Author's note: This is a departure from my regular fare in both plot and style, but I figured I'd try it out here anyway. It's a work-in-progress, so some parts may change when the fic is completed. Thanks as always to Liz for her help. Regarding time: a "stellar cycle" is roughly equivalent to a "year", both in terms of a Cybertronian calendar/dating system and the rate at which bots mature, though the length of a stellar cycle is most likely much different from that of an Earth year. And to clarify, all scenes that begin with a dated header are scenes from the past.
***
Two silent ships careened through the sky above Cybertron. The first zigzagged abruptly and the other matched the maneuver, obviously in pursuit.
Communications suddenly crackled to life on the first ship, and the face of the bounty hunter appeared on the screen. "The game is up, Risk," he snarled. "You've just made your last kill."
The young Predacon smirked. "Not likely," he responded, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "But sure, let's see what you've got anyway." He closed the channel and attached a wire from his head to the console, connecting his small jet's viewscreen to his targeting eye for better control.
The hunter's ship fired. Risk easily evaded the missile, obviously a warning shot. After all, he knew that he was worth more alive than dead.
Well, to some contractors anyway. Others would be perfectly pleased to see him destroyed.
Risk put his ship into a near-vertical dive towards the planet's surface. As expected, the other ship followed. Risk pulled up just before impact, skimming the ground, and the hunter's ship did the same.
Again the hunter opened communication. "Did you really think that would stop me? That I would fall for such an old trick?"
"Nah, just testing your piloting skills…I expect a certain level of ability from anyone who comes after me."
The hunter growled. "Your overconfidence will certainly get you killed, boy."
"I wish," Risk muttered. He closed the channel and locked it, tiring of the same old threats. His attention returned to piloting as he maneuvered around the buildings of a less populated area of the planet. The hunter matched his every move and began firing. The blasts were more dangerous now—obviously no longer warning shots, these were meant to cripple the ship at the least. Risk dodged those, but they were getting a little too close.
Time for Plan B. Risk disconnected his targeting eye from the console, unstrapped himself from his seat and prepared to initiate his ship's cloak. Of course, any well-equipped hunter would have the technology to see through the cloak, but Risk knew that it would take a moment for the hunter to realize and switch locator systems. He planned to take full advantage of that moment.
Once again Risk put his ship into a dive toward the ground. As expected, the hunter followed suit. At less than ten meters above the street, Risk initialized cloaking, pulled up, and dropped out the hatch in the bottom of the ship, momentarily under the cover of the ship's cloak before it soared upwards once more.
"What?" The hunter gasped as his prey suddenly disappeared from his viewscreen. He narrowed his eyes. "Cloaking won't help you, boy; you should know that." He flipped a switch and his viewscreen changed. Risk's ship was once again visible. "I have you now," the hunter muttered, aiming his primary weapon. "Perhaps your reputation wasn't so deserved."
By the time his computer alerted him, it was too late. In that split-second the hunter realized that the missile heading straight for him had been fired not from Risk's ship but from the street below. He bellowed a curse as his ship exploded.
Risk returned his small missile launcher to subspace and watched the fiery fragments of the hunter's ship plummet to the ground. There was no way the hunter would have survived that—after all, he wasn't Risk.
Sparks suddenly flew from Risk's elbow, and a muttered curse escaped him. He'd landed a little harder than expected. Internal diagnostics told him that it should be easily repairable and wouldn't hamper transformation. All in all, not such a bad night, then. Not like he wasn't used to being damaged.
He opened the secure channel to his ship. "Go home," he stated simply, engaging the autopilot program to send the ship back to its hidden hangar. Then he transformed and sped off in a different direction. By the time the police arrived to investigate the explosion, the black and silver motorcycle had long since disappeared.
*
**Twelve stellar cycles ago**
"Hey, you're not gonna believe this! There's a new kid here today!"
"So? It's an orphanage, scrapheap. Of course there's gonna be new kids. Preds never want their kids, just like the headmasters are always tellin' us." I give him a withering look.
He actually doesn't wilt. "Sure, but this kid is a Maximal."
I jump off my bed. "No kiddin'?"
"Yeah, c'mon…the guys are already 'welcomin'' him. I figured you'd wanna come tell him yourself who's the boss around here." He grins, obviously proud that he was the one to tell me.
I don't return the grin. He's such a suck-up. I'd punch him now, but I'd rather see this new Maximal, 'cause we barely ever get those around here. So I follow.
The Preds around my age already have the new kid surrounded. They're poking and taunting him, everything that bullies are supposed to do. I'd know.
"What's goin' on?"
They all stop right away and turn to look at me. They fear me. I like that.
"The new kid's a Maximal," one says.
"Yeah? Let's have a look."
The circle opens for me and I get my first look at the Maximal. He's small and probably no more than five stellar cycles old. At ten, I tower over him. His yellow eyes are looking up at me, and his blue face is pinched up. "I want my mom," he sobs.
"You don't have a mom any more, or else you wouldn't be here, Maxie." One of the other kids shoves him, and he stumbles into me.
I end up catching him and he puts his arms around me. Normally I'd push him off and he'd be eating floor in a nano, but…
He lets go and looks up at me again, terrified. Okay, how come I haven't shown him who's boss around here yet?
The others are all staring at me. They must be wondering too. "So c'mon," one of them says, "what're you gonna do about him?"
I take one more look down at the kid. Yeah, he's really scared. Life is gonna be slag for him here since there're hardly any other Maximals. And just because this place is run by Maximals doesn't mean he'll fit in or be protected all the time. "Nothin'. And that goes for all o' you too."
One of the taller ones steps forward. "What? But he's a Maximal!"
The kid's taller than me, but that doesn't matter. He already knows that I could beat him easily if I felt like trying.
"Yeah, and?" I get right in his face. "I say you're gonna stop pickin' on him. You wanna cross me?"
He stares at me for a bit, then gets a pouting look. "Like I care," he huffs, and backs down. Yeah, he'd better.
I walk away. What did I just do? I don't get it. I'm the bully, the one who picks on and beats up the others. So what am I doing?
The kid's following me.
"What do you want?"
He jumps back a bit and cringes. "Um, n-nothin'…"
I ignore him and keep on walking, hoping he'll get it. Like I need a little Maximal tagalong? How embarrassing!
I go back to the bedroom and flop down on my bed. He didn't stop following. Now he's sitting on the bed nearest mine, the one that nobody uses because I don't want anyone sleeping close to me. The other kids know better than to even try to use that bed.
This kid doesn't. It's annoying me, but he's not getting the picture. "Look, kid…"
"Can I stay with you?"
"What?" Why would anybody want to? "Okay, maybe you don't know who I am? I'm the boss around here, okay? You do what I tell you."
He just stares at me. "Can I?"
Why isn't he afraid of me like he's supposed to be? "Okay, fine…but just for tonight, and then you're gonna have to move."
I must be glitched. Still, the kid gives me a small smile before lying down and curling up. I watch him for a bit. Okay, so maybe it doesn't feel so bad to have a kid actually looking up to me instead of just being afraid…
But it's not gonna last, so he'd better not get too comfy in that bed. He'll have to learn to be afraid of me like everyone else. I don't need a friend, least of all a Maximal one.
*
Risk doubled back on his trail twice to make certain that he hadn't been followed. Satisfied, he transformed back to robot mode and entered the old warehouse through a door that looked for all the world like it had been permanently sealed long ago. He navigated around the giant rusting metal crates stored there and stopped in front of a specific one. Hidden in its shadow was a very faint outline of a trapdoor. Risk opened it and let himself down through the hole, closing the door behind him.
The basement was dark and empty, but Risk did not need to switch to night vision to find his way. He placed his hand on a certain spot on the farthest wall. His hand passed right through and the rest of him followed suit, entering through a holographic wall that covered a hole only barely large enough for him to fit through.
Home.
