Act 3: Lacerations
"Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another."-Ernest Hemingway
August 9th, 2076,8:05 A.M Night City
The low din of sirens could be heard outside as all the sounds of night city filtered into the dingy apartment.
He just laid in bed blankly looking up at the ceiling one arm flicked a cigarette up in the air before catching it and reaping the motion like a robot. He was still in his clothes he hadn't showered in what one, two days he'd lost track.
A large cockroach scuttled out of the pizza box beside him on the bed. Half a candy bar and stale cereal he had yesterday or was it the day before… he needs to go buy more pizza soon and probably move the box to the ground and not the bed.
He slept in worse places, he didn't sleep… he sometimes slept a few hours other times he would pass out and sleep for more than a few hours. He hated when that happened, he would dream.
Dream of false desires and fake happiness he'd mostly only dreamed of the dessert. A scorching sea of sand alite with fires of burned-out tanks and vehicles of his time fighting in the brush of hiking through the mountains. His sun cracked lips and boiling blisters the mirages out in the remembered the bodies remembered their last faces.
Shock
Fear
Surprise
Rage
Desperation
Pain
They stared back into his eyes contorted and twisted disfigured.
Their eyes were too big almost uncanny looking at his tracking each movement as he pulled the trigger the slide snapping back the bullet zipping through their face or head, chest, stomach, and back.
It was all the same.
It all ended the same way he took off the mask and there he was he was there the blood stained onto his hands. He scrubbed the blood off but there it was he scrubbed till his hands became raw the flesh flaying from his palms reviling the muscles and tendons and eventually. Bone although it was instead replaced with chrome polished to a mirror edge.
The hallucinations were getting more intense a lightning-fast collage of images flashed through his mind of him dying holding in his guts as the tiger claw finished him with his katana or the large Russian his palm sunflowering into a gun blowing his head off. And every time he'd wake up like déjà vu in his car or outside the entrance of the building in that cheap mask.
He was just waiting for it now.
For the calls
They would come they always would come he just had to wait. He'd already had gotten two calls.
Why did he wait…does it matter?
He already knew the answer.
The sharp unmistakable ring of the phone suddenly filled the room snapping him out of his haze.
He slowly rose out of his bed continuing to let the phone ring before he picked up the phone holding the old receiver to his ear.
"Hello, this is Deb. I'm so very lonely tonight. Would you like to come over for some…fun? I live at 1155 103rd ST on the 6th floor, in Heywood. Don't keep me waiting, tiger! RRRRRR!" *click*
The line went dead he still held the phone up to his ear listening to the hum of the line before placing the phone back as it clicked into the receiver.
A tired sigh escaped from his nose before he made his way to the door walked out the door and into the open area of his delipidated apartment complex. Trash littered the floor along with other graffiti as rats quickly scurried away from his presence.
Continued to walk making a left out through a glass door stepping outside into the chill night air walking to the parking lot where his Acado GT sat in stark contrast to the other vehicles. He'd always had a thing for older things same went with vehicles.
The streets were surprisingly empty as he passed by some cars but otherwise, the roads were decollate maybe it was just the area.
A smoldering cigarette hung loosely from his mouth a bad habit he picked up from a way back…
He really hated this city… he hated its people, its corpo's, its filth and fakeness, and yet here he was among the filth what was he doing did he know anymore? Did he even care?
The small GPS made a chiming noise alerting him that he was here. An innocuous although rundown high-rise loomed various luxury sports cars along with another expensive car at least far too expensive for any other normal resident to afford.
Flicking his cigarette out the window he leaned over to the passenger seat he unzipped a red duffle bag reaching inside to pull out a chicken mask with dried blood still on it from his last mission.
He didn't know why he wore the mask he realistically could achieve the same effect with a
simple ski mask but something about it. It felt like a second skin felt familiar…he instead put it in his jackets pocket deciding on discretion.
Reaching into the duffle bag again he pulled out a mac-10 along with a large suppressor as he threaded it on. It was practically a relic and probably belonged in a museum, but it got the job done although it burnt through the customized ammo. Reaching back in he pulled out a few more mags shoving them into his pocket. Deciding to conceal the mac-10 into his jacket he made his way towards the entrance of the building.
