A/N: Many apologies, third chapter in and I've already broken my schedule :(. Well, we're here now and it's time for the action to continue. It was fun writing that fight scene between James and David last chapter. Myself and my beta have had several long conversations about power-balancing between the Halo and Cyberpunk universes. If you've read this story's companion, A Hero's Story, you'll know I'm pretty anal about keeping things consistent. I'm not much one for "rule of cool" and while I don't mind a little suspension of disbelief, if a story starts doing things just because the writer wants to, it breaks the world for me. Aaaaaanyway, I think that's enough rambling, please leave a review if you're so inclined, I always appreciate the feedback and, as always, enjoy!
Chapter 3: A Whole New World
After the last two ventures Reggie sent him on, a day providing security for the slums felt like a break. After he ended up fighting David Martinez, the person he was supposed to be giving a job to, he started getting concerned with how well this odd job arrangement with these people was gonna go. James knew it wouldn't be long-term, whatever ended up happening. That didn't mean the experiences couldn't be painful in the meantime.
So when the massive cyborg had come to him again, less than 12 hours later, to help Greg take some people from the slum to a much smaller apartment building a kilometer away, he wasn't excited. The idea they needed an escort already put James on notice. That they were going to use one of the cyborgs instead of the more regular members of their gang made it even more concerning.
As it turns out, that discomfort wasn't unfounded. It didn't take more than five minutes of walking for them to be confronted by a small group of… James wouldn't go so far as to call them 'gang members'. They, like a lot of the people he'd seen around H4, looked strung out. If he had to guess, he'd say they were looking for a quick shakedown for another hit.
That this group of five, only armed with two handguns and a few knives, would challenge, what they probably thought were, two 'borgs' only reinforced that.
Nothing came of it. After 30 seconds of posturing, the group backed down. Maybe they'd been trying to bluff their way into a payday. While the pistols they were carrying were unfamiliar, they looked like they were in rough shape. James gave them an 80/20 chance of shooting, with the other 20% being the 'blow up' option.
"Constantly fighting is normal, I take it", James said to Greg once they'd dropped their charges off.
"Duh. Didn't you do it where you're from?" He cocked… well, what should have been an eyebrow. "I ain't heard great stuff about the Midwest."
"I don't make a habit of staying in cities so I don't know."
That wasn't a lie, not entirely. In his line of work, he spent more time on ships or out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere than in large, built-up cities. If they needed him and his squad to deploy to an urban setting the size of Night City, they had a problem.
Greg shrugged. "It's part of life here."
Great…
With the first two jobs being more… exciting than James would have preferred, he found Reggie when they got back. He appreciated the fact they took him in while he figured out what the hell was going on. That being said, the more he was put in those positions, the more likely he'd be to have to hurt or kill someone. Aside from that, he had to consider the increased chances of being noticed by an unwanted party. Until he could put all these puzzle pieces together, that couldn't happen.
Instead of sending James out again, Reggie agreed to let him 'patrol' the slum.
It wasn't a hard job, at least that's what Reggie said. Fights would break out from time to time and that's about it. Since there wasn't anything of value there, rival gangs didn't have any reason to move in.
"If they know you're doin' it for me, they'll listen", Reggie had replied when James asked about how people would react to him. "Just don't be an asshole and you'll be alright."
Don't be an asshole. Unless Liam has rubbed off on me more than I realized, I think that should be manageable.
That's how he found himself walking around the slum. It wasn't the most exciting job, and constantly having people around him wasn't the most comfortable thing, but they generally gave him space and the patrol gave him time to think.
He did, however, notice the glances many of the slum's inhabitants shot his way. They were a mixture of suspicious and outright angry. People didn't like him being there. Did that have something to do with James being a newcomer? Were they suspicious because of his appearance? Did they think he was with an adversarial group? Or did they not like 6th Street?
Unless he was able to talk with someone, he doubted he'd find out.
None of the information he had at that point made sense. It was as if he'd been teleported to another world- or universe since going to different worlds was a common occurrence.
As he slipped between two shanties that had been built too close together, his mind dredged the 'simulation' possibility back up. It was the only thing that made sense. How would he not remember entering the sim? And how would a simulation be so realistic, not only could he not tell from his sensory inputs, it would have to simulate his bruised abdomen. That was something he'd never experienced before.
On top of that, the food he'd been eating, while marginally worse than the MREs he was used to, was… food. You don't eat in simulations. And the longest he'd ever spent in one was a few hours. It had been almost a day and a half since he'd woken up on the dam.
Well damn, have I been transported to a different, even worse version of reality?
James laughed to himself. Crazy was a regular part of his career so who knows. Considering his background was in history, not physics, he had no idea how that would even be possible.
Then again, not like he was qualified to comment on it.
"James!" someone shouted from behind him. They were young with a high, slightly nasally voice.
