From: Andrew Blyth <sis5376.pbs5.milton.port.ac.uk>
Subject: (no subject)
Date: 11 Dec 1995 18:00:24 GMT

                  More Machine than Machine

       A short cyberpunk story inspired by Bladerunner

                 (Copyright) Andrew Blyth 1995

                           Part 1.


    "He is more machine now than man, twisted... and evil."
                                   Obi-Wan Kenobi- Return of
                                                    the Jedi

 He went by the name of Earl.  Now was finally the time to
finish what he had started.
 The giant man looked around the busy star port.  He
disliked people, and crowds made him aggressive.  All those
hunks of meat greeting each other after a long trip away
from home or saying their fond and sometimes final
farewells.  It all seemed so empty of any meaning to him.
As he passed gateway number 3, walking along the soft
carpet, he tried not to look at the blatant displays of
emotion that reminded him of what he lacked.  Sometimes that
small shred of humanity left in him screamed out from
amongst the plastic and stainless steel that was his body,
pleading to be expressed in some way only to be ruthlessly
suppressed and suffocated until Earl was sure it would
trouble him no longer.  But to any psychologist who might
know Earl, it was obvious there was at least one emotion
that escaped and not only voiced itself, but fuelled his
very existence.  Indeed, without it, Earl would probably
have curled up and sat in a corner until oblivion long ago,
as a machine without a purpose does, waiting for a reason to
do something that never comes.
 But Earl had never been to a psychologist.  There was
little need and little point.
 The Earl he had been born as was of African descent and
had possessed that physical superiority that so many of his
ancient heritage owned.  As a child, his mind had been sharp
and he had not always been required to use his fists to cope
with the racial bullying he had received from his peers.
Yet it had still affected him, and gradually, he became
cold, almost emotionless, with a streak of ruthlessness that
had proved the downfall of so many of his childhood enemies.
 As a young man, Earl had known few friends but most of his
acquaintances regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and
fear.  He had only needed to look around him to see the
Earth was doomed, and had been for years before his birth.
To live a real life he would have to move to one of the
colonies.  The answer presented itself with a recruitment
video on a bulletin board above the Los Angeles central
plaza.
 He became a Sergeant in the Marines.
 That had been the final straw, as they filled him with
implants to turn him into a super soldier.  The training,
the implants, the lifestyle was what finally removed all but
the most basic shred of humanity from him until he was
prepared to undergo operations such as limb replacements
that every other marine shied away from.  He became one of
the elite, no longer regarded as quite human and rightly so.
 But to Earl, it made him not just 'elite', it made him a
god.
 And now this god was to have his vengeance against those
who had sought to slay him.

 The security guard at Gate 4 had no conception of what
walked past him into the boarding passage.  Earl was covered
in a synthetic flesh-like substance of his original skin
pigmentation, more for the disguise of his true nature than
for a tribute to his former self.  He carried no luggage; he
would have to travel light.
 The shuttle was a small, chartered one.  Privately owned
and perfect for his purposes.  He scanned the other
passengers.  Pierre was carrying a sports bag; the ninja had
insisted upon bringing his archaic weaponry, but Larna and
Yin Seng had both followed Earl's instructions to the
letter.  Pierre could be a problem, but Earl would need
stealth, something that he nor the bulky Seng were
conditioned for, and something for which Larna was ill-
equipped.
 The pilot's door was closed, but Earl could hear voices.
He gave a glance to each of his operatives in turn,
glowering at Pierre.  The shuttle's engines hummed into
life.
 There was a heavy bustle of clumsy feet and a short man
half fell through the boarding door into the passenger
compartment.  He gave a nervous smile and began to speak.
 "I ..." he began in a southern American accent.
 Earl ignored him, leaping to the pilot's door with the
speed of a missile, bursting through the face the pilot.  "I
thought I told you NO EXTRA PASSENGERS!"  he roared.
 The pilot cowered and began the usual excuses.
 Earl was not impressed.  "You thought I wouldn't mind?!?"
 The new passenger coughed politely.  "I... I hope you
don't mind, its just um... I really need to get to Earth as
soon as possible and this... this is the f-f-fastest ship."
 Larna, as disarming as ever put her hand lightly on his
shoulder.  "We don't mind.  It'll be nice to have the
company."
 Earl nodded, but the new passenger shuddered as he caught
the cyborg's eyes, burning with a fire so dark and horrible
that it could only come from a man possessed by the devil.

 The journey passed uneventfully.  They passed through
Earthspace security and prepared to make a landing in Los
Angeles starport.  Earl calmly walked over to the new
passenger.  The passenger smiled nervously.  Earl snapped
his neck with one movement.  The unfortunate man slipped
down his seat to come to rest at Earls feet.  Earl looked at
the corpse for a moment, searching for some emotive
reaction.  None came.  The man disappeared from his memory
as he stepped over to the pilot's door...




