Giggles waited. The camera waited with him. The camera did not see Giggles, because Giggles had shot the camera.
In fact, Giggles had shot all the cameras, or at least the four that were relevant to his position and route. The equipment had been substandard and his field of view was better than theirs- He wouldn't show up in the feed as much more than a blur. Now he reloaded the revolver with which he had done so.
As far as weapons went, this one was, quite unmistakably, shit. Both the components and the ammunition had come from a materials printer for about the price of a solid lunch. Putting an end to fragile unarmoured lenses in an underground parking lot that hadn't seen maintenance in ten years was pretty much all it was good for. Giggles wouldn't trust it to kill himself if he put it in his own mouth.
He needed a gun.
The anarchist posse he called family had scattered when things started to turn sour, and Giggles had lost all his money and virtually all his kit. It was worth it, though. He'd come to Frixion Prime with a clean tail. The only time limit on his stay here was his own carelessness. And though he took risks, Giggles was not careless- He'd be fine.
The sports skim he'd been waiting for pulled up. Giggles raised an eyebrow over his eyesac. It wasn't a aircar you bought because you needed to go somewhere fast, no. It was the type you bought to turn your money into sex without actually paying for the sex.
A lanky young man in a button shirt unfolded from its front seat. Giggles stepped out from behind a pillar with his parang at neck level.
"Key."
The key was handed over.
"Cell."
The young man hesitated. Giggles kneed him in the crotch and smacked his face with a reinforced glove, forcing him face first onto the top of the skim by the wrist before he could charge the taser implant in his fingertips.
"Cell."
The man's biometric readout was stressed but not forced, and so the cell changed hands without complaint. Giggles snatched it while keeping thumb and forefinger over both cameras, bapped him on the head with the hilt of his machete and riffled through his wallet. No cash, damnit. Of course not. Rich kid like him did it all on chip.
Giggles reached into the aircar door, stretching his arm to keep his face out of view, and shot the internal camera. The gunshot hardly damaged the inside of the car and he scowled. Having scowled to his taste, he speared a jammer module into the map system so that he couldn't be tracked via satellite, started the skim with the cell, tossed it outside and shot that too.
"Who's the chick magnet now," said the young criminal, sliding down the convertible top and smiling under his mask. He took to the skies with the wind in his hair.
Despite his precautions, he knew he had only one or two safe hours with the skim at most, but that was enough to sign in to a vehicle collectivisation service with his own cell and offer a fast, underpriced ride for cash only, using a generic picture of an aircar of the same model. He made a handful of credits off an aspiring businesswoman who'd missed her bullet mono and stared at the bizarre mismatch of car and driver with wordless suspicion but no complaint.
That was lunch, then.
Time was up and Giggles took the skim out over the coast. There were satellites watching every inch of the planet, but when the right amount of money reached the right amount of people, satellites tended to malfunction in unobtrusive and inexplicably consistent ways. Giggles put his feet on the dash and waited for the freshly hacked autopilot to bring him down to a holographically camouflage stretch of water.
Knowledge, as they say, is power. So is money. Giggles knew how these things worked, and as such, was about to make off with a little profit.
The seas parted and Giggles dropped out of the skim immediately as Lore Obsolete's wrecking engine started carving up the vehicle, blasting a measured amount of scrap with equally measured damage. One of Lore's clones watched Giggles with disinterest through a screen projected from his headpiece- Or more likely, Giggles just so happened to be behind the screen.
"Engines, fuel, alloy, seats. Cut for what you did to the computer and camera. Seventy-five per cent surcharge to make it look like a suicide." Lore's eyes finally focused on Giggles. "Eleven hundred for it."
He nodded. It was less than one per cent of the skim's price, but it was the best he would get, and Lore ran a tight hustle that needed a lot of money to keep quiet. It would keep him fed for a week or so. Long enough to put together a better scheme, something that could pay for a real weapon.
"Bullet's over there," said the clone, pointing and unfocusing again, and Giggles slipped off to the tiny railpod that launched Lore's clients back into the city.
The railpod fed into another system and left Giggles unmasked and unhooded in a transport hub under an exit labelled 'Hanging Gardens'. Screens flickered, hoverbots whirred, citizens bustled, each lost in their own little world of depression and business.
Giggles plopped himself on a bench and started laughing to himself. He laughed until he had to lay down.
