Collide Gamer

Scarlett’s finger tapped on the tabletop.

It was a harsh sound, much harsher than even a reinforced, pointy fingernail would have produced. The metal claw was sharper, harder and heavier than any regular digit. The sound it made matched the technomancer’s mood. Every tap was a mechanically precise action, synced to the 1000th data request she sent out towards the servers in any given second.

The technological marvels that sat where human ears had once been vibrated against the remnants of her biological hearing system. Metal and flesh were seamlessly integrated into each other, a harmonious fusion without rejection that other technomancers wouldn’t have dared to try. Scarlett would have agreed with that caution, for once, had it not been for the alchemist and enigma engineer that had aided her in the creation of these pieces.

The gentle vibrations of her eardrum were a byproduct of the heavy computation being done. Circuitry laid with magic benefitted from selective ignorance of conventional physics, but even they could only cram so many electron traps into two hollow spaces that, combined, had the volume of a computer mouse.

A reprogrammed version of the Autonomous Machine operated within those earpieces. Scarlett had stripped out most of the advanced movement code, leaving only rudimentary support structures that replaced genetic reactions in the local nervous system of limbs she no longer had. She had diminished AM’s simulation of hatred, but not fully removed it. Disdain was a useful bit of pretended emotion to be had, when the AI was being used as a filter between Scarlett and the internet. Her mind could digest an ungodly amount of intel, but even she did not want to drown in the raw stream of sewage, horniness, cat videos and misunderstandings that was social media.

Much like a weightlifter did not bench press their maximum at every opportunity, Scarlett didn't use her analytical capacity to its utmost all the time. To do so would have been exhausting and she was in no rush.

Signals bounced from Scarlett’s ear implants to the three computers in front of her and back again. Her eyes remained closed. Her mind projected the pixel signals into her imagination. She was looking through thousands of posts, hundreds of thousands if she included the ones AM was sorting out, all in search of unusual sightings along the Danube. Though Illusion Barriers would cover up the most obvious signs of magic, new Abyssals usually left some kind of trail. Big gatherings in unusual places at unusual times, mass missing of appointments, cancelling of doctor’s visits that were suddenly unnecessary – that sort of thing.

A USB was inserted into one of her devices. Scarlett partially opened one eye, looking at the only person that could have entered this room unregistered by her devices. Nia waved, plain-faced as ever. “From Fianna,” she explained.

Scarlett hummed and discontinued her random scanning to see what Fianna had dug up in the last 24 hours. She was presented with details on two false identities she had assumed, both of which needed additional resources to withstand potential background checks. Scarlett got that underway in a second. She didn’t even need to hack any government databases to create two fake IDs. Every local Abyss had some way to add an identity to the mundane government. One just had to know the right people and Scarlett knew them all.

Once she had gotten that underway, she scanned the rest of the data.

With her two identities, Fianna had infiltrated two separate groups of the rebels. She reported that, on an entrance level, they operated very much like terrorist cells, with the differentiation of how easy it was to become part of them. There was a strict need to know basis, with the leaders of each ring apparently gathering up with the leaders of other rings every so often. That was all the concrete intel Fianna had been able to get so far.

It was already more than the nobles had gotten. People mocked Fusion’s intelligence apparatus quite often, when its only real weakness was the lack of international contacts and executive experience that came with its youth. Having now come into contact with it, she could proudly say that Austria’s secret service was inept – though it apparently had been cleansed of communist subversion rather recently, so the gaps at least had an excuse.

Beyond the concrete, Fianna presented a number of speculations and her plan to advance. Suspected was that fighting prowess served as the way to advance through the ranks. With that in mind, she would let one of her identities fail consistently, staying at the bottom, while the other would try to advance. In a pinch, the lesser one would conveniently disappear.

What Fianna wanted to find out was how many layers there were to the structure and, if there was just one, who the ultimate leader was. Also included in the report were five locations she had been able to scout out where their targets typically gathered. She requested that they not be raided, as that would thwart her plans to penetrate deeper.

‘A predictable approach from a scout,’ Scarlett thought. ‘I have a different idea.’

_______________________________________________________________________

“You want us to send one of our combatants to a gathering spot?” Maximillian asked.

“That is my advice, yes,” Scarlett responded drily to the unnecessary repetition. As was her right, she had taken her preferred seat in the wine storage that John and Maximillian used for their meetings – that seat being the Gamer himself, of course. They had trained him very well into being a good chair. His legs were just far enough apart that her butt had a comfortable ‘socket’ to sink into and his arm was positioned to support the half backrest that was his shoulder. Was the hard rod poking her thigh a little uncomfortable to sit by? Yes, but it was nice to have that constant reminder of how much he wanted her.

John’s free arm roamed up her thigh, making Scarlett wish she had actually picked one of the skirts in her closet for once. The suit pants separated her naked skin from his manly grasp. She cursed herself for the girly thought. Then she got annoyed with the part of herself that got annoyed with her own submissive sides.

‘That’s going to get so much worse when I’m pregnant,’ she feared.

“Not like I can’t see the advantage to that… we smash one ring and hope that intimidates the rest of the structure.”

“No,” Scarlett drawled, letting it flow into her tone how idiotic she thought what Maximillian had just said was. “I am suggesting this because you’re dealing with maniacs.”

