ICE. Intrusion Countermeasure Electronics. A blanket term to refer to any program specifically designed to defend against unauthorized access to a given system. The most simple form of ICE was a Firewall, a blanket program that scanned the system and isolated potentially harmful systems. Most ICE was passive, defensive, and easy to get around. Worst came to worst, normal ICE couldn't actually harm a netrunner, so the only real risk was detection.
If you didn't care about staying hidden, then all normal ICE could cost you was time. Black ICE was a different beast altogether.
Black ICE was a blanket term to refer to any program specifically designed to defend against unauthorized access to a given system with lethal means. Many Black ICE programs were Daemons, but not all of them.
Daemons were simply any program that ran as part of a background process, that is to say, once a Daemon was executed, it required no further input from the Netrunner in order to fulfill its function. A Black ICE Daemon was essentially a watchdog, capable of lying in wait for as long as needed, activating as soon as conditions were met by a sub-program, and then lethally counter-attacking any unauthorized access to their listed system.
There was a reason most Black ICE Daemons took the form of monsters in virtuality, because that's what they essentially were to a normal netrunner. Going into a NET-Architecture meant dealing with the monster in the lair.
Demons were different. They were (usually) Black ICE, but they weren't Daemons despite being able to operate entirely independently to a netrunner. They were closer to lobotomized AI. Artificial Intelligences that were capable of making decisions, but only to a certain extent, and incapable of deviating beyond their original programming. If they were told to shoot a nearby security turret at anyone who wasn't wearing a proper ID badge, they would do it, even if they recognized the target as the one who programmed them.
From what she could tell, the RABID was technically a Demon, in the same way that a Tyrannosaurus Rex was technically a chicken (David had been getting into dinosaurs recently, rambling to her about them, it was really cute). An almost-AI, bound by its non-vocational decision making, and set loose on the NET.
A titan made of endlessly shifting but crystal-clear water, swirling and writhing as it droned out what sounded like random nonsense. Even as it grappled with the colossal white-outline elephant, it chanted out through icy grit teeth.
-Sfc-fslash-scannow-B'NaP,SHeH-
-Cd-B'NaP,SHeH-Cipher-OaLKHaYLaOoT,oA-
-Ping-D'MaRaOaT,aA-B'K,uL-OaLKHaYLaOoT,oA-
-Run-B'D'aR-B'K,uL-OaLKHaYLaOoT,oA-
She had already manually reset her ICE at this point, knowing that the third line was what it always spoke to initiate the breaching process. It was always that line that started the breaching process, and by the time the fourth line was complete it would execute the program that killed you in an instant. It didn't seem to matter how many datawalls you had, each one would be torn through in an instant and the program uploaded in the same fraction of a second.
She had been fast enough to detect the intrusion the first time, and was quick enough on the draw each time to follow thus far. After a while, she could recognize the pattern in the droning, even as much as it made her head hurt to listen to.
It killed anyone in an instant it seemed, no matter how unstoppable they seemed. Her face scrunched in on itself miserably.
…She didn't know how she was going to tell David that he was dead…
…She didn't know what they were going to do after this either, it was probably time to use those emergency tickets right after this, otherwise they'd be caught up in corporate maneuvering but without the protection that the Butcher offered. There was a strangely sad reverberation in her form at that.
The RABID was distracted for a moment, she couldn't help but glance up at…
…The streak of bone-white fire was gone. She almost stumbled in realspace, as focused as she was in netspace. Where did it go!? It was almost a mile long! That much scrap-code doesn't just disappear!
Her instinctual response was to run, and she decided to trust it. She pulled her 'Killer : Anti-Program Black ICE' back just in time for a fiery bullet to smash down right on top of the RABID's crystal-blue back with an explosion of light that nearly blinded her.
Netrunning while still in the physical world meant that she retained a sense of sight and sound, but not feeling (other than pain from a direct hack). It was easier to jack out of the NET this way though, so she preferred it.
That didn't stop her from flinching at the supernova that just burst into life in the distance, or from being baffled at the voice that issued forth from it.
'DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA-'
Her eyes widened, from beside her she could hear the startled gasp of the NCPD netrunners seeing the same thing, from her other side she heard a resigned sigh from Wallace.
