“New bruiser/tank/front needed. 4Way even split AFTER TAXES. No BLARPing BLARPs! Xeon/immy ok, English team. No +1s!!! Ins + Reg NoNeg. $$10K$$ bonus w/ 3 clears.”(edited)
Automoderator Notice: BLARP deployed. Mentions of unregistered diving will be forwarded to Spire CDA.
I washed myself up after the incident, after Vael had poked around my… tail. She visibly relaxed once she’d had a chance to get a closer look at it. I’d calmed down a bit, but was still too wired to sleep. I was still in the smaller bathroom, touching myself around where it grew from my body. After the burning had subsided, which hadn’t been too long, there were some bits of tissue, but it was crumbly and peeled off painlessly.
So now I had my butt perched on the counter and was craning my neck to look at my ass in the mirror. I had pale skin; it was a trend among most X-3 natives, but I was a bit fairer than the average. The tail was also fair-skinned, but in a warmer tone, some gold in there, relative to my silver. It was maybe nine centimeters in diameter and tapered down to six before the tip. The skin was both more leathery than mine, but also stretchy. I could pinch it over the underlying musculature.
And it was, I don’t know, buff-looking? Lumpy throughout, where muscles bunched and gathered when moving. It was firm, too. And long, the same length as I was tall, one meter fifty. It was very Sul’vari-like, except for the color and the fact that it was sticking out of a human. It ended in a conical spike the length of my hand, which was hard and bony. There were a few ridges on the underside, and the top was covered in these shallow dimples.
I felt the body just fine when I was running my fingers over it and exploring it. The spike wasn’t sensitive at all.
It had a mind of its own, moving around and occasionally bumping into things. It didn’t seem to mind me handling it. I wasn’t able to move it on my own, despite getting sensory feedback from it, unless I really concentrated on trying to shift it.
Vael tapped her knuckles on the door frame to announce her presence. “Everything is all cleaned up; you can lie back down whenever you like.”
It was really early, five something in the morning.
I sighed and slid off the counter. She’d given me a pair of bottoms I had not felt comfortable putting on at first, but the reality of having a tail like a Sul’vari meant that some things were now just out of the question. So now I had a scrap of fabric wedged between my cheeks and a pair of straps with designs on them over the curve of each hipbone. The chest wrap hadn’t needed any attention, unlike the bedding.
“May I?” She approached and gestured at my tail.
The tip was tracking her as she moved. I nodded, and she reached out, slowly, until making contact. ...And it wasn’t paying attention anymore. She ran her claws over the skin, which gave me goosebumps, and observed it closely. Her touching it like that was doing things in my lower gut.
She looked up at my face and blinked several times. “Does that feel good?”
I nodded quickly, and she smiled so widely I thought I might fall in. Those fangs were on display again. “I’ll have to keep that in mind. Tails are an erogenous zone for us, too! It seems we share more in common now than before!”
I hung my head and let out a low groan--of frustration. She just laughed.
“I’m not very tired now, not after all of that. I got a handful of hours of sleep, too,” I admitted and rubbed my exposed belly. “Sort of hungry, too.”
“Want to go out? You still need to replace your slate, and you’re going to need clothing, especially now.”
I rubbed my forearms and nodded. I didn’t really want to go out, but I also didn’t have much of a choice, either. With everything that had happened to me, I was still a nobody. Multiplying by zero, and all of that. There were three-hundred forty-something million people in Ark 3. The list of people the city paused for was exceedingly small and mostly composed of the top-tier Users.
“Ugh, fine. Can I at least spend what’s left of my own money?”
She hummed a note I was learning was a non-commitment.
***
Several hours and a whole lot of firsts for me later, and I was much better situated than I had been. I had a new used slate, cracked it open with my wrist slate, and yanked all the spy softs the vendor had installed on the device out. To be fair to the vendor, it might not have been them who had put them on. Data mining was a whole business in its own right. It was a good thing my wrist slate had survived; I’d be truly starting over from scratch otherwise. I had softs running now to secure it down before I did much of anything on it.
Vael watched me work on the slate while we ate sector broth at a hole-in-the-wall eatery tucked in between a factory warehouse and a brothel. The bowl was quite delicious, with composite legume noodles with a good chew to them and pan-fried protein slices. Even with the flavors, there was something missing from it. I wiped the chopsticks down and set them to the side to be washed, and tapped a finger on the bowl.
“Vael?”
“Mhm?” She slurped the last of her bowl and licked her lips.
“I don’t need to eat, you know…”
She gave me a sidelong look. “Do Users need to consume mana-infused products?”
I bobbed my head, she shook hers. “No, it’s nice, but no. Why do you ask?”
Frowning, I tried to resolve the conflicting sensations I was getting into words that wouldn’t make me sound like I had some boards loose upstairs.
“I’m, it’s hard to describe, exactly. I’ve got these new senses and feelings, you know, on top of the whole…” I trailed off and gestured at myself with one hand. She was following the same track I was on and motioned for me to continue. “I’m full, I just ate. I feel full. But I’m somehow still hungry, at the same time. How does that make any sense?”
