"I want a name." The gloved fist of one of Cayne's men cracked against the man's jaw and he slumped, the only thing stopping him from falling to the ground being the other two gang members holding him up by each arm. The man spat, a horrid concoction of blood, spit and at least one splinter from his teeth. Cayne himself stood watching, out of distance of any potential, unfortunate, splatters, with his thick arms folded across his chest. He had been watching his men for a few minutes now as they set about their work, opting against getting his own hands dirty. Besides, having grunts do it for him made him look more powerful, and was thus more intimidating. The man in front him, hanging limp in the hands of two heavily augmented gangsters, was named Calum Alpwood, but no one who knew him would recognize him now. His face had been mauled, with one eye socket visibly dislocated and the other swollen and purple. His lips were puffy and split in numerous places, and a foamy dribble of blood was leaking from the gaps in his gum where his teeth used to be, running down his chin and dripping onto the floor. Cayne didn't feel sorry for him; he had no space in his limited repertoire of emotions for pity, especially not for a man like Calum; a Neanderthal.
Calum lifted his head and the same fist struck him again, this time on the nose, setting his blood running like someone had turned on a tap. Pathetic, Cayne thought to himself, staring down at the bloodied and battered man before him through his haunting, grey cybernetic eyes. The display in his vision was showing Calum's vital signs to Cayne. At the start his heart rate had increased drastically to 112bpm, but with every subsequent punch the spike got smaller, as if he was fading. We don't have a lot of time. Cayne stepped forward, the sound of his boot thudding against the pavement enough to make the four men around Calum to take a step back. He fell to his hands and knees without anyone supporting him, breathing heavily and retching up small amounts of bloody phlegm. Cayne stood, silent, watching, towering over him. His breathing had become laboured. He looked up at Cayne, trying to look unimpressed. What he didn't realize was that Cayne could literally see the signs of terror thanks to his scanner. "You finally gonna hit me now then?" His voice was weak and raspy, every word was an effort.
"No." Cayne's reply was blunt. "If I hit you, you'll die. And I don't want to kill you." Cayne reached down with one hand and grabbed the collar of Calum's jacket and hauled him to his feet, holding him up on his feet thanks to the strength of his augmented arms. "I want a name. I've told you this. I'm trying my best to be patient with you Calum, but now you're really starting to fuck me off." His eyes met Cayne's implants. Cayne's face was calm, a pool of water with not a ripple on the surface. His eyes betrayed no emotion, nor did his mouth. Calum's heart rate quickened a little. "Don't make me ask again." Cayne could smell iron on his breath as the blood had begun to congeal and oxidise.
"I can't do that. You know I can't... they'll kill me man! They'll kill me, they'll tear me apart piece by piece. Please."
"They won't lay a finger on you. We will protect you, better yet, we'll fix you. But I can only help you, Calum, if you help me. So c'mon, let's help each other." Calum still seemed unsure. "If you can't help me, then you're of no use to me. And if that's the case," Cayne's left hand folded in on itself, and from his middle finger a long, serrated knife came forth. "Then I'm going to slash your thighs and wrists, and leave you here to die in your own blood. It's your choice. Doesn't bother me either way." Cayne was doing his best to stay calm. They needed that name. The Shepherd's message had been clear enough; the bombing was orchestrated by the Neanderthals. And this man, this pathetic, drug-addicted waste of oxygen knew who'd delivered it. The girl. He was a nobody, no-one would miss him. He had no family apart from a little sister he lost contact with years ago, and he was a nobody among his gang. The girl wasn't even high priority. The Disk came first, and then the Neanderthals. The girl was just sport, revenge for the inconvenience they had caused. Cayne almost considered her collateral. But until he was finally unleashed, the Sheepdog was quite content to make the most of the bone he'd been thrown for the time being. He had already been thinking about how much fun they could have when Cayne finally got a hold of her.
"She goes by Calypso." He practically spat the name in Cayne's face. Calum let his head drop in shame, disgusted that he'd let himself be broken. Cayne didn't blame him. He'd spent a solid 10 minutes being wailed on by men with enhanced strength, and he was just a pathetic creature of mortal flesh. "What's her real name?"
"I don't know, I swe-" Cayne's hand had moved, lightning fast, gripping Calum's scrawny neck and lifting him off his feet, bringing his eyes level with Cayne's. His feet were kicking wildly, and his hands scrabbled at Cayne's massive hand as he croaked and gasped. The choke was total; he could barely even make a noise. His eyes had gone wide, and his skin and turned dark red as the blood flow out of his face was restricted. Cayne held him for 10 seconds at least, watching the life slowly slip out of his eyes, when he dropped him. Calum fell flat, spluttering by Cayne's feet. Cayne looked at the sleeve of his hoodie in disgust, noticing the stain from Calum's blood and making a mental note to get it dry cleaned tomorrow. He barely let Calum catch his breath before he hauled him up to his feet.
"Please... I don't," he took a deep breath, coughed, and then spat out a mouthful of spit and blood, "I don't know anything else. She's a delivery girl, freelance. Please." Another mouthful. "That's all I know." Cayne paused for a moment. This man knew his life was on the line. Nothing made a man more honest than the prospect of not waking up tomorrow. He doubted Calum was lying. He looked around at his men. They had been standing motionless, not making a sound, observing. "Take him to Nate. And make sure he fixes his face, I don't wanna see shit like that in my safehouse." The first man, the one who had been throwing the punches, nodded in response. He was grotesque; six glowing robotic eyes made him look like a spider and he was wearing a respiratory mask over the lower half of his face. He relinquished a syringe, holding Calum down with one hand and using the other to empty its contents into his blood stream. He was unconscious almost instantly. They picked him up, the largest of the four slinging his limp body over his shoulder, and without a word headed off down the alleyway.
Cayne pulled his hood back up, sporting a grey hoodie today, and pulled his jacket sleeve down to cover the stain. He went in the other direction. He didn't care if his lackeys got caught, but Cayne could do without going to prison before his work on his world was complete. It had been a busy day, travelling around and getting information out of unfortunately stubborn clients. Cayne decided to settle into a sports bar for the evening. He ordered food; a hot dog and fries, onion rings, and beer. Four bottles over an hour. There were enough people for Cayne to blend in, sat in a booth on his own opposite one of the large screens. Cayne had just ordered a fifth beer to the table, when he noticed people crowding on the pavement. At first he dismissed it, but just seconds later, sound cracked the air, booming over the city. Was that... a railgun? Cayne walked briskly towards the door, joining the crowd. People were screaming now, shoving and running. Outside it was crazy, mobs of people assembled on the sidewalk, every single on of them looking up. Cayne's mouth opened in surprise.
Both parts of the craft were freefalling, split by a failed attempt to destroy it with rail rounds. The smaller safety craft around it had given up. There was no stopping this thing, a great metal ship. It was all about the reaction now. Things were already too far gone to stop it now. The smaller vessels pulled away, and the flurry of fire attempting to halt its descent had ceased. Cayne watched speechless as it hurtled downwards. Was this really happening? He began to wonder if he had just had one too many beers and his cybernetics were playing up. All of his questions were wiped away as the ground shook and the craft collided with the ground. A cloud of dust and debris kicked up, and covered everything. Cayne ducked down, pulling his hoodie up over his face and his t-shirt up to cover his mouth and nose, and waited for it to pass.
