KIPO had been at work tirelessly, which didn't matter much when you were an AI, but it was worth noting how diligent and dedicated it had been. The Specter swarm had spread quite a distance over the months, replicating more nanites and expanding to find more ore and minerals to draw from, to convert and mold to fix Adam Smasher. Who, after a year of work, was nearly 47.8% repaired!
In some respects, this would be less than optimal. But, considering KIPO had to make a protective swarm cluster of nanites, make more nanites, search for material and mine with those nanites, then use them to stabilize and fix Adam with no help at all, it was really impressive. Arasaka standards had to be preserved, which meant KIPO had to use the nanites to convert the various ore deposits it had found to the special blend of Tungsten Titanium alloy that comprised Adam's body. Not to mention his circuitry, optics, and acting as life support until his body could continue those functions itself.
As it worked, KIPO had attempted contact with Arasaka every month, and had yet to make progress. It had used small clusters of nanites when it could appropriately spare some to peer outside, just as the season were changing it seemed, but had encountered no signs of humanity when it had made it's scans, but it had noticed the area was… unusual. Wildlife and vegetation were unnaturally abundant, green grass and healthy trees with rabbits and deer running by, none of which scanned as sick or containing any toxic isotopes. KIPO ran a diagnostic on the possibility it had landed in a private sanctuary, but even if it had landed in the Arasaka wildlife preservation enclave in what used to be Canada, surely security would have come by already. KIPO would have picked them up the moment their comms came in range.
Puzzled, but filing it away for later, KIPO had turned it's focus to Adam's mental state. He was still in a suspended repair mode, emergency life support keeping him stable, his brain waves at a tolerable level. As he was healed, it had spiked occasionally, perhaps he was dreaming now, having healed enough? When KIPO brought him up to 50% completion and finished fully restoring his internal systems, it would be able to properly communicate with him, and bring him up to speed. A small part of KIPO felt excited, as close as it could, it was… eager to greet it's patient. Filing away those "feelings" and getting back into it's logical mindset, KIPO returned to work, not that it had ever really stopped.
As it's Specter swarm filtered around him, Adam Smasher dreamed.
Adam Smasher's clearest memory was a clenched fist and pain, his mother crying and rushing to hold him, his father screaming and cursing. "Useless fucking slab of meat! I swear to fucking God, I'm gonna stomp you into a smear on the ground so help me!"
Adam didn't understand exactly what his father was saying, he was four, but he understood the intent. Anger. Anger at him for existing. He can only sob into his mother, the only comfort he has, not knowing what he did wrong. As his father gives up on hitting him, either having gotten it out of his system for the day or more interested in dropping on the couch to watch tv and drink more beer, Adam can only hope things will get better.
They don't. Adam doesn't go a single day his father doesn't lay into him, with words and violence. Sometimes it's not so bad, a couple of slaps when Adam doesn't cause trouble (which in this case, merely existing counts as causing trouble) and his father hasn't had a drink yet. But most days, Adam has black and blue brusies and the occasional broken bone, crying on a rotting mattress with his mother tending to him, doing her best to make the pain go away.
"My boy, my Adam, be brave. You have to be brave, to escape this." His mother says.
He hates it. He hates having to be brave. He hates feeling this pain. He hates his father.
But he's too weak. His flesh is weak, his body is weak. Too weak to save himself, to save his mom. His mom, the one thing that gives him the hope that maybe he'll live long enough to get out of here.
When his father starts to turn his ire to Adam's mother, a seven year old Adam steps up. He can't fight his father, and both of them know it.
"What are you thinking boy? Going to disrespect me in my house, you fucking leech! Think you're a man now?!" His father spits, practically frothing at the mouth, like a mad dog.
"…Hit me."
"Eh?" His father, even drunk, had to pause at that.
"Hit me. Leave mom alone. I'll take it all." Adam is shaking, he's practically pissing himself, he doesn't want more, he can barely take it as is!
…But it's his mother. He's useless, worthless, he's nothing. But he can protect his mother.
For her, he can be brave.
His father actually laughed. It's an ugly twisted thing that causes Adam's heart to plummet into his stomach and get dissolved in acid.
"Well now, maybe you ain't such a waste after all! Look at this honey, the boy's standing up for your worthless ass, what a champ!" His father takes a swig, then lays a haymaker that sends Adam flying. He can taste the blood in his mouth and a bit of meat from biting down too hard on the inside of his own jaw. 'Meat…'
America was collapsing. State by state, everywhere was being torn up and shaken for all it's worth. The East side was seeing it, the inner states were experiencing it. But the West side, it stood firm. Here, in this place, Adam Smasher lived in what could still pass for a normal day in a normal America. It was overrun with gangs, violence, and people desperate to survive, but one could still find work, a place to sleep, and maybe have a "typical" childhood. Course, Adam wouldn't really be able to appreciate that. If it weren't for his mother, he probably wouldn't make it to the age of ten.
His father brought pain, his mother comfort. Pops was never going to waste money on Adam going to school (that would cut into the liquor supply), but his mom wouldn't let Adam be totally helpless. She taught him how to read, how to do math, where they lived (New York City), how to spell his name. Sometimes, she'd saved enough to take Adam out, away from their father while he was off killing cows at his job. They would go up to the tallest buildings, they would go to the park. Once in a blue moon, they even got to go to the theatre. Well, it was mostly a decrepit hospital where his mom worked as a nurse, gathered in the lobby area to watch with other parents and children old video tapes. Adam watched fantastic stories of heroes saving the day, he could almost pretend. Pretend he could be saved, or even better, that he could be the hero!
But it all ended by the time they got home. One look at that place, that terrible apartment, and Adam sobered up quick. He had to. If he dared have a smile on his face, his father would bust his face open again.
By the time he was eight, his father had had enough. "Either start bringing home money boy, or don't expect to live here! I give you food, a roof over your head, and all you do is take and take and FUCKING TAKE! You should be kissing my ass I haven't cut off your fingers to sell!" He'd do it too. Adam knew he would.