He was stopped at the front two doors locked with an apartment buzzer a camera a top of it.
An idea formed within his mind as he bawled his fist. Time to see how effective his new arms where he punched the camera the glass shattered and the whole frame of the buzzer dented removing his fist the camera was thoroughly destroyed sparks flying out.
He then pressed on one of the buttons before dragging his thumb across all of them hoping his plan would work.
The seconds seemed to roll past, shit he might need to find another way in.
Suddenly a loud buzz emanated from the box with the sound of the heavy deadbolt clicking. He was in.
The inside wasn't any better than the outside although it was more bland than anything else. Rounding a corner, he quickly spotted a gangster. He wore a white pastel suit along with a blue shirt, he lazily sat on a small chair a few feet away and right next to the elevator guarding it.
Jacket decided to not break his stride as he continued to walk towards the elevator.
The mobster soon noticed jacket as he stood up.
"Hey man elevator is broke-"
But before the man could even finish Jacket suddenly rushed forward landing a right hook square onto the man's face his jaw dislocating. He fell to the floor, but jacket continued to slam his fist into the man's face completely caving it in on the 3rd punch.
Pushing the button on the elevator it made a ding as the door opened smoothly. Stepping in he pressed the 6th floor the elevators door closing.
Pulling out the chicken mask he held it in his hands for a few seconds staring at it before slipping it on wearing his new face.
The elevator dinged as the doors swung open.
The mob's goon head spun around looking down the hall to where the elevator opened. No one was supposed to use the elevator Anatoliy was supposed to use the stairs the gonk. Pulling out his iron he slowly made his way towards it, no one had stepped out yet. Walking over he swung into the elevator's doorway to be met by the sight of an empty elevator.
"какого черта?"(what the hell)
A hand suddenly shot out just around the corner of the elevator grabbing ahold of the man's wrist while the other grabbed his face as jacket quickly slammed him into the wall squeezing hard as the man's face was crushed like paper mache one of his cybernetic eyes popping out his head as he crumpled to the floor.
Snatching the dead man's iron, he walked over to the first room down the hall as the muffled sound of music could be heard blaring. Knocking three times on the door…waiting.
Finally, he heard it so faint it could be missed but he heard someone approaching the door.
Instantly he kicked in the door as it explosively swung inwards with tremendous force with the mobber on the other side letting out a pained yelp. He was knocked to the ground not having the opportunity to gather himself before a bullet tore through his head the loud shot from the gun reverberating throughout the halls. Not losing any momentum he rushed into the room.
Three gangsters sat on couches towards his right as they attempted to stand. They didn't stand a chance as Jacket swiftly unloaded his pistol into them until it clicked empty. Suddenly the bathroom door swung open as a mobster rushed jacket knife in hand. On instinct, Jacket hurled the gun as it clocked the mobster square in the face his head jerking back. Rushing forward now
He Grabbed the man's wrist with his left hand before punching in the man's elbow breaking it as the bone shot out of his forearm. The mobster screamed as he fell to his knees dropping his knife. Seizing the knife jacket quickly plunged it into the man's neck his screams were drowned out by his own blood as he gurgled on it before slumping over dead.
Stepping out and into the hallway way he continued walking towards the stairs.
The sudden slam of a door being opened alerted him without thinking he twisted to his right getting a glimpse of the mobster his SMG raised and ready. Throwing the knife, he held it spun in the air before embedding itself into the mobster's frontal lobe he let loose a now uncontrolled hail of lead before falling back still firing.
Moving out of the way of jacket continued towards the stairs unzipping his jacket and pulling out his mac-10.
The building was awake now as heavy footfall descended the stairs towards him.
Electing to not risk getting shot Jacket with one hand stuck his arm out aimed the Mac 10 up the stairs and blind fired hoping that at least he got a few.
The Mac 10 quickly spewed out fire the noise significantly damped by the suppressor. Surprised yelps and grunts soon accompanied the fire as four more mobsters tumbled un-gracefully down the stairs.