The base wasn't very large; in fact it was really only one room in which Risk had managed to squeeze in his computer equipment, all his weapons and training targets, his small yet top-of-the-line CR-tank, and a bed. There wasn't much space left, but he didn't really mind. He had everything he needed right here. He had other bases hidden around the planet, but this one was where he kept his personal items and favourite weapons. This was home.
Risk began to remove his weapons, preparing to enter the CR-tank for repairs. He addressed the computer. "Perimeter report."
"No movement," the computer replied monotonically.
"Keep it that way."
"High alert acknowledged. Two new messages."
"Later."
"Acknowledged." The computer went silent.
Risk yawned and settled in to the CR-tank, looking forward to the often dreamless sleep that accompanied a repair cycle.
*
**Eleven stellar cycles ago**
"So what's with you and that Maximal?"
"What're you talkin' about?" I scowl at him. I wish kids would stop asking.
"You never made him move off that bed. You even talk to him sometimes, I've seen you." The kid puts his hands on his hips. "Ya know what I think?"
"I don't care." Can't they all leave me alone about this? It's embarrassing enough!
"I think you're goin' all soft-Spark. The Maximal's like your buddy now."
My hands ball into fists. "You better take that back. I can beat you as easy as anyone else here." I notice other kids gathering.
"Ooh, you're so scary…tough guy who plays with Maximal babies."
Some of the kids snicker. "Shut up!" I growl at them. "I do not!"
"Then how come you're always on his side, huh? You get in the way when anybody bugs him. What, you wanna be a Maximal when you grow up?"
That does it. I leap on him, pummeling him with my fists. "I am not a Maximal!" I'll show him! There's a reason why kids know better than to pick fights with me.
There's shouting all around me, and I suddenly notice it's not the usual cheering. I stop punching and stand up. They're taunting me. Me!
"You love Maximals!"
"You think you're so tough! Some Pred!"
"Soft-Spark!"
"Glitched!"
"You all shut up!" I scream. "You're gonna get it!" I rush at the nearest one and he flinches back. Yeah, he'd better be scared.
"What's goin' on?" A smaller voice suddenly pipes up from the back of the crowd.
"Stay out of it, Maxie." One of the kids looks at me a nano and then purposely shoves the Maximal so that he falls.
Everyone stares at me. The kid smirks. "You gonna do somethin' about that?"
I glare at him.
The Maximal is looking up at me. "Go away," I tell him rudely. This is all I need.
He gets up, looking kind of hurt at that. Well, what am I supposed to do? Everyone's watching! He's ruining things!
Two kids grab him before he can leave. They start pushing him around, shoving him between them, and more join in.
I'm still just standing there. I know they're doing this on purpose. They want me to do something. Well, I won't.
"Ow! Stop it!" The Maximal cries out as he gets shoved back and forth.
My hands ball into fists again, and I can feel my face twitching. I try to stay calm. Nope. Not gonna help. I'll show them that I'm still a Pred. I'm still the toughest one here. I don't care about this Maximal. I don't care about anybody.
He falls and they jerk him back up so they can push and laugh at him some more. Every few nanos one of them sneaks a look at me, still waiting for me to do something to stop them.
I still don't care. I don't. I don't. Stupid Maximal ruining everything.
He falls again, and for a nano his eyes catch mine. "Help…" he whimpers.
I shake my head. I can't! I've got a reputation to keep up, why doesn't he see that? I didn't work at becoming the toughest kid here for nothing. I can't keep doing stuff like this! He can't be my friend!
Even if he does look up to me.
One of the kids grabs him by the collar and raises a fist. "Oh, quit whinin', Maxie."
I barely know what I'm doing before I'm on top of him. Other kids try to join in, but they don't get far. "You're gonna slaggin' do what I tell you!" I yell as I punch any kid who gets near. "I said not to mess with him, so you don't! And don't mess with me!"
A strong arm suddenly grabs me around the waist and pulls me off of them, still kicking and fighting.
"That is enough!" The deep voice of the headmaster stops all the kids in their tracks.
Except me. "You hear me?" I'm still yelling, trying to squirm loose so I can get at them again. "The next guy who slaggin'—"
"I said, that's enough. And I don't want to hear any more such language!" The headmaster turns me around to face him and holds me tightly by the arm. His hand is big enough to close around my upper arm. "You again. Don't you ever stop fighting?"
I just scowl and don't answer.
"Now who started this? Was it you?"
The other kids wait in silence. I can see some of them smirking out of the corner of my eye. I stare angrily at the floor. I'm not a squealer, and they know it.
"All right, then." The headmaster looks down at me. "I know one young Predacon who will not get to play outside for the next three days. You'll be staying in your room. And no holo-comics, either."
My jaw drops. "No! Not fair!"
"I believe it's perfectly fair. Come along, now." He starts walking back to the bedroom, pulling me along.
I try to get away, but he's got a strong grip on my arm. Prying his fingers off isn't working, and neither is hitting and pushing his arm. "Let me go! I hate you!"
That doesn't slow him down any. When we get back to the bedroom he sits me down on my bed and then reaches underneath it, pulling out my two holo-comics.
I jump up and try to grab them away from him. "Don't take my stuff!" I yell at him, and my voice breaks a little. Those are mine! They're mine! No fair!
The head master sits me back down and puts the comics into one of his compartments. "You'll get them back when your punishment is over. Honestly, I don't understand why you won't learn your lesson. Fighting won't be tolerated here; you know that. You may be a Predacon, but you're going to have to learn that you can't act this way. I know you've been careful to make yourself unwanted to any prospective parents, and I don't understand why, after all we've tried to teach you…"
I tune him out. Blah, blah, blah. I hate lectures and I hate you. Go away.
"…Do you understand?"
I cross my arms and stare at the floor. "Yes, sir," I mumble. As if I'd really been listening.
"Good. Now behave, and you'll get your comics back in three days." He leaves and shuts the door behind him.
I get up and give my bed a few hard kicks before angrily throwing myself onto it again. Not fair! Punished again, and he even took away my comics! I hate him! I hate everybody! I wish I was dead.
No—I wish everyone else was dead.
The door suddenly opens a crack, and someone slips inside. It's the Maximal. He comes over to my bed, being careful to stay quiet. Nobody's supposed to come in the room during someone else's punishment. Stupid kid. I'll bet they'll catch him, and I'll get blamed.
"Hey! Psst!"
I ignore his whisper and roll over to face the wall.
He tries again. "Psst!"
"Go away!" I hiss at him. "This is your fault. You got me in trouble with everybody!"
He pauses. "Thanks for helpin'…"
"I said, go away! You ruin everything!"
I can tell he's about to start sobbing again. "Um, I brought you somethin'…"
I roll back over to tell him where he can shove it, but stop. He's holding out his hand, and there's a holo-comic in it. I just stare at him. He sneaked that in here? For me?
"I heard th' headmaster say he took yours away," he continues, still holding the comic out for me.
I take it from him, not knowing what to say.
"So you can read mine 'til you get yours back."
I finally open my mouth, but I can only think of one thing to say. "Why?"
"Cause…you're my friend." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"I am?"
"Yeah." He creeps back to the door. "Don't tell th' headmaster 'bout the comic, 'kay? Secret." He grins at me.
"…Okay…"
He leaves, and I just sit there, staring at the comic in my hand.
Friend?
*
"Repair cycle complete."
The platform rose up from the CR-tank, and Risk climbed out, flexing his now-repaired elbow. He checked his internal clock to see how long he had been in the tank, and made a face.
"Perimeter report," he demanded again.
"No movement."
Risk relaxed slightly. "Good. You never know what might be sneaking up on you while you're in the tank."
"Command not recognized."
"Right," Risk sighed. "You don't have to listen to slaggin' everything I say. All right, what have you got for me?"
"Three new messages."
"Decrypt message one. Let's see how fast this new program can do it." Risk sat down and began reloading some of his weapons.
It took the computer less than a cycle to unlock the high-level encryption. "Ready."
Risk smirked. "I love being rich enough to afford the best. Display message."