Mark.
He hadn't seen the kid since he brought him back to the slums. After kidnapping him. Which was, apparently, a regular occurrence.
Turning around, he saw the young, slender kid trotting between the shanties toward him. He was carrying one of the makeshift balls James had seen him and the others playing with.
"Hey James, how's it going!" Mark beamed, stopping in front of him.
"I have no idea but I'm still breathing so, good, I guess."
"One of the 6th Street guys told me you're helpin' them out."
James nodded. "Yeah, they have me on- making sure nothing violent happens."
"Well- uh…" his eyes dropped to the ball in his hands. "Me and a few of the other guys were gonna play later. After you're done, did… you…"
A smile slipped across James's face. "Join you?"
Mark nodded. It was so small it seemed like he didn't want the gesture to be seen.
"How do you play?"
The kid's eyes shot up to him. "You've never played soccer before?"
While the answer to that question was 'no', he hadn't, he generally knew the rules. At least, he thought he did. If it was similar to the game 'football' he'd seen some others watch from time to time, he could figure it out.
Might as well let him explain, he seems excited.
"No."
"Oh! Well, it's easy. I'm sure you'll do great!" He held up the ball. "So all you have to do is kick this ball into the other team's goal. You can't touch it with your hands. Well", he frowned, "unless you're the goalie. Then you can. We usually play to 10 points. You can't hurt the other people either."
So, yes, it was similar to football.
While he hadn't taken part in many, James did his share of PR events, especially considering he was one of the earliest recruits to Spartan Ops. Most of his job consisted of standing around and looking intimidating. It hadn't been his most difficult assignment.
There were more than a few attendees who came up to talk with him. Most asked questions about what it was like and why he'd joined. There was one particularly amusing instance when a kid tried to climb on him. While he had no idea what prompted it, the little girl's parents looked like they were about ready to both scream at her and run away screaming. She was completely oblivious to their horror.
James had laughed. It was impossible not to. Something about kids and their lack of inhibitions was both infuriating and endearing. He respected the people who took good care of their kids.
After he'd handed their child back to them, the couple almost stumbled over themselves to get away.
A little PR here might go a long way. This kid didn't seem to have the same uncertainty about James the other inhabitants did. Plus, it could give him another opportunity to find more information. He wasn't sure what questions he'd ask but Mark, and maybe his friends, could be willing to part with more info.
It couldn't hurt. Not like he had any good ideas for other things to do.
James didn't know what time he was 'off' but he'd been wandering around the slum with zero fights to break up for three hours now. Unless they planned on keeping him all day, it probably wouldn't be much longer.
"You guys gonna be at that field we… met at?" he asked.
Mark's face lit up with a smile that stretched ear to ear. "Yeah!"
"Good." James nodded. "I'll come find you when I can."
"Okay! Awesome!" The kid nodded vigorously.
With that, he turned and ran back between the two shanties, no doubt to tell whoever would be playing they had a new 'borg' friend.
It's amazing how adaptable kids are. James watched him disappear from view, smiling. Even in a place like this.
The thought turned sour.
Kids can even adapt to war. Better than anyone else.
Turning back to the newest portion of the slum, he started forward again, scanning the crowd for any potential threats. In this case, the threats probably weren't to him. The signs of danger were the same, regardless.
Most of the time, people aren't very good at hiding an intent to attack someone. They'll usually stare, follow a little too close to be considered coincidental, and they tend to fixate. If it's a group, that group will move in the same direction all at once. Any changes in direction will likewise happen at the same time. There were other signs but, if you could spot those, you were usually okay in a crowd like this.
If it was a more spontaneous fight, shouting would probably precede it.
Nothing in front of him looked like that. Everything here was the same throng of people walking through the too-narrow pathways, shoving by each other. He caught more glances and glares. They were still giving him space, impressive considering space was at a premium here.
James stepped away from the shanty he'd been standing beside and into the flow of slum-goers.
What he needed was access to some kind of information database. A computer would be useful. The problem with that is it's potentially traceable. Sometimes old school is best. If he could find a library or something of the sort, that would be ideal. Paper books had made a comeback after the colony wars and not just because they provided an entirely different reading experience.
No, the reason is as old as information operations: paper can't be hacked. The only way to get access to what's on it is to be holding it.
As he drifted through the crowd, eyes roaming for potential danger, James started working out how he could figure out where a library was. Getting to one would be a different endeavor.
That could be dealt with later. This was a big city. Even if everything else made no sense, there had to be a library.
Right?
Just as he was about to turn off to another part of the slum, shouting up ahead caught his attention. He couldn't hear what was being said over the din around him. It wasn't an attention-getting shout.
Pushing his way through the crowd, he heard another voice shouting back. Then a third. It was coming from behind one of the shanties maybe 20 meters ahead of him.