Swiftly reloading Jacket made his way upstairs.
From all around mobsters rushed out as doors opened only for them to be ruthlessly cut down as Jacket let off small but precise bursts from his SMG quickly dealing with anyone he encountered. Floor by floor he rose tearing through every mobster in sight with a staccato of weapons fire.
Floor by floor he rose until suddenly he stared down a long hallway with not a mobster in sight.
A silence descended over the area as a sinking feeling grew in Jacket's stomach.
Then he heard it, the dozens of footfalls slowly approaching growing louder like a stampede.
Fuck did he have enough ammo? In vain he attempted to open one of the doors banging and attempting to bring it down although it wouldn't budge.
Shouting rang just down the hall as suddenly gunfire raced past his head sparking just a few inches away from his head. Stealing a look Jacket saw a group of mobsters along with a handful of scavengers all rushing towards him.
Attempting to fire with one hand Jacket pointed his mac-10 down the hallway as he pulled the trigger a resounding click answered him.
The door to his side swung open and suddenly he was face to face with another mobster.
"что за херня здесь происходит- (what the fuck is going on out here)"
The mobster's eyes widened like dinner plates upon seeing Jacket as time seemed to slow down.
Rapidly pulling out the magazine and stabbing it into the man's eye shoving him into the room and closing the door behind him with his foot.
"Эй, черт возьми, что там происходит? (Yo choom the fuck is happening out there?)"
Another mobster called out double barreled shotgun aimed and ready as he rounded the coroner.
Jacket instantly dropped his SMG as his hands instead went to the gun tucked inside the mobster waistband as he shrunk behind his new chromed-up meat shield.
Just a moment later the bark of the shotgun exploded inside the enclosed room as it tore off half of the mobster's chest and left arm as it held attached by a strand of wire.
Not losing the moment Jacket quickly unloaded the overture into the gonks body.
More silence filled the room until it was broken by the banging a shouting outside as the rest of the mobsters attempted to force themselves into the room.
He was trapped he could risk jumping out the window but this high up even with leg implants he doubted he could survive let alone get away.
Patting down his body he felt up the last of his magazines standing out as it was marked with blue tape.
It was supposed to be used in emergencies, but he felt like this was an acceptable use. Restocking on the ammo, however, would be a hassle.
Picking up his mac-10 and loading the mag he squared his hips trying to plant himself into the floor as he looped his hand through the handle, he knew the thing was going to kick.
Slowly squeezing the trigger, the gun erupted as the barrel shot out fire the suppressor doing nothing to dampen the noise.
Fist size hole pot marked the door and wall as from the other side shrapnel and plaster shot out.
And just as soon as it started it stopped as the little SMG clicked empty the barrel glowing and bright red.
A small duffle bag sat in the corner, opening it and peering inside there sat a small loose pile of Eurodollars about 20k give or take, good enough probably a few more months rent. Throwing his
Mac 10 into the bag he hoisted it onto his shoulder peering around the room his eyes landing on the double-barreled shotgun. Picking it up and unlatching the breach two shells immediately ejected. Reaching inside the coat pocket of the mobster Jacket found pulled out a handful of shells loading two more into the shotgun.
Light from the hallway showed through the various holes in the door as Jacket slowly opened it having to force it open from the various bodies piled up.
Stepping out into the hallway dozens of mutilated mobster bodies lay strewn around the doorway.
A soft whimper could be heard as to his right was a lone mobster one hand clutching his entrails as he attempted to crawl away.
"Shit- Wait! Wait don't kill me what do you want? Money right you want money I can get 30k
No 50k ehhh sound good, no?"
Jacket didn't respond as he continued to stalk forward.
The mobber's face cringed as he attempted to scoot back more before raising his arm as it suddenly shifted and folded into a gun.
Jacket fired first pulling one of the triggers as the mobber's arm flew off the arm spasming and twitching.
"Raghhhhh YOU FUCKING GONK YOUR DEAD MEAT YOU HEAR ME? WHO ARE YOU?"
Jacket pressed the barrel of the shotgun against the mobster temple. And pulled the trigger as the
man's head was scattered across the floor and wall.