"Complying."
Lines of text appeared on the screen, and Risk read through them quickly. "Maximals," he muttered, shaking his head. "Someday I'd like to let the public know just what their government people do behind closed doors."
"Command?"
A wire and socket shot out from Risk's forearm and connected with a port on the computer. "Download mission specs: name, description, time limit, specifics." He waited a moment, his blue eyes blankly staring as he assimilated the information. "Well, at least this one requires no witnesses. I hate those public jobs." He paused, and sadness seemed to flicker over his expression for a moment.
"Send affirmative reply. High-level encryption and reroute signal," he commanded, his features once again cold and businesslike. "Decrypt and display message two."
Again he skimmed through the text on the screen. "Civilian?" he blurted. "Ugh, personal dispute, obviously. Computer, trace source and run background check. Let's make sure this guy can afford me. The best don't come cheap, and I don't work for free."
"Acknowledged."
"And decrypt and display third message while I'm waiting."
The message came up, and a look of satisfaction crossed Risk's face as he read it. "You bet your skidplate it was a job well done. Computer, begin transfer of funds from 'Drop-off' through secondary accounts. Random path, two-day delay. Half into 'Safety', half into 'Mine'."
"Acknowledged." The computer paused. "Background check completed."
"Let's see it." Risk read through the information. "Huh. Definitely civilian versus civilian. Don't get many of those any more. I hate this personal stuff. Well, download mission specs." He sighed as he absorbed the download. "Not that I care, though. He can pay; that's all that matters. Send affirmative reply. High-level encryption, and reroute it through a different path than the last message."
"Acknowledged. Command?"
Risk disconnected from the computer. "I need a break. Keep it quiet out there."
"Acknowledged. 'Break' alarm set: four megacycles. High alert set."
Risk finished reloading his weapon and laid down on his bed, pulling something from underneath it. "And shut up."
"Acknowledged." The computer entered silent mode.
*
**Nine stellar cycles ago**
I'm dreaming.
At least I think I am. But this dream feels…different from normal. It's like I'm standing here waiting for something. It's making me nervous.
The image of my friend shimmers into view, standing a little ways away. I call to him, wondering what's going on, but he doesn't seem to hear me or even realize I'm there. When I move, I don't get any closer to him. Right. Weird dream stuff. Still…
"Protect him."
The voice comes from all around me, and I can't figure out its source. "What? Who is this?"
"You will protect him."
"What do you mean? I always do! Who are you, anyway?"
"There will come a time when it will require your sacrifice."
It takes me a second to process this. "What? No way! Look, whatever you are—"
"You will. It is your destiny. You will die to save his life."
I don't like the sound of this at all. "Okay, I don't care if this is the Matrix itself talking, nobody tells me what to do with my life!"
"He has a part to play, as do you. The time will come."
I jerk awake with a gasp. It takes a moment for my senses to adjust, but I'm in my bed in the orphanage. Okay, so it was just a dream.
Weirdest slaggin' dream ever.
I sit up and look over to the bed nearest mine. He's sleeping, like everyone else. He has no idea what's just happened.
Did something even happen? It was just a dream. Not real. Right?
Wasn't it?
No. It was more. I don't know why or how, but I know this.
I keep staring at him. Over the last three years, he's become the only bot I've ever cared about. I don't know how that happened. Somehow that Maximal kid grew on me, and although I don't admit it to anyone, I think he's my friend.
Still…saying I'm gonna die to save him? No. Not gonna happen. Why should I? What makes him so special?
I'm still staring at him, and now it's just making me angrier. I don't care how special that dream-voice prophecy-thing thinks he is…this is not gonna come true. I'm gonna make sure it doesn't.
But how? The voice didn't give me any specifics. It didn't tell me how or when this is going to happen. How am I supposed to know? How am I supposed to avoid it? Only one way, as far as I can tell.
I get up quietly and start packing the little personal items I actually own, which isn't much. My three holo-comics are under the bed, along with a couple of photos and some credits that I've stolen from other kids. I guess it's a good thing I don't have much…all of it fits into my personal compartments. I can travel light.
Once that's done, I head for the window. They think they lock it every night, but I know how to open it. It makes a bit of noise, and I turn to check if anyone heard it. My friend stirs a bit, but doesn't wake up. I give a little sigh of relief. Primus knows I don't wanna have to explain this one to anybody, especially not him. He probably wouldn't want me to leave. Right…stay here and die protecting him. Not this Pred, thanks.
Halfway out the window I can't help looking back at him one last time. I wonder if I might miss him. But if I never see him again, I can't die saving him, now, can I? "Sorry, kid, you're on your own now," I whisper as I climb all the way out the window.
It's only a one-level drop to the ground, and normally I could do it easily. But this time I land a little wrong and something in my knee makes a snapping sound. I curse. Great. Could this get any better?
Self-repairs should take care of it, though. In the meantime, I limp away, hoping that this time they won't find me and drag me back kicking and screaming like they did so many times when I was a kid. This time it's different. I can't go back there…not with him there.
One last look, and I'm gone. Nobody's gonna tell me what to do with my life.
*
The computer beeped, and Risk looked up from his holo-comic. "Yeah, yeah, one more cycle. Lemme just finish this part." He read a little farther, then shut the comic off and placed it under his bed.
"Time to go to work." Risk began checking his weapons and attaching them as he mentally went over the information he had downloaded for the first assignment. "Okay, according to this, this guy works late…so it's probably best to get him as he leaves work. There shouldn't be any witnesses around. Computer, show me the location of Maximal government building twelve-C."
The map appeared on the screen, and Risk gave a slight groan. "Great, right in the middle of downtown Cybertropolis. And it's getting harder for me to get in and out of there unnoticed, now that half the hunters on Cybertron have a copy of my slaggin' energy signature." He sighed. "Well, can't say I don't love a challenge. All right, give me a detailed layout of the three blocks surrounding the building."
The screen changed to show each building and its floor plan. "Go 3-D," Risk commanded as he attached a wire from the computer port to his targeting eye, virtually bringing him inside the map. "Okay, let's see…setup point, escape route…" he murmured as he looked around, checking for good vantage points. Only one of the nearby buildings provided a clear shot at the government building's exit. "Computer, access security information for this building: guards, systems."
"Access denied. Building owned by Synergy Corporation."
"Then hack into it! And make sure they don't try to trace us."
"Complying." There was a few moments' delay, and then information began popping up on the screen.
"That's better. Display it in the map."
The security measures appeared around the virtual building, and Risk took note of all of them. "Okay, not so bad…I can figure a way to get around these if I have to. Looks like this building is the best bet…there aren't any good setup points anywhere else."
"Command?"
"Hang on a cycle. I'm not liking this escape route much." Risk groaned slightly. "Just my luck that I'd have to use a corporate building…they have better security than even government ones." He made a run-through of the building, but various security measures kept hampering his movements. "No, too slow! Slaggit."
"Command?"
"Shut up, will you? Gimme a chance to figure this out!" Risk's tone was more than frustrated as he ran through a different route only to find himself face to face with several virtual guards. "What is with this place? They've got security out the exhaust port!" He paused, thinking. "Synergy Corporation…where have I heard that name before? Computer, give me the specs on this company."
"Synergy Corporation: nanotechnology and Transformation. Programs and Transformation modifications available through—"
"Cut this slag and dig deeper. What does this place really do?"
"Retrieving…" The computer paused for longer this time as it hacked into more secure files. "Arms systems provider. Research into core programming modification."
Risk's eyes widened. "Weapons and brainwashing?" He shook his head slowly. "Well, it had to be something…all these corporations have their secrets. Still, I don't think that's it. I know I remember that name from somewhere…"
"Command?"
"Check old mission records. Have I worked for them before? Or killed one of theirs?"
"Searching records…negative."
"What about equipment? Did I ever purchase anything from them?"
"Long-distance targeting scope for TS-24 rifle is traceable to Synergy Corporation."