       "Bounty Hunters?  We don't need their scum..."
                      Admiral Piett- The Empire Strikes Back

 "500 dollars?!" Riley choked on his hot dog.  "You know
the going rate's 700 at least!"
 Lieutenant Tyler rolled his eyes.  It was going to be a
bad night.  "After your last job, we're still trying to work
out how to get the Rewards Department budget back from the
red!  $500 apiece is all we can afford."
 "I don't get this..."  said Riley between mouthfuls of
mustard and hot-dog.  "First you plead me to take on this
job because I'm the best you've got, and then you offer me
peanuts for each one?"
 "$500 is NOT peanuts, and you know it!" defended Tyler.
 Riley ignored him.  "These are your exact words... 'These
guys are pros, Riley.  We need a pro to take them out.
You're the best we've got and we need the best.'  Now tell
me you'll pay me $800 for each 'borg and I'll fall for the
flattery and take on the job. Otherwise, no deal!"
 Tyler looked desperately around his office for support.
The cheap decor stared back at him mercilessly.  He closed
his eyes.  "Okay. $800 it is," he said, visualising the look
on the Chief's face as his boss's gnarled hands closed round
his throat.  Then he had an idea, and the Chief disappeared
in his minds eye to be replaced with a fuming bounty hunter.
He liked it.
 Riley began to leave.
 "But..."  Tyler began, opening his eyes and a wry smile
forming on his face.
 Riley didn't like it when cops said 'but'.  He turned back
around slowly, dread closing in on him.
 "...You have to take along one of our men for support."
Tyler prepared for impact.
 "WHAT?"  exploded Riley.  "You know I work alone!"
 "Well, yes, but these 'borgs are tough and if you take 'em
on single-handed..."
 "Forget it!"
 "Just as a bodyguard..."  Tyler whined.
 "No!"
 "Cannon fodder..?"  suggested Tyler.
 "Chauffeur,"  demanded Riley.
 "If you like..."  Tyler shrugged.

 "ANOTHER Goody-two-shoes clean-shaven rookie?  Bit cliched
                         isn't it?"
                                        Critic of the Author

 Riley groaned as the smiling young man of Mexican descent
shook his hand in the department corridor.  "Hi! I'm
Rodregez.  I've been assigned to you for the duration of
your operation."
 Riley's mouth twitched slightly at the sentence.  "Where's
your car?"  he asked in a not-so friendly voice.
 Rodregez moved over to a modest groundcar in the parking
lot.  Riley nodded.  It would be good to have someone else's
car get shot up this time.  "You drive," he sighed.

 "Now, lets get a few points straight," said Riley as they
pulled out of the garage.  "First, I give the orders.
Disobey me and you're out or you're dead."
 Rodregez shifted uneasily, but just nodded.
 Riley was unimpressed with the reaction.  He had hoped to
scare this rookie a little.  "Secondly, you just drive.
Under no circumstances do you follow me or get in my way,
Okay?"
 Again a nod.  "Whatever you say, boss."
 "Thirdly, if you try to tell me how to do my job I'll cut
your ears off.  Got it?"
 Rodregez smiled.  "You 'aint carrying a knife, boss."
 Riley cursed under his breath.  "And don't call me boss!"
he growled.

 LA was not the quietest of cities at night and tonight was
hardly an exception to the rule.  Leaving the commercial
block that the Central PD majestically took its place, Riley
might have entered a different city.  In the commercial
centre, the streets were clean and the buildings modern; all
shiny plastic, steel and polished glass.  The city outside
was more like the dull greys of inner cities in the 20th
Century.  Well, more like a dark brown actually.  Tenants
and owners alike were too poor to mend the sewers and roads.
The streets were covered in filth, sometimes even fresh
sewage pumped onto the streets.  Only a few ground cars were
more than old wrecks, long broken into, or burnt out shells
from some gangwar.  An occasional squad car skimmed
overhead.  As Rodregez drove down the street, Riley looked
out the window at a group of delinquents.  A few scowled
back, others had despair written all over their faces; maybe
dreaming of a future that for many would never become
reality.  It had taken a miracle for Riley to get out and he
still remembered being a kid like that, scrambling for
something other than the circle of poverty that his family
was trapped in.  The miracle had occurred when he had learnt
something.  He could kill.

 A thought passed Riley's mind and a rare tinge of guilt
made him order Rodregez to take him home.  "Just of a few
minutes.  I need some stuff."
 Rodregez nodded and swung back into the commercial sector.
"So tell me Mr. Riley, you an ex-cop?"
 Riley stared back at him for a moment.  "Nope."  He looked
back through the window as they passed a favourite lowlife
pickup point.
 "What were you then?  Ex-Marine?"
 "You think I'd be chasing 'borgs down if I was an ex-
marine?"  asked Riley, removing his Colt .57 from his
shoulder harness and loading in a magazine. "Hell, I'd be a
'borg."
 "Guess not, huh?"  said Rodregez, feeling stupid.  "Wait!
I've got it!  You're an ex-gang member put away and got time
off for G.B.?"
 Riley smiled and looked down the barrel, flicking the
safety on and off.
 "Hey!  Watch that!"  panicked Rodregez, voice going
slightly higher than intended.
 Riley put the gun away.  "Watch that lamp-post, kid," he
murmured without looking up.
 Rodregez focused on the street.  "Shit!"  he yelled as
they rounded the corner with a screech.  "Okay, maybe you
were some ex-assassin for a company, you know, off-
planet..."
 "Wrong again, boyo,"  chuckled Riley.
 Rodregez gave up.  "Are you going to tell me?"
 Riley shook his head.  "Stop here.  Pick me up in fifteen
minutes."  With that, he swung the door open and stepped out
in front of a fancy apartment building.
 Rodregez shook his head, surveying the structure.  "Man,"
he gasped, "and I thought I was in the money."

