Mistrunner - Chapter 14 - Hesitation

Everyone reacts differently to battle. Some people freeze. Others surrender to the adrenaline. Still others react indifferently. I always counted myself amongst the last category of people, but I sometimes wish I was the kind of person who would hesitate before killing. It would make me feel more like a human being and less like a purpose-made machine.

Jeremiah Braddock III

Panting, I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. Growing up in Nova City, I had seen plenty of terrible things. Even having spent much of my life locked away at the top of a megabuilding, I had not been spared from the harsh realities of our world. But in all that time, I’d certainly never killed anyone. Outside of sparring, I had never even been in a real fight before. But now? Not only had I just exploded a person, but I’d also shot and killed a dozen more. Certainly, it didn’t help that, at that very moment, I had bits and pieces of raider on my face, in my hair, and covering my body.

And I needed a minute to slow down, to process what had just happened.

Of course, that was when an explosion toward the front of the convoy told me that I didn’t have even a second to collect myself. There was still a battle raging, and, with all the other guards having been killed, it fell to me to help.

So, taking a deep breath, I said, “C’mon, Mira. Quit being a little bitch.”

It didn’t help, but then again, I wasn’t sure anything but time would. So, after collecting my weapons and putting everything but the Kicker back in my Arsenal Implant, I just started moving, hoping that I could outpace the panic building in my chest. First, I vaulted over the fallen tree and sprinted toward the cover of the overturned armored personnel carrier. As I did, I tried to ignore the bodies all around me. My rifle had torn gaping holes in their bodies, and there wasn’t so much as a twitch of life remaining within them. That was probably good, because I really wasn’t in any state to put anyone out of their misery.

Another explosion echoed in the distance, and a red, flashing arrow on my HUD told me where it had originated. A handy feature of my KOI, no doubt. Shouldering my rifle, I pressed myself against the truck and leaned out to take a look.

The trucks carrying the supplies were unharmed and surrounded by shimmering blue Mist shields. A steady stream of bullets, originating from the tree line, poured into the shields, but they held firm, each round disintegrated by the Mist. It wouldn’t last forever, though. I was still a novice when it came to Mistech, but even military-grade shields were power hungry and considered temporary measures. Eventually, the gunfire would make it through.

Past the trucks was the lead personnel carrier, but it looked like it was even worse shape than the one in which I had been riding. It was doubtful that my uncle had been killed; if I could survive, then he definitely would have as well.

That’s when I saw a man step out from behind the truck.

Or I was pretty sure it was a man. At least seven feet tall, and shaped like a giant blob with arms and legs, his right arm had been replaced by an energy cannon. Not small arms like I’d seen back in Nova City, either. This cannon looked like it would’ve been at home on a tank. In his left hand, he held a huge meat cleaver; I didn’t fail to notice that it was dripping with blood.

Suddenly, a huge hole erupted in the monstrous man’s belly, followed closely by a crack of thunder. No – that was a gunshot. It didn’t take me long to figure out where it had come from. My uncle was still alive.

Despite the gaping hole in his stomach, the giant didn’t fall. Nor did he scream out in pain. Instead, he laughed. Even from across the battlefield, I could hear the deep rumble of his mirth. He grasped an earthenware jug at his waist, tipped it into his mouth, and a second later, I saw the hole knit itself back together. Another shot hit the enormous man in the shoulder, but whatever had been in that jug was still in effect, because it immediately began to heal. What followed was a few more shots, all of which healed very quickly.

I reconfigured the Kicker into a sniper rifle, then took aim. I was just about to take a shot when something flashed in front of my eyes:

Jeremiah Braddock III would like to establish a voice link. Do you wish to connect? [Yes] or [No]

I stared at it for a long second before I mentally pressed the affirmative response. A moment later, my uncle’s voice erupted in my mind. “I know you think you’re going to help, but leave the big asshole to me,” he said, only a hint of static distorting his voice. “I’ve got this. Hit the other raiders at the tree line.”

“Okay,” I whispered, hoping he could hear me.

