My turn came. I moved into position, and I was rocketed upward into a small room. Within seconds. There was a quick hissing, and then I was flying upward a second time as I was lifted headfirst into the waiting deployment unit. Mechanical arms grabbed me as the world seemed to spin. The entire device flipped me and then rotated so I was facing out, and I could no longer see what was happening. But the process was quick and bizarrely efficient, especially considering how we all had different shapes and sizes.
Multiple gauges in my virtual cockpit started to come online.
Loading now. Weapons will come online shortly. Maps loading. Your purchased maps are loading. You may prepurchase ammo insurance now at fifty percent off the price.
Warning: You are using custom weapons. Some ammo may not be available for purchase.
The drop ship shuddered as the last of the mechs were loaded.
Launching now.
There was a loud clank, and suddenly I had the strange sensation of falling.
Hermit672Hill:Here we go, bitches! Hope to scrub one of those greasy fucks.
I blinked. There was a local text-only chat. This was one of the five other mechs in the drop ship.
“Roger, there’s a local chat. Do you see it on your screen?”
“I do not, but I can adjust the streaming settings from here. One moment. Very good. I see it. Cross-referencing now. Excellent. Hermit672Hill was not on my identified list. I have located a wish list under that name. Investigating. Very good. Hermit672Hill wished to purchase a Signet chef’s knife for his upcoming birthday. I listed a new one for sale and then purchased my own item via the wish list, which provided me with his name and address. Colin Townsend of District 210. The Vancouver corridor. He owns a gastropub called Hermit Hill. I am calling him now, informing him that his suicidal mother is currently on a bridge and is threatening to jump off. She has asked for him. This was a good find, Oliver. I suggest liberal use of the local chat so I can collect more screen names.”
“I think I can send a ping that lists everyone nearby.”
“It does, but if they have privacy turned on, it hashtags their names. Minors have the hashtag by default, and several people have enacted the feature because they are afraid of being identified. That privacy does not extend to local and team chat, however. So keep talking.”
I moved to the chat window. We would land in five minutes.
SubhumanSlayer:Hey, everyone, where are you from?
Mother’s Wilk:Eat my ass, prick.
That was the only answer I received.
“That was Sadie Wilkinson. I am speaking to her mother now. She does not appear to sound surprised that her daughter might have been caught dismembering a cat. I fear it might not be enough to get her offline.”
“Tell her that she wrote ‘Mom’ with the cat’s blood or something, or better yet, does she have any siblings? Put their names there, too.”
“Oh, that is a good idea, Oliver. I take it back when I said you were a terrible terrorist. She has a little infant brother named Conner. Iwill use that name. In addition, player Colin Townsend is disconnecting now. Player RxKing, a streamer who is also in your deployment unit, has disconnected after his wife received screenshots of a text exchange between himself and their child’s male dentist, Dr.Smiles, who is also playing. As for the dentist, I currently have a prostitute en route to his home with the door code and instructions to ‘surprise him’ when she arrives. His wife just went off shift at the prison where she works, and should arrive home five to ten minutes after the prostitute arrives.”
“Good. Keep it going.”
Weapons coming online.
A spinning 3D rendition of our custom-made mech appeared.
I’d painted myself completely black. I’d been tempted to make some custom accessories, like everyone liked to do, but I’d held off. The last thing I needed was attention on myself. I spun the view now, looking at the design Roger and I had come up with together.
We’d started with the frame of a regular Attenuator, but with the new high-speed-option legs along with the advanced jump jets. I’d wanted to go with the third option, which basically made it so I could fly, but Roger recommended against it, as he couldn’t control the seeking missiles our side would be firing at us, and the RMI soldiers would also be shooting. The fliers had the highest heat output of all the units, and it would’ve required me to decrease the weight significantly, and we were already lean as it was. We’d already had to forgo a layer of armor plating.
I had two grasping arms, but with the extenders, that would allow me fine motor skills. I also carried the optional “backpack” with custom-made caltrops. This attached a large storage unit to my back. We’d also added shoulder flares and a single gunner drone that would follow me around like Rosita’s camera drone. That was it in terms of actual weapons.
That was okay. I’d have some backup when I landed.
The peninsula came into view, but the smoke from our fires filled the night with clouds. Pulsing lights shot up at us, but none seemed to hit. Across the way, I could see other drop ships, all with the legs of the mechs dangling out.
As we dropped, a message came in. A message window popped up, and a man appeared. He was wearing military fatigues and chomping on a cigar. There was no disclaimer, so I assumed this was a real person.
“Hello, soldier,” the man said as bombastic music started to play. “Colonel Boomer here. This is it. This is the final assault. The Rhythm Mafia headquarters is on your map, and you will be landing approximately five kilometers north in our forward operating theater! Be wary! Heavily armed Rhythm Mafia insurgents fill the countryside around the base. We need to clear them out! But our primary objective is to breach their walls, destroy the defenders, and root out and remove any and all terrorists holed up in their base. Leave nobody alive! Remember, you’re not just having fun. You’re protecting true humanity.”