 Earl felt trapped in a city environment.  So many
people...  Even working with the others made him uneasy, so
much could go wrong if he placed too much trust in someone
else.  After all, they did not understand the importance of
this trip.  Only he knew the true reason behind it, and they
would not understand if they knew the truth.
 They'd stripped the bodies and left the shuttle on a
deserted beach, too polluted for late night bathers.  They
had a little money, but not enough.  They needed lodgings,
food and above all, weapons.  Against a bounty hunter they
were about even, but they would have to be more than that.
Weapons would give them that edge.
 Larna was busily sitting on the highway fence, idly
watching cars go by.  She attracted a few wolf-whistles from
passers by, irritating Earl.  He did not want to arouse
attention.
 Yin Seng was irritated too, he spoke a few words of
Japanese to her, but Larna just stared uncomprehendingly at
him, questioning Pierre.  Pierre shrugged, picking up the
shoulder bag that carried his precious weaponry.  Without a
word, Earl walked down 28th street towards a bar.  The
others noticed and followed.

     You been givin' me a bad time, tell me what'd I do?
  How come I always get a hard time, honey when it comes to
                            you?
             Dires Straits - from the album On Every Street.

 Liz put on her most cynical smile as Riley walked into the
apartment, slamming the door.  "Oh, so I suppose you've
finally decided to pop in and see me?" her polite English
accent was strained, revealing a little cockney underneath.
 "Look," began Riley defensively, "if you're going to start
you might as well -"
 "Martin!  It's been nearly a week!  Seven bloody days!
What the hell did you think you were doing?"
 "Liz!"  Riley pleaded, shaking his head to block out the
sound of her voice.
 "...And now you need a clean change of underwear you
decide to come back for the night, hmm?"
 "As a matter of fact I've got a job,"  he began to walk
into the kitchen to fix himself a beer.
 "At last!"  Liz gasped in joy.  "Look, I'm sorry..."
 Riley closed his eyes.  "No, I mean another operation.
Four outlaws hijacked a shuttle.  All known killers, all of
them 'borgs."
 Liz dropped onto the sofa.  "For God's sakes!  Why can't
you get a normal job just like everybody else's bloke?  I
suppose I won't see you for the next month..."
 Riley grabbed the whole six-pack that lay in the bottom of
the fridge.  "Nope.  And there's a reason for that.  I've
told you that before."
 "They'd better be paying you more this time."
 "Seven thousand apiece,"   Riley lied.
 "Well, don't expect me -"
 "For you to be around when I get back, I know."
 Riley slammed the door on his way out.

 "Listen...  you single?"  asked Riley as he got back into
the car.
 Rodregez looked back in surprise.  "What's it to you?" he
asked.
 "I can't kip at my place and I was wondering..."
 "What's that got to do with me being single?"  Rodregez
was mystified.
 "Just answer my question!"  snapped Riley.
 "Yeah... I'm single and I've got a sofa-bed you can
use..."
 "Fine.  Now drive."
 Rodregez paused for a destination.  "Where to, boss?"
 Riley rolled his eyes.  "Anywhere!"

 The three gang-members strolled up to the 'borgs,
confidence showing that the bar was their territory.  One
stared at Yin Seng coolly, another winked at Larna.  The
third stepped right up to Pierre.  Earl stood behind Yin
Seng, silent.
 The third man spoke.  He was in his early thirties with a
typical gang haircut, all long at the front and piled up
straight.  He wore fake leather and ripped jeans.  "You
lookin' for work?"  he asked, rising himself slightly to
look straight into Pierre's eyes.
 Pierre shrugged.
 The gangman continued.  "We got some jobs down near the
beach.  Could do with some muscle..."  he turned towards
Larna, "and a pretty face wouldn't go amiss too."
 Earl stepped forwards.  "We'll take them,"  he echoed in a
monotone.
 "Whoa!" said Larna.  "Easy, Earl.  We'll deal with the
natives, huh?"
 The gangman sneered.  "When I said jobs I didn't mean you
could take your piece of machinery along with you."  He
looked Earl up and down with disdain.
 Earl was not a man who took insults lightly.
 The gangman reeled back screaming, clutching his face as
the massive reinforced fist crushed his nose.  The other two
gangmen drew knives, too loyal to leave their boss but too
frightened to take on the cyborg.
 Earl moved forward, but Pierre blocked him, Earl's acute
hearing picking up the whine of Pierre's arm servos as they
kept him back.  "Leave it, Earl!"  Pierre said, looking back
at the three thugs.  There was a pattering of feet and all
three fled back through the bar door.
 "Let's get out of here," said Larna as put her hand
lightly on Earls shoulder, reinforcing Pierre's command.
 Earl nodded.  This was no place to stir up trouble.

 "Look boss," Rodregez broke the silence that had filled
the car for the last few minutes.  "I've listened to what
the other cops say about you and they seem to think you're
ex-special forces or somethin' so are you going to tell me
why they think your such a hot-shot bounty hunter?"
 Martin Riley started playing with the Colt's safety catch
again, his face strained and eyes glassy.  "I don't know
where you kids get the idea that anybody who kills for money
is some superhero gone off the rails.  Killing is a state of
mind, an ability to cope with guilt and not have any second
thoughts when it comes to the decision.  When you're after
dangerous people those second thoughts can cost you your
life... or the life of another.  Killing 'aint about
training.  Someone can have all the training they like, but
it still won't make them a killer."
 "Yeah but -"  Rodregez began, suddenly cut off as the
carphone began to ring.
 Riley snapped it up.  "Riley here."
 Tyler was on the other end.  "We've got a call from a
barman on 28th.  Seems one of his patrons is screaming about
how a 'borg just smashed his face in.  Thought you might
want to check it out.  The Sunny Bottle."
 Riley hung up without a word of thanks.  "28th Street,"
he ordered to Rodregez, "bar called The Sunny Bottle.  Know
it?"
 Rodregez shook his head.
 "Good thing I do then, isn't it?"  muttered Riley to no
one in particular.

