Mistrunner - Chapter 5 - Give and Take

Losing Helena nearly broke me. When it didn’t, my grief was replaced by fury. After spending years in the military, I thought I had seen the depths to which a man could sink. I hadn’t. Not until my rampage was through.

Jeremiah Braddock III

I stared at the Nexus Implant, transfixed by the shimmering colors inside. Each of sides bore the same seven symbols, tiny but imminently clear. I had no idea what they meant, but in that moment, I felt a level of greed I’d never even considered. It was as if I’d spent my entire life rolling around in the back alleys of Algiers, all the while looking for my next hit of Dust. And now, the biggest, most potent stash to have ever existed was sitting right in front of me. It was need on a level I’d never experienced.

“You want it,” Jeremiah said. “I’ve seen that look before.”

“W-what…what’s going on?” I managed to croak. I reached out, slowly and with trembling fingers. I couldn’t stop myself. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. For a second, I wondered if it had just been a hallucination. Had it ever existed at all?

“Power,” he said. “Pure and unadulterated. That’s what that cube represents, and your body – or more accurately, the Mist that suffuses every single one of your cells – knows it. That craving is a natural by-product.”

I didn’t speak. Instead, I swallowed hard. It went down like a ragged ball of sandpaper, scraping its way down my throat and leaving it raw. My body felt like one, giant cramped muscle, and despite the climate-controlled penthouse, a sheen of sweat clung to my forehead. I didn’t bother wiping it away.

“Where did it go?”

“Away,” he said. “How does that make you feel?”

Like launching myself at him and clawing it away from wherever he’d stashed it, that was how I felt. But then realization washed over me like a bucket of cold water. In only a second, I clawed my way out of whatever state the cube had elicited.

“I knew you had a strong will,” he said with a slight smirk. Leaning back on the couch, he said, “I’m glad. I’d have hated the alternative.”

Once again, I swallowed hard. My uncle was a dangerous man who didn’t need to resort to threats to get what he wanted. Usually, he just had to tell the truth. Most of the time, the implication was enough to set his enemies on the right path. I shivered, realizing that, in that moment, he was prepared to treat me like one of them.

“What was the alternative?” I asked, braving the answer I knew but didn’t want to admit.

“I’d have had some cleaning up to do,” he said. Then, with a sigh, he went on, “It was always going to be like that. One decision. That’s the difference between life and death. If you’d have come after me, it would have told me everything I needed to know. If that was the case, I’d have had to move on. But I couldn’t leave you behind like that. Not if you’d already proven how weak-willed you were.”

I nodded. It made sense. Maybe it wouldn’t in a more secure world, but in Nova City, that’s how things worked. You didn’t leave potential enemies behind. You couldn’t. Otherwise, they might grow strong enough to realize that potential. People who were soft ended up in early graves. And Jeremiah, for all his faults, was not soft. No one would ever accuse him of that unforgivable sin.

“Do you know what a Tier-7 Nexus Implant means?” he asked.

I nodded. “Seven skills,” I said.

“That’s the least of it,” he stated, shaking his head. His bushy, black beard glistened in the room’s artificial light, shining almost as prominently as his bald head. “I wanted to put all the information out there, to make it public knowledge. But I was overruled.”

“By who?” I couldn’t help but ask, wondering who could censure my uncle.

“People more powerful than me,” he stated. “It’s not important. The point is that, until right now, I couldn’t tell you how everything worked. Now, with you on the verge of Awakening, I can.”

“Okay?”

“Just an ‘okay’, huh?” he said. “Your mom was like that. She just took things and rolled with whatever life threw at her. I miss her.”

In the years since he’d taken me in, Jeremiah hadn’t spoken about my mother very much. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. They had been close, and the mere mention of her made the loss all the more painful. In that respect, we were more alike than I wanted to admit. The result was that I only had a child’s memories of the woman. Lately, though, he’d been mentioning her more and more. Curiously, he completely ignored my deceased father – we both knew why.

“It’s not just the skills,” he said. “Though they’re the most important part, regardless of what people will tell you. A properly leveled skill will keep you alive long after your stats have been overwhelmed.”

“Stats?”