By the time he reached the row of shanties, the shouting was constant from all three voices.
Then it was over.
Before James could round onto the pathway the shouting was coming from, it ended. When he did, he saw the three who had been involved in the shouting match all against the wall of the small shack they'd been next to. It was two older men and a younger woman. Her already ragged blue T-shirt had been torn from the collar down. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her entire body was trembling.
Both men had prosthetic arms, hair, and beards as unkempt as one would expect from someone forced to live in a slum, and rail thin. They looked very similar to the squatters outside H4 strung out on whatever drugs they used around there.
Opposite them was the same group he'd seen on patrol the night he'd arrived. The man with ocular implants turned to James as he came into view.
Whether this was a robbery or sexual assault, it was clear these two were assaulting her.
The pragmatic part of him knew it was to be expected in an environment like this. The less pragmatic part of him didn't care. Living in a slum didn't excuse this, especially when the person you're assaulting has it just as bad.
If it was attempted assault… well, it quite literally wasn't his job to handle those situations, and it wasn't as if he ran into them in his line of work, but that didn't mean he wasn't available if they needed help with it.
"You're the guy Reggie has workin' today, yeah?" the group's leader said, voice low and rough like he'd smoked every day since he was five.
James nodded. "Yeah."
"Sid, go with him." He jerked his head at James.
"You gonna zero that motherfucker?" she snapped, jabbing a finger at the closest man. Her voice was so thick it sounded like she was on the verge of crying. James couldn't blame her. The man's eyes were wide and, even with 10 meters between them, James could see his pupils dilated as far as they'd go. Whatever he was on, he was about as 'on' it as he could be.
"We'll handle it. Get outta here."
The man she'd pointed out shifted toward Sid as she started in James's direction. He stopped before he could get anywhere, probably due to whatever sense of self-preservation he had left. Still, it was enough for the five men standing in front of him to have handguns trained on him. James still had his clamped to his hip. It wasn't that he didn't consider the man a threat to Sid. These guys looked like they'd been around. If he needed to get involved, he would. Right then, it didn't seem like he did.
Sid, for her part, turned and spat on him.
Then James was leading her away from the group.
The normally pressing crowd had given the event a wide berth and, as the two of them left the scene, the other inhabitants did the same for them.
Where was he supposed to take her? He didn't know anywhere quiet to go in this place.
Maybe her home?
"Do you have a place?" he asked. "I can take you there."
She nodded. "Yeah- yeah, I got a place." She was quiet, barely audible over the crunch of dirt under people's feet and the constant conversations around them. Her eyes were on the ground as they walked. The anger and adrenaline from the encounter were wearing off.
Punitive justice wasn't his thing and, even if his job required him to fight and kill, he knew there was a difference between doing it as part of active combat and executing someone. That being said… he wouldn't ask questions if those two ended up dead. James could admit he'd grown jaded when it came to death. Still, he liked to think he was pretty good at separating what he did in his role and what most would consider a healthy perspective on what it means to kill. He wasn't too worried about separating them here.
"Do you want me to get someone to take a look at you?"
"No", Sid said. "They didn't do anything." She turned left at the next intersection and headed across the crowded walkway.
James was grateful now for the space the slum's inhabitants left around him.
A minute later, they reached her home. If was on the corner of the slum, right across from the hillside he'd hidden on that first night. Like all the other shacks, it was made of corrugated steel, wood, and a lot of hope the structure would remain standing.
"I can stay for a while if you'd like", James said as they stopped in front of the ragged, dirty sheet hung in front of the opening.
Sid shook her head. She hadn't made eye contact since they left the scene. "I'll be alright. Not the first time someone's done that."
As with Mark and his comment about being kidnapped, the idea this wasn't the first time someone tried to assault her was… disheartening. James had been around too long and seen too much to be disgusted the way he probably should have been. What that didn't mean was he wasn't angry. This wasn't a one-time event. Based on her reaction, this has happened to her on multiple occasions.
That's bullshit. It was beyond bullshit. How could people let something like this exist right outside of a major, bustling city? It didn't happen in the inner colonies. Unfortunately, he knew a significant majority of human history consisted of circumstances like that.
"I'll stay in the area for a few minutes", James replied. "Shout if you need something."
She finally looked up at him and offered a small smile. "Thanks, New Guy."
"New Guy". It's been a long time since I was the "new guy". "You're welcome."
After Sid pulled the sheet aside and disappeared into the small 'house', James paced a few meters away and took up position between two other shacks. Since he was at the edge of the slum, he had a good view of everyone around him. As had been the case most of the day, the inhabitants would shoot him a look from time to time. None of them did anything more than that.
Between how many of these people had prosthetics, how they treated Reggie and his crew, and the way everyone, including the more standard city-goers he'd been around on his way to meet David, treated him, James was starting to build a picture of the power-dynamics here. Money was power in a very literal way.