She leaned back and took in a deep breath, seemed to think twice about it, then stood up. She tapped her slate to the vendor’s dataslate before I could protest, then winked at me. I followed along closely. When we were back out on the street, she spoke in a lower tone while holding my hand. The morning crowds for shift change were picking up, and the streets were getting busy.
“I’ve been noticing some things, and I have some ideas about that tail of yours,” she told me after we passed a group of people wearing half-suit waders. They smelled just like they looked, fresh out of the vats.
“Such as?”
“Your tail likes mana sources. Have you noticed?”
When out and about and moving around, it seemed to fall into an easy cadence with my altered stride, one I was still acclimating to. I’d tried to get around like I’d usually do, but it felt wrong, and something with a bit more sway was more comfortable. I had noticed it seemingly sniffing around things, mostly people.
“Yeah, I guess, now that you mention it. I’m still trying to get better about paying attention to the whole sensation thing,” I admitted.
Vael nodded. “Good. You need to, and the more you work at it, the faster you can get to other things in a safe manner.” My hand was abruptly jerked to the side, and I let out an undignified sound. “Oh! I love this place, you’ll love it too!” I was dragged into a small shop filled with clothing.
Sul’vari clothing, mostly.
I did my best to drag my feet and deny, but we left nearly an hour later with me wearing several different items of clothing. Vael helped me with underwear.
Somehow, my chest situation wasn’t what I thought it was.
My brain screamed massive. The reality was that women’s clothing was complicated. I was tiny. Narrow. Every time I moved, something reminded me of this fact. I’d lost twenty-five centimeters off my waist, which tracked, because I felt like someone could fold me in half at the middle.
The breasts were less monumental than prominent. On my new frame, they just had nowhere subtle to go.
Sports bras, I reluctantly discovered, were not the worst inventions in history.
My shirt with the holes in it was traded in for recycling credit. I was now wearing something that I thought would look more appropriate on one of the sub sector’s sex workers, a top that was form-fitting around certain large areas, and too short, leaving my entire midriff bare.
That, combined with the breezy harem pants and looped sash, had my cheeks feeling permanently glowing, like my eyes. Sul’vari fashion was shaped around having a tail that interrupted most waistbands. Vael presented me with two options: skirts and harem pants. We could look at other things elsewhere. I vetoed skirts. Absolutely not. Harem pants were popular street fashion, not what I’d wear before, but fine. I was not prepared for what she brought into the changing room. The waist wasn’t a loop; it was three panels folded over so you could pass a sash or belt through. The front was one piece that covered the front half to the side of the hip, where there was U-shaped cutouts. Then the two back panels covered the butt with a short V-cut between them for the tail.
With them on, I had a lot of hip and upper thigh exposed. Vael tried on a pair with me.
They looked stunning on her. They looked ridiculous on me, and I told her as much.
She said it was in my head, and they looked great on me. I kept trying to subtly tug the side gaps closed, but it didn’t work. They were really comfortable.
I put my foot down and insisted on picking out the rest. I was swimming in my old jacket. Jackets were kind of my thing. I found a synthleather bomber with half sleeves that fit and didn’t chafe the tail. A pair of ankle boots with stompy treading and militaristic styling that I appreciated and would have worn before, even though this pair was half the size.
We left the store with a battered backpack strapped over my bomber, packed to the top with clothing. Everything was used except for one or two undergarments, which was typical of most shops on X-3. It wasn’t that new clothing was rare or something. Recycling was energy-intensive, therefore, expensive, and our closed loop economy meant that you didn’t just wear clothing and then toss them. Everything got recycled, and the first stage of recycling was barter or trade at a shop, with the garment going to new owners. It also meant that clothing was made well.
The next destination was a bit of a walk. We chatted some, but the noise on the street was ever-present and made polite conversation difficult. I was led along by hand and had to wrangle my tail several times from getting into people’s business.
I kept noticing people looking at me in ways I wasn’t used to. Wearing a holomask drew some eyes; other enthusiasts, or the odd interested party. This was slightly different. I had skin on display that left me feeling practically naked, even though it was more conservative than the average 5-3 resident wore.
The eyes came from all directions and all kinds of people, and they had a quality I couldn’t immediately name. Patient, maybe? Unhurried. A woman in a food stall let her gaze track me without any particular guilt about it. A man coming the other direction turned his face to keep me in his peripheral vision a beat longer than foot traffic required. Someone waiting on a corner – I caught the moment their tongue touched their lower lip, just briefly, the way people do when they’re thinking about something they want.
I’d been looked at before. Everyone gets looked at. This was people clocking something and deciding they liked what they saw.
I didn’t know what to do with that. My face felt hot, and I looked down for half a block, which didn’t help. Looking down gave me a view of my own cleavage, which was apparently one of the sources of the problem, and every few steps, a flash of hip where the panel cutout shifted with my stride. I was being followed by my own body, and there was nowhere to look that wasn’t evidence.