“Ah,” the gravity king caught on quickly. “Not intimidation – enticement.”

“Exactly.” Scarlett gestured with one of her brass limbs. The expensive alloy sang, magic within vibrating with every motion. “Beat them to a pulp. Let them know that someone strong will be there, waiting for them. If they bite, this may be resolved by showing those fucking morons that you are the stronger faction. If they don’t bite, that tells us something more about their intentions.”

“I can support this plan,” John said.

“You support everything that comes from my lips,” Scarlett responded instinctively. It was endearment and criticism that made her say that, a happiness as a supported partner and a worry as someone who did not need sycophants. He pleased both sides of her with the roll of his eyes and a pinch to her thigh. The synthetic skin sent the signal through her nervous system. It registered to her brain as regular pain would have.

“Who would you send?” Maximillian asked. “Metra?”

“”Too strong,”” Scarlett and John responded in unison. They didn’t even look at each other over it. These sorts of things just happened when two geniuses were proverbially joined at the hip.

“Aren’t all of you too strong?” the gravity king hummed. This time it wasn’t an idiotic question, just a prompt to make them explain their thought process.

“They value raw fighting prowess and grit,” Scarlett elaborated. “Because they are meathead fucking morons. If we send in Metra, she will crush them so hard that they won’t even try. What we need is someone who can pretend to be beatable.”

“And Metra can’t do that?”

“Her acting isn’t the best,” John chimed in. “Though even if we assume that she pulls it off believably, I am not sure she would. She wouldn’t let even a faked loss stain her record unless I really insisted on it. We have better alternatives. Such as….” He let his voice drift off, waiting for Scarlett to make her suggestion.

Which she had prepared, like she always had to prepare everything for the less capable. “Nahoa.”

The two men hummed at their suggestion. Scarlett gave them a moment to come to the conclusion that she was correct. Of their frontliners, Nahoa had substandard Strength and Agility, which would make her appear beatable without the need for acting. Simultaneously, she had the Endurance to survive until help arrived, if necessary. By simply not using her diseases, she would act as a proper lure for the battle maniacs.

“That is a good choice…” John said, the base reluctance of putting one of his women into a dangerous situation beneath his casual tone. “At worst, we blow Fianna’s cover – which would be really bad, but can be worked with. At best, we have the rebels and their leadership acknowledge strength and fold.”

“Which hinges on two things,” Maximillian mumbled into his wine glass. As per usual, he had poured himself a sip, but did nothing more than swirl and take in the scent. He was daring enough to entertain drinking without his pregnant wife but not so daring to actually do it.

Men were such interesting creatures.

“First is that they accept your power as an extension of my authority.“ The gravity king put the glass back down. “Second that you actually beat them or, in the absence of that acknowledgement, that I can beat them.”

“Not a foregone conclusion,” John agreed.

Scarlett had nothing to add. They had all known that the Awakened would have several monsters among them. One did not dump the magic of a genocided species of sapient mushrooms into a bottleneck generation and assume the outcome would be mild. After Yoshua, however, their stance on the upper limit had considerably shifted.

Izha really did not need to prove that he was a nihilistic ass anymore, but he had saddled them all with the burden of chaos all the same.

‘I can only hope that Tiamat’s magic didn’t add too much to the mix,’ the technomancer thought, though she knew better. Chaos caused by distributing the magic filtered through the goddess of chaos inevitably would be heightened. What they did not know yet was what form this would take.

“There is something I don’t quite understand,” John said.

“Same,” Maximillian said.

“You go first then, buddy.”

“How gracious of you.”

“Well, as an emperor, I must look out for my lesser monarchs.”

“Spoken with the typical arrogance of new blood, devoid of gravitas.”

“Guys,” Scarlett interjected. “You are both in place because I can buy you, so stop comparing your royal titles.”

Maximillian snorted at the suggestion. Scarlett bit back further comments she had about the lack of meritocracy in a system based on inheritance. They compromised at being friends.

“Why are you using these limbs at my court?” the gravity king asked.

Scarlett stretched one of her legs. The red talons that extended from the base form of her human foot each extended as far as the mechanisms of their sockets would let them, before snapping back into resting position with a well-oiled click. “Because it gets me treated differently.”

The Abyss, largely, did not suffer from many of the same presumptions as the mundane. Physical inferiority based on height and weight was a standard that could swiftly lead to death even on the lower levels. That being said, there was still a base part of the monkey brain that whispered to everyone that women were for protecting rather than combat – a part that was subtle in most, not so subtle in others, and overbearing in some.

Regardless of how influential that part was, it got quiet really quick when the woman had knife fingers.

“I figured,” Maximillian sighed. “For the sake of my appearance, I must ask that you cease. Change to something more subtle. Other lady-knights don’t run around with their swords drawn.”

Scarlett clicked her tongue. She was quite fond of open carrying. It got the point across effectively. “I’ll change out my limbs later,” she relented. This wasn’t her house, so she would respect the rules given to her. “What did you want to know, John?”

“How come it took Fianna’s data to work this out?” he asked.

“Just a scope issue,” Scarlett stated.

“Are you sure?”

“98% sure.”

“That’s less than the usual 99%.”

Scarlett shrugged. “It is and I respect your paranoia, but it doesn’t change our plan going forwards.”

“…I suppose that is true,” he admitted with a sigh.