"Maybe that's it." Risk didn't sound entirely convinced. He pondered that for a moment, then shrugged. "I haven't used that gun in stellar cycles now. It's obsolete." He returned his attention to the 3-D map. "Anyway, I've got a job to plan."
Several run-throughs later, he finally disconnected himself from the virtual map with a sigh. "Looks like I'll have to go in and out through the roof." He scowled. "I hate that—so exposed to fliers."
"Command?"
Once again Risk connected himself to the computer. "Download map layout with selected route." He sighed again. "I really don't feel like doing this one right away. It needs at least one full simulation run. Hm…time limit: four solar days before target transfers. Plenty of time. Let's see about this other job, then…the stupid personal one."
Risk checked his download for that mission. "Okay, looks easy enough…target lives alone; easily accessible apartment building. I know where that is." He scanned through more of the file and groaned slightly. "Preferred method: accident or random attack. Primus, those are no fun at all. Okay, access physical description." His internal computer brought up the information, and Risk gasped. More than just the physical description had been absorbed into his memory. "'My fem has been seeing this slagheap behind my…'" Risk said aloud, and his face twisted in anger. "What the—? What makes this malfunctioning piece of scrap think I need to hear about this? I don't want to know about their glitched lives! Slaggin' idiots think I care or something?" He picked up an ammunition clip and hurled it to the floor.
"Command?"
"Send a message to Mission four-zero-nine-one Contact. Tell him the price just went up by five thousand credits. And if he doesn't like it, he can just take his business to some second-rate wannabe."
"Acknowledged."
Annoyed, Risk sat down on the edge of his bed and folded his arms sulkily.
"Message sent. Command?"
Risk picked up his practice gun and almost absently fired it at a target on the far wall, effortlessly hitting the direct center. "Let me know when message reply is received. Until then, shut up and run program Target-Four-Five."
"Acknowledged." Once again the computer entered silent mode. Holographic targets were projected around the room, simulating different distances, and Risk vented his frustrations by shooting each one of them dead on.
*
**Eight stellar cycles ago**
I'm starving.
My systems are aching for energon. I haven't felt this low in a long time. I gotta get some, soon. But I don't have any creds. I spent them all…again. Now I'm gonna have to go out and get more.
The energon I had should have lasted a little longer…I guess that's what I get for having to spend all that energy running from those guys yesterday. Should've been more careful stealing from them. Next time I'll be better and I won't get seen, especially not by guys like that. Primus, they would have killed me if they'd caught me. I was lucky that police car passed by and made them take off.
I squeeze out of the hole in the wall of the condemned apartment building whose basement I call home. Nice home, huh? Filthy, falling apart…but at least nobody else lives there but me, and I can stay hidden from the police. If they caught me they'd take me back to the orphanage. But I'm not gonna get caught.
Okay, so there have been times when I've thought about going back. It's hard out here. At least in the orphanage I had a proper bed and enough energon. But I can't. The thought of that prophecy… If I want my life to be mine, this is just the way it's gonna have to be. At least out here I'm nowhere near that Maximal.
I drag my jetboard out behind me. Yeah, it's stolen. I can't afford something like this. But I've been spending all my creds upgrading it lately. If I can get good enough at it, maybe I can get myself out of this hole. But for now, it's all about energon. I step on, fire it up and head towards the city to find a good mark. I need creds, and I need them now.
The jetboard is on its highest speed, and I try to push it faster. It's not nearly good enough to really be able to compete yet. If I can get some spare creds, I'm gonna upgrade it again and make it faster. Then I'll show people what I can do. I know there are competitions with cash prizes, and I aim to win some someday.
I speed through the streets, weaving around other vehicles. Just through that alley and over another block or so, there are easy pickings of rich businessmen on their way home from work. I can lift enough of their creds to get the energon I need and then some. I soar down the alley, barely thinking about anything else but how low I am. I hit the end of the alley still at top speed, and a horn blasts my auditory sensors. It throws me off balance for a moment, and I see a vehicle headed straight at me. I try to leap clear, but it's not gonna be far enough.
It's gonna hit me.
I'm gonna die!
Something inside me laughs at that, saying well, I guess that prophecy was wrong, wasn't it…
As I leap, my jetboard flies out from under me and somehow manages to hit the vehicle's hover system underneath it. The car swerves, and clips me as it roars past.
"Glitched Pred kids!" I hear the driver yell out his window.
I'm too shocked to reply. My fluid pump is hammering in my chest. That was close. Impossibly close. I should be dead. If it hadn't been for the jetboard falling the way it did…
The jetboard! It's lying near the curb, and I get up and hobble over to it, holding my damaged leg where the car hit me. "Aw, no, no, no!" There's a long crack running from end to end. It's busted. And I can never afford to fix it.
"Hey, you okay?"
I look up to see a Pred about my age standing next to me.
There's the urge to run, but I can't with my leg the way it is. I pick up the jetboard. "Fine," I mumble. "I'll be fine." I'm not fine. Everything's ruined.
"You don't look so fine. And aw, your jetboard…"
I notice that he's holding one under his arm. I want it. I wonder for a moment if I could steal it.
"Hey, listen…my dad fixes jetboards. I'll bet he could fix that."
"Yeah?" My hopes soar for a moment, then fall flat again. "I don't have any creds, though."
The guy shrugs. "Whatever. I'll tell him it's for a friend or something. I saw the way you were moving on it…you were pushing it faster than that model is supposed to be able to go. I'd say you're pretty glitched to be going that fast around here, but maybe you can show me how at the park?"
"I guess." I stagger suddenly as the hunger hits again. I'm desperate. "Listen, do you have any energon? Or at least some spare creds?"
He hands me a piece of energon. "Here. You look like you need it after all this. Oh, I'm Grid."
I'm suddenly embarrassed that I don't have a name yet. At my age, you should have been named by parents or have chosen one. I try to avoid the subject as I quickly consume the energon. "Hey."
He looks at me like he's expecting more. He's not going to get it. I'll get a name when I figure things out.
"Anyway, you wanna head over to my dad's workshop now? Or maybe you wanna go home and get repaired first?"
"Home? Uh…no." I'm embarrassed again. No way am I telling anyone about the way I live. "Self-repairs should fix it pretty soon. We can go get the board fixed." That's a straight lie. I haven't had a self-repair upgrade since I was in the orphanage. The program works so slowly that I'll probably have to fix my leg myself when I get home.
He looks down at my damaged leg, and then shrugs. "Okay." He starts walking, and I limp after him.
Well, this is working out pretty good. I survived that accident, and here's a guy willing to do stuff for me for free. Okay, for a small jetboard lesson. Easy. It's not like I like him—he kind of sounds like a wimp—but that doesn't matter. I can use him. He probably knows how to get into competitions, where I can get good board upgrades…and he looks like he always has some creds. I have to stop myself from eyeing his hip compartment. No, get the board fixed first.
I stare at the crack in my board and my thoughts wander back to the accident. I really, really should have been killed there. Talk about some lucky coincidence with the way the board hit the vehicle. Why'd I get out of that one?
I suddenly remember my last thought right before the vehicle swerved. I'd thought that that weird dream prophecy was about to be proved wrong.
But it wasn't. I'm still here. The prophecy is still standing. As long as I'm still alive, it can still come true later. Did it stop me from being killed? Does it really have that much power?
It can't. That's just weird. It was just a coincidence. If the same thing were to happen again, I'd be killed. Right? I mean, the prophecy can't keep me alive through everything.
Except it did. Something did, anyway. The accident, and those guys chasing me yesterday…I got through both because I somehow got lucky.
Oh, no way. There's gotta be a way around this. I mean, there are plenty of things that could happen, and I don't plan to meet up with that Maximal again.
I'm gonna get this board up to speeds people have never seen before.
*
"Reply received."
"Let's see it. End Targeting Program." Risk waited a moment for the computer to decrypt the message, then read it. He smirked. "I figured he wouldn't change his mind, even with the extra fee. Nobody wants to settle for second best."