 The apartment building on the right looked promising.  The
armed guard outside had an AK54 and body armour.  If he
wasn't alone, then they had weapons, provided all the guards
carried the same.  Of course, the building would also make a
good base of operations if it could be taken quietly.  Earl
hoped the walls were thick.  He motioned Pierre and Larna to
move over, while giving Seng a command in Japanese.  The
sumo stepped with Earl into a nearby alleyway.
 Larna walked casually up to the entrance to the building,
putting on her most seductive smile.  Men had always seemed
pretty foolish to her, and she admired Earl for his lack of
emotion.  She could not say the same for Pierre, but then
all three of the team found Pierre irritating.  He was
walking next to her, shoulder bag slung over his back.  For
a professional ninja he seemed to be a little clumsy, but
apparently he was good.  Larna inwardly smiled.  Pierre had
better be, otherwise Earl might mess him up a little...
 The guard returned her smile, but lifted his rifle slowly,
peering suspiciously at Pierre.  Pierre just smiled too.
 Larna tried the usual chat up lines on the guard, and he
seemed to fall for them, but the best she could do was
persuade him to knock off early.  The guard disappeared back
into the building.  Larna turned to Pierre and gave him an
evil glance as if it was all his fault.  Pierre chuckled and
stepped into the building after the guard before she could
stop him.  "No wait!"  she hissed, but he disappeared into
the darkness.

 Pierre moved like a cat, almost silently despite the
unwieldy shoulder bag, down the corridor.  Just inside the
doorway was a large window in the wall to the right.  The
room beyond was lit, and this was no doubt the guard room.
The guard had entered from a door on the far side of the
window and was chatting to two others.  One was at a table,
reading, the other one was standing next to a gun rack of
assault weapons, assisting the first in removing his armour.
 Pierre crouched behind the piece of wall just below the
window, moving softly and quickly past it, then the door
until he was in the hall.  Here, he looked back.  No one had
seen him, and he could see the street beyond the entrance
doors, Larna pacing around in the streetlight.  Pierre had
not expected to be seen, but it never hurt to check.
Looking up, he saw a mammoth staircase reaching into
darkness.  The apartments were up there, and all Pierre saw
on the ground floor was a single office door, closed by a
code lock and with a buzzer next to it.
 This posed little problem for Pierre with the correct
equipment, but it had been all he could do to persuade Earl
to let him take his katana and bow.  Whatever was beyond
would have to wait.  He turned and ran back past the
guardroom and into the street.

 The guard came out of the building wearing a cheap jacket,
taking Larna by the arm.  Pierre watched from the shadows as
they passed an alleyway further down the street.  There was
a momentary flutter of movement and the guard was gone,
pulled into the alley as easily as a kitten.  Larna stepped
into the alleyway, and Pierre, sure that the street was
empty of witnesses, moved in too.  The guard was on the
floor, blood seeping from a gash in his head.  He moaned
weakly.  Yin Seng cracked his knuckles after calmly wiping
them on the guard's jacket.  Earl looked up.  "Any side
doors?"  he asked, matter of factly.
 Pierre shook his head.
 Earl grunted in irritation and picked up the man.  "Search
him," he ordered to Pierre.
 Pierre quickly looked through the man's wallet.  Petty
cash, a home address and his doorkey.  No car keys in sight.
He pocketed the little black keycard and handed the money to
Earl.
 Earl picked the man up with one hand and shoved him into
Seng.  "Take him with us.  Hostage. You understand?"
 Seng grunted, complying by putting the guard in an
uncomfortable neck hold.

           Here comes John, his finger is itchin'.
       Oh the lids gonna blow up in Hell's kitchen...
             Aerosmith - from the album Rock in a Hard Place

 The bar-room looked just as it had always done, only the
marginally grimier bar itself suggesting that it had been a
few years since Riley had been here.  The barman made no
indication that he recognised the bounty hunter, and Riley
returned the same courtesy.  Rodregez spotted the gang in
one of the corners.  One of the guys didn't seem to have
much of a nose left.
 Rodregez nudged Riley, who straightened himself out and
strolled over to their table.  "Riley.  Hunter for the LAPD.
We believe you were assaulted by a 'borg?"
 The man with the crushed nose lowered the bloodied icepack
and grinned evilly.  "Those sonsabitches gotta contract on
them?"
 Riley nodded, expectantly.
 "Give'm a drink, Joe!"  the guy yelled over to the bar,
grin widening, sending a fresh trail of blood trickling down
his chin.
 "How many of them were there, exactly?"  asked Rodregez.
 One of the other gang members shrugged.  "Four.  A jap
built like an elephant, some 'kinda Euro as well, and the
cutest babe I've seen for years."
 The other gang members indicated their agreement.
 The one with the crushed face continued.  "They didn't
look like 'borgs, though, least not the psycho type with
warrants.  Tell ya, 'borgs are more trouble than their
worth, and my boss doesn't like 'em.  Anyway, the fourth, he
was definitely a 'borg.  Real quiet at first, but you could
tell he was machinery.  Got real nasty when I told him we
didn't need his kind around."  He indicated his face.
 Riley grunted in half-interest.  "So what about him?  What
did he look like?  Where did they go?"
 "Big guy, black with mean eyes.  There was somethin' about
him though, that screamed 'borg, like he didn't care 'bout
shit...  Went down 28th street west..."
 Riley stiffened slightly and had begun to move, not
hearing the rest of the monologue.  He pushed past the
bartender without taking his drink and moved out of the
door.
 Rodregez began to follow.
 Aware that his audience was departing, the gang member
stood up and grabbed Rodregez's arm.  "...wait just a sec.
Haven't warned ya yet..."
 Rodregez paused, looking at the bar door through which
Riley had disappeared.
 The punk continued.  "...Lotsa shit goin' on down 28th
tonight.  Yeltsins taking on the Dodgers.  Watch yourselves,
OK?"
 "Thanks,"  said Rodregez, handing him $20.

