Chapter 8

Chapter 8Chapter 8Rose

What the ever-living shit?

How the absolute fuckballs did I get roped into this bullshit, asinine plan?

Felicia’s grand fucking plan to secure her proxy body is for me and Willow to just waltz up to a full fucking squad of jacks, including a mother-fucking knight, and just kick all their asses, I guess.

Good thinking there Felicia. I’m sure this is going to go perfectly and I’m not about to get killed in an extremely painful way. 

Oh! That’s right, I should explain how dying in Lanadel works. Normally, when your proxy body dies, it hurts like hell, but you can respawn at your home point. For me, that’s my tower. But those logger jackasses weren’t satisfied with causing intense pain, oh no no. A while back they made a weapon that by all means, should be absolutely illegal, but they manage to get away with it because of a fuck load of bribery. So this weapon piggybacks on the system communications that happen when you die to upload a virus to your rig. That little malevolent parcel then bombards you with junk data until your brain fries. They call it The Lance, because they are incredibly unoriginal and lack any sense of creativity. It’s been rated as one of the most cruel and painful ways to die and is banned pretty much everywhere. But LOG does not give a fuck. They know the police are in their pocket and they can get away with whatever they fuck they want. 

Fortunately, not all of their agents can get away with using this abomination of a weapon. One, it’s a hefty bit of code which in Lanadel translates to a big and unwieldy weapon. And yeah, it’s a lance. So they have their knight’s wield them because the enhancements their digital frame gives them lets them use that thing as if it weighs no more than a screwdriver. And wouldn’t you know it, Felicia said they had two, count them two, knights guarding her. 

I’m walking into a deathtrap. Maybe that’s Felicia’s plan. Throw me to the wolves and curry favor with her old bosses. Willow assures me the redhead’s being honest, but I’m still wary of her. Nobody is that hot and has morals. There’s something fishy about her, I know it. 

After logging into Lanadel, I get a little distracted by my body, as per usual. It’s a hard choice whether I’m more pissed about my impending death, or the long ass trip into the city I’m about to make. 

My tower is in the swamp lands, a good hundred plus digital kilometers from the city. Now, normally I’d just teleport into the city like normal, but with the jacks up in arms about our mutually hated redhead, I’m willing to bet they’ll have detection wards around the city to catch anyone trying to transport in. 

That doesn’t mean I have to walk all the way though. So with a quick flick of the wrist, me and Willow arrive in a small grove of trees outside the city. From here it’ll be a short walk to my personal access point. It’ll be shielded from detection wards so I’ll be pretty safe to enter the city without getting stopped. Well, assuming they haven’t patched it. But considering LOG isn’t responsible for that, and the AI who live here aren’t super fond of them, I bet it’s just the way I left it.

Bingo.

It doesn’t take me long to slip off the sewer grate and make my way under the city. I quickly patch up my entrance and conjure a barrier to protect me from the smell. Turns out junk data, like the sort that bogs down a computer, tends to smell in Lanadel. So the shield is essential. 

Before long I’m up top and on the streets of the city. I quickly glance around to make sure I’m not already tripping a trap, but the coast is clear.

“Rose, are you in the city yet?” Felicia’s voice rings in my ear. Fuck, why’d she have to sound like she’s growling in my ear. It’s too fucking hot. 

“Yeah yeah, keep your boot straps on, I’m in. I’m going to check with some contacts then get back to you,” I reply while trying to keep my conflicting emotions from bleeding through. 

“Understood.” Her reply is terse and clipped, but goddamn she still sounds way too damn hot. 

Remember she’s a jack.

Former jack…

Still kidnapped Summer.

To protect her…

She was probably lying. 

But what if she wasn’t?

Fucking hell, moving on!

Right, now where was I…?

It’s been a while since I last came to the city. I’m not terribly popular in some places around here. Little bit of espionage, a little bit of theft, it all adds up to a lot of unhappy people. Still, I’m not entirely without contacts. 

I make my way into a bar hidden down a narrow alleyway, sashaying like I own the place. Technically I kind of do, but only because nobody ever found the original deed for the location. It belonged to my parents, it used to be a meeting place for their friends. The deed’s physical drive was left in a lockbox with other emergency supplies that helped me get started on my path to become a webweaver after my parents died. 

Nowadays the place is just a run of the mill dive bar with drinks that make you feel drunk without destroying your liver. Alcoholics love it here. I could’ve charged rent to the guy who moved into the space, but that’d reveal I have the deed. So I just let him do his own thing. It works out well since he’s a great source of intel in the city and that’s just what I need. Sёarᴄh the ηovёlFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Thorn, good t’see ya! What’s with the cat?” the crusty old bartender exclaims as he sees me saunter in with Willow at my heels. He could’ve looked like anything. An orc with rippling muscles, or a lithe elf, or a paragon of beauty and grace. But no, Roger here chose to look like every stereotypical bartender all rolled into one. He’s got an eyepatch over his left eye, though it’s purely cosmetic. His hair is dark brown but fading to gray at the temples. He looks decidedly middle aged, what with the fading hair, beer belly and lined face. Still, despite his crusty old look, he’s got a sharp wit and knows way more than he should. 