“Right. I always forget,” he said, running his hand over his shaved head. “Three pillars. That’s what constitutes personal power in this world. One – Skills. At first, they’re extremely generalized, but with enough work, you can evolve them into terrifying weapons.”

He held up two fingers, going on, “Two – Stats. Constitution, Mind, and Mist. The first determines your physical capabilities. The second, your mental. And the third, the strength of many abilities.”

Even though it was all a bit alien to me, I could easily understand the first two. However, the third was another story. Mist was the label given to the nanites – tiny, microscopic machines – that suffused everything in our world. I had learned enough history to know that that hadn’t always been the case. What my uncle called the Initialization was where it had all begun. But as a stat on par with Constitution and Mind, I had a much more difficult time envisioning what Mist meant. I said as much, which drew a chuckle from my uncle.

“That’s because you haven’t Awakened yet,” he said. “But that’s going to change soon. Provided you agree to my terms.”

“Terms? What terms?” I asked, surprised that my uncle was treating our interaction like business. “We’re family.”

“That’s why I’m not letting you go into this without knowing precisely what you’re getting into, Mirabelle,” he answered. “If you take that Implant, I need to know that you’re going to use it right.”

“Right? How?” was my next question, though I had an inclination of what he wanted. My uncle lived a violent life, and if, as a Tier-5, he was at the top of the heap, I could only imagine the heights a Tier-7 could reach. If I took it, he’d want me to be his enforcer. Maybe, he’d even want me to fight against the aliens he’d said were coming. “I don’t want to be your killer.”

At that, he laughed, which only made me angry. I threw a pillow at him, hissing, “It’s not funny! Why are you laughing?!”

He held up a hand, catching the fluffy projectile like it had been going in slow-motion. He said, “Sorry. Sorry. You were just so earnest. And coming from you, with that face…”

“I hate you so much right now,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

“I accept that,” Jeremiah stated. “But here’s the thing, kid. I’ve got killers. Lots of them. I don’t need anymore. What I want is a survivor.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that the aliens are coming in ten years,” he answered. “Ten short years, and everything about this world is going to change. We can’t fight it because we’ve already lost. What I want from you, why I want to give this Implant to you, is because I don’t want you to fall under their control. I want you free. But I won’t waste this on you. If you’re not going to agree to my terms, I’ll give it to someone else. I won’t hesitate to turn them into a weapon. I’ll do it, then point them right at the aliens. They’ll die. We’ll fail. But at least we’ll take a lot of those bastards with us. Or I can give it to you, and you’ll have enough power to survive. To leave this place. To make a real life.”

He sighed, running both of his hands over his head before saying, “It was supposed to be for your mom, but she wouldn’t take it. She said she wanted a normal life. As if there’s any such thing in this fucking city.”

He left his regrets unsaid, but I felt them all the same. My mother had died in a robbery gone wrong. She’d owned a small seafood stall, and she’d barely made a modest living. But that didn’t stop that unaffiliated mook from trying to take what little she had. My mother had cooperated, but the man was inexperienced, nervous, and in a hurry. He hadn’t meant to kill her, but that didn’t stop the bullet from destroying her face. We never even had the chance to bury her – the bodymongers took her before anyone could arrive, leaving only a few bystanders to tell my uncle what had happened.

If she’d have taken that Tier-7 Implant, she never would have been reduced to serving artificial seafood in a forgotten Algiers market. And even if she had chosen that route, she’d have had the power to prevent her own death. Doubtless, Jeremiah blamed himself for not forcing the Implant on her.

Then and there, I decided that I wouldn’t follow in her footsteps. My memories of my mother were hazy. Indistinct. I knew I’d loved her, and in a way only a child can feel for her parent. But having heard that she’d given up the means to protect herself, to prevent me from growing up without a mother? There was a cloud of resentment growing in my heart. It wouldn’t allow me to follow her path. I wanted the power to choose my own fate.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Commitment,” he said. “I’ve been on this planet for over a century, now. Most of it fighting. I know what it takes to create a survivor. I know what skills you’ll need. And most importantly, I know how to train you to get the most out of them. So, you do what I say. You take the skills I tell you to take. You train without complaint. Do that, and I’ll give you the kind of opportunity most people would slaughter entire cities to obtain.”

