Politics

Chimera Heights - Chaani

“Do you remember the first time we came up here?” Chaani asked, tying her hair into a ponytail as the train pulled to a stop at the pristine Chimera Heights station. Unlike Vargos’ other train stations, Chimera Heights was equipped with top-notch security measures, a heavy corporate police presence, and immaculate sanitation and architecture–a delight to visitors and a comforting relief for those returning home from the city’s seedier districts.

Today, the station was packed with visitors from across Vargos, all gathered for the twentieth anniversary of the Violet Prosperity Parade. Security was high, and the crowds were thick, but Chaani and Pat had been waiting a long time for their chance to attend. There was no way they’d miss it this year, even if it meant swimming through crowds that were massive, even by the standards of a megalopolis like Vargos.

Pat draped an arm around Chaani and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head lightly. His grin was so wide she could hear it in his voice.

“Yeah, I was laying asphalt for one of the GHM towers that had just been built. You gave me shit for bumping into you when I was getting off the train. What’d you say?”

“I told you to watch where you were going or you’d find out why corpos are above the law,” Chaani admitted, a hint of shame laced in her giggled response.

“Yeah, guess they’re only above some laws, though,” Pat quipped as people started flooding off the train onto the platform. He and Chaani mixed into the exiting mob and made their way up the subway stairs to the station’s ground level.

They scanned the mass of people until they spotted a familiar face decked out in Violet Corporation security armor. The full helmet, Fountainhead standard-issue automatic rifle, and glowing body armor linked directly to his cybernetic arms and legs made him stand out even more. Tig had suited up for this event and was in the middle of a stark departure from his usual routine of patrolling corporate skyscrapers. Crowd control was an entirely different beast, even for guards who had been on the job for years.

Chaani waved her arms, flagging Tig down before gripping Pat’s hand and navigating through the crowd as best she could without tripping over herself.

“Hey, Tig! Sorry, we missed the first train and barely made it onto this one. Feels like half the city is here today.” She sighed in relief as they managed to step aside into the station foyer, grabbing seats on a nearby bench.

“Half and then some. This place is a zoo,” Tig said, his voice robotic through the microphone affixed to his helmet. He shifted uneasily in his armor, visibly uncomfortable with the growing throng of people as another train rolled in, unloading hundreds more Vargosians into the station.

The trio sat quietly for a moment, watching the crowd churn and swell before Tig broke the silence.

“You guys ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. Chaani’s remotely linked to the megascreen on one of the floats and the sound system running down Main Street,” Pat said as he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply before exhaling with fervor.

“How are you getting me on the Violet float, though? We never settled that.”

Chaani had known Pat for seven years since their first encounter, and until now, she had never seen him nervous. A pang of sadness struck her as she watched him. He was the most confident man she knew, that was part of why she loved him. No matter how bad things got in the city, no matter how bad things got for them, he stayed steadfast. So why now? Why did he have to get nervous now, when keeping a level head mattered more than ever?

“Easy. I’ll walk you over to the float deck, and we’ll meet with Willy. He’ll let us on, and from there, I’ll escort you to the deck where the CFO is seated. The rest is on you,” Tig said, resting the barrel of his rifle on his shoulder as he pulled up the time display in his helmet’s interface.

Five minutes. This was their last chance to talk before things were set in motion.

“How do you know we can trust this guy?” Chaani asked.

“He got demoted for the third time last week. Used to have a corner office in one of the needle spires. Now he’s on parade float maintenance. A guy like him, growing up in the cushy corpo world only to get stepped on time and time again? He’s got a grudge to settle,” Tig muttered, his voice dripping with venom at the mere mention of the word “corpo.”

“Does he know what we’re planning?” Chaani asked, pressing him for more information to cool her nerves.

“Nah, I didn’t tell him that much. Just said he’d be satisfied with the payoff if he helped us out.”

“Well, we’re here. Guess that’s gonna have to be good enough,” Pat said as Tig brought his rifle down and settled into a soldier’s stance.

Pat stomped out his cigarette and zipped up his worker’s coveralls. They were the same ones he had kept from his days laying asphalt in the district. He hoped the look was convincing enough to avoid suspicion when they reached the top of the float.

“Tig, can you give me a second? I want to talk to Chaani real quick,” Pat said, taking her hands in his and idly playing with her fingers.

“Sure, just be quick. She needs to be on the next train, and you and I need to head to the float.” Tig wandered away from the pair, stopping near a trash bin. He didn’t seem shaken or nervous to Chaani’s eye, but it was hard to tell beneath the combat gear.

She turned and met Pat’s gaze. He had kept both of his original eyes, never opting for cybernetics. There was a warmth in normal human eyes that she never tired of, and Pat’s were especially warm and inviting today.

She leaned up and kissed him before he gently pushed her away.

“Chaani–”

“No, stop. I don’t want to think about anything right now. Just let me look at you for a second.”

She took in his face, memorizing every feature, crease, scar, and pore. He looked exhausted after staying up all night, but the slight grin he always wore made her melt like it always did. She kept her gaze locked on him before kissing him again, this time pushing him away and pressing a finger to his lips as he tried to speak.

“I know you want to say something, Pat. I do. But I can’t hear it right now. Please,” she whispered.