“Aim small, miss small,” he reminded me.

It was his favorite piece of advice, and one he’d been repeating ever since I’d picked up my first firearm. To date, I still hadn’t figured out what it was supposed to mean, and I suspected he didn’t either. According to him, he’d heard it in some movie when he was younger, and it had stuck with him. But regardless of how helpful it was, the mantra did help to calm my nerves, if only because it reminded me of all the time we’d spent in the shooting range back at the megabuilding in Nova City.

Kneeling, I refocused on the tree line about seventy yards distant. The assailants were nestled among the forest’s thick undergrowth, which made them difficult to see. However, my KOI came to the rescue there, highlighting each figure as I picked them out of the thicket.

Twenty-six people, all seemingly armed with the same archaic weapons I had already seen. Twenty-six hostiles. I took aim.

My hands shook. This wasn’t like before, where I’d been running on adrenaline and spurred on by surprise. Then, I’d acted in the heat of the moment, and I hadn’t had time to think about the implications of my actions. Now, though, I had ample opportunity to grapple with what I was planning on doing.

And I hesitated.

I didn’t want to. I knew it was wrong. I desperately wanted to start pulling that trigger. But something inside me just wouldn’t allow it. I knelt there, sighted in on a figure I couldn’t properly see, and I just watched.

Right up until the moment one of the shields dispersed and the sound of bullets ricocheting off the metal exterior dragged me out of it. With a collective roar, the group of raiders charged out from the tree line and ran through the meadow abutting the road. They looked little different from the people I’d already killed. The people whose corpses were slowly growing colder only a few feet away.

They crashed into the truck, hitting with the force of two-dozen bodies and nearly tipping it over.

“Mirabelle!” came my uncle’s hissing voice over the connection we’d established. “Fire!”

“I…I c-can’t…”

“There are two people in that truck!” he growled. “Those raiders are going to rip them to pieces. You’re the only one who can stop them. Now, put your fucking big girl pants on and fire your fucking weapon!”

Tears made tracks through the blood on my cheeks, but something about my uncle’s words tore through the panic and hesitation, leaving only grim determination behind. I didn’t want to do it. But I needed to.

I fired.

Once. Twice. Over and over, mechanically moving my sights to each new target.  I stopped hesitating. I stopped thinking. I just acted. And before long, there were twenty-six new corpses. Some had continued attacking the truck right up until the very end, but after a few had fallen, many of the others had turned and fled. I had shot them in the back. In the end, none were left alive. I had won.

But I didn’t feel the triumphant surge of adrenaline I might have expected. Instead, I just felt numb.

In the distance, the battle between my uncle and the giant raged. I crept closer, watching as the giant slashed at Jeremiah with the meat cleaver, narrowly missing each time. As he did, my uncle’s blade – a nano-edged dagger he’d actually bought for me – darted out, seven times in the space of a second. But the giant was undeterred, aiming a front kick at Jeremiah.

It connected, sending my uncle flying away. As he sailed through the air, Jeremiah twisted and summoned his rifle. He took aim and fired, taking his opponent directly in the face. Jeremiah hit the ground and rolled, coming up on his knee. He laid into the giant, one shot after another tearing, each one tearing an enormous hole in the monstrous man’s torso. Still, the giant plodded forward, aiming at Jeremiah with his arm cannon.

He let loose, and a huge ball of plasma scorched a path towards Jeremiah. The ball of plasma hit him in the chest, exploding with enough force to flatten the trees in a twenty-foot radius.

“No!” I screamed, raising my own rifle and firing at the giant. My bullets did nothing, thudding against the man’s flesh like I was shooting a rubber ball. That didn’t stop me, though. I advanced, and when my magazine was empty, I exchanged it for a fresh one. As I reloaded, I reconfigured the Kicker into an assault rifle, switched to full automatic, and opened fire.

A steady stream of bullets tore through the air, carving a series of tiny flesh wounds in the monster’s neck. A few of my bullets found their mark on his face, but they did little good.

I didn’t care.