Risk set down his practice gun and checked his real one, making sure it was loaded and functioning. "Well, may as well get this over with and just get the money."
"Command?"
Risk stepped towards the doorway. "What's it like out there?"
"No movement for seven hundred meters in all directions."
"Good. I'm going out."
"Auto-security functions enabled. Dropping shields."
Risk exited quickly through the holographic wall and climbed up into the warehouse. As always, his computer left him exactly one cycle to get clear of the building before enabling the shields once more. Staying in the shadows, Risk opened the link to his ship. "Meet me, Location one-four."
Risk made his way through the darkened, empty streets of the mostly abandoned industrial sector. The few street bots who lived around there paid him no heed, and as always he avoided eye contact with any of them. Not that any of them ever really looked up; they all seemed to simply wallow in their dreary existence. Risk had seen the same ones around for stellar cycles. They had never been able to pull themselves out of the gutter as he had done. No ambition, no drive.
Something moved near him and he whirled, catching the arm of a small bot who had been reaching for one of his compartments. The kid looked surprised, then frightened for a moment before finally settling his features into an expression of defiance that Risk knew well.
"You looking for trouble, kid?" Risk noted the tarnished Predacon symbol on the kid's shoulder.
"Hey, lemme go!" The kid tries to jerk his arm away. "I didn't do nothin'!"
"You were trying to lift my creds." The dim streetlight glinted on the silver edge of Risk's targeting eye, and he noticed the kid staring at it and his weapons.
"So?"
A slight smirk attempted to show itself on Risk's face. This kid definitely had nerve--the last one Risk had caught trying to steal from him had started sobbing upon getting a good look at his eye and weapons.
Risk let him go. "So trying isn't good enough." He opened a compartment and flipped ten credits towards the young bot. "Don't get caught next time."
Wholly dumbfounded, the kid caught the credits and stared at Risk a moment before running off. Risk watched him disappear back into the shadows before continuing on his way.
His jet was waiting for him on top of a two-story warehouse. Risk did a quick check to make sure that no one was watching, then fired a line to the roof and rappelled upwards. "Open," he said quietly, and the cockpit obeyed his command. Risk settled into the jet and took off, heading for the apartment building that housed his target.
*
**Seven stellar cycles ago**
"Dear Primus, did you see that crash?"
"There's no way he could have survived that!"
Ow.
"Holy slag, he is still alive! Call for a repair team! Hurry!"
Yeah. Still alive.
Slaggit.
"Kid, can you hear me? We're going to try and stabilize your systems until we can get you to the repair bay."
Yeah. You do that. And in the meantime, don't call me "kid". I've been on my own for two stellar cycles already.
I wait for internal diagnostics reports, but they're not coming. I must have damaged those systems too. I try to move, but nothing seems to be working. I…think I'm in pieces. Yeah, it is as painful as it sounds.
They're moving me. I think. My optics are damaged, so I'm not really sure. My auditory sensors seem to be functioning perfectly, though.
"It's incredible that he's still alive. I've never seen anyone survive a jetboard crash at that speed!"
"You hear that, kid? You are unbelievably lucky!"
Lucky. Right. That's what I am. It's just dumb luck that I always survive. I'd laugh if I could, but I only manage a small groan.
Different voices now. Must be the repair team. "He's conscious. Kid, can you tell me your name?"
Conscious, yeah. I always am. I think it's fate's idea of a sick joke. I don't get to die, but I always get to feel what it's like to live through trying.
"It's all right, I recognize this kid. We have to pick him up nearly every other decacycle. Kid's got a death wish or something; always pulling some dangerous stunt or another. He calls himself Risk."
A death wish? Nah…just another test. And another failure. That slaggin' prophecy still won't let me die before my time, even in an accident. Okay, so I'm not as careful as I should be. Why bother, when you know you'll always survive?
"Did you get all the pieces?" His voice is quiet, but I can still hear him. I wonder vaguely how many pieces my body is in. Not that it matters, as long as my Spark keeps on pulsing. And fate will make sure of that.
It's not fair. If life and survival can be a matter of will, why can't death? I just want to know that I'm in control of my life, not some stupid prophecy. I want to prove that stupid thing wrong, just to say that I could die…if I wanted to.
I groan again. It hurts too much to think any more. This has to be the worst accident I've had yet.
"Okay, Risk, we're going to manually put you in repair mode so we can begin. You won't feel a thing, and we'll bring you back online for recovery."
Yes. Please. Let me pretend I'm dead for a while.
Things begin to slow down, and my thoughts become hazy. The voices start to sound far away. "Think he's learned his lesson this time? Those extreme sports are so dangerous…"
Not dangerous enough…
*
Risk set his jet down carefully on the roof of the adjacent building, keeping it cloaked. This was a fairly low-cost residential area, and it was unlikely that there would be anyone around with the ability to see through the cloak. He opened the cockpit, climbed out silently and went to the edge of the roof, checking his gun as he walked. The gun itself was low-tech, little more than what a street bot might have.
"Eighteenth floor, west end," he murmured to himself, concentrating on that level of the apartment building across the street. He accessed the computer's building map and counted the windows, his eyes settling on the one belonging to apartment 18202. The window was dark. "Perfect."
Risk scanned the distance between the buildings, obviously too far to jump safely. He backed up to the far side of the roof and transformed. The tires of his motorcycle mode squealed as he revved his engine and then took off across the roof, building speed as he neared the edge.
The jump was accomplished easily, and Risk landed fairly smoothly on the roof of the apartment building, transforming back to robot mode all in one swift motion. Picking the lock on the access door was simple, finished in fewer than ten millicycles. Risk entered the building and took the stairs down to the eighteenth floor.
There was no one in the hallway as Risk made his way to the apartment. "Scanner," he said quietly, and his targeting eye switched modes, letting him see through the door and walls of the apartment. There was no one home.
The door was keycode and passcard access, but Risk had it open in only a little longer than it had taken to open the roof door. He entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. The place was fairly average, with nothing that Risk would consider stealing. He checked the time and sighed. "Time to get this show on the road, I guess," he murmured. He began opening drawers and cabinets all over the apartment, throwing their contents onto the floor and pocketing any small thing that looked like it might have some value. When he was finished, he stood back to admire his handiwork. Sure enough, the apartment looked like it had been ransacked by a burglar looking for valuables. The few items Risk had pocketed would further that assumption, although he neither wanted nor intended to keep them. All part of the show.
Finished that part, Risk had nothing to do but wait until the target arrived. He sat down in the bedroom and couldn't help noticing a photo of the target and a fem sitting near the bed. His eyes narrowed and he reached over and slammed the photo facedown.
The door beeped as it accepted the passcard, and Risk hurriedly moved into position just out of sight of the entrance. The target entered, closed the door behind him, and flipped on the light. There was a gasp as the bot saw the chaos of his apartment. Risk peeked around the corner for a moment, double-checking the description and letting his targeting program confirm it. He made a face at the small message that popped up along with the description. "Can't wait to delete this record," he muttered angrily as he stepped into view.
Another gasp. "What are you—"
Risk didn't give the bot time to answer before he fired, hitting the bot once in the chest just to the right of the Spark, and then once dead-on. The bot slumped to the floor, optics going dark as his Spark faded.
Risk holstered his gun, scowling as he stared at the laser burn from his first shot. "Primus, I hate pretending to miss," he grumbled. He bent down and opened the bot's hip compartments, taking any credits he had on him. Then he rose, opened the door, and exited the room as if nothing had happened.
His internal computer stated a proximity alert, and Risk hurried towards the stairwell, looking back once as he rounded the corner to see a fem stopping in front of the apartment he had just come from. He was at the door to the stairwell when he heard her high-pitched scream, broken by a sob. "Must be the contact's cheating fem…" he murmured to himself as he raced up the stairs. His expression suddenly twisted. "Slaggit, get this out of my head now! Computer, job is complete. Delete mission specs! Delete them now!"