 It had been fifteen minutes since the first guard had left
early, and his associates were becoming restless.  One was
sitting at the desk in the front room, another was cleaning
a submachine gun from the rack.  The third was in the back
room, getting into his heavy armour for his patrol.  Life
was slow and they wanted to go home, which was why when
their comrade passed the window, held by a sumo/pitbull
cross of a man, a beautiful woman holding a katana at his
throat, a European casually aiming a Militech bow through
the window, and a huge black man opening the office door,
they forgot themselves for a moment, rooted to the spot as
the four 'borgs entered the room.
 "Where's the third guard?"  demanded Earl, eyes finding
the door at the back.
 The guard at the table was the first to react, ripping the
tape from the auto pistol strapped to the bottom of the
table he was seated at.  He fired two rounds, point blank
into Earls chest.
 Earl grunted slightly, then the room was a blur of action.
 A Militech high-explosive arrow pieced the seated guards
shoulder as he pushed the table forward for cover.  There
was a dull thud and a scream of pain as Earl's steel plated
foot drove into his chin at the same moment.  The guard at
the rack aimed his Uzi at the group, but Seng charged
forward, holding the hostage as a shield in front of him.
The Uzi's fire was muffled by screams as the bullets pierced
the hostage and tapped on Seng's implanted torso plate.
Larna dived forwards, rolling to hide under the table,
frantically looking for the gun that the seated guard had
dropped.  Seng reached the second guard, smashing into him
with all the force of his body and that of the dead, now
useless hostage.  He then began to pound the guard's head
with his fist.  At that moment, the back door exploded, as
the third guard entered from the storage area, the dull grey
combat suit's servos whining with the rapid movement as the
guard pulled the trigger on his Uzi, spraying the room with
lead.

 He could remember her eyes, so alive with something that
he had never known.  She shared that thing with him, and for
a while he had drawn upon it, letting it nurture him,
helping old wounds heal.  He could still remember every
detail of her face, but in an abstract way, as if all the
pieces were there but jumbled up, torn at by shadows.  He
recalled a date in a restaurant once, when they'd talked
long after closing time.  And at that moment he suddenly
realised it'd been the only time he'd ever truly laughed...

 "You OK, Riley?  Something the matter?"  asked Rodregez,
taking his eyes off the road.
 Riley looked up, unsure of where he was for a moment.
Reality.  "No, no it's nothing.  Probably nothing..."  It
couldn't be, after all.  He wouldn't come back here.  Not
now...  Then he noticed the crowd standing on the corner,
amongst the usual hobos and crazies, illuminated by the
burning fires in old oil drums and the smell of garbage.
"Stop!"  he hissed at Rodregez.
 Rodregez pulled up.  He wasn't too sure what Riley had
seen, but something wasn't right.  He began to think about
the bashed punk in the bar.
 Riley was out, Colt .57 drawn, pushing the crowds away.
This guy was getting difficult to keep up with, thought
Rodregez as he followed, giving a warning glance to a couple
of tramps who got too close to the car.
 When he caught up with Riley, the hunter was slowly
walking round the area, just in front of a pile of garbage
that looked as if it had piled up for decades.  Some of it
had been strewn around by the impact of the thug who had
been thrown back into it.  He wasn't moving, and there was a
lot of blood.  The magnum inches away from the twisted hand
indicated he hadn't been quick enough on the draw.
 The other punk was clutching his arm, blood welling down
his jacket.  A few crazies just stared, and one began to lap
up the blood on the floor.  Rodregez felt his stomach churn
as he bent down to help the injured thug.  Riley yelled at
the crazies and kicked the one who was drinking.  It yelped
and scuttled for the safety of a cardboard box.  Riley
turned back to the injured punk.
 He was babbling, confused.  "...Must 'ave been four.
Shit!  ...kitted out like grunts, man!"
 Rodregez nodded.  "Do you know where they went, could you
identify them?"
 The guy nodded vigorously.  "Uzi's an' stuff and... Ouch!
Jeeze Crist!"
 "Easy,"  murmured Rodregez in his best bedside manner.
 Riley surveyed the scene once more.  "Okay.  You come with
us.  You see 'em on the streets, you say so.  Got it?"
 "Anythin' man, just get me to a doctor!"
 Riley nodded.  "In the car."

END OF PART 1...



Article: 5767 of alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
From: Andrew Blyth <sis5376.pbs5.milton.port.ac.uk>
Subject: More Machine than Machine PART1 (2/2)
Date: 11 Dec 1995 18:05:10 GMT
Lines: 375

Second section of part 1...