When the magazine ran dry, I dismissed the Kicker and drew Ferdinand II. He was still loaded with explosive rounds, and taking a two-handed grip, I fired all nine-rounds into the monster’s face. One explosion after another ripped his flesh apart, but I might as well have been throwing rocks, for all the good it did.

Whatever the case, I didn’t stop. I was close enough to smell his stench, to see the fury in his misshapen face, to hear the sound of his labored breathing. Dismissing Ferdinand, I drew the scattergun.

I opened fire. A cone of lightning, seven feet wide, erupted from the barrel, engulfing the monster. It didn’t damage him. It barely even scorched his skin. But he did seize up, his muscles contracting of their own accord. I fired again. And again. Nine more times, hoping that I could overload his system.

It didn’t work.

I was too outclassed. The giant had taken everything my uncle had to throw at it, and he’d come out relatively unscathed. And my efforts had been completely useless. Even as he took one shuddering step forward, I backed away, exchanging the scattergun for the Kicker, which I immediately started to reload. I never got the chance.

The giant flashed forward, dropping his cleaver, which was connected to his wrist by a thick chain, and grabbed me around the neck.

“Lil’ bug,” he growled, his stinking breath enveloping me as he leaned close. He sniffed. “Tasty.”

I recoiled. He laughed.

But something flashed across my HUD.

Initiate Misthack? [Yes] or [No]

With a flick of my mind, I selected the affirmative option. Immediately, my mind was swarmed by a series of numbers. More than that, time seemed to slow down; the giant’s mouth stood open, as if he’d frozen mid-laugh. My own body was similarly affected, but my mind was going a thousand miles an hour.

It only took me a few seconds to deduce the nature of the numbers because they were similar to the pattern recognition puzzles I’d seen in my training. And not difficult ones, either. I blistered my way through them, and after only a few subjective seconds, I was rewarded with another message:

Misthack Successful. Options:

· Reboot System

· Overload System

Intuitively, probably because of the skill itself, I knew that rebooting the system would shut down any cybernetics the giant had, but only for a few seconds. By contrast, if I chose to overload the system, it would cause damage. How much? I had no idea. But I was eager to find out. I selected the second option, and time resumed at a normal pace.

“Huh?!” the giant muttered, loosening his grip. “Ow! Ow!”

He gripped his head, howling. Smoke drifted from his eyes and ears, and his arm cannon began to vibrate dangerously. I took that as my cue to leave, so I turned and sprinted down the road.

A moment later, an explosion threw me forward. I skidded across the pavement, leaving quite a bit of skin and blood in my wake. I finally tumbled to a stop, and it took me almost a full minute to shake away the disorientation. When I looked back, I saw the giant kneeling on the ground, cradling the stump of his right arm.

“Momma’s gonna be so mad,” he whined.

That’s when my uncle decided to make an appearance. With his clothes ripped, ragged, and still smoking, he stepped up to the giant, raised his pistol, and said, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Then, he fired, obliterating the giant’s entire head. Whatever had kept him alive so far had either run its course or been interrupted by my overload. Either way, the headless giant fell on his front, kicking up dust and debris when he hit the pavement.

And then, everything was quiet. No gunshots. No explosions. Just blessed quiet.

My uncle approached and put his hand on my shoulder. I suddenly realized I was trembling. “You did good,” he said. “But it’s not over.” He pointed to the tree line. “Keep watch. Make sure there aren’t any more. I need to check on the drivers.”

I didn’t say anything. Instead, I just gave him a quick nod, then turned my attention to the forest. Nothing moved, but I didn’t waver. I had already stepped over the line, and I wouldn’t let it all be for nothing.

Behind me, Jeremiah approached the first truck. It was the one whose shield was still intact, so he quickly passed it by. It only took him a few more seconds to deduce that everyone inside the second truck was dead. So, he went to the first, talked to the driver and her passenger, and after a couple of minutes, both vehicles had a driver.

He returned to my side and said, “We’re going to ride in the lead vehicle. Come on. I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.”

“W-what about them?” I asked, pointing to all the bodies, some of which were our people.