Except it didn’t entirely feel like a problem. That was the part I couldn’t wrap my head around.
There was something else strange that was making itself more known to my awareness. I thought I was seeing shit at first. Some kind of reflection from my glowing eyes. There was this faint haze in the rough shape of the people I was seeing. A central stem with two twiggy arms and two legs sticking out. The stem wider at the chest, narrowing through the neck, then a lumpy blob for the head. The haze moved with the people like a poorly defined skeleton.
It clicked when we were waiting to cross the street. There was a rough-looking chum standing in front of us wearing a wifebeater and baggy pants. Both of his arms were bare cybernetics, mid-scale combat-capable models; the silvery metal of his arms matched the thick metal knots around his neck. No gang affiliation that I saw, but a banger without a doubt. Probably heading home after a night partying.
There, he had the same haze, but not for his arms.
A life perception? Vitality sense?
The same way mana wasn’t purely visual for me, this wasn’t either. There was weird tastes, scents, and textures to the wisps, too. Trends and patterns, but it was going to take time and experimentation to try and figure out what, if any, meaning was behind the sensations.
We stopped at the entrance to a club. Bouncers, but no line, which scanned, this was a wind-down period. The front of the building was notably free of graffiti, and glass tubes formed glowing white script over a matte black sign above the doorway.
Darryl’s Social Lounge.
It looked swanky. Expensive, exclusive, or both. The bouncer opened the door for Vael with a nod.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, if it was a dance club, a strip club, or something else entirely.
An expansive bar took up the central portion of the space. It was ringed by private booths with full walls and frosted glass. Soft lighting, tasteful music, and an awful lot of what looked like natural materials.
I gulped.
The people inside told me everything I needed to know. Several bangers at a table, wearing their finest. Men and women in clothing that could pass topside. Everyone was clean. Everyone spoke in conversational tones. Drinking, playing tabletop games of the wager variety. Entertainers in dedicated nooks wearing tastefully revealing clothing that teased the eye. Tokh seating throughout, and a fair number present.
In fact, there was an equal ratio of Tokh, Sul’vari and humans, which itself was notable.
This is a fixer bar. I’ve seen them in the media, I’ve never been to one. Nobody present is a nobody.
My eyes dropped to the sway of Vael’s butt and the graceful weave of her tail.
What does that make Vael? She told me she was a sex worker. I don’t think she was lying to me? Have I been getting played all along? Is this the part where she now deploys the hooks, after I’ve already swallowed the bait?
We passed more bouncers, went up a flight of stairs, and went to an upper balcony that overlooked the bar and entertainment.
Stopping just outside one booth, she turned and smiled at me, releasing my hand in the process. “Wait here just a moment, if you wouldn’t mind?”
Feeling slightly numb, I nodded along. She slid the door to the booth open and slipped inside, and it clicked shut behind her. I pulled out my slate and played with it. My soft suite finished running a while back; it was now as secure as it was going to get while on the wireless network. I logged in to my inboxes. Three factor authentication, the facial scan was useless, the fingerprint worked, just like my puncher back at the apartment. I used my wrist slate for the trusted hardware token.
Mail from my World of Divers Guild, asking what the hell happened, and where I’d been. I shot my leader a quick reply.
You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Place got firebombed by the locals, and I developed IRS at the same time. Figuring my shit out right now.
The reply was near-instant. You didn’t lead a WoD guild without being near-permanently wired.
Fuck, you good? How did the IRS sneak up on you? Your deck slagged with the rest of your place?
I let out a quiet sigh.
Stranger than fiction. I might be swapping virtual dives for the real deal.
Are you for real!? That’s amazing!! Stay in contact, please?
I smiled a little at that. She was right, it was sort of amazing.
I will. Put me on inactive roster?
Did as soon as you responded. Be safe, talk soon!
Good luck on the drops ~~@K
A few mails from my boss, reminding me that I hadn’t taken time off.
There was one that I stopped scrolling upon seeing. I felt a chill run down my back. Hesitation gripped me, then I tapped the mail and opened it.
Greetings Ms. Voss,
It has come to our attention that you have recently experienced some changes to living circumstances. I’d like to congratulate you on your awakening; the transition can be disorienting and we hope you are finding your footing.
As a gesture of goodwill, a deposit has been made to your FFG account, with no expectations attached. Do with it as you please. We would very much like to discuss further compensation in person, as we are eager to see how things are progressing, and I’m sure you have no shortage of questions. Your time is valuable. Transportation would be provided, and you are welcome to bring your companion, Mx. Sul’Vethik.
I will be transparent with you, as I believe you deserve that courtesy. We believe you are in possession of company property. The evidence is, shall we say, hard to disguise – I’m sure you’re well aware. You have no reason to worry on that account. It is a non-recoverable asset, and our interest is not recovery but making you whole after your recent disruption.
We look forward to hearing from you.
Until then,
Assistant Director Claire Mallard
Veris Biosciences Biotechnology Division
I let out the breath I’d been unconsciously holding while reading the letter.