I cocked my head to the side, feeling the giant poof of hair swaying slightly at the motion. Then, I asked, “What’s the catch?”

He grinned. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You think you understand what I’m saying. You don’t. It’s going to be the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. You’re going to be tested in ways you can’t even imagine. But I think the hardest part for you is going to be not having control. You don’t like authority.”

I couldn’t really argue with that. But in my defense, Nova City – at least my version of it – didn’t really cater to the sorts of people who followed rules. Sure, there were plenty of people – most of the population in fact – who couldn’t wait to get up and go to work at some unforgiving factory or laboratory. But me? I’d been raised by the most terrifying mother fucker in the Garden, a place where scary people practically grew in the Silos. The mere idea of being normal was enough to make me want to vomit. I’d have chosen to be a dust fiend before I submitted to that kind of mundane existence.

And I think Jeremiah knew it, too. Otherwise, he would never have offered me the opportunity.

“Promise me you won’t steer me wrong, then,” I said.

“What? No concerns about your safety? Not going to make me promise you I won’t put you in danger?”

I shook my head. “If what you’re saying is true, I don’t think that’s possible,” I answered with a grim smile. “And even if it wasn’t, keeping me bundled up all safe and sound would kind of defeat the purpose. That wouldn’t prepare me for anything, would it?”

Expressionless, he looked at me for a long moment before saying, “I think you understand. Okay. You get the Implant, then.”

Without any more preamble, he held out his hand, and the cube appeared. But it wasn’t alone. Accompanying the implant were seven shards of crystal, each identically cut but in different colors. Red, blue, yellow, green, orange, black, and white, all glittering with an inner light.

“What are those?” I asked.

“Skill crystals,” he said. “If I’m going to give you a Tier-7 Implant, you might as well have the skills to go with it. Like I said before, though, these are very general. You’ll have to work extremely hard to turn them into anything worthwhile.”

“Uh…okay?”

“I see you don’t understand,” he said. “But that’s fine. This will be much easier to explain once you have an interface. So, take the Implant and place it on the back of your neck. Right at the base of your skull.”

I took the cube in my hand, and I was surprised to find that it was warm to the touch – almost like it generated its own heat. I stared at it for a few seconds, just basking in the feeling I got when I looked at it. It wasn’t until my uncle snapped his fingers in front of my face that I jerked back to reality.

“S-sorry,” I muttered.

“It’s okay,” was his response. “I’d be a little surprised if it didn’t do that to you.”

I didn’t ask him to elaborate because I knew what he meant. The cube called to me on a fundamental level, and anyone who could resist such a pull would be a frightening person indeed. Instead of commenting, I followed his directions and placed the cube on at the base of my skull.

The moment its carved surface hit my skin, my body went rigid. I could feel the cube melt in my hands before seeping through my very pores. It wasn’t unpleasant or nearly as invasive as I might’ve expected, but it was an entirely alien sensation. If I could’ve moved, I would have jerked my hand away. As it was, though, I could only sit there like a statue as the Implant invaded my body.

A searing heat erupted on the back of my neck, but the only reaction I could manage was a sharp intake of breath. My eyes watered as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and a web of pure agony grew from the base of my skull. In an instant, it enveloped my entire body, burning its way through my very cells.

And then, just like it had begun, it stopped.

I collapsed onto my side before rolling down to the floor. There, I looked up at my uncle. He could have caught me. It would’ve been easy for someone who could move like him. But he hadn’t. I couldn’t help but think that it was a sign of things to come. No longer would he be there to catch me when I fell. I would have to endure the consequences of my actions, unadulterated by his influence.

I don’t know how long I lay there. Minutes, maybe. But it could’ve been as long as an hour. All the while, Jeremiah stared at me, his expression as impassive as his demeanor was relaxed. Finally, my heartbeat slowed back to a pace approaching normality, and my muscles unclenched. When they did, I stretched them out, groaning at the feeling of cramps being unkinked.