I will admit that I named myself Rose because I’ve always liked the name. And I would’ve absolutely made my Lanadel handle Rose in the first place, but I was still concerned with sounding tough and in control. So I went with Thorn. 

“Hey Roger, I got lonely,” I greet him with a shrug and tap the counter to transfer over some credits. “I’d like a martini, dry, with lots of olives,” I say as casually as I can. The old coot lets out a loud laugh.

“We don’t serve no fancy shmancy drinks here!” he retorts. “You should get the special though. Fifty seven creds gets you two tall drinks, a side order of wings and a hot dog”

“I think I’ll pass,” I reply and get up. “Thanks though Roger,” I sigh. That’s not what I wanted to hear. 

The whole exchange was code. Asking for a martini means I need information about logger movements. Dry means I plan to start a fight. And lots of olives means I want the biggest gathering in the area. I figure that with Felicia being such a high priority target, they’ll have all hands on deck to guard her login point. 

Roger’s response is worrying though. Fifty seven tells me where they are. By visualizing the city with a ten by ten grid, you can narrow down locations to manual scanning range. So five across, seven down confirms what Felicia told me about her being logged out in front of the School Board building. The problem is what he told me is there. Two tall drinks means two knights. A Side order of wings represents a squad of basic goons. The real fuckery is the hot dog. That means there’s a mage there. 

While all LOG operatives have some basic web weaving skills, the majority split their focus between work in the physical world and work in Lanadel. Knights and mages however are full time Lanadel agents. Knights are like the physical bruisers, they use mostly pre-made weapons and bodily enhancements to engage an enemy up close. Mages are LOG’s answer to proper Webweavers. With state of the art equipment in meatspace and in here, they can write custom code attacks in seconds. Like the name suggests, they function like magic users in a video game with increasingly bullshit ‘spells’. While a knight can kill you in reality with their stupidly named weapon, a mage can do that and more. 

And lucky me, I get to pick a fight with all of them.

Fuck my life.

Actually, it’s not too bad these days. 

Shit! Don’t get complacent! 

Moving right along, I make my way towards the soon to be site of my demise. 

Willow’s confident at least, so let’s see how this goes, I guess.

****

It’s not long before I reach the site of the jack stake out. They’ve got a containment grid set around an empty spot. That’ll be where Felicia logs in. So I need to deal with two knights, a squad of goons and a fucking mage. 

Yay.

Willow puts a paw on my leg, causing me to look down. “You got an idea?” I ask my little digital partner in crime. “I really hope you do.” She just nods and brushes along my leg before nodding towards the mage. “You want me to sneak up on the mage and - oh hell no. They’ll detect me coming before I even get close.” She meows again. “You can do that?” She nods. “Well fuck me, alright then. Let’s do this I guess.” 

I wait patiently for Willow to do her thing and I’m just about to ask her when she’ll start when I notice I’m eye level with her. “What the fuck?” I exclaim. Or at least I try to. All that comes out is a soft meow. 

Willow has turned me into a cat. 

I am now a cat. 

This is fucking awesome.

I get distracted by my new fluffy form for only a few seconds before Willow nudges me forward. I’d wanted to be a black cat, but Willow pointed out that they were looking for a black cat. So she made me into a calico. I barely even have time to wonder why she didn’t just change her form before she explains that her appearance is locked for security reasons.That is something I take issue with. In that moment, I vow to myself to find a way to break that lock. That’ll be a later project though, for now, we have a LOG to chop down. 

In my new fluffy body, I creep out towards the mage. They look over at me then immediately dismiss me. Stray cat programs are all over the place. People get them as pets but aren’t prepared for the fact that they actually need to take care of their digital companions. Which makes me wonder why Willow doesn’t need food. 

I should look into that.

Later, though.

Once I’m right next to the mage, I gently bap the back of their heel then immediately roll onto my back to try and look cute. They glance down at me in annoyance but their face softens just a little bit. It’s enough of a distraction that they don’t notice when Willow’s code packet propagates through their entire team. 

The merciless thug gives me a belly rub which leaves me conflicted. On one hand, it felt really good, on the other hand, fuck this guy. Fuck his friends. Fuck LOG! I fucking bite him! HARD!

He tosses me back and I roll onto my feet before I feel my form shift and grow until I’m in my normal proxy body again, though this time I’m in my new dress from meatspace. 

Thanks Willow.