They knew. Of course they did. The walls have eyes,all is known, were both common sayings among deckers. I had hoped that maybe they’d piss off and not send someone after me.
It was kind of childish, in hindsight. If they wanted me, they’d have me, either with a bag over my head or dead on the street.
This letter was a lot of things. Non-optional. Hush money. Recognition of a sort. The thing I hadn’t let myself think too directly about was spelled out plainly here.
Non-recoverable.
If that was the single piece of news inside, it would be a very good one. The quantum encryption certificate at the bottom was unimpeachable proof of authenticity.
I’d have to go topside. I’d never been. It would be exceedingly foolish of me to put the invitation off for long. A day or two at most would be acceptable. I’d bring it up to Vael, after whatever this trip was.
“Kiera?”
I flinched and looked up from my slate, reflexively locking it and nulling the screen. Vael was leaning out of the booth door.
“Um. What?”
Her eyes flicked between my slate and my face. “I was just asking you to join us,” she said, her usual smile gracing her lips.
I stepped into the booth. Lushly stuffed bench seats followed the contour of the round table inside. A single overhead light lit the browns and golds of the polished wood grain. A man sat on the left side of the table, Vael slid in on the right, and I followed behind her.
The man was unremarkable. Short brown haircut, styled with product, a clean-shaven face, one of the ones that could have been 25, 45, or anywhere in between. Good genetics or mana medicine. I couldn’t see his lower half, but he had on a button-down shirt, a satin tie, and a sports coat. Black, blue, black.
Vael made the introduction. “Philip, this is my friend Kiera who I was telling you about. Kiera, this is Philip.”
No titles. No nicknames.
He regarded me with blue-green eyes, but only briefly. Then he pulled out a slate with some kind of multipurpose case attached to it, a strip of white plastic and an auto injector pen.
Vael cleared her throat. “So, you’re sure you want to Dive, right?”
I took my eyes off the man, Philip, who was working the slate.
“I um.” I wasn’t sure who I was addressing here, so I sort of looked between the two of them. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Freshly awoken and unregistered?” Philip asked me in a flat, neutral tone.
I bobbed my head quickly. “Yes, it hasn’t been a full day.”
“You’ll need to provide a CID scan, cheek swab, and blood sample, due to your circumstances,” he informed me.
I’d been holding back the urge to ask questions, but being asked to provide those was more than I could hand-wave away. I decided that perhaps it was for the best that I minded my manners. “Can I ask what the samples are for?”
He didn’t look up from the slate. “Identity verification.”
“It’s for a head-start on the paperwork and process of Diver registration,” Vael said, and she patted my hand under the booth in an encouraging manner.
I tried to think of nefarious uses for DNA samples. I was drawing a blank.
I agreed, because I didn’t know what else to say, really.
I got a swab, stabbed my finger with the pen and smeared it over the small chip that was inside the plastic wrapper, and both were inserted into Philip’s slate. I poked at my fingertip after the smear. I’d had to crank the pen to the max depth after several failed attempts to draw blood, and then the single drop was all that I got.
“You’re all set,” Philip announced.
Vael thanked him, and we left the club. I checked my slate again. No further correspondence. I damn near dropped it when I checked my finances. There was ten large and change in there.
Vael quirked an eyebrow. I’d gotten her involved; she deserved to know. I wasn’t sure what we were. She’d said friends, but that’s the sort of thing you say when introducing people. I pulled up the email and handed it to her. Watched her eyes flick back and forth as she read the full email. She handed the slate back to me, and I stashed it away.
“Sort of expected. What are you planning on doing?” She was keeping her body language fairly loose and neutral. I wasn’t sure if it wasn’t surprising to her, or if she was better at faking these things than I was.
“Well, I was thinking of going. Would um…” I trailed off as she made eye contact, that same eyebrow lifting fractions of a centimeter once again.
I worked up my nerve to get it past my lips. “Would you go with me? Please? Maybe tomorrow?”
Her smile was instant, warm, and genuine. “Of course! I’d love to! But not tomorrow. The day after.”
“Okay?” I cocked my head to the side some.
“We have plans today and tomorrow,” she said, still smiling.
“We do?” I asked tentatively.
“Mhm! More shopping!” She laughed. “But the kind I think you’ll like more. In fact, our next stop is right around the block from here. Want to go?”
I got halfway through nodding when she took my hand and all but dragged me off. Around the block as she’d indicated, down an alleyway, past some loading docks. A blazing neon-colored sign that changed colors every couple of seconds, and an arrow pointing at a set of stairs leading down. Security cameras everywhere, the good kind, too.
Wrapped & Loaded!?
I was stuttering about the name while being led down the stairs. The door was an armored security door, but automatically slid open for us without so much as a squeak. The smell of leather and lube with an undertone of weed assaulted my nostrils.
A woman wearing a corset, stockings, and garters squealed loudly, and her stiletto heels clacked on the floor as she trotted over from behind a long counter. She threw her arms out wide as she jiggled her way into an embrace with my tour guide.