“Nothing we can do right now,” he said. “In an hour, this place is going to be crawling with scavengers. And I’m not talking coyotes and rats, either. They’ll come, and they’ll come in force. We don’t want to be here when they get here.”

“We could beat them,” I mumbled.

“Maybe,” my uncle agreed. “But at what cost? And what if we’re wrong? People need these supplies. We have a responsibility to deliver them.”

He made sense, so I nodded and followed him to the lead truck. Once we were inside – with him in the front passenger’s seat while I took the back – the drivers accelerated, leaving the devastation of the battlefield behind.

As far as I was concerned, we couldn’t get away fast enough. To distract myself, I pulled up my status:

Name: Mirabelle Lisa Braddock

Class: N/A (Requirements Not Met)

Level: 3 (71%)

Constitution: 5/31

Mind: 6/31

Mist: 4/31

Skills: 7/7

· Cybernetic Interface (Tier 0) – 24%

o Bonuses Applied: None

o Slots Unlocked: 2

· Firearms (Tier 0) – 31%

o Bonuses Applied:

§ 5% Firearms Damage

§ 2% Reload Speed

§ 2% Firearms Accuracy

· Close-Quarters Combat (Tier 0) – 2%

o Bonuses Applied:

§ 5% Melee Damage

§ 2% Melee Speed

§ 2% Melee Accuracy

· Stealth Operations (Tier 0) – 0%

o Abilities:

§ Camouflage (F)

· Combat Utility (Tier 0) – 40%

o Abilities:

§ Triage (F)

§ Basic Explosives Handling (F)

§ Combat Focus (F)

§ Pain Tolerance (F)

§ Resistance (F)

§ Foraging (F)

§ Improvisation (F)

§ Regeneration (F)

· Mistwalking (Tier 0) – 26%

o Bonuses Applied:

§ 5% Misthack Speed

§ 5% Mistwalk Speed

o Abilities:

§ Mistwalk (F)

§ Misthack (F)

§ Mistwall (F)

· Spycraft (Tier 0) – 1%

o Abilities

§ Disguise

§ Deception

I stared at my progress, and I had to admit that it was impressive. Not only had I made a lot of headway in terms of my skills, but I’d also gained two levels and most of a third. That increased my potential to thirty-one in each stat. On top of that, I’d actually gained a point in each category.

But it was difficult to feel excited about it, though. After all, my gains were based on slaughtering dozens of people. If that was what it took to get ahead, I wasn’t certain I was cut out for whatever my uncle had planned.

“You did do well,” he said, turning to look back at me. It was almost as if he could read my mind. Perhaps he could; I still didn’t know what kinds of skills he had. Or what existed, if I was honest. For all I knew, there was a mind-reading skill out there.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” I said.

“It’ll pass,” was Jeremiah’s response. “For now, keep your focus. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

I gave him a nod, and I fixed my attention on the wilderness through which the road cut. As I did, watching every minute detail, time passed. A few minutes, at first. Then a couple of hours. Eventually, night began to fall, and the landscape started to change. Instead of unbroken wilderness, I began to see crumbling buildings, abandoned and rusted vehicles, and, in a few cases, dirty and ragged people. To a person, they were malnourished and misshapen.

“Wildlings,” my uncle said. “They’re the ones who don’t take the Nexus Implants well. Instead of giving them access to skills, it turns them feral.”

“Is there no cure?” I asked breathlessly.

“No. None.”

“Poor bastards,” added the driver, the first words she’d uttered since we’d set off. Then again, she’d just seen her whole convoy killed. Some of them had to have been friends. Silence was an appropriate response to that kind of trauma.

The finality of the statements cut off any further questions, and we continued along. After another few miles, a skyline loomed ahead. But they weren’t like the ones I’d grown up in. For one, they were smaller. For another, each building looked different than its fellows. The most curious of the cluster of buildings was a relatively squat structure that looked like it had inverted wings on the top.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“This is where I grew up,” Jeremiah stated. “Welcome to Mobile, Alabama.”