The mage’s eyes widen and they raise their hand to hit me with a code burst. I do my best not to flinch as the light gathers in his palm then immediately disappears.

“Oh no, performance anxiety?” I taunt him before sauntering up and placing my pointer finger on his chest. I quickly find the source file for his proxy body and make a few adjustments. Such as turning him into a cat. I like cats. He doesn’t deserve to be a cat. I make another quick change and now he’s a rat. 

I glance up from my first victim to see his allies charging me. The knights have their stupid lances pointed at me as they barrel towards me. I wave my hand and the heavy looking murder sticks turn into harmless pool noodles. 

Oh I could get used to this. 

By now, any confidence the squad had is shot and they all start running. Fuck that noise. I raise a barrier, trapping them in here with me. With nowhere to run, all they can do is wait while I walk up to each of them and reveal them for the rats they are.

It takes only a minute before I’m surrounded by scurrying terrified rats. One by one they all log out. I wish more than anything that I could see the look on their faces when they figure out the other little surprise waiting for them. A custom written virus that’ll lock their proxy bodies in their ratty forms and prevent them from changing them. 

I turn my focus to the containment cage and dispel it with an ease that just seems almost unfair. Sure I love it when things work out according to plan, but I’m a little worried I might get complacent with the sort of power Willow is enabling. 

There’s no doubt that these custom viruses and code packets are Willow’s creation. I think of what I want to do, and she makes it happen. It’s a little terrifying. 

But also a fuck load of fun!

“Ok Felicia, I dealt with your jack buddies, you can come in now,” I tell my would be ally. She acknowledges my report and soon enough I see her log in right where the containment cage was. “So now what?” I ask her. 

“Now we get somewhere safe to log out and reconvene in meatspace,” she explains as she looks around the area. “Wait, where’s the damage? Knights notoriously leave a lot of damage when they fight.” 

I give her a bright smile. “Oh, they never got the chance,” I say as my face shifts to a more mischievous grin. “I sent them scurrying back to their masters,” I say with a giggle. Wait -

Not a giggle. 

I don’t giggle. 

I’m a girl now though, right? 

I can giggle.

Fuck yeah! I CAN GIGGLE!

Any chance of maintaining a sinister air to keep Felicia on her toes is lost as I devolve into uncontrollable laughter. The redhead watches me in first fear, then confusion, then something else I can’t quite place. Not while I’m laughing my ass off at least. 

It takes me a solid five minutes to slow my giggles. During that time, I felt several of the loggers try and log in, still as rats, then log out immediately. “We - ha ha - should - heh - g - go,” I manage to say before reaching my hand out. “I know somewhere safe,” I explain as I finally contain my mirth. 

Felicia stares at my hand before grabbing hold of it. The moment she does I teleport us through several different routing structures outside the city before finally settling in my tower. “Welcome, to my humble abode,” I announce with a curtsey. Gesturing to a couch, I tell her to make herself comfortable. She just gives me the most confused look.

“We’re still in Lanadel, Rose. I’m just going to log out,” she says simply.

“Yeah, yeah, but logging out is such a horrible experience. I find it’s better to make yourself comfortable to prepare for the incoming shittiness,” I argue as I get comfy in a chair. 

“What are you talking about?” She balks at my statement. “Logging out doesn’t hurt, or cause any unpleasant feelings. You just log out and you’re out.”

“But every time I’ve logged out, I’ve felt absolutely shitty, and not just because of my legs,” I counter her argument. “Just absolutely awful. Like every single part of my body is wrong and -” 

“That’s a trans thing,” Felicia states suddenly. “I’m cis and even I have heard of Dysphoria. Didn’t you know?”

“Whaaaat, no. I’m not trans.” Ha, that’s funny. I’m just getting turned into a girl by an AI cat who’s convinced I’ll be happy about it. “Don’t let Summer hear you say that sort of stuff to me. I don’t want her to think I’m stealing from her community or something. I’m just making the best of my situation.” My words ring hollow to even me, but I can’t be trans. I just can’t. If I was, then what would that mean? 

Willow paws at my leg to get my attention. Of course she thinks I’m trans. Just because she can read my mind doesn’t mean - 

Huh. I guess it does mean that. 

“I’m going to log out now,” I say abruptly. “I need to talk to Summer.” 

I don’t leave Felicia any time to react before I quickly hit the log out command. As usual it fucking sucks going from Lanadel to meat space. But, surprisingly, not as much as usual.

Summer is standing before me, looking absolutely shocked by something. I open my mouth to say something but my throat is suddenly really dry and sore and a lot of me aches, but not in the usual feeling of discomfort that I normally feel. 

My favorite chef grabs me some water and holds it to my mouth. With my throat moistened, I feel like I can talk. “So, what’s with the -” I freeze mid sentence. That’s not my voice. 

End Chapter 8