 They'd cruised about a couple of blocks.  The thug was
busy looking out the window, still clutching his arm, and
still talking non-stop.  Riley was listening very carefully,
but half of the time he was incoherent.  He was on
something, it didn't matter what, and from the mention of
automatic weaponry, Riley prayed it was LSD.  Rodregez was
looking back in concern at them both from the driver's seat.
The punk started to calm down a little and begin to make
sense.  "Man, they had us real sussed.  Didn't even see 'em
comin'.  Heavy lead, too, like I said, but I suppose you'll
send a SWAT team to take 'em on, right?"
 Riley shrugged.
 "Man, you should you know.  These Yeltsins are really
pushing it in this part of town, I..."
 "What did you say?"  barked Riley sharply.
 The punk looked worried.  "Yeltsins man, you know, the
guys who just totaled my pal back there?"
 Riley swore, and with one fluid movement opened the rear
passenger door and pushed the guy out.  There was a distant
yell as the punk hit the pavement a few yards behind.
 "What the hell..."  gasped Rodregez, turning back to see
the distant form of the thug.  "Jesus, Riley!  What the hell
do you think you're doing?"
 "You heard him, he's got nothing to do with my job,"
grunted Riley.
 "He'd just been shot for Christ's sakes!" screamed
Rodregez.
 "And I'm telling you he didn't have anything to do with my
job!"
 Rodregez put his eyes back on the road, shaking his head
in bewilderment.  "Still my job, Riley.   I'm still a cop.
We should've taken him back -"
 "And while we waste time doing that our psycho 'borg
friends total a guy for real, maybe two, maybe a whole
goddamn block!"
 "So whatta ya want me to do?"  said Rodregez, defeated.
 "Drive on.  We still might be in luck."  Riley looked out
of the window.

 Larna brought up Pierre's katana against the guard's
armoured leg.  The monoblade didn't scratch the reinforced
polyarmour.  She pulled the trigger of the first guard's
pistol at point blank range, then hurled herself back over
the table.  Lucky it was metal, as the guard brought the
combat suit round to let off a volley of bullets in her
direction.  Bulges appeared on Larna's side of the table.
Yin Seng took the opportunity to prise the now-unconscious
second guard's machine gun from between the guard and the
hostage and emptied the whole clip into the combat suit.  A
few bullets penetrated the armour, sending the guard
staggering back a few paces before bringing his own gun to
bear. Earl went for another Uzi on the rack...

 Rodregez and Riley both heard the crackle of gunfire as
they passed.  The main doors to the apartment block were
wide open, and there was no guard on duty at the front.
Riley was out before Rodregez had hit the brakes.
 "Got something a little heavier than a handgun in the
boot?"  asked Riley as he drew his Colt.
 Rodregez nodded and began to move to the back.
 Riley smiled.  "Good, you're learning, kid.  Cover me."
 As soon as Riley had gone, Rodregez called for backup.

 The glass of the window looking into the main hall had
been blown out by the gunfire.  Riley winced as he crawled
on hands and knees on the razor-sharp fragments.  The door
into the guardroom was open, and the gun fight drowned out
any sound he was making.  He lay against the shallow wall
underneath the window, and slowly peeked his head up to get
a look.
 There was one guard left, looking pretty beat despite his
combat suit.  The 'borgs were just as the punk in the bar
had described.  There was the girl, the euro, the sumo,
and...
 It was him.  For a few seconds Riley forgot the battle
going on in front of him, concentrating only on the large
man's face, the hard line jaw, the cool expression and the
cruel eyes, eyes that betrayed the total lack of humanity
this monster that called itself Earl possessed.  The bastard
had come back, but this time things were going to be
different.  Riley aimed the Colt .57 carefully, for the
first time using the small scope on the top, going straight
for the head, not too high to hit any skull armour, but not
too low not to kill outright.  One pull of the trigger,
and...

   Pierre had decided things were not looking too good.  It
was time to get out.  He'd been edging for the door for some
while, and now he backed away, shouldering his bow, taking
the last few steps into the corridor, and...

   Pierre's training, experience and hardware told him
there was something dangerous low down to the right, and his
enhanced reflexes chipped in, hurling himself backwards
across the width of the corridor.  Riley, realising suddenly
that the euro was moving into the hallway, panicked.  He
spun, firing at the ninja point blank with the shot that had
been intended for Earl.  Pierre was too fast, leaping away,
landing further to Riley's left, at the other side of the
corridor.  Riley spun for another shot, but Pierre, half
crouched had already drawn a throwing dagger he'd palmed off
one of the punks at the bar.  He began to flip the knife
forwards, and...

   Rodregez, behind the car, M-16 against the bonnet, was
looking through the open doors, straight down the corridor.
He saw the indistinct shape of the ninja, saw Riley spin and
fire.
 Give him cover, that's what he'd said.
 Rodregez gave him cover.

