Introductions
#1 of A Swyft Resolution
When you're stuck between a rock and a hard place, it can be tempting to make a deal with the devil. But is that such a good idea?
This is a fairly short introductory chapter that I've elected to call... Introductions. Fitting, no?
Something stung in Jonas' nostrils. Entering this cyberden had been a mistake from the start, but the deeper he ventured, the more he realised how grimy the underbelly of the City was. The few guards he'd encountered had easy to pay off, and that was just the ones that weren't so hooked up on Smyle that they didn't notice him. And that stench in his nostrils? That was their secretions. Smyle made you feel euphoric while it burned through your veins, and your body tried to sweat it out, producing a foul stench best described as a horrific cross between rotting apples and seaweed.
"Who the bloody hell do you think you are," a voice questioned from the shadows. When Jonas turned to face it, he saw it belonged to a large, broad shouldered wolverine with a face half covered by cybernetic enhancements. "This is private turf, bud. I hope you got a good reason to be trespassing, or I'll show you up to the bossman himself - without your arms or legs."
Jonas rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Jonas Swyft. I believe your bossman would want to talk to me, and that's going to be a tad difficult if I'm bleeding out, no? Name your price, Wires. Creds?"
That only seemed to agitate the wolverine, whose cybernetic eye seemed to shift into a zoom mode. With a raised voice, he approached the maned wolf. "You ain't got nothing to say to the bossman, you can't say to me. If you think I'm gonna let some small fry like you get close to him, your brains must've gotten fried by Smyle."
"If either of us has a fried brain, it's you, half-face. I've got no desire to fight you, but I'll gladly throw half your body into a trash compactor if you interfere with the business I've got here," Jonas leaned close and flicked the wolverine on his nose. "Got it?"
Not entirely unexpectedly, the thug flew into a rage and swiped with his non-cybernetic arm at the maned wolf. Seeing it coming, Swyft dodged gracefully and delivered a hard left punch into the gut of the wolverine, who promptly fell over and clutched his belly with a cough. Jonas never was particularly bothered by the low life thugs. They never seemed to be particularly well trained, most of them preferring strength over finesse. Though the times he had misjudged them had certainly hurt.
By then, another guard had showed up. This one - a fox - was wielding an electrostaff and looked a tad smarter than the wolverine. With a snarl, he smacked the wolverine over the head, knocking him into the ground. "Pathetic. I told him to dismiss this fool after he bodged a racket. A racket, of all things. How do you fail to extort money from rich people?" the fox shook his head and switched the staff off before extending a handpaw to the maned wolf, who cautiously shook it. "You're persistent. You wish to speak to the boss, then? I suppose that can be arranged."
Swyft was led into a strange chamber in the compound. Despite being deep underground, it had windows that showed what Jonas assumed to be a simulation of the top world, and at the centre of it all was a deep pond above which a platform was suspended. Being guided across a small bridge and onto the platform, he saw a fox sitting behind a desk, his claws tapping impatiently on the chrome surface.
"I trust your encounter with my cybernetic guard wasn't too obnoxious," the vulpine asked, offering a glass of some substance that seemed to be based on a rum - something Jonas kindly rejected. "Not a drinker, then? Very well. With all the ruckus you made to get here, I'm rather curious what your business is, mister...?"
"Jonas Swyft, and you must be the enigmatic Zypher that I've heard so much about? I didn't expect you to be so tiny, but I guess we all can't live up to our reputations," Swyft underlined the statement with a smirk, taking a seat in the single chair on his side of the desk and crossing his legs. "Quite simple, Z. I know a new concoction has been released into the underground. I would usually leave it up to the narcs to take care of that, but when this new strain gets people all riled up and makes them violent and strong enough to shear metal, it begins to float into my department."
The fox didn't seem at all moved by the explanation and just shrugged. "And why is this my problem, detective? I assume that's what you are?"
"Do you want my badge number as well? It isn't your problem, but I could use the assistance of a Jacker. Whoever released this drug did so through a vaccination station in the Dorna Wards, and I don't exactly have the best relationship with the corporation in charge of it."
A Jacker was an individual that had been cybernetically augmented and was able to use their brain to power their ventures into the cybergrid powering the City. It was a dangerous profession; when the software became biological in nature, as did the viruses. Many still preferred to use the old fashioned, slower method of a physical terminal, but the really good hackers became Jackers.
Waving out the two bodyguards in the room, Zypher stroked his chin thoughtfully and looked at the chrome desk. "I am not a man without morals, officer. I do not sell Smyle to the young, frail, or vulnerable. I do not deal in weapons, nor do I take hand the same fate to my rivals as they would see befall me. If one of them is responsible for this drug, it may be part of a larger plot. I will help you, Swyft, but this won't be charity. I am going to need a favour from you."
Owing a favour to one of the largest criminals in the underworld was not a pleasant thought to the maned wolf, but if he was going to get to the bottom of it without jumping through the bureaucratic hoops, this was his best shot. He reluctantly agreed and shook on it, and after a brief exchange of details he was led back out of the compound and into the neon glow of the streets.
Rain was always present in the City. Well, outside the artificial HabiDomes that the rich and powerful constructed for themselves. Pollution and years of warfare had destroyed the ecology of the planet, and the neverending rains were one of the many reminders. Others, you'd have to look outside the city for. Barren landscapes, dotted with small outposts of scavengers and wastelanders who disagreed with the corporatist state were just some of the things awaiting those unfortunate enough to face exile or get caught out.
Running a handpaw through his spikey hair, the maned wolf let out a sigh and turned his gaze skywards, trying but failing to catch a glimpse of the ever elusive moon. He wasn't in the habit of double guessing himself, but he couldn't help but feel nervous about working with Zypher. He just had to hope he would keep his end of the bargain up.