“Vael! It’s been too long!” Came at the same time as “Dahlia! I’ve missed you!”
I averted my eyes and tried to distract myself from my blush as the two proceeded to quite aggressively tongue-wrestle in the middle of the store.
What. The. Fuck.
The walls were plastered with pin-up glamour shot posters ranging from scantily-clad to full-frontal. Men, women, and Sul’vari. They were all behind transparent polymer, and signed in a variety of brightly-colored inks. There was one consistent thing among every person: they might not have been wearing much, if any clothing, but they were wearing tactical gear and carrying weapons. The weapons and gear were as much the subject of the photos as the models were.
That theme was consistent throughout the fairly expansive sales floor of the store. Brightly lit, brightly colored, flashing displays that perfectly matched the aesthetic of the sex district culture above us. Nude mannequins with a high level of anatomical detail bore body armor, webbing gear, holsters, sheaths, and tactical clothing.
I’ll give Dahlia one thing. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of a headless plastic woman wearing bulletproof chest armor with a holster and sheath on her legs like garters, while also having her whole entire ass hanging out. Good branding, if nothing else.
I glanced back over at Vael. Her and the other woman were speaking in an animated manner, still in close proximity to one another. She waved me over from where I’d drifted off to look at a few things that had drawn my attention.
“Dahlia, this is my friend Kiera! She’s new around here, and she’s going to become a Diver. Do you think we can get her all outfitted up with a good beginner’s loadout?”
I just got money back in my account, now this? It hasn’t even been an hour!
Dahlia was all smiles and very forward with skin contact. She was the owner/operator of the store, and from what I gathered, this place was a bit of a big deal for those in the know. There were people browsing the shelves and displays under the watchful gaze of cameras. Lots and lots of cameras. There was also a full exosuit kneeling like a knight in the corner, the head and optical sensors panning back and forth. It had a sword, too. I didn’t want to think about how much that cost.
Dahlia asked me some questions, interview-style.
What my background was.
Electronics nerd.
What my combat experience was.
I played combat-centric video games.
What type of weapon I thought I’d like.
A pistol, I guess.
That of all things, set off an intense argument between the three of us. This was a weapon for Diving, not for personal defense, although Diving was a far higher standard than any printed puncher.
Vael was not happy about my wanting to use a gun. I was not happy about the fact that she was not happy. Dahlia was a helpful third-party mediator between the two of us, and extremely knowledgeable about a lot of this stuff, although she told me she’d be referring me to her in-house gunsmith if that’s what I decided on using.
My issue was pretty simple. At least, I thought it was. I didn’t want to be the back-line support healer in a Dive. If I couldn’t blast holes in monsters with User abilities, then I’d settle for blasting holes in them with a gun. But I wasn’t going to sit on my hands.
Vael kept telling me I was being stubborn and thinking about things incorrectly. Divers who used firearms were in the minority relative to Divers who used melee weapons or offensive abilities. Melee weapons didn’t malfunction or jam in adverse conditions, they didn’t take ammo, they were silent, or close enough to silent.
“What about a good bow?” Vael asked me. “Bows are very good. You can recover your arrows; they’re quiet and reliable, there are all sorts of techniques based around bow use.”
I gave her a blank look, put my hands on my chest, and hefted for emphasis. “I can barely lug these around with my upper body strength? How am I going to draw a bow? And they take training! A lot of it!”
Dahlia nodded and pointed a long acrylic nail at me. “That’s a good point.” I’d noticed her burlesque makeup the moment I’d entered; it was very heavy and dramatic, but I was pretty sure that was the point. Up close, I saw that it wasn’t just slapped on in a thick layer, but really a work of art. Fine waving and curling bands of glitter, subtle details that were only visible face-to-face, that really made her entire face pop.
Vael’s eyes came up from looking at my chest, and her smile was back once again. “Okay, okay. If you have your heart set on using a gun, you can use a gun. But I have a condition.”
“Name it,” I said, only lightly challenging her.
“You have to have some kind of melee weapon. I don’t care what it is, you can use your fists if you want, but you need a backup if your plan doesn’t work, or if something happens.”
I bit my lower lip, then nodded. “Okay, that’s reasonable. Maybe I can get a knife, or something.”
The two of them went, “Knives are good!” in unison.
Weapon choice made, they were able to help me put together some items, which rapidly became a more complete kit.
I was ushered back to see the gunsmith. A hallway off to the side led to a more secure area where most of the firearms were on display, equally large. There was a two-lane indoor range, too.
Addy worked with me to figure out what to use. I wasn’t trying to blow my entire savings here; the stuff in the front hadn’t been too expensive, because it was very minimalist, at Vael’s iron-clad insistence.
I went over the basics. Wasn’t really trained in how to shoot, had before, but mostly alley plinking with disposables for fun. No DNI anymore, not that I could afford a smartgun. A User, but one with the constitution and strength of an asthmatic baby. It was for Diving, specifically.