Money, in this place, meant better prosthetics. Better prosthetics meant more fighting power. If what Reggie had suggested the first night, that this city was a meat grinder, was true, he had to guess this place was about survival of the fittest. The ones with the most physical strength won.
Might makes right. It was an old, nonsensical aphorism, whoever has the power determines what's right and wrong. The aphorism relied on several assumptions society had rejected a long time ago.
At least, that's what James had thought.
This place hadn't rejected them. From what he'd seen, it operated on them. Except for, potentially, small pockets like this place. It wasn't uncommon for gangs to act as pseudo-police forces in the past.
That tweaker had called him a 'corpo'. His best guess was that meant "corporate agent". If he got confused for a corporate agent, that meant there may have been some walking around like Reggie. Or it's possible they're used to seeing 'corpos' with a more moderate level of modification and assumed anyone with more would be an agent as well.
But, then, what about a police force?
James's first instinct, if he saw someone walking around a city in power armor, or as a 'borg', would be law enforcement, as strange as that would be. He wouldn't think 'private corporate agents'. Unless they were talking about mercenaries.
For some reason, that still didn't fit. Why 'corpo' and not 'merc'? And why would it be a common sight to see someone like him wandering around a city?
Then there was Martinez… At first glance, he looked like someone who had a few more modifications than normal. It went far beyond that. At the least, he was as modified as Greg.
Why was someone like that a gun for hire in the street gang world?
And then Reggie and his people. They were in a gang. Not a multi-national or multi-global one, just a common street gang. The hardware could have been from their military days but…
He was getting off track…
All of that accepted, it seemed like the reason people were suspicious of him and left him alone was because he was in power armor. Or they thought he was a 'borg'.
As James looked to his right, he caught sight of the man with ocular implants. They were fixed on him and the gang member was walking straight toward him from the same direction he and Sid had a few minutes earlier.
"James, right?" the man said in his low, hoarse voice.
"Yes." Fourier nodded.
"It's taken care of, you can go back to doing what you were doing."
He walked past James and toward Sid's shack, barely sparing a glance. The 'conversation' was terse. Apparently, this guy didn't like him being there either.
Whatever. Not like he expected everyone to appreciate his presence. They weren't openly hostile, for now. All he could do was try to make himself more valuable or show them he was friendly.
Pushing himself away from the shacks he was between, James started back toward the center of the slums.
The more he was able to deduce, the clearer his picture of the environment he was in became. His issue wasn't figuring out how this place worked. He needed to figure out where he was.
If I'm looking for a library… maybe I can ask Mark where one is.
X
James stood on the side of the field, watching the group of nine kids kicking their makeshift ball back and forth. One, a taller, lanky teenager, tried to run up alongside the one who had the ball to steal it from him.
That kid, the largest and, probably, the oldest, stuck his arm out and shoved his attacker away. It was hard enough to send the other one sprawling.
From what little James remembered of the sport, maneuvers like that weren't legal. Mark had told him you weren't supposed to hurt the other people. That rule seemed a little… subjective.
During his 10 minutes of observation, James had seen that happen a few dozen times. Mark and two of the other, smaller kids usually got the worst of it. He saw one get shoved to the ground when he got the ball. To his credit, he got right back up and chased after his assailant.
It had been a little over four hours since the incident with Sid. Walking around the slums, waiting for something else to happen, which it didn't, was boring enough James almost started wishing Reggie had given him another 'errand' to run. If he was being honest with himself, James wanted to see more of this city. What little he'd been able to experience was completely incongruous with what he knew of inner colony planets.
Sure, he hadn't been to all of them, but he'd been to a lot. The architecture here was different and far too inconsistent to be considered 'normal' from what he'd experienced.
"Do you get how we play it?" Mark shouted as he ran toward Fourier.
James nodded. "Yep."
"Awesome! We need someone else so it's fair."
"Well…" he smiled. "Even numbers doesn't always mean 'fair'."
The young kid stopped in front of him. "What does that mean?"
"It isn't just about how many people you have. You'll see." James looked at the other kids. They were all watching him. Unlike most of the adults in the slum, they looked more curious than suspicious.
Except for the biggest and oldest kid. He'd drawn himself up as far as he could. It… looked a little ridiculous when he was still chest-level but there always had to be one. Sometimes it felt like an unwritten rule.
"Who's team am I on?"
"You're gonna play with me, Lucas, Brad, and Hannah." Mark pointed to each of the other players in turn.
James started forward with a nod. "Alright, let's do it."
It still struck him as odd they'd want him to play football with them. Not only was he a newcomer, he was older than any two of them combined while none of the other adults here did.
Lining up a few meters in front of the line someone had drawn in the dirt spanning the two rocks that defined the edges of their goal, James watched the group of kids get ready to begin again.