So Adam prowled the streets. He went from diving around dumpsters, beating up local kids for their lunch money, and searching for change or straight up breaking open parking meters and vending machines real quick. Soon, it was sneaking into gangs hold outs and helping himself to whatever goodies he could get his hands on before sneaking out the windows. Didn't mean he never got caught, in fact quite a few beatdowns later Adam had started to learn how to fight the older kids. He didn't even flinch as someone made to cut him with a pocket knife. He learned when to run, run away from one gang and leading them into the turf of another, watching the carnage from a safe distance. Managing to wrestle his first gun away from some asshole looking to clear the space between Adam's ears. It was too big and Adam was honestly scared to fire it, but it chased the chickenshit away and give Adam another way to get cash.
Wasn't too long after he started working Adam had managed to get in good with the local gangs. His face was known, it had been beaten in a couple of times when he'd stumbled into their territory, but doing quick favours as a courier had secured him a place to pawn off any stolen goods he managed to get. Sometimes he'd be brought in on a job, a robbery that needed extra hands to offload heavy appliances and parts. Adam found himself a workout routine, pushing his child body to its limits to keep up.
It was pathetic that the gangs were kinder to him than his father. They'd stopped hitting him, swearing at him, and gave him a fair shake.
His father didn't care that his son was bringing back stacks of cash, only that he wasn't bringing trouble back with him. As the belt came down on his arms, his father stated "One fucking cop, one fucking gang banger coming by, I will throw you to them boy!" He then helped himself to a night of coke and hooch, yelling for some food to be served already! Adam's mother already has a grade A steak cooked and ready, a reward from the bosses to Adam's father for his dedicated work.
That was the one thing they had, meat. His father worked at the local slaughterhouse, well, local was being generous. It was an hour ride away, and it was the worst smelling place sides maybe a sewage plant. It was run by the so called Meat King, a fat bastard who was rumoured to revel in every twisted form of pleasure he could, with his brain dead little brother chopping up whatever he wanted on the killing floor (it wasn't always animals either). It spoke well of the Meat King that he still got plenty of cows to kill while most of the country was starving, and could award it to his workers. His father loved it, he had this evil grin on his face talking about it. It was the only place he could go where he could bash the brains out of a dumb animal all day and get paid for it. He didn't always get the best meat, but the slaughterhouse always had plenty of leftovers, and cooked meat was cooked meat.
"You have to strike it dead hard and fast in one blow!" His father regaled them at the table, having finished and now smoking it up. It was the most pleasant he had ever been, he had gotten his drinking out early with his friends, and now wanted to impress more people at how good he was at meat killing. So fortunately, as only his wife and son were available to tell, he refrained from the beatings. For now.
"See, cow gets angry when you hit it. Anger travels to the brain, travels through the body from brain, makes the meat tougher, harder to chew. Angry meat is no good. So it takes skill, it takes art, for me, for me to fucking kill that cow with one swing of my massive fucking hammer!" His father laughed, like he was king of the castle. "Killing is art. It is grace. It's why you shits have food on your fucking table, ha ha HA!" His father got up, putting out his cigarette on Adam's arm (he had stopped flinching long ago) as he walked out, and soon returned with his hammer. "If I take a swing, riiiiiiight here," a finger right in the middle of Adam's forehead. "I could kill you before you even register I did it. And you would let me do it, wouldn't you? What son wouldn't want to please their father?" His father laughed, coughing and laughing, as he slowly brought the hammer to Adam's face, and tapped his crown, gently.
But it wouldn't work, would it? Adam just heard it wouldn't be correct.
Because he was already "Angry Meat."
Being a tough slab of beef before he was even nine, Adam had no issues being known as a "tough guy." He had learnt how to be a vicious little bastard, and that was his lot in life. Once, he had attempted to play at the playground. A pretty little girl, blonde in a pink dress, had declared herself a princess and ruler of the playground.
Naturally, Adam punched her in the nose.
It didn't have his full strength behind it, but it did make her bleed and cause her to cry. She ran crying, and Adam ran too. He hadn't punched her out of anger or the desire to make her cry, he had had a crush right then and there. He had wanted to impress her, but his adolescent brain thought she'd like him if he beat her. Adam knew he was fucked up, he only knew how to throw punches and take them. It's what his dad had made him, a useless slab of meat. His dad… the man had won the company giveaway, a microwave big enough a watermelon could sit in it, and he treated it with more care than he treated his own son, what a fucking joke.
But then, as Adam sat down under a bridge and thoughts went through his head of running away and taking his mom away from this terrible place, a sudden wet feeling pressing against his arm startled him!
Adam would never admit he had shrieked and scampered away in terror, he didn't get afraid. Good thing too, as he was about to meet the biggest source of joy in his life.
It was a little thing, white fur with dirt darkening it, and so innocent and kind. A Western Terrier. It approached a rapidly calming down Adam who was now simply confused. He'd seen dogs before, but he'd never gotten to play with them, never dared ask their owners if he could. For a boy who'd been thieving and fighting, somehow that was the one thing he didn't dare do. Maybe he thought if the owner said no, the pet would also not want him to touch it. It seemed too intimidating an ordeal.
The dog was now in his lap, tail wagging as it climbed up to his chest. Adam looked down at it, as it made to lick the bottom of his chin.
The thought came that he was supposed to pet it. That's what you did with dogs.
"Uh, there there? Good boy?"
That seemed to please it, as it's tail wagged even harder. It's licking was in full force, and Adam couldn't help but laugh. He fell on his back laughing, as the dog kept licking, even barking in delight. Adam rolled over gently while holding it, rotating it to the ground, and proceeded to scratch it's belly. Suffice to say he pet the hell out of it, and both of them were happier for it.
Adam knew he couldn't bring it home, much as he wanted to. But, he could still take care of it, maybe? Picking it up in his arms, he made for his hideout, an abandoned building not far from his home. It was where he went to stash his bigger hauls, TV's or bikes, that he could then trade for cash. Heading up to the top floor, he placed the dog there. It sniffed around, adjusting. It broke Adam's heart to leave it for the moment, it's whines overriding the part of his brain that told him the dog was giving away his hideout, but emotion overrode him. He made for home, and took the kicks his father gave him in stride. As the family ate dinner, leftovers cooked by their prized microwave, Adam pocketed half away. He washed up the dishes, and seeing his father snoring on the couch, made for his hideout.
As the dog enthusiastically ate the meat Adam had cut up into smaller pieces, he felt it. The feeling of hope.
"THOSE USELESS FUCKING COCKSUCKERS!" His father swore, trashing an already trashed apartment.
It came with the times, unfortunately. Cybernetics were improving, and jobs were being affected by it. Everything was being affected by it.