He had me try shooting a few guns to see what felt good and what didn’t. I hit the target a few times. Most of the guns were either too fucking big, too fucking heavy, or hurt to shoot.
He told me that he had just the thing for me, after all the calibration, trial, and error. Spent a good ten minutes tinkering, tapping, hammering, and screwing at a workbench behind the counter. While he did that, I browsed the other selections.
KDI Flying Eagle. A two-toned polymer-bodied gun that looked like it rode the line between a puncher and a rattler. It spit 1,200 rounds of ammo a minute, and came available in a variety of calibers. Cryo looking, light, a little pricy. I asked about it.
“Reliability issues. Prone to jams if it gets a little dirty. Popular on the streets where it can be babied, something that will get you killed in a Dive. Good banger gun, sees use with PMC’s. Trash Dive gun.”
“I er, I’m not very well read about these things, can I ask why? You mentioned jamming. Is that all that it takes to be considered trash?”
He paused working to turn and face me and wiped his hands on his black apron. “No. Listen, I’m not a Diver, I just know what they tell me. The reason guns aren’t that popular in Dives is because you have crazy environmental conditions, and you have to carry everything in with you. The environmental issue isn’t a deal breaker. Do you want to carry twenty kilos of ammo up a mountain, on top of everything else you’re lugging along?”
I stopped and frowned. I knew what portal environments were like—practically random—but I hadn’t considered some really basic things. Like hauling a bunch of gear around in mud or who-knows-what environment or weather conditions. There were things I was taking for granted that were partially or fully abstracted in WoD.
“I had a few other questions, too, now that I think about it?”
“Of course,” he said, and turned to resume work.
“If recoil was an issue for me, why not use one of these rattlers that takes pistol ammo, but has a stock and multiple grips? I could just keep it to shooting one at a time, right?”
“Sure, but consider the alternative. You get a more stable platform to shoot and less felt recoil, but it comes at the cost of extra size and more weight. Weight is the big thing you’re looking to try and reduce.”
I wandered and looked at a few more things.
“What’s that?” I pointed at a pistol that was one of the stranger-looking ones on the pegboard behind the counter.
Addy walked over, lifted it off the wall, and handed it over the counter to me. I nearly dropped it. It not only looked like a brick, it felt like one, too.
It was a black box. Like, a literal rectangle. A hole at the muzzle. A grip on the opposite side. No visible controls other than a trigger and a pair of buttons on the top and back of the box. It weighed a ton; it had to be pushing three kilos. Heavier than some rifles I’d handled. Maybe even most of them.
“It’s… ugly?” I half-stated, half-asked.
“Yep, sure is. Ranier Arms, or RAAS. RCS-7P. Most people just call it the brick.”
“Ranier? Isn’t that the company that makes the wall guns?” I looked up from the brick.
“One and the same. Makes the main service weapons for the entire military, the wall guns, a bunch of real nasty energy weapons the army uses for civil defense. That’s pretty well outside the price range you gave me.”
I looked back down at the gun in my hands. It was a pistol. Sorta. I wasn’t sure I quite got it.
“What’s the deal with this? It seems…”
“Impractical? Bulky? Impossible to carry outside purpose-made holsters?” He offered, and I nodded.
“It’s more of a proof of concept, gimmick, or bragging rights. Something you pull and flash at someone you’re trying to impress. Don’t get me wrong, Ranier makes some of the best guns you can get your hands on, the 7P isn’t one of them.” He extended a hand out, and I handed the gun over.
Hanging it back up on the wall, reached under the counter and placed what looked like the same exact thing, just bigger. There was a chunk missing from the top of this one, a sub-rectangle. The missing piece came out a moment later, and he slotted it in and pressed down on it, and it snapped into place with a clack and an electronic beep.
He trailed grease-stained fingers over the gun to a spot on the top where there was a few bumps, and pressed one repeatedly until it made a different beeping sound. Then he slid it over to me.
“Here. Try it out at the range. You don’t need hearing protection to shoot it. Don’t mess with the buttons up top.”
I lifted it up, it was rifle-sized, and it had a buttpad on the stock, although there was no differentiation between that and the rest of the gun. Like the brick, it was just a very long rectangular box with a pistol grip on the bottom. Surprisingly, it wasn’t nearly as heavy as I would have expected. For being four times the size of the brick, it wasn’t more than maybe a kilo heavier.
“The weight really threw me off,” I offered as I walked over to the range.
“Yeah. You can miniaturize the internals, but the overall number and capability of the parts is basically the same between the different models. RAAS only makes three guns that are available on the civilian market. Ranier Coilgun System, Seventh Generation, in rifle, carbine, and pistol form. That’s the carbine."
I brought the butt to my shoulder, but didn’t lift the gun. Looking down the barrel...body...thing, it was just a flat plane with a few raised bumps for the buttons above where the grip was. “How do you aim this thing?”
“Targeting will come up when you hold the gun like you’re going to fire it. Integrated firing control system, the gun shoots itself and won’t fire unless it’s positioned correctly.”