Maybe Mark just wanted to show off his borg friend. Fourier smiled again. That had been a strange encounter. He went from being terrified to excited in about two minutes. And… one gets 'used to' being kidnapped. That was still weird. He hadn't asked Reggie if they'd used him, and other kids, for errands like the ones he was running.
Wouldn't surprise him, he'd seen that sort of thing a lot.
The largest kid sprinted for the ball and booted it toward the goal. It would pass a meter to James's left.
He stepped to the side and placed his armored boot in the ball's path. As it impacted, Fourier let his foot slip back to arrest the speeding ball's motion. While improved dexterity and reflexes helped, they couldn't make up for a lack of experience.
The ball bounced off the titanium armor and back toward the center of the field. It was a lot slower than it had been coming at him, but not the 'drop' he was trying to do.
One of the other kids on his team, the girl Mark had called 'Hannah', raced for it, dirty blonde hair flying behind her. She was quick for a kid, as slender as she was. She reached it just before the big kid did and dribbled out of his way.
It, and the way she slipped past a second member of their team before the big kid double-backed and kicked it away from behind, was about all James needed to see to know she was probably the most skilled. Maybe the most athletic, too.
As the scuffle for the ball returned to the center of their field, James jogged forward and to the right. He wasn't there to ruin their fun, it was amusing enough to watch them go at it. The game was nothing like the paced, strategic efforts he'd watched from professional or even UNSC teams. This was a lot more hectic, kids swinging for the makeshift ball with everything they had and, usually, missing.
But they were into it. Each of them wanted that damn ball.
After a few seconds of skirmishing, the object in question squirted out toward their side of the field. James slipped back to his original position as the group of battling kids broke up and went after their prize.
A kid around Mark's size came out in front and made for the ball. He wound up-
And booted it straight into their waiting goalie, Lucas.
The ball hit him with a thump and James could hear a pained grunt, but he caught it. That maneuver looked like a legit goalie catching the ball. The way he positioned himself in front of the shooter and caught it with both arms pinning the ball against his chest seemed practiced. They probably spent whatever time they could watching the sport.
Before the other kids could chase after him, Lucas rolled the ball in James's direction. Whether it was because he wanted to give it to the borg or because he was trying to keep it away from the onslaught of charging kids, James didn't know.
Whatever the case, he trapped the ball under a boot and pulled it away as one of the other team tried to take a swing at it.
While he wasn't good enough to do anything fancy, he could probably outplay them on physical ability.
That wouldn't be entertaining or fair. So, after he dodged the big kid coming after the ball, he sent the ball ahead to Mark.
He watched as his new friend's face lit up and he received the pass and started running toward the opposite goal. He was young and small. The other kids were gaining on him.
…
Maybe James didn't want to ruin their game, but he did like Mark.
Running after them, Fourier stuck a hand up. "Mark!"
The kid was concentrating on keeping his dribble heading forward. He took the time to glance over at James who had passed the others and was just drawing abreast with him.
With a pat that was a little too strong, Mark kicked the ball over to him. James managed to catch it and pointed toward the other team's goal.
"Go!"
While most of the other team came after James and the ball, Mark kept running. He avoided one, drew the ball back, and kicked it toward Mark again.
It streaked past two, heading to where, James hoped, Mark would be by the time it got there-
Another kid, this one as tall as the big kid but lankier, ran into Mark from the side and knocked him to the ground.
James frowned as he sprinted to the ball. That was an asshole move. It wasn't like he could play dirty like that with kids. Mark was a lot smaller than the kid who'd run him over. Both weren't exactly fair. Then again… this was probably normal.
Before Fourier could decide whether to chase after the ball, however, Hannah came flying in. Her foot whipped toward the ball and it careened past their goalie's outstretched hands, slamming into the rock face of the cliff overlooking the field.
"YEAH!" she screamed, throwing her hands in the air. She turned to the tall, lanky kid who hit Mark. "Don't be a dick, Jared, and maybe I wouldn't have scored!"
"Whatever, you got that damn borg over there. How's that fair?"
Hannah sneered at him. "I didn't see him beat you. It's our ball."
With that, she turned and jogged over to help Mark up. James grinned.
Guess I'm not the only one…
The longer they played, the more comfortable James got. While he never figured out if it was natural talent (he doubted it) or a result of the procedures, it was usually easy enough for him to pick up new physical skills. This was no different. It took him 15 minutes to figure out how the ball would react depending on how it was contacted, how it spun, and how it bounced. Another five minutes and he was pretty comfortable he could make it do… almost anything he wanted.
That wasn't to say he didn't make mistakes. On more than one occasion, he misjudged the angle it would take off the front or side of his boot, and he still couldn't do any of the aerial maneuvers he'd seen more skilled players, including Hannah and one kid on the other team, perform.