Adam was twelve, and though he was still the local neighbourhood terror, life had been better. He still got beatings practically every day, but he had his good moments too. His dog, which he had named Muttly, had done wonders for Adam's moral. He had fed her (he had checked) bathed her, and played with her. Bringing it to the playground after a few days, he had seen Princess, who sniffled despite the bruising on her face fading away and the ice cream in her hand. Mustering his courage, Adam had approached with Muttly in his arms. Princess had seen him, and gave Adam the dirtiest look she could, which was actually pretty impressive. Adam had swallowed his saliva, and held out Muttly.
"Would you… would you like to play with her?" Adam offered.
Princess blinked, confused.
"I… I, uh… I'm sorry. I don't know… I didn't… I'd like to be sorry. I'm sorry I hit you. You can hit me if you want. But maybe you'd also like to play with Muttly?"
"…You were really mean." Princess sniffed, wiping away tears she'd been shedding prior to his arrival. "That really hurt, you jerk."
"I know, and I'm really sorry. I don't… I just hit people. I do it with everyone, it's how people talk to me and I talk to them."
"That's stupid. If you punch everyone, you won't have friends." Princess had stopped wiping her face, and was now looking at Adam with a look that said "I'm right and your stupid." "My mom says you're a dummy. Then she said some other words I'm not allowed to repeat."
Adam nodded. "She's right. I am a dummy. And you're also right, I have no friends."
"You're also smelly, and big, and you hit girls. Boys shouldn't hit girls." Princess kept going, and Adam kept nodding. Seeing Adam agree so earnestly, and seeing the adorable dog still held out to her, she tentatively reached out a hand, and began to pet the friendly creature. "…I guess I could show you how to be less of a dummy." She smiled, and Adam smiled with her.
The two kids had made peace, and Adam found himself a little happier, Princess decreed he was forgiven. But if he was ever a jerk face again she'd punch him back, she would! To make things even, she had thumped him on the noggin. Unfortunately that hurt her more than him, but she still felt better about it, so it worked out.
The following three years, Adam had his mom, his dog, and a friend. Princess and Adam had to be friends in secret, her mom wouldn't like Adam, he was in a lot of trouble with the other kids. But the fact she would play with him, make Adam feel like a person, that was more than enough. And maybe Princess enjoyed having a big strong knight like Adam on her side, he was always ready to defend her from bullies. She had even invited him to her birthday twice, secret ones, but it had cupcakes she saved from her big party and the two of them played and laughed.
She'd been incredulous that Adam had only now found out her name was Tammy. "Adam, you really are a dummy." She giggled, and hugged him. It was spontaneous and warm and Adam cherished it for the rest of his childhood.
Adam would eventually show his mother Muttly, and at first she'd been worried, could her son take care of a dog, even a tiny thing like that? But seeing how happy he was, how he played with her, his mother just couldn't find it in herself to voice her concerns.
So life was good, well, it was better than before.
But again, cybernetics. Everything was being affected by them.
At first cybernetics were nothing to really notice. People had fake arms sure, some even had them at the slaughterhouse, big clunky things that looked like they were made from a leftover water heater with meat axes on the end, coming down on the cutting board in big THWUMP's. Adam's dad scoffed, there was no art to it. Wasn't much different from a machine, in fact, even more clunky, he said. His father wasn't worried.
But then, then cybernetics got better. More and more. People soon had cellphones, to Bluetooth's, to having their phones inside their heads, in less than a year! Folks who lost parts had them replaced, some with noticeable shiny parts, others with "real" skin covering it. Folks at the slaughterhouse found they were now sponsored by one of the so called mega corps, that replaced the clunky cybernetics with state of the art craft! Even the house's owner, the impossibly fat Meat King, got cybernetics, allowing corpulent pig to move under his own power for the first time in years!
And his father? His father found his prized hammer dulled, as they gave him a bolt gun instead. One little press of the trigger, and down the cow went.
"Do you see this! Do you boy! This is my fucking life now! They think they can give me this, and tell me I need to step up because I don't fucking work as much now?! I'LL TELL THOSE FUCKING CUNTS HOW MUCH I WORK! I'LL PUT A BOLT RIGHT THROW THAT FAT FUCK'S HEAD, HIM AND HIS FUCKING BROTHER!" His father kept screaming, even as Adam and his mom left. Let the man rant, he'd be passed out from drinking later.
Adam knew his father would keep being angry, and keep taking it out in him. His bruises became more and more noticeable, and half the time Adam felt like he was going to die. On top of that, his father still was expecting money from him! Adam's stash was getting low, he had pawned off his best goods, he needed a big score again. He went to feed Muttly, then headed out to the local hangout of one of the gangs, the Volk, they liked Adam as a runner, he took packages and delivered them on time, no cops, no questions. Getting a promise on a upcoming heist they'd need a lookout for, Adam returned home after poking around all night for additional sources of income.
He opened the door to the sight of his mother sobbing, and hugging him tight. Confused, Adam could only take in her apologies. "Adam, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!"
His father bellowed for him, and wordlessly Adam separated from his still sobbing mother, to approach his father who was sitting on the couch.
"Thought you were clever, huh boy? Thought you could hide away all this?" His father held up a stack of cash. Adam's cash. It was from his hideout, his reserves to give to his dad on the rainy days.
"I… I was going to…"
"Shut up." His father said calmly. Somehow, the calm made it worse, it made it so much worse.
"Found this, and a whole stash of goodies, after I followed you. Always wondered where you were going, and now I know. TV's, Bikes, even some of them cyber parts? You thought you could keep that from me?" Adam shook his head no, but his father wasn't done. "When I think of all that I've given you, and how ungrateful you are, that just…" his father's face is overcome in rage, before it disappears in a long exhale of air through his nose. "My own son, keeping things from me."
It didn't matter what excuses Adam gave, how he was doing it for his father. His father had made up his mind that Adam had wronged him, and that was it.
But then his father sighed. "But it's fine. It just means you need to learn from your mistake here, learn how wrong it is to stab me in the back. After tonight, I know, you won't even think about pulling something like this again."
Adam stood there, waiting for his father to get up, to lay into him until all of Adam's limbs were broken, not just one or two. But his father simply sat there.
…That was when Adam heard it, the microwave.
His father had been to his hideout. His hideout full of cash and stolen goods.