“Oh.” I felt dumb.
Raising the gun up, I was surprised when holograms came to life above the gun when it was pointed downrange. A red targeting reticle ring was centered over the barrel, and there was a line and arrow that showed me the direction to move to put it over the target. A range readout for what it was pointing at, and the target it had identified. An ammo counter read one hundred and twenty rounds. I wasn’t used to trying to shoot a rifle, so it took me a moment to get the reticle on the paper target at the end of the range, at which point it turned green.
Something I’d heard ads for suddenly made sense to me. Context, and all that.
“Is it green?”
I pulled the trigger. A downright gentle push against my shoulder came with a barely-audible, equally soft buzz. A hole appeared in the target, and a bang sounded from the back of the range.
“Can I try it a few more times?” I called out to Addy.
“Go for it. Quite literally the cheapest ammo money can buy, it’s basically just a nail. Try pulling the trigger before aiming and sweeping it over the targets.”
I aimed off to the side. Pulled the trigger. Nothing happened other than the reticle gaining some crosshairs. I swung the barrel over the targets, and sure as shit, it put two holes in them all by itself. I squeezed off a few more rounds, but aiming the old school way. Addy announced my piece was ready.
I lugged the gun back over and returned it. He unloaded the box from the top and put it back away.
“RCS guns are some of the better guns for Diving, if you liked that. Tons of ammo to a magazine, packed with features, especially the rifle, and brain-dead easy to use. Extremely economical as well, and the ammo is scalable because you can dial the gun in to the muzzle energy you need. Has all the firing modes, too.”
“Is there a downside? Fragile?”
He shook his head. “No, quite the opposite, they’re damn-near bombproof. They’re made for some dumb grunt to accidentally drop out of a dropship, be picked up, and still shoot. Can put a hole in a tank with one, too. They’re just expensive. You’d have to either be shooting pretty pricy rounds, or a hell of a lot of ammo to make up the difference.”
I nodded. “I liked how soft it was shooting.”
He chuckled. “That’s because I had the muzzle energy as low as it’ll go. They’re soft shooting guns because of the physics, but if you cranked it, I don’t doubt it’d send you toppling over.”
He pulled out a tray with a pistol and several magazines on it.
I guess I am on a budget… But this looks like it came from a museum.
Addy cleared his throat. “Don’t judge a dataslate by the scratches on the case,” he cautioned. “You’re a difficult customer to build for. Most people who come in here are rocking skeletal bracing and muscle grafts, full cyberlimbs, or are similarly chromed out. I try not to stock stuff just for them, but you’re an edge case, even past that. No offense.”
“I’ve got like, kid hands,” I admitted.
“Combination of factors. The biggest thing is the task, though. I could sell you ten pistols you’d love in small calibers that would drop someone rocking solid body armor, no sweat. More bullets, lighter recoil, lighter, too.”
I frowned and studied his smudge-covered, wrinkled face.
“Those guns are great at dropping humanoid targets with armor. They’re garbage at stopping monsters in a Dive.”
I echoed what he’d been explaining earlier, saying, “trade-offs.”
“Trade-offs,” he agreed.
He walked me through what was going to be my new gun. “It’s old, I’m sure you’ve noticed. Thing is, it shoots one of the most widely-manufactured calibers and a caliber that comes in every kind of loading you can think of. The ammo is cheap, plentiful, and good for Diving, if you’re using the right kind.”
He pointed at the slide, “Metal frame and slide, nothing wrong with polymers, but you want bomb-proof in a Dive. Grips have been replaced to fit your hands better; they’re stippled, and the trigger guard has been cut down so you can get your hand further up on the frame. There’s an upgraded beavertail; you want the web of your thumb as up in this as you can get it. The slide can not cut you with this on it.”
I motioned with my hand to ask permission to pick it up, and he handed it to me. It was a little heavier than I expected, but a lot lighter than the brick had been.
“Magazine release is here. There’s no manual safety. Trigger is replaced, I lightened and shortened the pull so it would be more comfortable, and it’s a flat trigger for better feedback.”
He showed me how to load the gun. I’d never had a gun that took magazines before. Disposables were point and squeeze until it was empty. The trigger was really nice. Very crisp and snappy. He wasn’t kidding about it being light and short.
“It looks beat up and old, but it’s something that served generations without issue. You can trust it to work when you need it. The sight is holographic. Put the dot on the target, pull the trigger. Nothing fancy, no electronic trigger like the Ranier, don’t aim at what you aren’t planning on shooting, it will fire if you pull the trigger while it’s pointed at a friend.”
“Very retro,” I commented.
“It is, but it’s quality retro. I could have sold you a cheap piece of shit, but we operate on repeat customers here.”
He pointed out the last two items. One was a set of big, bulky stick magazines. He had me put them in the gun; they made it much heavier. “Thirty rounds each. They’re heavy, but that will actually help reduce the recoil, as will this.” He tapped on the tip of the gun where there was a blocky piece of metal with patterned port holes in it. “The compensator will dramatically reduce recoil. The downside is that it makes a lot of flash, and it’ll be significantly louder. You need proper hearing protection until you do that User hearing business.”