Even so, he was fast and quick enough he gave his team a clear advantage. He didn't press that. If he was being honest, he kind of enjoyed playing with the kids as part of their team. They were all so engaged in the activity and, after the first few minutes, included him in that engagement, it was entertaining enough he could almost forget the situation he was in.
In short, it was fun. He'd always enjoyed these sorts of activities which is why he made it a point his team did things for fun regularly. Even if Amanda pretended to complain and Damon- well- was Damon. As aggravated as the two of them would act, he was pretty sure they enjoyed it. Granted, it was hard to tell with the kid sometimes. But he'd break through that head if it killed him.
By the time they'd finished their game, 11-8, an hour had passed and James's team had won.
All of the kids were tired, ranging from panting to gasping for air.
They were all laughing and talking with each other, though. All of them except for the big kid. His dark brown eyes were locked on James.
"What's up?" Fourier asked. "You wanna go another game?"
"And lose", he paused for a breath, "to a damn borg again?"
James held his hands up in mock surrender. "I didn't score any goals, that was all them." He motioned at his teammates.
"Yeah, yeah. You weren't really playing."
"Does it matter if I still had fun? And I think everyone else did."
He snorted and crossed his arms. "I ain't playin' a game that ain't fair. We woulda killed 'em if it was just us."
"Really." Fourier smiled. "Would it have been 'fair' then? Looks like most of your team is older than theirs."
"So?" He rolled his eyes. "We're still people, not borgs."
"Oh shuddup Will", Lucas called from his left. "You're just salty he wasn't on your team."
'Will' shot Lucas a glare. "Well maybe if your brother hadn't been too chickenshit to play-"
James could see exactly where this was going.
"Stop", he said, stepping between the two of them. "We're all having a good time."
"Man, fuck you, borg." Will's eyes narrowed as he uncrossed his arms. "Who are you? You come outta the goddamn hills a few days ago and you think you can tell me what to do?"
"No, I don't think I can tell you anything." He motioned to all the other kids around them. They weren't chatting and laughing anymore. "All I'm saying is we're having a good time. I'm not here to ruin your game, I've just had a hard few days and Mark asked me to come play. Seemed like a good way to relax."
"Mark didn't ask us if it was alright."
Will was used to being 'in charge' to the extent he could be. This was his group.
"I can sit out if everyone wants me to. Or I can switch teams. Whatever you guys wanna do."
This was a maneuver James had pulled before on several occasions. It put Will in a predicament. He could either admit he was angry because James hadn't been on his team by accepting his offer to switch teams, or he could say 'sit out', which would probably make everyone else unhappy because the teams would be unbalanced and he seemed to be the only one unhappy with Fourier's presence. If he was as miffed about James 'stepping in on his territory' as he seemed, he'd go with option two. Option one would make him look weak, in his eyes.
And, of course, this was all about-
"Nah", Lucas said, the stocky, pale boy stepping beside James. "To hell with that, he's with us. Alex couldn't come so we're short, not you. Borg can play goalie, that way you can't bitch when we score on you again."
"His name is James!" Mark shouted.
Lucas nodded. "Borg James is with us."
"Who said you get that call?" Will hissed.
"Really?" Lucas rolled his eyes. "I said."
The tall, lanky kid who'd knocked Mark to the ground, Jared, stepped up to Will "Come on man… I'm gettin' real tired of this. We're all out here tryin' to have fun. This guy", he motioned at James, "didn't do a damn thing wrong. Least he was makin' it fair. Hop in or don't, but you ain't talkin' for me."
Will looked from Jared, to me, and back. "You dumbasses just wanna get on this guy's good side. Whatever."
James smiled. Guess I was wrong about these kids.
After a few more minutes' rest, a new game started.
X
They won again, this time 11-4. James hadn't been trying to play goalie all that well. Just by virtue of his size, he could cover most of the goal in one or two strides. Like his other advantages, he did his best to not exploit them. It wouldn't be fun for them and, frankly, it wouldn't be fun for him, either.
By the time the game was over, both his teammates and opponents were gassed. If they weren't lying in the dirt, they were bent over, grabbing their knees.
He had to give them credit; they went at these games like they wanted it.
Considering their exhaustion, James assumed their series of matches was over. Seemed like a good enough time to ask about a library.
"Hey Mark", Fourier said as he sat in the dirt next to the small kid. "You good?"
Mark smiled up at him from his spot, lying on the ground.
"Yeah", he heaved. "That was a lot of fun. We don't win much! Did you have fun?"
James nodded. "A lot. It's been a long time since I've done anything like this. Thanks for the invite."
"You can always come back." He propped himself up on his elbows. "We'll probably play tomorrow too."
As much fun as he had, James doubted this was something he wanted to do daily.
"You'll have to take that up with my boss."
"Who's that?"
"Reggie."