Tears blurred the edges of her vision, and her voice cracked. This was the worst time to talk. Why did he want to say something now?

Pat gently moved her hand away from his mouth and pulled her into a hug, his words gliding into her ears like birds making a smooth landing on a lake.

“Just let me say this. I need to get it out now. I don't know if I’ll have the chance again.”

Chaani broke his embrace and stepped back.

“You can tell me when you’re back in the Sprawl tonight. Okay?”

She wiped her eyes and nose, unwilling to meet his gaze again. He looked too sweet, too soft for everything that was about to happen. They had come a long way from their old lives. She was no longer a Violet office drone, and he was no longer an asphalt layer from the Sprawl. They had been reborn with a mission, and today was the day it would be realized.

But she wanted more. She wanted to grow old with him, something many couples in Vargos never got the chance to do. They would succeed. They had to.

Tig approached and grabbed Pat’s shoulder, pulling him toward the moving crowd. Chaani nodded, watching them sink into the mass of bodies before wiping her eyes once more. She was done crying. It was time to act.

Chaani made her way to the train platform and hopped onto one heading back toward the main region of Vargos. She slid into a seat by the window, taking in the splendor of Chimera Heights as the train glided down the high track, overlooking the most opulent part of the city. From this vantage point, she could see the parade winding through the crowded main street, the people below a shifting, organic mass like lichen spreading across stone.

Her eyes locked onto the Violet Corporation’s main float, the one carrying the CFO. Pat and Tig would be on it in less than five minutes now that it was passing close to the train station’s exit.

She glanced down near her seat and spotted a maintenance panel used for accessing the train car’s wiring. With practiced ease, she clipped a small wire, just enough to siphon power without triggering any digital alarms.

Pressing her cybernetic fingers to the exposed wire, she rubbed the raw tips together. A spark leapt, sending a jolt of energy into her body and activating her remote neural system.

Her cybernetic eye flickered to life, her vision flooding with a cascade of projected windows, each brimming with streams of data. She had maybe thirty seconds before the stolen charge ran dry.

She scrolled through the cascading interfaces until she found what she was looking for: a retrofitted Wraith hacking program, one her group had spent a fortune to obtain.

This was it. Showtime.

She whispered a trigger phrase under her breath: “Rottweiler,” and watched as the window vanished in a flash. Her vision returned to normal, the energy surge gone. Hopefully, the program was now executing.

Her eyes locked onto the megascreen, waiting for its endless stream of ads to cut away.

Five seconds. Nothing.

Ten seconds. Still nothing.

Twenty seconds. Still nothing.

Chaani’s chest tightened. She needed this to work.

Thirty seconds. There it was.

The megascreen and sound system, both relentless in feeding corporate drivel to the massive crowd, cut to silence and blackness for a moment. Then, in stark white letters against a black background, a message appeared in tandem with a robotic voice reading the words over the loudspeakers.

“BLACKOUT DOGS. VARGOS LIVES.”

The screen flickered again, cutting to a live feed from Tig’s helmet cam. Chaani watched the megascreen from the train as Tig followed closely behind Pat, weaving into the main chamber of the Violet float. A cluster of executives lounged inside, sipping champagne, their conversation muted behind the thick, soundproof walls. As they noticed Tig, concern flickered across their faces. But when their eyes landed on Pat, confusion took over.

The CFO stepped forward. He straightened his jacket, took a measured sip from his glass, and stared past Pat directly at Tig. His suit was impeccably pressed, its open collar revealing a patch of gray chest hair that betrayed his age, a stark contrast to his jet-black dyed hair.

“What’s going on, guard?” he asked, voice steady but laced with suspicion.

Outside, the murmuring of the crowd was deafening, but inside the float’s insulated lounge, silence reigned.

Tig spoke his line clearly, without hesitation just like they had rehearsed hundreds of times back in the Sprawl.

“Blackout Dogs. Vargos Lives.”

The CFO’s eyes widened. His glass slipped from his fingers and shattered against the floor. Around him, the other executives recoiled in alarm.

In the camera’s peripheral, Pat made his move. He lunged forward in a blur of motion and buried a combat knife deep into the CFO’s chest.

A Violet Corporation Virablade. It never dulled. It could cut through steel plates as effortlessly as human flesh. It was designed to bypass the cybernetic defense mechanisms the rich installed for precisely this kind of situation. The irony wasn’t lost on Chaani. But the media would never report that detail.

The deed was done. The CFO crumpled, his life snuffed out in an instant as Pat twisted the blade, then wrenched it free. Blood bloomed across the man’s pristine shirt.

The camera jerked violently as Tig turned toward the hallway they had entered from. A sudden flash of light flooded the screen, followed by the roar of gunfire.

Guards opened fire. Tig went down.

The live feed tilted, the view now locked in a single, unmoving frame as his head slumped to the side. Then Pat fell into view. His body hit the floor beside Tig, his eyes vacant. But his grin, that same damn grin, was still there.

The screen flickered once more, returning to the message Chaani had synced into the system. The world outside roared with screams of terror from the parade, alarms blaring, panicked voices filling the train car as passengers pointed frantically at the unfolding chaos below.

But Chaani barely heard any of it. All she could hear was her own heartbeat.

And the quiet sound of her own sniffles as tears streamed down her face.

“Blackout Dogs. Vargos Lives.”