruse, a feign to smoke him out. But then a few more days passed. Risking it, he dialed up a security message board with stolen credentials and confirmed his bounty was, indeed, cancelled. No explanation was given. Could be another ploy, but an expensive one to do. Not even Raddick was worth enough for the Trilobyte Kingdom to piss away their credit as a legit employer of freelance gunheads. Jerk too many contracts away and gunners tend to ignore your next bounty.
Then suddenly, it all stopped. He managed to catch up on some rest, still waiting for his improvised alarms to go off at any second. The first few days he thought it was a ruse, a feign to smoke him out. But then a few more days passed. Risking it, he dialed up a security message board with stolen credentials and confirmed his bounty was, indeed, cancelled. No explanation was given. Could be another ploy, but an expensive one to do. Not even Raddick was worth enough for the Trilobyte Kingdom to piss away their credit as a legit employer of freelance gunheads. Jerk too many contracts away and gunners tend to ignore your next bounty.
Raddick decided it might be safe enough to finally log-off, but he shouldn’t do it anywhere but his cabin, where his security measures would keep him safer than anywhere else.
So naturally when he arrived, the door to the cabin was ajar.
Pulling his hold-out pistol, Raddick approached cautiously. His gut was telling him he’d been made a fool by the bounty cancellation.
Pulling his hold-out pistol, Raddick approached cautiously. His gut was telling him he’d been made a fool by the bounty cancellation.
Inching closer, he took a deep breath and prepared for a firefight. To his surprise....
...he saw someone he half recognized. It was CyMa....or at least one of her simulacrum decoys. Remembering his last encounter with one at Terminal Terminus, he kept his gun trained on her.
If it was CyMa, she was remarkably different. Clad in armor and wearing a battle crown that obscured her face. In lieu of CyMa’s regular cybernetic arm, her left limb was a segmented claw, possibly stolen off a warehouse robot. She seemed meaner, ready for war.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” She asked. Her voice sounded like the real CyMa, even if the helmet obscured her face in a liquid metal shield.
“How did you get in?” Raddick hissed, not taking any chances.
She leaned forward and unhooked her crown, chain mail clinking and parting to reveal her soft face underneath.
She leaned forward and unhooked her crown, chain mail clinking and parting to reveal her soft face underneath.
“You gave me a key. Don’t you remember? You said if I ever needed it, I could hide out here.” Raddick lowered his arms, convinced it was her.
He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, “Shit, I’m sorry Cy. You just look different.”
Raddick scanned her up and down, her short black hair jetting out like spines. At the edge of her hairline he took note of a newly healed scar that had been stitched up.
Exhausted by the recent flood of adrenaline, Raddick slumped his shoulders and put the gun in his fanny pack. “Ah jeez I’m really sorry Cy. How’ve you been?”
He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, “Shit, I’m sorry Cy. You just look different.”
Raddick scanned her up and down, her short black hair jetting out like spines. At the edge of her hairline he took note of a newly healed scar that had been stitched up.
Exhausted by the recent flood of adrenaline, Raddick slumped his shoulders and put the gun in his fanny pack. “Ah jeez I’m really sorry Cy. How’ve you been?”
“Things are not good on the “surface”, but I’m getting by online. We ran into some trouble topside. Marson is dead. Rex killed him. Or his galoot of a partner did.” CyMa clinked her claw hand around a glass, she’d likely raided Raddick’s largely untouched stash of intoxicants.
“Marson’s dead? No fucking way....that explains why the heat’s dissipated on me.”
“Marson’s dead? No fucking way....that explains why the heat’s dissipated on me.”
“That’s where you were? On the lam?” CyMa prodded teasingly. “We could’ve used your help. Called you a few times. But I guess it makes sense you were radio silent.”
Raddick rubbed his face and kicked off his shoes. All the tiredness he’d fought off while on the run was hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Look, I’m very glad you are alive and I’m happy to see you. I’ve had a hell of a time and I need to log off. Can you keep watch while I’m topside?”
CyMa seemed a little surprised at his lack of interest in the grand story of Turbo Atoll she was dying to tell.
“Um....sure. I just need one thing.” CyMa decided to get straight to it.
CyMa seemed a little surprised at his lack of interest in the grand story of Turbo Atoll she was dying to tell.
“Um....sure. I just need one thing.” CyMa decided to get straight to it.
Raddick was near collapse but nodded, “Of course, whatever you need.”
“I need to get laid.” She said flatly.
Raddick choked on his own spittle. “What? Why? I mean....aren’t you and Rex an item?”
“Rex? No. Definitely not. He’s more interested in barely-legal spoiled royal brats.”
Raddick was no longer feeling tired, a cold bead of sweat collecting at the base of his neck. CyMa stood up and moved closer to him, tracing his pectorals with her claw hand.
“I don’t like real men. I prefer the digital kind. You’ve never wanted to...?”
Near panic, Raddick backed up defensively, “Sure....but...but....you don’t know who I am. Not offline. Not in your world.”
For some reason, Raddick’s mind flashed to the last time he saw Lince. How his friend disappeared down that cavern and was never seen again. How Raddick froze. How he turned tail and ran instead of going in after his friend. His cowardice. It was bubbling back up. He was going to make the coward’s choice again.
CyMa leaned in closer, Raddick felt his resolve melting. “I. Don’t. Care.” she whispered.
The tension was broken but a loud crashing noise as a large shape splintered the wall of the cabin and slid across the floor.
Looking down, as CyMa recognized one of her Bugmen, her face froze in shock. Taking cues from CyMa, Raddick perceived no threat and moved to help the Bugmen up and dust him off.
He was banged up, but not wounded. He seemed a little dazed, but managed to get up onto his knees. CyMa bent close to him, like a mother coddling a toddler. “What happened?”
He held himself still, his voice monotone. “The capital fell. The Cues overran everything.” Raddick saw tears welling up in the corner of CyMa’s eyes. Whoever this guy was, he had been through some sort of cataclysmic trauma.
CyMa, normally tough as nails, didn’t try to hide her tears, which quickly became sobs.
“I.....I am so sorry....”
CyMa, normally tough as nails, didn’t try to hide her tears, which quickly became sobs.
“I.....I am so sorry....”
The Bugman stared at her motionless. The red lenses of his helmet masking any emotion. Raddick and CyMa stared back, but were unprepared for his next sudden move...
Producing a pistol from within his jumpsuit, Night Bugmen pulled the trigger at point blank range, blasting CyMa in the chest.
To Be Continued....
To Be Continued....