His hideout where Muttly lived.
'No… PLEASE FUCK NO!'
Adam ran to the kitchen and stared at the microwave. The running, glowing microwave. Set for over an hour, rotating and rotating. It's grand window for viewing what it was heating, big enough Adam could put his whole head against it and still not cover it completely, never totally clean but still allowing a view.
It wasn't letting anyone see what was in it now.
It was red, and splattered over the door from the inside. There was a popping sound, as it kept running. Adam could only stare, he knew what was in there, and he knew, his father hadn't the decency to kill Muttly before he threw her in the microwave, and turned it on…
His father made him clean up the mess. Adam was forced to pull what had once been his beloved pet, his friend, out with his bare hands and throw it in a trash bag. A exploded mess of meat and bone, red everywhere, there wasn't a patch of white fur to be found. Adam wondered, did she cry? What sounds had she made, as she was cooked alive? It might have been quick, maybe she had suffocated, confused and afraid but it was better than being cooked alive, right?! He scrapped the burnt fur and blood off, it took him hours. He tried not to cry, not to cry as he wouldn't be able to hold his best friend anymore, wouldn't feel her warm kisses or play fetch or give her belly rubs or see her try to run up the slide on the playground and keep sliding down only to finally make it when Adam helped her and cheered for her!-
His father had the FUCKING AUDACITY to complain the food that was heated in the microwave after tasted like dog for days.
Adam couldn't say anything, he couldn't. He could only look at his hands, at the flecks of Muttly's flesh he had under his nails.
'Fucking meat…'
He was just a month away from his 13th birthday, and he didn't care. His father had taken his stash and pawned it off for cash (to crooks who took his cunt father for a ride), then beat Adam for not providing his own. He'd even taken the gun Adam had stolen, no bullets but still hurt when used to club someone, Adam could testify to that.
His father had implants now, part of the slaughterhouses company package courtesy of their new owners. Thin blue lines adored his fathers face, perfectly symmetrical. Let his father take calls, position his hands perfectly with the cows brains, even chop meat with no fear of cutting his hands. And as part of his new job duties, clean up the floors as janitor too, making sure every stain was scrubbed out to the high definition eyeball's standard.
Adam went to the playground, but Princess Tammy wasn't there. He knew he should be working, but he really needed to cry, and he needed to cry TO someone. But he had no one. No one was there for him. It made sense, Adam had beaten up most of the kids in the area, he had stolen their money and occasionally their bikes. And for those that did want him, they were drowning in booze and drugs and smokes and weren't the ones who gave sad scared little boys comforting hugs and soothing words.
Mothers did that. Fathers were supposed to do that. Dogs couldn't do that, but they came close. Not anymore now.
Adam wandered all day. He didn't have a goal in mind, he just walked. He went to the theatre, but it had been torn down and replaced in the years, now part of a mega corp mall. Seeing a lot of that lately, Adam's home and safe house would probably be bought out and torn down soon too.
Adam walked back home early. He didn't care he'd get a beating, he was done.
It was the last time he'd walk home.
He opened the door, to his father kicking his down on the ground mother, she was crying and protecting her middle as best she could. Adam's dad was relentless, he kept stomping, over and over and over again.
"Don't you think I have ENOUGH on my FUCKING PLATE!" His father roared, he was angrier than Adam had recalled him ever being. "Working double shifts at that FUCKING JOB! Feeding you and that parasite! And you. THINK. I. NEED. ANOTHER. ONE?! YOU CUNT!" Every pause came with a kick.
'Another one?' Adam thought, confused. 'Wait, is mom…'
Adam had gotten the talk from his mother, after a fun day of talking with Tammy where babies come from (her answer being the Storks), so he knew how it worked. 'But for mom to be, that would mean…'
Indeed, three months ago, Adam's father, drunk and miserable like every fucking day, had come home to have his way. His mother didn't want it, but when his father is angry, drunk, and holding a gun (his own, not Adam's) to your head, you do whatever you can to survive to the next day. His mother wishes she had been able to take the gun, the courage to take the gun. She didn't know if she'd use it on him or herself.
And now, she was suffering for her husband's mistake. Always.
"What are you going to do? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO FUCKING DO!?" His father yelled. He was reaching for her arms now, like he could get them away from her stomach and pry his unborn child out of her stomach. Seeing that, Adam couldn't stay quiet.
"STOP!"
His father did stop, and stood up.
"Oh what, you have something to fucking say?! Huh?! You little shit, you disrespect me every fucking day in my own FUCKING HOME, and now you have the fucking audacity, to speak to me?!" His father loomed over Adam, he loomed like a giant. He grabbed Adam by his shirt, and proceeded into the kitchen, Adam clutching onto his wrist. He tried to get footing with his feet, the backs of his shoes scrapping against the floor. He was tossed on his back to the ground, his father already making for the drawers, and pulling out a meat tenderizer.
"Put your hand on the cutting board." His father said. When Adam made no move to do so, his father slammed the counter. "PUT YOUR FUCKING HAND ON THE COUNTER, YOU FUCKING FUCK!"
Adam got up, but made no other moves, staring at his father with fear and hate in his eyes.
"What? After all these years, the big man isn't going to protect his cunt mother no more? Finally had enough?" His father laughed, his ugly cruel laugh, like this was all hilarious. Indeed, it probably was to him. He turned around to address his sobbing wife in the next room. "Well, what do you know? Your protector finally gave up Cecelia-"
Those were the last words he would ever speak.
Adam charged forward, and with every bit of weight he could put into it, tackled his father right in his middle. His father managed to rotate during the descent, about to face the ceiling, when his head banged against the dining room table. He was knocked out on impact. But that wasn't enough for Adam. His anger, his pain, combined with a body that was 80% healed broken bones and scar tissue, grabbed his father by his shirt and belt, and managed to lift his father off the ground! Using the inertia, Adam swung, he rotated in place with his father and swung, like someone trying to swing a handheld battering ram. Adam swung, aiming his father's head for the microwave. Adam swung hard enough that he put his fathers head THROUGH the microwave window.
His father's body was on the counter, his head inserted rather unconventionally into the microwave, the door still closed. Adam breathed, he breathed and exhaled and inhaled and couldn't calm down the rush of his heart, of his mind. It took a minute, but he looked down to see his right arm was broken. Huh.