The computer complied, and Risk exited the building onto the roof. He picked up speed, transforming without breaking stride and making the jump across the alleyway to the adjacent rooftop. The landing was not as smooth as the previous one, and Risk had to fight to keep control of it and himself before transforming back to robot mode. Although the details of the personal motivations behind the job had been purged, his expression showed that the anger had not. "Open," he ordered his jet, and quickly jumped in and closed the cockpit. He sat there for a few moments, seething. "Never wanted to know it in the first place!" he blurted suddenly, slamming a fist against the window of the cockpit.
"Attention—police vehicles approaching."
The computer's voice snapped Risk's attention back to the situation. In a moment his expression was cold once more. He cloaked the jet and took off, heading off in a direction opposite from home as always, in case of pursuit.
*
**Six stellar cycles ago**
"So you wanna do what?"
"Assassin."
"Why?"
"Why not? Can you think of any other job like it? It's dangerous, it takes skill…and it's profitable." I grin just thinking about it. "Besides, this whole extreme sports thing just doesn't do it for me any more." I put my arm around the fem beside me and she smiles back. I know she's impressed. I can't seem to remember her name, though…oh, well. Not like it matters. I doubt I'll see her again after tonight anyway, just like all those other fems.
Grid just stares back at me. "What, not enough of a thrill any more? I mean, you survived some of the nastiest crashes on record. And you want something even more dangerous? I like living on the edge as much as the next Pred, but…"
"Well, I'm not just any Pred, now, am I?" I have to speak louder as the music in the club picks up. "You know it. Practically immortal, remember?" I try to add that last part flippantly, but I can hear the contempt in my own voice.
"C'mon, buddy, you're not even seventeen yet. You really sure you want to get into something like that? Why don't you just try to join security forces or something?"
Don't call me "buddy". You're as much a suck-up as any of the kids from the orphanage.
I roll my eyes. "Because you have to have gone to school for that? And following orders like a drone just isn't my style. I work solo, and I don't like anyone else trying to tell me how to run my life. Besides…"—I smirk and open one of my leg compartments slightly—"I spent nearly everything I had on this, and I'm gonna put it to good use."
It's funny how Grid's eyes go wide when he sees the gun. The fem looks even more impressed. She's the type who likes hanging around the "dangerous" guys, obviously. Just looking for a thrill. Works for me.
Grid looks like he's going through a core processor malfunction. "Risk, I can't believe you brought that in here! It's bad enough that you're underage and you sneaked in. If the Maximals catch you…" He's dropped his voice now to a level just barely audible above the music.
Wimp. I've always thought so. If he didn't have credits I could borrow in a pinch and easy access to the best jetboarding stuff, I'm sure I wouldn't even speak to him. He's always willing to settle for second best because he won't take enough chances.
I close the compartment. "For somebody who calls himself a daredevil, you're pretty tame."
"I'd rather not get a criminal record! It's hard enough for a Pred to get a job!"
"Oh, quit worrying. It's mine, not yours. You can stay cozy and safe and get some dead-end job. Me, I'm gonna become the best. And once I get established and earn some creds, I'm even gonna get me a good transformation. Maybe a motorcycle." Yeah, I like the sound of that.
The fem seems to think so, anyway. She leans over and whispers to me. She's hanging all over me now…not that I'm complaining. I wonder if Grid is jealous at all…he never gets girls like I do.
"You're glitched, Risk…you're gonna get yourself killed."
That's sort of the point, slag-for-brains.
"…Or I can live just barely off the streets for the rest of my life. I never went to school after the orphanage, so I missed most of that Maximal 'education'. Oh, and that's another thing…'orphanage escapee' will look really good on my resume when I apply for a job, won't it? And don't think they wouldn't find out about that…Maximals check everything about any Pred who applies for anything."
"Well, don't expect me to bail you out when you get in trouble."
I never did. Primus, people like him are annoying. I don't need anybody to take care of me. Ever.
"Well, when I'm filthy rich and all of Cybertron knows the name Risk, you can think about how wrong you were." I turn to the fem. "So…you wanna hit one of the back rooms?"
She smiles. "Sounds like a good time."
I get up from the table, leading her by the arm. Grid is just shaking his head at me. Let him. "So long, Grid." I pat him on the shoulder as I go by. "Let me know if you want your future boss taken care of or something."
He gives me a somewhat dirty look and refuses to reply. Whatever. I really don't think I'll be seeing him or my other sports acquaintances much after this night anyway. I've got a career to launch.
The fem and I enter one of the very dimly lit back rooms. I still don't know her name.
*
Risk landed his jet silently on top of the warehouse and jumped out. "Go home," he told it as he turned away, not even bothering to watch it take off. He jumped down from the roof, landing lightly, and began making his way back to his base, keeping a wary eye open for possible pursuers. There seemed to be none. Once again, he'd gotten away cleanly. "Too easy," he muttered sulkily. "That's the last time I do a civilian job. No challenge, no thrill, no way."
He walked on, passing the street bots that lay around. He ignored them, instead taking the small items he'd stolen from his compartments and inspecting them. "Useless junk," he said. "What do I need with scrap like this?"
Without looking down, he dropped a fairly expensive-looking timepiece in front of a metal crate that was the home of a street bot as he passed. Out of the corner of his eye, Risk saw a grimy Predacon kid watching him from the other side of the street. Risk nonchalantly tossed some of the dead bot's credits in the kid's direction and continued on, at points dropping all the stolen objects and credits. He never looked back to see various street kids rush out from their hiding places to pick them up.
As he neared his base, he double-checked to make sure that he hadn't been followed and opened the link to his computer. "Perimeter report."
"Unit Risk. No other movement."
Risk entered the building, dropped through the trapdoor and passed through the holographic wall. He hung up the gun he'd used and once more took up his practice gun, taking a shot at one of the targets on the wall. "Computer, send confirmation to Mission four-zero-nine-one Contact: Mission Complete. Include details for drop-off of funds. High-level encryption and reroute signal."
"Acknowledged."
"And get me some television. That stupid job was nothing, and I'm bored."
"Acknowledged." The computer paused for a moment as it redirected signals to mask its location. The screen flickered on, picking up a random channel. The late news was on, and the reporter was standing outside the apartment building Risk had just come from.
"…was murdered in his apartment tonight, apparently the victim of a burglary gone wrong. Police speculate that he surprised a burglar in the act, who shot him before escaping with some credits and small valuables. However, rumours are already swirling that this may have been more than a simple burglary attempt, as Taze has been romantically linked to the fem of millionaire—"
"Change the channel," Risk ordered, scowling. "I just got rid of the stupid personal information for that."
The computer complied instantly, switching to an espionage movie. Annoyed and no longer interested, Risk flopped down on his bed. "Nah, just turn it off. Boring stuff." The computer screen went dark, and Risk fished out his holo-comic from under his bed and turned it to where he'd left off. He was just getting settled when his computer beeped.
"One new message."
Risk set down his comic with a slight huff of irritation. "Already? Decrypt and display." He got up and went to the screen, growing more furious as he read. "My fault? My fault? Computer, this guy must still be online right now. Locate him and give me direct voice contact on a secure channel."
"Acknowledged. Location confirmed. Channel open."
"All right, listen up," Risk said angrily.
"Who is this?" The voice sounded as accusing as the message had been.
"You know who this is. Now, you listen—I did the job, and I did it how you wanted. He's been terminated, and it looks like a burglary. Those stupid rumours are your problem."
"There should have been no doubt as to what happened! Now the media has already started to put things together!"
"Hey, you let the public know about your personal life, this is what happens. Your life, your problem. You wanted this done. Now you pay up, or I come and take it out of your skidplate—and you know I never miss. Clear?"
"Clear." The voice was tight with repressed anger. "The funds will be transferred within the megacycle."
"Good. Now don't ever contact me again or I'll make sure your message gets rerouted to the police." Risk ended the communication. "Junkpile reject," he growled.
"Command?"