The Icon of Adam Smasher, supposed to be a virtual smear right now, raised up a fist from where his massive form was crouching over the form of the RABID embedded into the server-ground below.
Clenching his fist, he slammed it down titanically, sending forth another burst of light and shaking the serverspace. The limbs of the RABID bounced as the blow crashed into its chest.
'-HOW MUCH THAT FUCKING HURT!?'
-Ping-D'MaRaOaT,aA-B'K- The RABID started to chant furiously, even as its massive hand moved to swipe at him.
Only for his wings to flap once, sending him up in a burst of immediate speed, and then again, sending him down to smash a fist into its wintry face, cutting off the chant immediately. It was about this point that the other netrunners started to capitalize, sending forth Daemons to attack the RABID's form currently locked down by Smasher continually avoiding its attacks and punching it into the ground.
It didn't seem to be doing any real damage, but it was certainly cutting it off whenever it tried to chant again.
"There is no goddamn way." The shortest officer spoke in disbelief, shaking her head and waving her bob-cut slightly. "We all saw him get turned into paste, right? He was like that for like, three binding cycles, right."
"I don't care how much I have to pay Arasaka, I want whatever the fuck he has." One of the male officers spoke, sounding quite serious with that statement.
"Get in line." The third officer said, already opening up a second tab on their cyberdeck and drafting up an email. This didn't really seem to be an appropriate time for it, but the elephant, an apparent AI named Metatron, gave them specific instructions.
Namely, continually rezzing programs and sending it at the RABID to distract it from killing actual Netrunners. Which wasn't really a thing that mattered in these current seconds. Another burst of light and virtual fire exploded out in the distance.
'ICE is down.' The message came over their internal agents, popping up in the corner of their vision. Wallace was focused on the fight still, continually typing away at on battledeck and scanning the virtual sky for hostiles.
A dozen programs slammed into the thrashing giant of water, each one binding it further and further, locking up processing power and attempting to scramble sections of code. Viruses aplenty loaded up into what was effectively a giant virus itself.
The giant elephant floated over again, voice booming out in command.
Fall
The RABID instantly froze over, turning into an icy sculpture on the ground, even as its insides started boiling rapidly to counteract this. This had happened three times before, and each time it took around seven minutes before it melted enough to chant something underneath its new icy shell. That new chant would make it appear in a random location, completely refreshed and renewed, and the process would start all over again.
Except this time, they had the ICON of the man who had brawled with the thing by himself for two and a half minutes currently standing on its chest and glaring down, six plumes of fire stretching out from his bone-white armored back. The man who had been subject to an attack that left colorful streaks of other netrunners still hanging in the sky.
Silently, she pulled out one of her program chips, and slotted in a 'Stalker' long-distance Net-monitoring program. Letting it format, and then activating it, she zoomed the virtual drone over to get closer to Smasher as he was being talked to by an Arasaka ICON she didn't know the identity of.
'...how are you alive right now! The moment your ICE was breached it scattered your mind across a dozen servers! We all saw it! How did you not turn into a vegetable!' The doll-woman carrying the instrument sounded quite frustrated and relieved at the same time.
There was a pause. The almost-skeletal helmet tilted slightly. The fire behind it flared in a regular pattern.
'...Meh, first time in the Dragoon was worse.'
That of course, set off another burst of rambling from the wound-up woman. Oh, Lucy just got the joke. She was a wind-up doll. Disregarding that, she turned her focus back towards what had just happened.
She could only think of one thing.
"The fuck just happened?"
—
Katsuo Tanaka lived in the Temporary Arasaka HQ down in the Arasaka Pacifica reclamation zone, on the third floor where all the most armored living spaces were. He was eighteen, almost nineteen years old.
He believes in taking care of himself, with a well-balanced and scientifically authenticated diet, although he breaks from this to partake in at least one carbonated beverage a day. Sometimes he'll drink up to three a day, but no more than that, as to prevent undue tooth decay even with his full suite of nano-groomers helping to maintain his overall micro-cleanliness.