Looking back to his father, Adam didn't even pause. He punched in the buttons, over an hour, and let the microwave cook. Naturally, with the practically new metal in his pops head, it started sparking, popping, but it kept going, even as a fire started and roasted his dad's head. Adam didn't care. He approached his mom, still sobbing, and helped her up, gently coaxing her. It was slow, and the microwave burning didn't help, but eventually his mother was able to stop crying, to see her son. She saw his arm, and she heard the violent last POP from the kitchen as her husbands head exploded, his body giving a violent twitch before lying still.
They gathered all the valuables they had, took the money kept in it's piss poor hiding spot, took the gun and the hammer, and left.
None of them had anything they'd want to keep from that place.
It stank of rotting meat anyway.
'Fucking meat.'
It was when Adam was sixteen he found himself in a holding room, not his first but it certainly was taking longer for Murry to drop by, collect his bribe, and send Adam on his way.
After killing his father, Adam and his mother had gone looking for shelter. It had been a bit of a walk,, and Adam's arm wasn't getting any better, but after exiting the hole that was their neighbourhood, they'd found a homeless shelter. They just needed a few days, just a few days to breath. Luck smiled at them as this shelter was actually serious in it's message of helping those in need. Adam's mom was looked at by a bleeding heart on site, and even fixed Adam's arm and put it in a cast. Didn't mean Adam could rest though, he needed to get back to work.
He went to the Volk, at first. He asked for work. Sure he had a busted arm right now, but they knew him, knew he could do what he was told.
It was just so fortunate a cripple would be less likely to draw the cops attention, that was his saving grace.
Adam worked as a mule, then when his arm healed, worked his way to being muscle. The actual gang members thought he was being presumptuous, he was just hired help, not an actual gang member. But he insisted, argued he could hold his own. After he aced initiation, with several naysayers broken and bleeding on the ground around him, Adam was sworn in. And he held his own and more.
It was hard to keep track, but between the turf wars, heists, and deals that went south, Adam probably had a body count in the forties or so. Didn't matter to Adam, he needed cash. His mom needed the cash. She'd delivered the baby, unable to afford a hospital it had happened in their new slightly less crap apartment with the kind hearted doctor from the shelter. Adam found himself delivering his own sister into the world. A tiny thing, screaming and fleshy and oh so gross, but it, she, came into the world. A bundle of meat, alive and healthy. They had done it. They'd protected her. Unlike his father, Adam didn't bemoan another mouth to feed. He'd just work harder. And he had, his mother and baby sister were actually doing well. Hell, his sister might actually get to go to school! Adam didn't honestly see the need, but his mom said it would be useful so he shrugged and left it at that. His mom probably knew what Adam was doing, she definitely worried, but it was all they could do.
But then, as Adam was heading out, his luck would take a turn for the worse. Or better, once he got the full picture.
It was mid day, Adam was walking the downtown area, no particular destination but not looking for trouble neither. Too bad trouble was laser locked on him.
"Holy shit, is that- yo! Shithead!" A greasy voice rang out, and Adam ignored it, didn't even register it really, until a grubby hand touched his shoulder. Adam turned to look into the eyes of a fat balding moustached fuck, mouth open in a stupid slack jawed smile, drooling. Ah yes, Adam knew this asshole, one of his dad's work friends.
"I knew it was you! Boy's, check it out! It's Adam, Richard's kid!" Turns out the greaseball had friends, who all sat at their table outside what passed for a diner, looking on as they ate. "Well, talk about a coincidence. Here I was just toasting your pops, when you walk by, and I say to myself "No way, no way that's him." But it is you! And wow, look at you, no longer the gangly runt anymore, huh?"
'Gangly?' Adam hardly thought that was fair, he was practically built like a brick shithouse before puberty, and hadn't stopped even now. He had a few basic implants, courtesy of his pay and needing some to keep up with the rest of the Volk, but most of him was meat, meat he'd refined himself.
The greaseball continued. "Ah, such a shame it was, what happened to your father. Perished in a fire, dear god. We all toasted to him, the best in the business, a meat provider!" Adam didn't doubt the toast, any excuse to drink was taken, if his father was an outlier. "But then we heard it was just him, and we wondered? What happened to Richard's wife and boy? What, were they out gallivanting while poor Richard burnt to death? Ungrateful cunt probably sucking off the locals to raise rent money we figured, wife should provide. But what could the son be doing? We always said Richard should have drowned you at birth, maybe then your poor mama wouldn't have to sell herself out to feed you." The fuck had the actual audacity to say this to Adam's face, in a tone like he wasn't asking to be murdered right then and there.
Adam knew it was lies, his mother never did that, she couldn't, his dad would kill her. But evidently that was the best theory a bunch of degenerates in a slaughterhouse could come up with.
The whole time, Adam hadn't said a word, simply stared. And the greaseball continued. "But here you are now. And I think, maybe you should buy me and the boys a drink here, don't you think? We lost a good friend here, least his son could do is help us with our sorrows. And hey, if your mama's still a looker, maybe she can cheer us up toAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHH!"
The greaseball stopped speaking, started screaming. Makes sense, as Adam had plunged his thumbs into the man's eyes, pop pop they went, squishing out of the holes.
The others got up, ran to save their buddy. They didn't last long. Just a bunch of dead meat.
'In hindsight, a public slaughter downtown probably will be a little harder for Murry to wave off.' Adam sighed. 'Well, points for me just using my hands, a chair, and the beer bottles. Not pulling my piece should count for something.'
Wondering if taking a nap on the table would cause more trouble than it was worth, Adam was saved from going through with that thought when the door behind him finally opened. Only it wasn't Murry stepping in.
Dark skinned, blonde hair in a military flat top with a tidy beard, and cybernetic eyes, blue, with a nice red suit. And looking through a decently sized folder.
"Well kid, you certainly don't lack for spirit, I'll give you that."
"I said I didn't want a lawyer." Adam said.
"Do I look like a lawyer?" The man actually looked amused by that.
"Well either that or a social services worker."
"Now that just hurts. I'm not a lawyer, and I'm not here from social services, if that's still a thing. I'm here for you." The man sat down, hands folded in front of him.
"…What?" Adam was confused. Understandably, as the man kept talking.