   The bullets stabbed out of nowhere, hurtling dangerously
past Riley, enough to make him drop from the crouch into a
full frontal position on the floor, head covered with his
hands.  Rodregez was a good shot.  They passed Riley and
thudded into Pierre with enough force to knock Pierre
backwards.  The armour implants and meshed skin gave him
some protection, but it was still the equivalent of being
constantly and violently stoned.  Pierre tried to get up,
but the bullets knocked him back down again and again, until
all he could do was slide back to find shelter.  The hail of
bullets kept coming.
   "Get the hell out!" screamed Rodregez, but Riley was
already scrambling over the fragments of glass, as flat to
the floor as possible to avoid the bullets, hands over his
ears as they sang past him to find their mark.
   He reached the doors by the time Rodregez had emptied
two clips into the corridor.  Riley grabbed the M-16, giving
a wild, uncontrolled burst into the building as Rodregez
started the car.  As soon as the engine hummed into life
Riley opened the passenger door and dived in as Rodregez
slammed the accelerator down.  Once they were a few blocks
away, Riley looked back.  A large man emerged from the
building and aimed his firearm, but the car was already too
far away.  Riley sank back into his seat.
 Next time, you bastard.

   Earl stood there for a few moments, and slowly felt a
suspicious sense of elation.  Could it be?  This was
perfect, better than he had anticipated.  And so much more
challenging...
   Pierre walked out, bruised and battered, but otherwise
well for a man who had been at the receiving end of an M-16.
Earl glanced briefly, noting the ninja's functionality.
   "They will be sending police here.  We should leave
immediately.  Split up and rendezvous at the target's place.
That should be enough," muttered Earl.  Before Pierre could
say anything, Earl was gone, lost in the shadows.
   "Yeah, I'm fine Earl, just fine.  Odd bruise or two but
I couldn't complain.  Thanks for asking..." muttered Pierre
irritably into the darkness as the long, drawn wail of
sirens began to echo about the city.

              Here we stand, and here we fall,
                 History won't care at all.
               Make the bed, light the light,
             lady mercy won't be home tonight...
                            Queen - from the album The Works

 "Okay.  So what do we do now?" inquired Rodregez.
"Backup's on the way and..."
 "You called backup?"  yelled Riley.  "No hunter calls
backup.  Ever!" He turned to look out of the side window.
"Shit, this is going to look great on my record, just great!
First gun store you see, park."
 "Those guys had automatic weapons!  You're saying you
always blunder into fights like that?" Rodregez retorted.
 "Look kid, we're in the big boys club now," sneered Riley,
holding a stimpad to his sliced knee.  "You don't go getting
mommy to do things for you no more.  Got that?"
 Rodregez looked straight ahead and didn't say a thing.
 Riley quickly changed the subject.  "How much cash have
you got on you?"
 Rodregez shrugged.  "Fifty, maybe."
 "Damn!"  swore Riley, rummaging through his wallet.  "I've
only got a twenty."
 "What for?"  asked Rodregez.
 "These people are good.  That guy who you mowed down
probably didn't take much more than a scratch.  They've all
got armour implants an' shit."
 Rodregez's blood ran cold.  "And we..."  he mumbled.
 "Yeah.  It's going to take more than M-16's to collect any
bounty on these guys.  What's more, I know one of them.
Doesn't matter how, but things are looking pretty heavy.
We're going to need as many AP rounds for your little toy as
we can get.  My credit's bad, but there's some cash lying
around at home."

 Riley burst into his apartment, startling Liz as she was
preparing a TV dinner.  He looked at her vacantly for a
moment, then began scanning the room for money.
 Liz didn't move, puzzled.
 Riley saw her handbag and grabbed it from the sofa.
 "Hey, what the hell do you -"  she started to yell, but he
spun, and there was a look in his eyes that she had rarely
ever seen.
 The look of the hunted, not the hunter.
 "W...what's wrong, Martin?" she asked.
 Riley swallowed hard.  "Liz... what I'm going to say you
might not like, but..." he began, "you're going to have to
go away for a little while.  Now."
 "Wait a minute, Martin.  If you think I'm just going
to..."
 "Just shut up and listen!"  growled Riley, more
threatening than he would have liked to be.
 Liz flinched for a moment, but she knew Riley and she
wasn't going to be intimidated.
 "Please, you've got to leave immediately.  Don't ask me
why, just do it, okay?  Go to your mother's or something.
Now I need as much cash as you've got..."
 "Listen buster, you can't chuck me out and then rip me off
too."
 That was enough.  "Fine, I'll get it somewhere else."
Riley slammed the handbag down on the floor and walked to
the still open door.  As Liz went to close it, he turned
around and put his foot in the way, face grim.  "But if
you're not out of here in the next hour, you are going to
regret it, I promise you.  This is serious."

 Riley hopped back into the car as Rodregez prowled past
the door.  "Got the cash?"  he asked hopefully.
 Riley shook his head.
 "I've been thinking while you were up there, and -"
 "Have you?  Good," said Riley absently.
 Rodregez ignored the comment.  "No, seriously.  I think
the LAPD might just have a solution to our cash flow
problem."

 "They took what?"  screamed Tyler down the phone at the
quartermaster.  "Well, lets hope Rodregez can drive that
thing.  What else?"

 Riley happily loaded armour piercing .57 calibre rounds
into his Colt.  The M-16 was already done.  The city looked
twisted and complex from the patrol car, as they dodged in
and out of the larger company buildings.  The streetfires
below them were small pinpoints of light, yellow stars in
the darkness.  A distant glow on the horizon that struck out
as being natural amongst the city lights indicated dawn was
soon approaching.  The patrol cars buzzed like flies around
the tall city towers and neon signs.  One more would not be
missed.
 "Nice of your quartermaster to lend us this thing."  Riley
chatted.  "Just hope you're as good as you seem with it."
 Rodregez altered the aft thruster to compensate for a
change in altitude.  He said nothing, but the grin on his
face calmed Riley's fears.
 Riley peered out the window.  "They've split up, I know
it.  Cops are looking for four people, not one.  Get lower,
I might be able to recognise them by sight."