Risk paced the floor angrily. "He has the bearings to blame me because they might figure out he had a part in it? To the Inferno with the fee, I should have rerouted that conversation to the police comms! Just another one on the pile for me, but it'd serve that piece of scrap right!" He fired at another target, and kept doing so until his fury eased somewhat.
Drained, he finally put up his gun, once more in control. "But no idiot's gonna make me slag my reputation." His voice was steady and calm. "No more personal jobs. Computer, scan all incoming messages from now on and flag for anything suggesting civilian dispute."
"Acknowledged."
Risk sighed tiredly and opened a sliding compartment on the wall. He selected an energon cube and attached his feeder tubes to it as he lay down on his bed. "I'll do that other job night after tomorrow. Keep it quiet out there…I'm going to sleep."
"Acknowledged. 'Sleep' alarm set: nine megacycles. High alert set." The computer went into silent mode.
Again Risk opened his holo-comic, but it wasn't long before his optics went dark and the comic fell to the floor along with the empty energon cube.
*
**Five stellar cycles ago*
I can do this. No problem.
Okay, so this one is gonna be harder to do than those easy jobs I've been pulling for gang members, but I have to start moving up in the world, right? I'm sick of catering to those lowlives for the little bit of creds they pay me. I'm not interested in furthering their little wars any more. Maximals against Preds, Preds against Preds…who cares? The one good thing is that it did get my name out there…but this job is gonna make my name if I can do it right.
That, and make me rich enough to get a better place and upgrade my computer and myself. I have to get some better equipment if I'm really going to go anywhere in this business.
I still can barely believe I'm about to do this. Since when do polished rich-looking bots approach someone like me on the street to do work for them? He said he'd heard about me and that he knew I could get the job done. He wouldn't say who he was, but I have a pretty good idea. When you live on the streets, you know who owns them—and it isn't those lowlife gang members. That guy isn't the top, but I figure he's pretty high up. None of the street bots that knew anything would even get close to this guy.
This is a good spot, I think. Clear shot at the doorway, plus a pretty clean escape route. It doesn't matter how important he is. He can die from a well-placed shot to the Spark or core processor just as easily as any punk on the street.
Right, I'm not nervous. I've taken out more dangerous guys than this in the gang wars. But then again, the police didn't care. The government didn't care. This is some high-level slag I'm messing with.
The police have most of this area cordoned off, and they haven't been letting anyone in without the proper authorization for over a day now. Maybe they'll wonder later how someone like me was able to get in past the security they set up. Simple enough, when you hide out in the building two days early. Stupid police should think to make sure everyone is out too.
Here he comes.
He's got a police escort. That doesn't matter…they'll never see this coming. I aim carefully through the scope on my rifle, targeting the guy's head, right on his Maximal insignia. I feel like I've been training all this time just for this moment.
I fire.
He falls, and the police immediately surround him. Too late for them to do anything for him, though. I quickly disconnect the scope from my gun and put both into their holsters. The police are already shouting and pointing in this direction…time to get out of here. Now the hard part begins…half of this job is escaping alive so that you can collect your fee.
I know the police are already making their way into this building, so escaping through the front door is definitely out. I'm on the seventh floor, so there's no way I can jump out the window without damaging myself. But I knew all this already. That's why I used the cash advance I was given to get a couple of things I needed.
I race down the empty hallway to the other end of the building and pull a detonator from one of my compartments. The charge is barely above the level of a kids' smoke bomb, but it'll do. I press the button, and it blows.
Well, "pops" is more like it. If it works, it should cause the small stack of furniture I'd made next to a window in the far corner one level down to fall over. I listen for the sound, then break the window next to me at the same time. The police should be below that level—they'll hear that glass break instead and think it's me. Simple, but effective. If it hadn't worked, they'd be here by now.
A quick look around shows that the police haven't surrounded the building yet. This side is still clear, and the next building over is dark and empty. I take another new toy from a compartment, aim, and fire a line across to the building. Then I jump.
I didn't do this right. I realize as I'm swinging that the line is too long, and I'm not gonna hit where I thought I would. I go crashing through the window one level lower than expected, hitting the frame as I do so. The impact rips off part of my shoulder plating. The wiring underneath sparks painfully, but there's no time to think about that now. I get up as quickly as I can and start running for the stairs, suddenly realizing that something is nagging at me. There had been a shadow moving in that window that I should have hit. Someone had been in there.
Except nobody was supposed to be. All these buildings were supposed to be clear at this time. Maybe it was just my imagination or something…but imagination normally doesn't leave you with that bad feeling that something's really, really wrong.
I enter the stairwell, jump onto the railing and slide down. As I'm doing that, I can hear something else…footsteps. Hurrying down the stairs.
It wasn't my imagination. Someone was expecting me.
When I get halfway between the second and third levels, I vault the railing and jump down the rest of the way. Whoever's behind me hasn't given up—I can hear him coming closer. He's being quiet, but when you've been living the past few stellar cycles on the streets, you know when you're being followed. And by my guess, it's no cop.
I exit that stairway at ground level in a slight panic. I know my little distraction won't hold the cops, and whoever's chasing me has thrown off my original escape plan. I look towards the nearest exit, but I can already see police moving out there. Slag. Slag, slag, slag. I'm in trouble. Come on, think. Think fast.
Across the hallway, there's a door marked "Sub-Level". I bolt for it and am barely through it before I hear the guy come out of the stairs. There's no way he didn't notice this door closing. My shoulder suddenly sparks loudly, and that doesn't help either. I race down the stairs to the sub-level, flicking on my basic night vision in the near-pitch darkness. I know the guy'll do the same, and he'll be able to find me no matter where I try to hide down here. The occasional sparks from my shoulder will light up any heat-sensors easily.
Not that there are a lot of places to hide in the first place. The sub-level is just one big room with a large fan at one end. Its blades are moving fairly slowly, but not slow enough to make an easy jump through them to escape into the cooling tunnel system. There has to be some way I can distract the guy so I can get the jump on him. My shoulder sparks again, reminding me once more that I'm a bright flashing target in night vision.
Well, maybe I can give him another target. I clench my jaw, knowing this is gonna hurt.
He's inside now, coming down the stairs carefully. I pull out my gun, noting that it's nothing compared to the one in his hand. Definitely no cop. As soon as he looks in my direction, I'm scrap. But hopefully he won't.
Damaged wiring suddenly sparks, and he whirls and fires straight at it. He hits it dead on.
I take that exact moment to fire at him. The shot hits him square in the head, and he topples down the final five stairs, his gun flying from his hand. He doesn't move, and I cautiously make my way over to him, keeping my gun carefully trained on his head. Over to my right, a small fire is burning itself out on the floor. He nearly vaped that wiring. My shoulder hurts even more after having that chunk of wiring ripped out, but it worked.
Good thing, too…that was the quickest shot I've ever seen. I'd have been dead in a nano if that sparking wiring had been attached to me. I step closer to him, wanting to make sure he's offline. His gun is lying a couple of meters from him, and I want it. As I pass close to him, the dim glow of the small fire gives just enough light to see the smoking black spot on the back of his head and his dark optics. I smirk. Hah. Got him. That's what he gets for trying to kill me. Stupid Maximal…hey, wait a cycle.
I take a closer look at the Maximal insignia on his head. Half of it has been burnt away by my shot, and underneath it there's a Predacon one. My jaw drops. He's Predacon. And he's got that same polished look as the guy who approached me.
No way. No way.
Anger builds in me. They're not gonna get away with this. I step past him, my eye on that gun. It's more high-tech and obviously more powerful than the one I've got. And now it's mine.
A hand suddenly closes around my lower leg and pulls it out from under me. I can't help crying out in surprise as I hit the ground hard, dropping my gun. "You're going to pay for that, you little punk," a voice growls.
I swear that all my systems freeze for a few millicycles. I twist around to see the other assassin, online and seething with rage. My eyes go wide and my jaw drops. Oh, slag. His helmet must have shielding…my gun wasn't powerful enough to get all the way through.
