Story: Jensen Blayloc: New Beginnings - Chapter 1

 

The beautiful chaos of clouds is hard to imagine for the earth-borne. When amongst the clouds, only then, can one truly appreciate how they shift in many layers, all in different directions; the color and density more distinct then can be imagined from the ground. As I stood at the platform edge, pondering this, all hell broke loose.

 

“Incoming projectiles.”

 

Particulate polymer shards showered my diving form as the flechettes tore into the shield wall at the spot I was just standing. The report of the gauss rifle followed a few fractions of a second behind. I am told that technically the sound I hear is from the flechettes going supersonic, not actually the weapon, but either way it is not a noise you want to hear.

 

“Target acquired. Distance to target 500 meters. Tracking South by Southwest, in motion.”

 

 I looked for cover quickly, my assailant was certainly moving for a clear line of site. I, until that very moment, never truly appreciated the ACTIS system or my combat wired reflexes. The surgery was long and painful, not to mention expensive. I wondered if those quarter million credits had purchased anything. They bought my life that instant. Now it was up to me to keep it.

 

I drew my weapon as I found an appropriate piece of cover, a shrubbery, with a hardened polymer planter. My old-fashioned slug thrower couldn’t even reach 500 meters; much less hit anything at that distance. He would have to get closer, much closer. THUUMP!

 

“Projectile incoming, high parabolic trajectory,” reported ACTIS  

 

“Damn!” I exclaimed out loud.

 

 I reached the transit entrance just as the grenade exploded, the concussion added velocity to my leaping stair decent. I hit HARD.

 

“Distance to target 275 meters,” the retinal display on the ACTIS was fuzzy, or maybe it was my vision.

 

I quickly descended the rest of the way into the subway station.  The security cameras may deter my opponent, but I doubted it. The authorities would not be here in time to do anything, and he would change his appearance, as all professionals did after a hit. I screwed the silencer into my handgun as I walked quickly to the tunnel. Hopefully he was not equipped with night vision. I ran down the tunnel, as the transports were not here at this time, and hopped back up into a service alcove, a silent 5.7mm HTP round extinguished the light. Here I waited.

 

“Distance to target 125 meters.”

 

The ACTIS or Active Combat Tactical Information System could identify and track 256 simultaneous targets. 254 or something actually, the technician said, limited by the reserved bits or some other geek-speak explanation. I know this, if I fill the target queue I am in DEEP kimche, anything more than that is just plain redundant. The system interfaces with several intelligence sources, security cameras, satellite surveillance, GPS system, body heat indexes, and personal transponders (although most thugs don’t have one, or have a stealth module, that can spoof the detectors). The data is projected onto retinal lenses in front of each eye.

 

“Distance to target 50 meters.”

 

It also has an emergency override attached to my wired reflexes. That is what saved my can from the assassin’s first shot upstairs.

 

“Distance to target 30 meters.”

 

He must be well equipped; he was coming right to me. My stealth module was off, I didn't need it. Right?

 

“Distance to target 15 meters.”

 

Between the darkness and the cover, he obviously can’t see me, he isn’t shooting yet, fortunately, quarters are too tight for grenades.

 

“This is a bad idea Blayloc, you should have kept running.”

 

This came from that little voice we all have. Mine is a bit more annoying than most. Probably because I rarely listen to it.

 

“Distance to target 5 meters.”

 

“Well it’s now or never.” I thought.

 

I leapt from the alcove, diving towards the flat center part of the conveyance way. My first shot hits squarely in the chest, no effect. Hardened Body Armor; damn! The five-seven is more than a match for your basic weave; this guy was wearing the good stuff. As I complete my roll, the flechettes start tearing up the floor. Two more shots to the face, one hits him squarely in the eye, and the dark spray out of the back of his head told me I had hit pay dirt.

 

I managed to drag the corpse to the landing before the conveyance came. There were a few people standing around now, and the police arrived shortly. Luckily we are outward, had this been an inward terminal, we would have probably had a few civilian casualties.

 

“Well Blayloc I see you are still as popular as ever.” It was Lieutenant Michaels; great. 

 

“Listen Lieutenant, this is all above board, this was a hit, I just fired in self defense,” I said.

 

“Cool your jets Blayloc, we have the whole thing on video. You’re clear. You know the drill though, you’ll have to turn in your weapon until after the hearing.” He replied.

 

He studied the corpse for a few moments, “ Hmm, armored epidermal plating, ACTIS, H&K Mark 43 – with integral grenade launcher, Taurus v94; Heavy duty. Somebody wants you dead. Who is it this time?” he asked casually.

 

That’s the kicker you know. I really had no idea; my cases have been real mild lately. Since I had moved to New Angeles, I had kept a pretty low profile. Michaels knew me from when he was a beat cop in Boston and I used to work for the Government.

 

“I really don’t know.” I said.

 

“I would find out. Nobody sends this kind of present without a backup plan.” He stated the obvious.

 

“I’ll look into.” I replied, handing him my pistol.

 

“I can’t believe you still use one of these.”

 

“Hey, it keeps me alive, I never liked modern weapons. The old stuff serves me well.”

 

“One of these days, it is going to jam; then it is you we’ll be putting in the bag,” Michaels replied.

 

“Always a pleasure talking to you lieutenant.” I left.

 

“Don’t forget to file a report old man. I’ll be expecting an e-mail by morning.” Came from over my shoulder. 

 

“Roger that lieutenant.”