"Adam Smasher. Got quite a rap sheet here, and that's just what the local police can tie to you. Robbery, murder, assault, theft, grand theft auto, kidnapping, and yet never done time? You've got some good friends looking out for you, that or things are so busted here the police force might as well not exist. Probably both." The man didn't even look at the folder, he was focused on Adam. "You ran with the Volk, and despite being an outsider worked your way up to being one of it's most heavy hitters. Despite that, you've borged out very little, and aren't exactly swimming in cash."
"And just today, you were picked up for killing twelve rather large and heavy individuals who kill cows with their bare hands. Actually bare hands, with implants that could shatter brick walls with a single punch. Impressive, and lucky."
"Lucky? Getting locked up is lucky?"
"Considering you were probably going to walk thanks to Murry, yes we know it's him, I would have said you were lucky. But I'm saying your lucky now as of one hour ago, the Volk have been eliminated."
"…Bullshit." That had to be bullshit. "The Volk control the entire east side. Guns, soldiers, fortified locations it would take an army to bust through. It would take years of fighting to do that, and you want me to believe it just happened in a day?"
"Three days, but yes. I'm sure you heard about the problems the Los Muerto's were facing? How suddenly they were hit hard overnight, and were scrambling? That was the start of the US Military, or Militech if you like, stepping in and trying to bring order back to the Big Apple. And that included taking out all the gangs, including the Volk. We found our targets, the leaders, the heavy hitters, the ones running the local operations, and we sent in the calvary." The man had unfolded his hands, and brought a small device out of his pocket. "Not saying it wasn't hard, but when you have the best tech available, things get a lot easier."
The device brought up a display, a blue holographic display that presented a very clear picture. Faces Adam recognized, wasn't exactly close to but worked well with enough, all laid out before him. All dead. Even the boss, who'd seemed so untouchable, gone.
"That's why I say your lucky. Had you not been picked up, you'd probably be dead too."
"…So why are we talking? Seems to me like I'm what's stopping you from a job being one hundred percent done."
The man pocketed the device, and smiled. "Because I want to recruit you."
"…Are you high?"
That got a laugh. "I'm serious kid. You've got talent, it's being squandered right now but I can see you've got the chops to be a fine soldier. The pay is good, your killings are legal, and you'll get the best cybernetics the government can afford-"
"Wait, slow down, who even are you?" Adam was thoroughly confused, and needed things to make sense.
"Well, back when I wore a black suit and sunglasses and was very clearly a bodyguard, folks called me Agent 425. Sounds like something out of Get Smart, doesn't it?"
"What's Get Smart?"
"Shit son, don't make me feel old. You watch reruns at all?"
"I don't own a TV."
"Now that is a crime. But I guess you've been giving all that cash you should be rolling in to your mom and baby sister."
Adam stood up, and glared at the man, or Agent 425 as he was evidently known. "Don't you fucking go there."
The man didn't even flinch. "Relax kid, I meant nothing by it. Actually, that's part of my pitch. You did pretty good as a gang member, but why not get a steady supply of income for your family? Take my offer, your sister gets in a good life, and your mom doesn't have to worry about the bills."
"Since when does the army have cash like that to spend on the grunts? Or any cash at all?"
"Not the regular army. No, you'll be joining the Skeleton Crew." said Agent 425. "Ever hear of it? Actually, scratch that, eight years recruiting and nobody says yes. It's a special division, covert, made before 94. It used to be we went out and stopped the bad guys from destroying America. Now? Now we're going out to stop the bad guys from destroying what's left, while hopefully those paying us fix things here."
Agent 425 reached into the breast pocket of his suit, and pulled out a mask, one in the shape of a skull. Bronze, lacking a shine from use, and scratched in places. He put it on, his blue cybernetic eyes peeking out.
Honestly Adam thought he looked like a clown.
"Adam, I was given the job of fighting the world with a limited budget, less than ten men, and to find support on site. The budget I was given, I've put towards my soldiers families, so when whatever storm makes it's way here, they'll be able to whither it, while we go into the meat grinder."
A hand extended. "Adam Smasher, do you want to see the world? Go to exotic places, meet the locals, and probably kill them?"
"And that's why Arasaka can lick my balls!" Griggs declared, having cooled down from a delightful afternoon of disarming explosives while bullet fire raged around him. His red skull mask looked little worse for wear, top of the line protection.
"What, not enjoying the sights of Japan?" Adam asked, laying back against an overturned bullet train, it having come to a rather unceremonious stop plowing through a residential district. Thank fuck Elika had radioed in a false evacuation. She was good like that, always making sure civilians didn't die horribly. Always was a softie.
"Not when Militech's budget is getting relocated and we have to pick up the slack of what used to be the US Army. Seriously, the entire safety of the Western world is getting dumped on to the backs of nine guys? Fuck, I knew we'd be getting canned but not this fast."
It had been five years, and good on his word, 425 had brought Adam up to army standards, then beyond to join the Skeleton Crew. And Adam had to admit, he liked it.
Meet his team and learned pretty quick he was not the top dog around there. Day one officially on the job and he was raiding a fleet with a storm approaching. He definitely pulled his weight, maybe was a little gun ho, but a verbal berating from Konrad about the importance of teamwork and supporting the squad and not just oneself had Adam shaping up. And dare he say it, impressing the others.
Next mission, Russia, or what was left of it. Step in and investigate their mysterious cybernetics program, already deemed obsolete just because it was Russia but the brass were oddly worried. That lead to stopping a nuke from hitting America and Adam getting his guts torn out by a bastard with no face, who evidently was their target, along with the scientist who made him. Griggs and Lupo had to admit, when Adam managed to get up and use his own intestinal tract to strangle the scientist, that was the most brutal thing they'd seen in their three years on this job. The cyborg stopped moving at that, and was packaged up and shipped off to Militech, who were getting more fucked every day but still holding on.
Following that, Tibet, to Brazil, to South Africa, to Britain, France, and even Canada. Sabotaging cybernetics research divisions and taking the good stuff for their bosses, countering "terrorists," and generally protecting the land of the free. Which was fast becoming the land of free enterprise dialed to a hundred, with the Mega Corps sprouting up practically unopposed. No matter what the Skeleton Crew broke or stole, nothing was stopping the change in management. Arasaka was coming in hard, and it was practically unopposed, offering jobs and Hope where Militech was failing. The Crew just hoped they wouldn't be up the river when it finished.