I am in deep, deep slag.
I try to kick my leg loose and crawl away. "Let go of me!"
"You really thought you could kill me that easily? I think you need a lesson, kid." He wrenches my leg, pulling me back so he can reach me easier. My gun is well out of reach now, and this guy is bigger and stronger than me. I can't remember the last time I was this scared. I must look it too, because the guy starts to laugh.
"What's the matter, punk? Not ready for the big time? Let me show you what happens when you try to play with the big bots." The first punch snaps my head to the side, making me see static for a moment. Before I can recover, the bot grabs my chin, forcing me to face him as he raises his fist again with a smirk. He starts hitting me again and again, easily blocking any attempt I make to fight back.
"Slaggin' scrapheap…lemme go!" I try to roll or crawl away, but he keeps pulling me back and hitting me even harder, denting my face and chest. When I throw up my arms to try and protect myself, he just knocks them away and keeps at it. I start cursing, calling him every name I've ever learned on the streets.
"You've got quite a mouth on you, kid," he sneers as he slams my head against the floor. "Too bad there's no processor connected to it."
My internal computer starts giving me damage reports, and it's getting hard to keep my thoughts straight. The computer suggests a shutdown before my processor gets damaged, but I fight against that. Still, I don't know how much longer I can stay online. I feel like every system is getting rattled.
Finally he lets up. "Hope you got the message, kid. It's something you can take with you to the Inferno." He reaches for one of his compartments.
"No…" Primus, he's gonna kill me! I try one more time to get away, but he grabs my damaged shoulder and holds me there, his fingers digging into the bare circuitry. I can't help letting out a small cry of pain. That hurts! Slag, I'm in so much trouble, I'm in so much trouble…
My hands search for anything I can use to protect myself as he pulls out an energon switchblade. Panic's rising again…there's nothing, I have nothing!
Wait…my fingers close around my rifle scope, which has fallen half out of its holster. The guy flicks on the switchblade, and raises it to strike. One chance. With a growl I bring the scope up and drive it as deep as I can into his optic.
He roars in pain and lets go of me to clutch at the scope sticking out of his sparking optic. I quickly scramble away, barely avoiding the energon blade as he brings it down, and lunge for his gun. By the time I grab it and turn towards him, he's already almost on me again. I fire, hitting him point-blank just at the edge of his helmet. For a moment it's like he's frozen, then he collapses limply, his undamaged optic going dark. I know he's dead this time. The hole in his head goes almost all the way through, and I can see that nothing is functioning inside. Got him right in the core processor, just like that Maximal outside.
I pull my scope out of his optic and put it back in its holster, then just sit there for a few nanos, trying to stop my fluid pump from feeling like it's gonna burst out of my chest. I did it. I'm alive.
And he's not.
Sounds above me force me to remember that I'm not safe yet. The police are moving on the level above. They'll be down here soon. My thoughts race. Not only do I have to get out of here, but I gotta keep them off my tail. I glance around the room, looking for a way out, and my optics land on the large fan. Perfect.
I drag the guy over to the fan and shove him between the rotating blades so that they come down directly on the spot where I shot him. With any luck, that'll throw the cops from thinking that there was anyone else involved, at least long enough for me to get far enough away. The fan blades crush the guy's head and come to a grinding halt when his head gets trapped between the blade and the floor. I shove my old gun into his holster, yank his comlink off his chest and squeeze between the blades, taking off down the tunnel. As I round the first corner I can hear the police running down the stairs, calling out to each other that they've "got the guy after a failed escape attempt".
Right. Congratulations, scrapheads.
I keep following the tunnel until I'm sure I'm far enough away to be safe. The alley I exit in is thankfully deserted. Just in case anyone tries to track this, I'm not gonna go home to do it.
I activate the comlink. It's direct-linked on a specific channel, just like I figured. "Mission accomplished." I try to keep the anger out of my voice.
There is silence on the other end for a few moments, although I know someone has picked up the transmission. "Who is this?" a voice finally says. Yeah, I recognize that voice.
"It's Risk. Mission accomplished."
Again there is stunned silence. "Risk."
"What, you didn't think I'd be the one to call you?" I continue. "Didn't think I'd survive it, huh?"
"Well done." The voice sounds strained.
"I'm coming for the fee we discussed. You'd better have it, and whatever extra you were paying that other guy to get rid of me. Thought you'd be able to cover your tracks by using some 'expendable' street killer, huh? If the police didn't get me, your assassin would have finished the job?" I have to remind myself to stay calm. How dare he try to use me like that? It's taking all my control to not just blow up at him, no matter how important he thinks he is. "You know, I think I'll keep his weapon. I kinda like it."
"Then I take it that my operative is dead?"
"You bet your skidplate. And you'll be dead too if you're thinking of trying to rip me off again. I did the job, and I want my money."
"I understand." I just know he's smirking as he says that. "Well, you've certainly exceeded expectations, Risk."
"Yeah. I figure they weren't your expectations, either. You're not top bot. So why don't you pass on the message to your boss. I'm good, and I don't die easy. Next time anyone tries anything like this with me, I'll do something about it…starting with the flunkies he sends to contact me, and finishing with him."
The guy laughs. "You've got bearings of chrome steel, I'll give you that." He pauses, and I get the feeling he's talking to someone else. When he speaks again, he's all business. "An account has been created for you at Cybertropolis First Bank. Passcode is P-S-one-four-two-triple-zero. I believe you'll find the amount satisfactory."
"I'd better." My shoulder sparks again, and I hope that he didn't hear that. Slaggin' thing is really hurting now, and I'm losing motor control in that arm. Not to mention the damage from the beating, which is making some of the systems in my head complain. I have to work at keeping my voice steady. "And there'd better not be any surprises waiting for me when I access it."
"Of course not." He clears his throat. "I've been authorized to offer you a position with us. We seem to be down one operative, and your services could be put to good use."
A job? I've been offered a job by the guy who pretty well runs the streets in these parts? I'm stunned, and can barely think to open my mouth. I never thought I'd go this far.
No, wait…I did. I am that good. People are gonna know my name after this job. Why work for only one guy? Why limit myself to someone else's orders when I can work for the highest bidder?
"Well?"
"Nah. But tell you what: I'm gonna keep this comlink. You want me to do another job, you know how to reach me."
"You're refusing him?" The voice hisses, sounding insulted.
"I'm freelance. You want me, you call."
Another pause. "Acceptable. Have you joined the Guild, then?"
The Assassins' Guild. I'd heard about that. "No, and I don't plan to. I'm freelance, like I said."
"Then since you're still new to this business, one small word of advice: the Guild doesn't like freelancers. I think you'll learn soon enough that it's safer for a non-member to be under someone's employ."
"I'll keep that in mind." For about two nanos.
He catches my tone. "You play a dangerous game."
"Yeah, that's life. Call if you have anything else for me to do. Risk out." I close the comlink before I end up having to listen to any more lecturing, and try to calm my nervousness. I can barely believe I just did that. Talking to that guy that way, turning down the position…what am I doing?
Living on the edge. The thrill of it is more than I could have imagined. I like it.
I make my way towards the nearest bank computer terminal to look up my new account. My eyes widen when the number comes up on the screen.
I'm slaggin' rich.
I can upgrade my computer and my body. I can get a transformation. I can buy weapons and get myself somewhere better to set up shop.
Okay, first I'll get repaired. This damage hurts.
I can't help laughing to myself, though, thinking about Grid and jetboarding. That life could never be anywhere near as lucrative…or as exciting. This is how life should be.
I was pretty close to getting killed tonight. Again. Of course I didn't, though. If that line hadn't been too long, I would have landed right in that killer's arms. If I hadn't damaged my shoulder, I wouldn't have been able to make that distraction in the sub-level, and I wouldn't have had a chance. It's always something. My impossible luck, every time. That prophecy is still holding. Well, let's just see how far I can push it.
Things can only go up from here.
*