He exercises at least once a day, although usually twice a day, going through a full-body but comparatively light regime of calisthenic workouts. He didn't have a particular desire to bulk up, or get stronger, but he did seek to improve his lean musculature and frame. He doesn't do crunches due to the potential long-term damage to his spine, and instead relies on planks and other core-exercises to condition his abdomen.
Every morning he goes through an hour-long regime of making sure that his face is perfectly healthy and his skin is clear, aided by said nanogroomers. A deep-pore cleanser lotion followed by a water-activated gel cleanser, followed by an exfoliating gel scrub. After his shower, he applies a facial mask for ten minutes as he goes through the rest of his routine, and shaves with a low or no-alcohol shaving lotion. Alcohol dries out your skin, which is something to be avoided to ensure optimal looks.
He works as an employee under the Arasaka corporation, just like his mother and father did, and is currently assigned under one of their security assets after a transfer request was approved. He finds that he likes his current assignment, as he knows that his current immediate coworkers were not a threat to his potential career advancement.
He doesn't smoke or drink, but will use stimulants in order to keep up in more competitive times for the corporation. The negative side effects of which are filtered through his toxin-binder implant and flushed out of his system with his daily restroom break. Daily to make sure that his bowel movements are on schedule and thus, healthier.
Before bed, he typically drinks a glass of warm biotechnica-approved livestock-sourced organic milk and performs twenty minutes of stretches to alleviate any potential pain or discomfort in his joints, focusing on his torso specifically due to his limbs being fully mechanical at this point. After a minimum of six hours of sleep, he typically awakes without fatigue or stress, and begins his daily routine again.
His current goal in life was to earn enough money to effectively retire, living off his savings and investments in a modest private property. He lives frugally to achieve this goal sooner, and pursues promotions that do not compromise his beneficial relationships in order to earn additional funds. If possible, he intends to find a like-minded woman that he can agree to a marital contract with, have children, and raise them to be as modestly successful as he was.
All of this to say, Katsuo Tanaka considered himself to be an average, unexceptional, unambitious person. His goal being nothing more than being able to live a quiet life, away from the troubles of the world, and free of troublesome things like enemies and major obligations.
All of this to say that he was quite glad that his current superior, Adam Smasher, was apparently not dead, because his presence made planning their survival and victory in the cybernetic warzone that used to be Watson much easier.
Of course, it was possible that Adam Smasher was indeed dead (he was down for 24 minutes after all) and this was simply an malign AI puppeteering his corpse, but if that were true Katsuo intended to leave it to the professionals and not worry about it in the meantime. It had shown no hostile intentions towards any of them yet, and it could stay that way. That was a disturbing line of thought, so he decided to ignore it entirely.
A tremendous boom sounded out as Adam Smasher suddenly disappeared from his casual walk in front of them (which was still something that required them to run to keep up with, as he was literally twice their height right now). He glanced at the mini-map displayed in his field of vision. Kiroshi Optics were very expensive, but their most recent model was very much worth the price, especially with the associated app for his internal agent.
"Boss is engaging their Centaurs right now. Martinez, a block forwards and up the ladder on the right, 13 on the rooftop. Rebecca, there's a total of seven active security turrets on the walls of the next four alleys on the left." He spoke quickly and concisely as he ran forwards, reaching into his carry-bag as he did so.
"Got it." Both of them returned, and sped forwards as he ducked behind a ruined car and finally pulled out the bag of white power. Squeezing it to dispense a small line of the substance on his wrist, he snorted it quickly and stored the bag away in his larger bag again.
He could feel his eyes dilate already as the synth-coke entered his system and heightened his reactions. It also heightened his sense of paranoia, but that was hardly a detriment during the middle of a fight.
A laser screamed and he threw himself to the side, the car he was just behind quickly melted through by a colossal industrial cutting-beam. That could have killed him, which would have been very unfortunate indeed, he buried the panic as well as he could and began running forwards along the street again, keeping peripheral attention on his minimap.
Up ahead, Adam Smasher was seemingly playing with his food a bit, as the three borgs in military-grade linear frames struggled to damage him with either their massive Militech Laser Cannons or simple brawling. Both of which Adam Smasher simply walked through, as each of them were only perhaps two thirds of his height.
There were two more on the side of the street, left unmoving in craters of concrete with their limbs smashed into scrap, each one was a giant who could probably massacre their way through a few dozen beat-cops.