"Live it, boys!"
In fact, Giggles had shot all the cameras, or at least the four that were relevant to his position and route. The equipment had been substandard and his field of view was better than theirs- He wouldn't show up in the feed as much more than a blur. Now he reloaded the revolver with which he had done so.
As far as weapons went, this one was, quite unmistakably, shit. Both the components and the ammunition had come from a materials printer for about the price of a solid lunch. Putting an end to fragile unarmoured lenses in an underground parking lot that hadn't seen maintenance in ten years was pretty much all it was good for. Giggles wouldn't trust it to kill himself if he put it in his own mouth.
He needed a gun.
The anarchist posse he called family had scattered when things started to turn sour, and Giggles had lost all his money and virtually all his kit. It was worth it, though. He'd come to Frixion Prime with a clean tail. The only time limit on his stay here was his own carelessness. And though he took risks, Giggles was not careless- He'd be fine.
The sports skim he'd been waiting for pulled up. Giggles raised an eyebrow over his eyesac. It wasn't a aircar you bought because you needed to go somewhere fast, no. It was the type you bought to turn your money into sex without actually paying for the sex.
A lanky young man in a button shirt unfolded from its front seat. Giggles stepped out from behind a pillar with his parang at neck level.
"Key."
The key was handed over.
"Cell."
The young man hesitated. Giggles kneed him in the crotch and smacked his face with a reinforced glove, forcing him face first onto the top of the skim by the wrist before he could charge the taser implant in his fingertips.
"Cell."
The man's biometric readout was stressed but not forced, and so the cell changed hands without complaint. Giggles snatched it while keeping thumb and forefinger over both cameras, bapped him on the head with the hilt of his machete and riffled through his wallet. No cash, damnit. Of course not. Rich kid like him did it all on chip.
Giggles reached into the aircar door, stretching his arm to keep his face out of view, and shot the internal camera. The gunshot hardly damaged the inside of the car and he scowled. Having scowled to his taste, he speared a jammer module into the map system so that he couldn't be tracked via satellite, started the skim with the cell, tossed it outside and shot that too.
"Who's the chick magnet now," said the young criminal, sliding down the convertible top and smiling under his mask. He took to the skies with the wind in his hair.
Despite his precautions, he knew he had only one or two safe hours with the skim at most, but that was enough to sign in to a vehicle collectivisation service with his own cell and offer a fast, underpriced ride for cash only, using a generic picture of an aircar of the same model. He made a handful of credits off an aspiring businesswoman who'd missed her bullet mono and stared at the bizarre mismatch of car and driver with wordless suspicion but no complaint.
That was lunch, then.
Time was up and Giggles took the skim out over the coast. There were satellites watching every inch of the planet, but when the right amount of money reached the right amount of people, satellites tended to malfunction in unobtrusive and inexplicably consistent ways. Giggles put his feet on the dash and waited for the freshly hacked autopilot to bring him down to a holographically camouflage stretch of water.
Knowledge, as they say, is power. So is money. Giggles knew how these things worked, and as such, was about to make off with a little profit.
The seas parted and Giggles dropped out of the skim immediately as Lore Obsolete's wrecking engine started carving up the vehicle, blasting a measured amount of scrap with equally measured damage. One of Lore's clones watched Giggles with disinterest through a screen projected from his headpiece- Or more likely, Giggles just so happened to be behind the screen.
"Engines, fuel, alloy, seats. Cut for what you did to the computer and camera. Seventy-five per cent surcharge to make it look like a suicide." Lore's eyes finally focused on Giggles. "Eleven hundred for it."
He nodded. It was less than one per cent of the skim's price, but it was the best he would get, and Lore ran a tight hustle that needed a lot of money to keep quiet. It would keep him fed for a week or so. Long enough to put together a better scheme, something that could pay for a real weapon.
"Bullet's over there," said the clone, pointing and unfocusing again, and Giggles slipped off to the tiny railpod that launched Lore's clients back into the city.
The railpod fed into another system and left Giggles unmasked and unhooded in a transport hub under an exit labelled 'Hanging Gardens'. Screens flickered, hoverbots whirred, citizens bustled, each lost in their own little world of depression and business.
Giggles plopped himself on a bench and started laughing to himself. He laughed until he had to lay down.
"Live it, boys!"