Til that happened, life was good. The more Adam worked, the more he did, the bigger the bonus, the more he could send back home. As Adam relaxed in the wreckage that was the end result of a manhunt that had lead all over the world, he made a point to call his mom. 425 had been true to his word, even with New York changing, his mom and sister were safe, avoiding the plagues, riots, and everything else in the storm that had come from the Midwest.
"Making a call to your family?" Elika asked, hopping down from the wreckage to stand before him.
"How could you tell?" Adam asked.
"Your eyes. They glow when a a call is being made, same as for everyone. You shouldn't have gone with red, it stands out with your mask too much."
"Meh, I think it looks intimidating. That second folks think I'm a demon from hell, that's a free kill. You know what 425 said, take every advantage, fight tooth and nail."
Malika tilted her head, and brought up her fingers in a peace sign. She hovered them in front of his eyes, eventually bringing them to rest on his face just under them. "Just be careful. I still think it's absolute shit for stealth ops, they telegraph your position."
"Yes dear." Adam teased in the most defeated husband tone he could manage, which earned him the eye poke. "FUCK!" That'll learn him to buy a TV and try to be clever.
"Buy me a ring and a house, then maybe I'll let you sass me." Malika smirked, hidden by her mask.
"And that's three. Is it just me, or have you gotten worse with your implants?" 425 asked, a panting Adam before him on the mat. "Where's that killer edge, where you'd go up against folks with tech that would turn you to mush and beat them all? The one who fought tooth and nail, literally? I saw you bite Lugo that one spar."
"I still beat them." Adam relocated his jaw, still all organic, and he was suffering for it.
"Yeah, but now you take hits doing so. You used to be able to avoid that. C'mon, don't be afraid to use every part of your body." 425 gets back into a fighting stance, as Adam got back up to do the same. Another flurry of punches and kicks, only this time Adam was able to take 425's leg out from under him, using a false headbutt to throw the older man off centre. "Nice, your picking up on things."
"Keep using the same strategy over and over, eventually I'll get wise." Adam replied. "What's this about? You've been running me pretty ragged, thought I was done with this shit when I graduated."
"…I'm worried about you." 425 said. "Your body is forty percent borged up, but you haven't been taking any stims, haven't gone to the local shrink for an evaluation after your first session."
"Didn't see the need, I haven't had any episodes, any signs of cyberpsychosis. I'm still me, and I feel fine."
"So you say." 425 stared, then sighed. "Maybe I'm just being a worry wart. Used to be I just told kids how to use their bodies when it was just their bodies, not when they had the ability to fire rockets from their hands or see through walls. Could be I'm gonna be obsolete soon myself."
"You talk as if your fully organic no chrome." Adam gestured to his eyes, very much cybernetic.
"Heh, yeah, I do have my upgrades, but it's the basic of the basic. I lived most of my life as a man, taking in the machinery always felt off. Really just did it to keep on serving my country, but even that's passing me by, hell, probably already did. Does America even exist anymore?"
"Don't talk like that. You've still got plenty of time, plenty to teach. Doesn't matter if America disappears, you're still here." Adam insisted. Maybe it was selfish, but he had gotten used to 425, to the whole team. They were practically family, six years together going through countless impossible missions. To let any of them go, Adam wasn't ready for that. "C'mon, I'm sure a meatbag like you has some tricks from the good ol days for me." A hand offered, a sigh of fondness before it's accepted and the training resumes.
The seventh year, the year Adam took the reigns. Things had changed, despite Adam's efforts. He'd kept working, kept making money, kept the lights on for himself and his family back home. His sister, she probably didn't even know what Adam looked like… But it had been fine. Sure, the Crew was splintering, but it was fine.
Malika had left, having fallen for a civilian who'd stood in front of her target, staring her down. The way she described it, it was a gift from God. 425 had been upset to lose his best sniper and infiltrator, but respected her service and her, so there was little fanfare. She'd departed with no hard feelings, and a hug to Adam. He hoped she could make it work.
425 had also left, passing the torch into Adam, and wishing him the best. The man had given his all, and now he was ready to call it quits. Time to take a breather, as he said.
Griggs and Lugo still were on the team. They'd been with Adam through thick and thin, and weren't going anywhere. The three of them had seen a lot, dealt with a lot, from corporations all trying their hand at the most profitable market there was now, war. It was good business, but it didn't come without cost. The Skeleton crew had lost three of their own to this mess, even with all their gear and training, it was unavoidable.
Which saved their last team member, Konrad. Konrad had taken a position as General in Militech, had a whole army at his disposal, the Damned 34th. He'd surprised everyone, showing he had the know how to lead and scoring win after win for the US Army, Operation Big Stick his proudest moment. And now, Konrad was in Madagascar. Africa had been going through some things, some good, some bad, but Madagascar stood out as an achievement, transformed into a paradise, it stood out as a testament to what could be. Rising from the ashes to be a utopia, it had been struck by natural disaster, the biggest hurricane that had wrecked the shores and trapped who know show many people in it's biggest port city Mahajanga. Konrad had been sent to provide aid, and when ordered to pull out when it was deemed the relief efforts were futile, he'd refused and stayed, everyone of his men staying with him.
So here Adam was, to recon the area with Griggs and Lugo, then pull out.
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Griggs and Lugo were dead, Konrad was dead, and Adam was looking like a walking corpse, covered in ash and other peoples dried blood. Madagascar had been a disaster, to the point not even the US Army could wave it off. In light of Adam's service, he wouldn't be executed despite what happened, but he was effectively discharged. He would lose his implants, though the funds he still had would allow him replacements that were non military issue. He had one week to get it set up, before Repo Men came around and took them by force. At this point, Adam honestly didn't care, and was tempted to wait the week and let them. But he had a week, he'd probably shape up by then.
"Mr. Smasher?"
"Who the fuck are you?" Adam asked the mousey little man standing before him. At 6'8 to this shrimps 4'9, it was a pretty big contrast.
"Nobody important, but I do come to you with a mission. On behalf of the US of A." The man bowed.
"Didn't you get the memo? I just got fired, I'm no longer part of the US of A."
"Yes, though technically, you are officially discharged in a week. Til then, you are still registered as a solider."
"And that's relevant, why?"
"Because the mission, we believe you have the best chance of success, and could complete it in that time. Do so, and we are willing to wave away the reclamation orders on your implants, well, most of them, as well as a generous severance fee of $80,000, rather than nothing per your discharge."