Adam Smasher was laughing in bloodthirsty amusement as he slapped around five without any issues.
Fuck, his boss was so fucking preem.
Crouching slightly but moving fast, he angled himself to be in the blind spot of the few strommers that looked to be mostly meat and were firing ineffectually at Smasher. He was glad he splurged on his 'Nindo Stealthman' chip, because it was coming in handy at this exact moment. Their attention was drawn mostly by his boss, although some of them noticed Rebecca blowing up hacked turrets and started to turn to aim relatively big guns at her.
His 'Koppo Kung-Fu Master' chip told him how to leap forwards and carry momentum into a series of rapid blows against the first strommer, who thankfully fell to the surprise attack after a three good punches to the brain. This was the perfect number of punches to let him access one of the follow-up attacks of a spinning kick that sent the body into another strommer.
Unfortunately, that was the end of that potential chain, that particular attack didn't lead into anything else on the chip, so he had to improvise. It was still his best option, as any other attack chain wouldn't have given him the distraction of throwing a body on them or gotten him out of the way.
He promptly improvised by tossing a grenade out of his bag at the strommers and running to the side to jump into the dumpster. Thankfully, their self-preservation was higher than their murderous intent, so they scrambled as he got to cover. Unfortunately, the dumpster he was now in smelled very bad, and his shoes were now wet with something foul meaning he needed to buy new ones.
A massive scream of metal smashing into metal brought his attention to Smasher using one of the borgs in a Centaur Frame as an improvised club to bludgeon another one. He then hefted the multi-hundred pound mass of dazed metal, and threw it against a cover-block that one of the strommers had just ducked behind, killing him with a messy splat.
A couple bodies dropped from the rooftops as Martinez took care of the ones up there. Another micro missile screamed around a corner and crashed into the final turret. He opened his line to her and spoke.
[Rebecca, there are three strommers behind the blue car on the other side of the street from you.]
[Got it Kats.] She replied with her undignified nickname for him, he absolutely was not a cat. Raising one of her arms and firing her last missile, which arced over the car and crashed down at the cowering strommers behind it. One of them died on the spot, the other two injured. This distracted them long enough to hop out of his dumpster and across the alley to a new position behind a trash can.
From here, it was a simple matter to roll a grenade at their feet, and turn the remaining two into corpses.
Another few bodies dropped from the rooftops and made red stains as they impacted the road. Once this had happened, Adam Smasher immediately blurred again, and the remaining Centaurs were all immediately turned into messy scraps of twisted metal and myomer.
"Acceptable. Next group is half a mile up the road." Smasher growled out and turned to start leisurely walking once more.
"How's everyone's supplies?" He immediately spoke as Rebecca started jogging, face red and slightly out of breath from her short legs working overtime. Martinez performed a series of acrobatics down the side of the building, and raced to catch up as he wished for a new set of shoes already.
He was feeling a bit tired too, but his 'Cardiomaster' Chip told him the best ways to regulate breathing and stride for good endurance, so it wasn't too bad overall.
"I'm out of missiles now. Guns at half." Rebecca replied, struggling a bit for breath.
"I've been looting guns as we go, I'm still fine." Martinez replied.
Katsuo hummed for a moment as he jogged, before speaking up. "Mr. Smasher, do I have permission to request Spares to bring us restocks of weaponry and ammo from HQ?" He asked aloud, careful to not step on any toes.
"Yes." Boss replied simply, seemingly not caring too much one way or the other.
"Thank you Mr. Smasher." He said aloud, proper courtesies having to be observed in the cut-throat world of corporate service, even if it was much more relaxed while working for his current superior.
After that, he drafted a list of supplies they needed and might need, then sent a message to both Spares and Martinez's Nomad contact 'Falco'. Quickly explaining the situation and sending an offer of payment as he did so.
Martinez was a natural at making contacts, but an idiot at utilizing them properly. That was fine, he was experienced enough at that, and could handle that part just fine.
His soggy shoes pounded the concrete as they jogged to keep up a chrome-giants walk.
He frowned as he realized he would have to take measures to prevent any sores from forming. Wet footwear was hard on the soles of the feet after all.