Mark's smile flipped into a frown. "I know that guy. The big borg who comes around at night if something bad happens."
"That's him", James said, nodding. "Not sure what he'll have me doing tomorrow."
"That sucks."
"Yeah… I'm used to it. Can I ask a favor?"
Mark nodded. "Mhmm."
"It's probably crazy but do you guys have a library around here?"
"A libr- oh! You mean a place with books?"
"That's it", James said.
"Yeah!" He looked to his right. "Jared!"
The other boy was sitting, back against a shanty on the edge of the field, breathing just as hard as Mark. He looked at the two of them and waved.
"James wants to see where all the books are!"
Jared frowned. "The library?"
Mark nodded again. "That's it!" He turned back to James. "Jared's been teaching me how to read. He takes me there all the time."
Fourier blinked. The kid who tackled him is also teaching him how to read? Strange relationship… Kids living in a slum, learning how to read at 12 or 13.
Where the hell would that even happen?
"We can go there, sure. My ma wants me back for dinner soon."
"I appreciate it", James said. "I'd just like to know where it is, you can do whatever you need after that."
"Alright. Give me a few to start breathin' again."
True to his word, a few minutes later Jared was leading him and Mark back through the slums. He had to wonder what kind of 'library' these people had. He wasn't expecting much considering the circumstances.
Like they had been all day long, the slum's residents shot him suspicious glances as they made their way down the crowded pathways. This time, Fourier noticed some confused frowns too.
The library wasn't far away from the field. It only took two or three minutes of walking to reach a shack that was about double the size of most others. Once Jared swept back the sheet that acted as the building's door, there was what looked like a very small library. The room was, maybe 30 meters square and lined with bookcases. Its ceiling was low enough, and shelves close enough, James wasn't sure he'd be able to fit between them.
Besides the small area off to the right with a pair of old wooden chairs and a small, well-used table, there wasn't enough room for him anywhere in the small structure.
Jared turned back to the two of them. "Mark, make sure he doesn't break anything. I'll be back after dinner."
The younger kid nodded, excited. "Yep!"
With that, Jared slipped past James and back out into the slum.
"So what do you want to read?" Mark's cheery voice pulled Fourier's attention down to him.
"Are there any history books?"
"Yeah", Mark said and motioned for James to follow.
He raced to the nearest shelf and started looking through the collection.
It was… impressive for the circumstances. Every bookcase was packed full. Many of the books were damaged, but whoever ran the library had done what they could to repair them. While Fourier wasn't an expert, he could spot plenty of re-bound books and taped spines. It, and how the shelves all seemed to be in relatively good shape, was all done with a care that one doesn't take unless they really cared about it.
"Are you looking for something?" Mark asked as he pulled what looked like a large textbook from the case.
"20th or 21st century."
He was more familiar with the Colony Wars than that period. Since he was, supposedly, in 2076, he might catch a few sideways looks if he asked for something from the 22nd century.
That timeframe was fairly formative for the modern world so James still knew enough about it to be dangerous.
Mark offered him the book he was holding. It was heavy and the kid's arms were shaking.
James smiled as he relieved Mark of the too-heavy book.
"That's what Jared used to teach me about how Night City was made. It has a lot more in it than he needed but I think a lot of it's from around then. The Collapse is my favorite part."
The Collapse? What the hell is The Collapse?
When Fourier's head turned from the book to him, Mark's face went red.
"Well, okay, favorite isn't nice. I- I just liked learning about it."
While he had no idea what that was supposed to mean, something called 'The Collapse' seemed like a good enough place to start. He didn't know anything from that period called 'The Collapse'.
"Can you show me where that part is?" James asked and set the book down on the table.
Mark nodded and pulled a chair over.
As he started leafing through the book, Fourier sat on the ground beside him.
The kid was excited, he seemed to enjoy both reading and showing his new big borg friend the library, he was gentle with the book. Every page was handled carefully. He never pulled or flicked the thin paper.
After a few seconds, Mark stopped and pointed at the book.
"There!"
James leaned over and read the chapter heading: The Collapse: America's Downfall.
Below was a date-
What the fuck?
1996-2008.
Fourier racked his brain for major events that happened in that decade and a half. The main one that came to mind was the global financial crash in 2007 and 2008. If anyone asked him how or why it happened, the most he'd be able to give them was 'housing' but it was by no means a collapse of the United States. From what he remembered, the US continued to be a global power until the governments consolidated under the UEG, which started in 2075.
The chapter introduction didn't help him understand what he was looking at.
The end of the United States of America was the inevitable end to a half-century of corporate power growth, government infighting, and civil unrest. Its shrinking influence over global affairs due to corporate sponsorship, lobbying, and corruption, along with the underhanded dealings of the Gang of Four, only exacerbated the decline. Once the economy collapsed and martial law was declared, the destruction of what the United States of America had been for 200 years was set in motion.