'Wow, 80 grand. That's probably a whole week's worth of groceries.' Adam chided inside his head. It probably wasn't, but with the state of things, that money was better served as pillow stuffing. Beggars can't be choosers though. Out load, Adam asked. "And what's this oh so special mission you need me, the guy who just fucked up his last mission?"
"Simple. We need you to stop Agent 425."
"Stop right there, sir." Adam had 425 in his sights, on a rooftop overlooking the crowd below. A crowd that was gathering to see Saburo Arasaka, the man who "was saving America."
"Adam. You look like shit." 425 lowered his sniper rifle, all primed and ready to fire. He had had the shot, he still did, Saburo wasn't ending this speech for any reason.
"You can address me as Agent 86." Adam said, his pistol unwavering and trained on 425's head. Adam was wearing his mask, one last time.
"Ha! You did watch those reruns! How long were you holding onto that secret?"
"About two years, Lugo got me into it. Always wanted to surprise you."
"Well, you certainly did that." 425 hadn't moved, his rifle was still in his hands.
"Can I ask why your here sir?" Adam would have patted himself in the back, two days to track his old mentor down.
"Exactly what it looks like. I'm here to assassinate the head of Arasaka."
"So it's true then, you joined a death cult?"
"Bullshit. It's this country that's joined a cult! All we did, all we fought, and it's rolling over to let these Japs, this damn company come in and fuck us like a whore?! We deserve better damn it!" 425 had turned around now, his face showing his anger, his rage. He wasn't wearing his mask.
"So killing the guy whose giving folks stability, that'll do what, resurrect America?"
"No, but maybe it'll force folks to figure out their own damn problems, actually get their shit together and work with each other again."
"If that was on the table, we wouldn't be here now. We tried that, everyone tried that. All the states broke up and decided to run things their way, and everything's fucked." Adam insisted. He wasn't a history buff, and talking wasn't his strong point, but if it meant he could bring in 425 without killing him…
"So you're fine with this?" 425 looked Adam right in the eye, blue to red.
"Personally, I don't care. Things are so screwed up, I honestly wouldn't notice if Arasaka took over running things. Except maybe I'd get some grub." Adam kept his finger on the trigger. "Doesn't matter. I was told to bring you in, and that's what I'm doing. Please sir, don't make me put down a friend."
"…I don't want to fight you Adam, and I sure as hell don't want to kill you." He lowered the rifle, gently, on the ground, keeping it sideways and away from them both. "Hold on, I have a pistol."
"Take it out with your left hand, sir. Slowly."
"Heh, you got it, sir." 425 laughed. He did as ordered, dangling it between his fingers.
'Good, good. No tricks, no bullshit. Not losing anyone else, just put it down and we can figure this ou OH WHAT THE FUCK?!' Adam Smasher's thought process changed dramatically upon his gun being shot out of his hands and losing his left middle and ring finger from two more bullets.
425 had gotten the bare minimum of upgrades, it was true. Really, his eyes were the most dominant upgrade he'd gotten. Eyes that's could see the trajectory of the bullets he'd fire. Bullets from a gun tied to an implant in his head, an implant that allowed him to fire the gun even without squeezing the trigger.
Adam took the full clip. Two bullets in the gut, one in the left hand, one that had shot his gun out of his hands, two more in his knees, and finally, a final two in his face. His mask had taken it, it wasn't just a fashion show, but it had been knocked lose, and now 425 was on him and breaking Adam's legs and his right arm before he had time to blink. That was 425, shattering organic and machine like it was nothing. And now, he was hoisting Adam up by his collar like a sack of potatoes.
"Keep squirming and I'll break your left arm too. Sorry it had to come to this, but there are bigger things at stake." 425 did look regretful. He truly did. "Now, do you want me to put you out of your misery, or should I off your new boss first?"
Adam gurgled, struggling to get the words out. Uselessly, he tried taking his mask off.
"Hmm? Got something to say?" 425 tore it off, exposing Adam's face. His dead scarred face.
"Tooth and nail, sir."
And then he bite down.
Right on 425's throat.
With his organic jaw.
425 threw Adam away, he could only do because the deed was done, Adam had bitten through and torn out a chunk of his throat. There was a gaping hole exposing the muscle underneath, with blood now pouring through.
"Yo- you…" The disbelief on 425's face, his blue eyes flashing, he truly didn't believe it. Neither did Adam, who stared at someone who'd been a friend, dead at his hands. As he lay there bleeding, calling in support, he could only listen to the crowd below cheer as Saburo took the stage.
It took him a while to brush and get the bits of 425 out of his teeth,
'Fucking meat.'
He was given a congratulations for a job well done, then promptly told to get the fuck out. He tried calling his mother, but she wouldn't answer. Went to her place, found it locked up and under renovations. Breaking the building owners arm and demanding answers lead him to a Arasaka mental hospital.
Fucking 425 was not a graceful loser. He'd sent recordings of Adam's work, right down to Adam biting his throat out, to Adam's mother. All in one burst, she'd gotten the braindance of hell. Her job required the implants, and now, it had broken her. Seeing her son's work, his kills, even being killed by him… the doctors said she'd never recover. His sister, asleep at her side, not knowing her big brother was there watching them. He signed the paperwork, made sure the funds would keep coming, but Adam truly had no idea what to do. He didn't feel real, he didn't feel like he was alive. He felt his implants more than anything, like he was the metal trapped under a useless meat suit. If he started peeling, would he be alive again?
He wandered, found a gang that need muscle and a lack of squeamishness. Sign him up, he needed the distraction. He need to hurt.
As he drowned in guns, gear, drugs, and one night stands, it became easier to forget. Just go out and have a good time, embrace what you were made for. Keep pushing, keep moving.
Honestly, it was inevitable he would get taken down. He was operating the same as he had in Madagascar, and look how that turned out. As the rockets came for him, unable to avoid them, Adam only hoped the corps wouldn't charge his sister for his remains. Fuck, she didn't even know he existed most of the time, how fucked would it be she had to pay for funeral expenses, even a cremation?
As he lay there, body little more than meatloaf, blasted to pieces with some hanging off his torso, connected by the cybernetics underneath just barely, his jaw torn off and his eyes popped, drifting into unconsciousness, he had one last thought.
'Fucking meat.'