 Larna clutched Pierre's katana in her right hand, gun in
the left.  Already she had been forced to use the sword upon
more than one crazy who had blocked her terrified stumble
through the city.  All she knew was that she was heading
north, towards the commercial sector.  Squad cars hummed
over, but gradually she got used to them and slowed to a
walk.  She kept telling herself that they didn't know her on
sight, but it didn't help.  She was in too deep.  This
wasn't the type of work she'd done before.  After all, Earl
had seemed too eager to stir up trouble, and she didn't even
know why they were here.  Neither did anyone, for that
matter.  Pierre had tried to get Earl to tell, but the giant
had kept quiet.  Earl frightened her, as did that lump of
muscle and fat Seng, who never seemed far from Earl's beck
and call.  Pierre was the only one she trusted much, even if
he was irritating.  Still, she was probably safer on her
own.  First thing to do was to find a guy...
 Larna took no notice of the squad car that flew along the
small back street she was making her way down.  It was only
when it coasted along directly over her and the passenger
window was wound down did she realise they'd found her.  She
heard a clatter as something landed at her feet.  Too late
to run.

 "You're not even going to try to arrest her?"  asked
Rodregez incredulously.
 Riley shook his head as he pulled out another grenade from
his pocket.  "That's never the way I operate.  I only
collect death warrants, and the PD are thankful for it."
 "But she's a woman!"  Rodregez exclaimed.  "What if you've
got the wrong one?  What if she's willing to hand herself
over?"
 "She's got a death warrant, and she knows it.  She's
probably killed more people than I have, and I don't make
concessions for either sex.  Now hover closer so I can get a
clear drop!"  Riley looked out the window.

 The explosion took a large chunk out of the concrete
sidewalk, pushing the patrol car away.  Larna felt the blast
rip into her, but the armour they'd all had implanted under
their skin on Earl's insistence did its job.  The clothing
and outer flesh were torn off, exposing brutally harsh metal
and bloody kevlar webbing.  The metal buckled slightly, but
its advanced design that allowed freedom of movement also
possessed resistance to pressures that might crush ribs and
damage organs.  A surge of energy flowed through her as she
realised, through the gore and pain, that she was still
alive.  Almost a second after the initial force of the blast
was over, Larna was leaping, the high-powered servomotors of
her metallic legs sending her three metres into the air,
grabbing onto the passenger door, arms hooked into the open
window.
 "Jesus Christ!"  yelled Riley as Larna's hands grabbed the
car door.  Rodregez compensated for the extra weight,
levelling the car out, unable to help Riley as he struggled
with the controls.
 Riley's Colt was drawn in a fraction of a second, but
Larna's hands were gone from the door.  Sticking his head
out the window, Riley just caught a glimpse of her disappear
under the car.  "She's on the underside!  Rodregez!  Cut the
engines!"
 Larna was headed for the other side of the car.  The
driver wouldn't be able to fight back, and she could use him
as a shield against the gun wielding passenger.
 Rodregez looked for a split second at Riley, eyes wide
with indecision.  Riley screamed at him again.  He felt the
weight of the car shift.
 No time.
 He cut the engines...

 Riley sat there for a moment, stunned.  He'd hit his head
on the console and blood trickled into eyes.  He opened the
door, stumbling out onto his knees.
 Larna's arm was trapped.  She'd hurled herself away as she
felt the car drop, but her left arm was pinned.  She
screamed, pulling as hard as she could, pushing against the
car with her other arm.  Then she heard the door open.
 No time...
 She saw the katana, stretching out for it...
 Riley coolly walked round the car, hearing the scream,
Colt ready in his hand.  He didn't even shudder when he saw
her trying to saw through her own crushed arm to get away.
In fact, he smiled, an action that made Larna scream again,
like an animal in a snare.  Riley stood over her for a
moment as she hysterically chopped with the katana at the
arm, the implanted armour of which refused to be cut.  She
collapsed in a faint, the bloodied sword dropping at his
feet.  Riley slowly bent down, picking it up, testing its
weight.  "Armour has its disadvantages..."  he whispered,
bringing the sword down, again and again.
 When it was over, he looked at the shattered body, and for
a moment he saw Jennifer, eyes wide, but so empty,  the
fragile body lying crumpled, doll like, the blood mingling
with the make-up she'd so carefully prepared only hours
before...  But this was a 'borg.  This wasn't her, this was
a killer.  Jennifer disappeared, leaving only the machine.
   Riley glanced at Rodregez.  He was still in the car,
mouth open wide, staring straight at Riley, raggedly
panting, as if he'd just witnessed something he'd wished
he'd never seen.
   "Thought it better to save ammo, "  Riley said
conversationally.  Then his face screwed up.  "Gotta problem
with that?"  he snarled, tossing the katana away down the
street into the darkness.

   Dawn came.  A new day in began in 21st Century LA.

*******************************************************************************

 That's it for part 1. Feel free to send any (constructive)
comments you'd like to make to me at:

 sis5376@pbs5.milton.port.ac.uk

 It'll be a bit of a while before the next part gets done,
but I hope for now you're enjoying the story.

 Cheers,

 Andrew Blyth