It didn't get any better after that. The chapter was full of things he was absolutely sure hadn't happened in the late-1900s and early-2000s.
Multiple presidential assassinations, multiple US intel agencies collaborating under the table, legal and political purges, famines, plagues, artificial plagues, megacorporations, more presidential assassinations, multiple intracontinental and intercontinental wars, corporate wars…
His eyes screamed across every page. It felt like he was flipping to the next one every few seconds as he pulled down every piece of information the book had to give.
This had to be a joke. None of this happened.
James flipped to the publication. It… looked legit. He'd never heard of Pearsons but there was nothing there that suggested it was anything but a historical textbook.
"James?" Mark asked.
Fourier blinked. "Uh- yeah?"
"Jared's back."
He looked up from the book to see Jared sitting in the chair beside Mark.
"You got a little caught up, huh?" the older boy asked. "Yeah, The Collapse can do that. Crazy how people don't learn about it much anymore. The net, the rogue AIs, Blackwall, the megacorps, corpo wars, all that shit's what people pay attention to. Problem is none of that happens if the world had come outta the Cold War less unstable. The damn corpos sure as shit didn't help with that. They wanted more control, so they used their money and power to push governments to do whatever they wanted."
He shrugged. It was sharp. "It was all gonna come down. Now we got goddamn Arasaka doing anything they want. Shit, they got the NUSA to back off. Sorry. Just gets me mad. All this happened, put us all in the spot we're in, and people argue about who's worse, Arasaka or Millitech. They both fuckin suck because it's them and the damn greedy bastards in the government who took their money or tried to make their own power base."
On one hand, James was impressed. The kid had a remarkable perspective on historical power structures. He must have spent a lot of time in this place.
On the other… everything he'd just said combined with all James's observations to this point and what he'd read about The Collapse fit together. Perfectly. Everything that had been confusing him for the past two days made sense when taken in context. It was detailed, coherent, and consistent with how Fourier knew power structures could and did work.
The problem with that was none of it happened. At least, not in the history he knew. And he was pretty well acquainted with history.
So it was back to his two scenarios: somehow he wasn't in his history or he was in a simulation. Unless someone was very determined to fool him, he didn't see a reason any simulation would be this detailed. The amount of work it would take is remarkable before factoring in he, at no point, had any sensation this was anything less than real. That was something even the best AI-run sims couldn't come close to.
Which left one option: he wasn't in his history. Somehow. As ridiculous as that sounded, it was the only reasonable explanation that fit all of his observations to this point. He was a believer in Occam's Razor.
Does that mean… I'm in some kind of an alternate reality? I- I don't know what else it could be. But how the hell would that even happen?
What was the last thing he remembered before waking up? An operation, a targeted strike on an Insurrectionist HVT. Something… about them targeting Earth with some kind of new weapon? At least, that's what their intel said. They got pulled because it was an emergency high-risk, high-speed, high-priority operation. Command didn't have time to put a conventional strike package together.
James remembered wondering how something like this could have gotten as far as it did without ONI or UNSC intel picking up on it. That wasn't his job. They were there to get in, neutralize the threat, and go home.
He couldn't remember much about the operation. The position was well-defended. An orbital drop to avoid anti-air batteries. Flashes of fighting. It was high-speed the whole way. They were on the clock. Their targets weren't ready to deal with Spartans. Most of their defenses were set up to repel conventional assaults: stationary medium-caliber gun emplacements, unguided rockets, mines, and conventional small arms.
Aside from their tight time constraints, it was pretty easy. Damon was, as usual, on point. James second, Liam covering their rear with Amanda in support and overwatch.
What happened?
He- he remembered making it to their primary target, a large warehouse at the center of the installation. There was some reason they didn't drop a MAC round on it, he couldn't remember.
Damon had breached and pushed through the first line of Innies before Fourier could make entry- goddamn if that kid wasn't built to fight. James was right behind him then-
Then what? He couldn't remember anything past that.
But… he was sure about one thing: this base wasn't on a planet with a massive city. It wasn't on a coastline.
And it wasn't 2076.
Everything was telling him this was some kind of… alternate reality?
James's head was spinning.
Nothing made sense unless that was the answer. That answer didn't make sense, though. How would he be in an alternate reality? What happened after they breached? What was their target? Did whatever they were after do this? Was that the new weapon?
He took a deep breath and, gently, closed the book.
If that was the case, and he was in a different timeline, somehow, that connected the dots. For now, that would have to be enough. He could access his suit's record later, as long as it hadn't been corrupted.
Assuming he was right, he had two objectives: figure out how to survive in this hellish version of an alternate Earth, and figure out how to get back to the UNSC.
Digging into what happened to him fell under objective number two.
Objective number one… He had a few ideas about that.
Next Chapter: 6/7, If Life Gives You Lemons...
