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PC4/Ashram. City of Eastfall. 8th Street Tavern.
Like any good story, this one begins at a bar.
Edric sat down at the bar of the 8th Street Tavern, mulling over the events of last night. He smiled to himself, thinking back and realizing that he needed what happened. Sure the money was good, but it was the action, the rush of adrenaline. Things couldn't have gone better......
It was late night and just as his employer said, a hover limo pulled up to the modest home, all black paint, all black tinted windows. The big question mark was who was in the limo. This guy was a low level city official, and this part of town was not known to be entirely violence free. Then again, the dude was fucking a cops wife, and guys like him generally thought they were untouchable. In a moment, Edric would see which shade of stupid the guy was.
He surveyed the scene from across the street in a vehicle. It wasn't his own, it was parked there while the car's owner was out of town. He was in no dire need to hide, this wasn't the most dangerous of jobs. Just a bit of intimidation, maybe some bumps and bruises. And a good chunk of money. Where the cop paying him to do so got the cash, Edric didn't know. He didn't really care either.
The casanova stepped out of the limo and then two doors opened on either side of the limo. Three thugs stepped out, one staying near the vehicle, the other two flanking the man known as Chuck as he made his way to the house. Looks like he wasn't entirely stupid, just lacking in morals and good judgment..
Edric hopped out of the car and begin to feel his adrenaline flow. In this tank, when this happened, it felt like the HUMMM of a turbo charged engine revving in neutral, ready to get dropped into first gear and take off. It was great. Claymore brand tanks were some of the best and this design, C16 Fury was perfect for him, everything he wanted in a combat tank. Most importantly, it didn't stand out as a beast of a tank. Sure, it wasn't an C60 Immortal, but Edric believed that the top of the line military models were for yuppies and corps who didn't understand combat. Half the reason they got them was because everyone knew the name. The other half was because of the proverbial "compensate for dick size and ego with prize tags." Most of them had options that no one would ever use; flares, satelite comm systems, kevplating in areas there is no business being any. Most of the options confused users or slowed down the tank since almost none of them took the time to train, develop muscle memory, learn to push the tank further than they would a real body.
He made his way across the street and shouted "Heyo! Sir. Let's have a word."
All 4 people stopped and the door had just opened, a woman stepping to the door, confusion on her face as everyone turned from her to face the form coming in their directions. He noticed the thugs looking for weapons and how they eased slightly after seeing none. Good. Rookie thugs, hired to be big and stand around more than anything.
He walked up, confidently, more quickly than most people would allow, but his training allowed him to manipulate others with something as subtle as a walk and a smirk. He seemed up to no harm, he didn't threaten, so he wasn't a threat.
Chuck asked, sounding very irritated,"can I help you?" As he got closer, he noticed the 3 bodyguards tanks were all show. Sure, they were beefed up and strong, probably a few combat options, but he could see the faces were a little more waxen than real skin--psuedoskin. These guys were probably saving money for real suits. This was not a good day to be them...
"Yeah, I was just wond--" Edric didn't finish his sentence, instead he aimed a closed fist shot directly into Chucks throat, smashing his throat in. Before the man hit the ground, Edric flashed a knife out from his left sleeve and slammed it up into the skull of the thug. Moving like a good bit of poetry, didn't miss a beat, spinning and slamming his knife directly into the face of the second thug, right between the eyes. Both hits killed instantly but were no where near the neurodrives. Real death drew government involvement. Plus he wasn't paid to kill these guys, real or temporary...they were just in the way. This would be a minor case, re-tanking and back to good.
The woman just opened her mouth, the first part of a scream leaving her lips as Edric spun, pulling out his revolver with ruthless and deadly efficiency. This was a modified piece, a 8 shot revolver that held 16 gauge shotgun rounds. The first and only shot took the third and last guard full in the face. The limo driver gunned it and took off at this point and the woman was halfway through her scream as the second thug he'd stabbed hit the floor.
There was not much left of the third corpses head, but neurodrives were made from shit that could survive most nuclear shellings. It took laser weapons, viruses or a LOT of will and determination go obliterate an ND. Sure, they may have to pick this one up from the middle of the road, but who cares.
He turned and holstered his gun, moving to Chuck as he crawled, gasping and able to hardly breathe. After a little surgery, he'd be fine, e wasn't going to die from the blow. He WAS going to die from a well placed church cross to the head though. He walked up and spouted something loudly, so the woman and the neighbors could hear, some religious nonsense about adultery and harlots and cheating scum not being safe from the wrath of Jacob. He then slammed the cross into the mans head, again staying clear of the neurodrive, out of force of habit more than fear of damaging anything more than the brain. He laid down a Holy Book of Jacob, with a section highlighted about adultery and sin. He then left, walking calmly away.
In the 20 or 30 seconds that passed from him leaving the car, to leaving the book, he had more than enough time to leave before authorities arrived. Plus the cop was a dispatcher, so he'd make sure to mix up in a fake state of hysteria.
No longer in his C16 Fury tank, he was in a more modest Everstat CC-B model. It wasn't combat orientated, but he had some upgrades, legal and not, added. Extended peripherals gave him a better view of the bar than normal tanks. He took a moment and thought to the events leading up to today...
The cop found him one day and told him the story of his cheating wife, said he'd pay to teach the wife and Chuck a lesson, so long as it didn't fall back on him. He was a middle pay grade officer who needed his pension--being an accomplice to murder would have him in deep shit. Edric told him don't worry, he'd take care of it, and it was taken care of 3 days later. The cops would be all over the Ministry of Jacob, and after a week or so of turning up nothing, they'd make a few minor arrests on other things, there was no I and I to keep the investigation open, and all people would be on their merry ways.
He sat at the bar and smiled at Deborah...or Deliliah, whatever her name was. Damn she had some nice tits... She had to have the biggest pair on all of Ashram. Not just big--perfect--tight, pert, nipples that sometimes looked like they could cut glass. And the tops she wore didn't do anything to hide them. He laughed with the guys all the time, Edric saying she loved her own tits more than anyone else in the city. He smirked at her as he held up his shot, wondering what the rest of the night would bring.
"Here's to love," he said and knocked it back.