“You took that better than I expected,” he said, leaning forward. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a dust fiend who hasn’t had a hit in a month,” I muttered, jerking my way to a sitting position.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he said, his tone brooking no dissent. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve seen plenty of dust fiends, and –”

“Those people are victims,” he growled. “And you have no clue what they’re going through. So, until you do – and I pray that you never will – just don’t talk about it. Got me?”

“I get you.”

“Good,” Jeremiah said, relaxing a little. He still reminded me of a coiled sewer serpent. Seemingly relaxed, but ready to spring out of the refuse at a moment’s notice. “Then, we can move on to skills. Don’t open your interface until we’re finished.”

Then, he handed me the first skill crystal, saying, “This is a skill called [Cybernetic Interface]. It’s the only skill you’ll receive that will never change. It will grow, but it won’t evolve. Anyone you’ve seen that has combat cybernetics has to have this.”

“Do you?” I asked.

He nodded, saying, “I do.”

“But you don’t have cybernetics,” I said.

“You can’t see mine,” was his response. “Use the crystal the same way you used the Implant.”

I did, and though it wasn’t nearly as intense as the Implant, it was still painful. I endured it as stoically as I could manage, and when I was finished, he handed me the next crystal. This one was for the skill, [Mistwalker]. When I asked what that meant, he explained that it was a method of infiltrating technological interfaces.

“Like hacking?” I asked. “In all those old movies?”

He groaned. “Sure,” he said. “If that makes it easier for you to understand, just like that.”

“But –”

“Life isn’t a movie, Mirabelle,” Jeremiah stated. “You’re not going to be sitting in front of a keyboard and jabbing random keys. That skill will allow you to remotely access most systems, and that, combined with the right cybernetics, will get you into anything else. What you do when you’re there is up to how you’ve advanced the skill. And your own individual ability.”

“Oh. Okay,” I said. Then, I absorbed the skill crystal.

The next few were pretty self-explanatory. [Firearms], [Close Quarters Combat], and [Stealth Operations] were absorbed, one after the other. I didn’t receive any influx of knowledge, and I definitely didn’t feel any stronger, so I wasn’t even sure they were working. But when I mentioned that, I only got a glare from my uncle, so I left it off right there.

“What is [Combat Utility]?” I asked, holding the penultimate skill crystal – a red one. The final crystal was orange.

“It’s very open-ended,” he said. “At first, it’ll help you with all sorts of things, but we want to push it into combat medicine or triage.”

“You want me to become a doctor?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, no – not a doctor,” he explained. “Combat medic. You’ll never be as good as an actual healer, but you’ll have enough expertise to keep you alive until you find one. That’s one of your most important skills.”

I nodded. I could certainly see the benefit of such a skill, so I absorbed it without complaint. Finally, I got to the last skill, which Jeremiah had labeled [Spycraft].

“It’s what’s going to keep you from being taken advantage of until you’re strong enough to keep everyone in line,” he said. “It’ll let you disguise your levels, your tier, and your skills. I’ve never seen it taken past the first grade, but it should synergize well with your [Stealth Operations] skill. I’m hoping it’ll do the same with [Mistwalker], but I don’t have much experience with that one.”

As I absorbed the skill, I thought about the collection of skills he’d given me. They all seemed useful, but more than that, I could see the totality of what my uncle wanted me to become. Versatile. Deadly. Useful. And when the need arose, invisible. It made sense, given that the goal was survival.

Once I’d finished absorbing the skill, my uncle grinned. “So, how does it feel to be the highest tiered person I’ve ever met?” he asked.

“Uh…not that different from before,” I said.

He laughed. “That won’t last,” was his response. “But here’s something no one wants to admit – people, regardless of whether or not they’re identical in terms of their levels or their tiers, are not equal. One Tier-3 is not the same as another Tier-3. Do you know why?”

“Skills?”

“In part,” he said, nodding. “But it’s also levels. Cybernetics, too. Then there are weapons. Armor. But more than anything else, what sets people apart is their capacity for hard work. Are you ready for hard work?”

When I saw the malicious gleam in his eye, I couldn’t help but swallow hard. Still, I was committed. What’s more, I knew he would give me the best chance of gaining the power my mother had refused. So, gathering my courage, I said, “Yes. I’m ready.”