The final piece attached to the front of the gun, under the barrel. It snapped into place, and it added even more weight. “This is a combination illuminator. Light, strobe, visible laser. Don’t hit someone with this unless you’re planning on shooting or getting shot. It’s very effective against monsters; use it.”
He gave me a pair of earbuds with clips that went around the ear and had me shoot off a couple of normal-capacity magazines at the range until he was satisfied that I wasn’t going to blow my own leg off with it.
I had to give it to Addy, he was right about everything he told me. The gun was heavier than I would have liked; it made my arms tired pretty quickly while aiming it. But it didn’t hurt my hands to shoot, not at all. And it didn’t bounce around when I was trying to shoot more than one shot every fifteen seconds, either. The light and laser were cool. I could see how it’d be useful; it was blindingly bright just from reflections.
He gave me a biometric storage box that held the gun, accessories, a cleaning kit, and up to a dozen boxes of ammo, and fitted me for a hip holster. I wanted a shoulder holster like I was used to using. He gave me a look and told me to try it. Then told me to pull like someone just walked in the door, spraying.
Punching yourself in the tit sucked.
So now I had a straight-up cowboy holster like I was in a trid western. A sleek black straight knife was on the holster belt too, to keep Vael happy. The grip was aggressive on it, just like on the pistol, where it felt like sandpaper on my hands. Addy recommended shooting gloves. I added a pair to my total. Six boxes of what he called “monster busters,” a trip to the front to try on a few articles of clothing that had been picked out for me, and I was 3500 credits lighter.
Vael explained to me that this was bargain bin starter kit, and to expect it to pay itself off, but also require regular replacement.
Portal economy makes the world spin around, indeed.
We left and went back to her place. Shared a meal, she explained her plans, and we got ready to head back out.
I felt really stupid, because she had to help me put a bunch of the stuff on and explain things. I was getting a better idea why she kept telling me minimal loadout.
I looked in the mirror at the cute girl I barely recognized now. She had a brimmed cap on, her hair banded, a lightweight dark jacket on in several different materials, a long-sleeve shirt on under that, a compression top and bra on the innermost layer. Pants I would have liked before, snug in the hips and butt region, that didn’t interfere with my tail, straight legs, and lots of pockets. Dark navy blue. It had knee pads built into it. All the outer clothing was Class 2 ballistic rated. A pair of combat boots with good ankle support finished the clothing. Over that, I wore the pistol belt, a Sul’vari design, but it worked for me just fine. It carried my gun, knife, and mags securely and easily accessible. Webbing on each thigh with important stuff. A backpack with a fancy quick-release system. Non-optional Diving requirement, she’d told me.
With my fingerless gloves on, my baseball cap, and my glowing eyes, I looked…
I look like a fucking nerd cosplaying on some PMC shit. Absurd.
A knock at the bathroom door. I turned, and my jaw dropped.
Vael was wearing a catsuit that might as well have been vacuum-sealed to her ass, stompy shin-high boots, a few straps around her waist and legs, and a light backpack similar to what I had on.
And that was it. Well. She had gloves on, too. She had a metal quarterstaff strapped to the side of her bag.
Here I was four layers deep, and she had on what could have been dark blue club wear with some bits strapped on top.
She turned and gave me a three-quarter view pose. “What do you think? It doesn’t look too bad, does it?”
“I uh. It’s very… tight.” I cleared my throat. “Tight and flattering?”
She beamed at me. “Thanks! Let’s head out before it gets too much later, okay?”
I nodded, feeling nervous.
She called a bot cab, and we rode six, maybe eight blocks, then were let out at a big industrial building. We were let in through the building, down several flights of stairs, and deep into the mechanical guts of the facility. My senses started tingling as we went deeper, being led by a pair of heavily-armed security guards wearing a getup that matched the guards elsewhere in the building.
There was a heavy steel door, maybe four meters to a side. Vael talked to someone, maybe a manager, and they threw a thumbs-up across the room. The door opened with the hum of heavy electric motors.
And there it was.
A big blue oval, two and a half meters tall and around half that wide, hovering just off the ground. Pure energy. It cast a brilliant, radiant blue light that lit up every corner of the room. The center was darker, and the glowing mist that seeped off the ring seemed to get sucked into the center. It hummed a pleasant harmonic note that rose and fell in slow, even pulses.
“Ready to lose your Dive virginity?” Vael asked me, her teeth glinting in the harsh lighting of the portal.
“Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” I replied.
“Best way to learn is by doing!” Vael reminded me for the fifth time since we’d left the apartment.
“So you’ve said…”
I took one more good look at the thing.
This was unregistered. Unreported.
Majorly illegal.
“After you, Kiera,” Vael said, nudging my side.
I nodded with my heart up in my throat, swallowed, then walked forward to cross the membrane.