Mistrunner 2 a cyberpunk.., p.10
Mistrunner 2: A Cyberpunk LitRPG, page 10
I nodded. That made sense. If I had to choose between [Acrobatics] and any of the skills with which I had started, it wouldn’t have stood a chance. But now? [Combat] was so overpowered that it opened up room for a niche skill like [Acrobatics]. For most people, it would’ve been a silly choice, but I had seven skill slots. I had room to spare. So, I chose it.
I was similarly unconflicted about the next skill. The second I laid eyes on [Demolition], I had no desire at all to continue the search. Still, I asked Ana about it, and she said, “Good eye. It’s another one that doesn’t really come with any abilities. Pure modifiers. But they’re strong. If you like explosions—”
“Who doesn’t?” Gala interrupted with a wide grin.
“There’s no substitute for a good [Demolition] skill,” Ana went on. “I was lucky to have the opportunity to blueprint that one. Most explosives skills are either combat- or noncombat-focused. This one is a nice blend.”
With that, my choices were made, and Ana stated a price. However, this time, it was Patrick who spoke up with an objection, saying, “Three million is practically robbery. There’s no way we’re paying that!”
Ana narrowed her eyes, saying, “Smuggler.”
“Better believe it,” he said. Then, to me, he added, “I have an ability that sometimes tells me when I’m being ripped off. It just triggered. This alien’s trying to cheat us.”
“Cheat you?!” screeched Ana. “I never! Three million was the starting point! That’s how bargaining works, young man.”
“We’ll do a million,” he said. “Not a credit more.”
“I spent more than that on the blueprints!” she protested. “The best I could do is two. And that’s barely enough to keep the carnagogs at bay!”
I had no idea what a carnagog was, but I still got the meaning. After that, she and Patrick continued to dicker back and forth until, at last, they settled at a million and a half credits. When it was finished, I’d half expected Ana to throw us out, but instead, she got my attention and said, “You’d better keep that one around. Handsome and a good trader. Such a great combination. I don’t suppose he can sing, can he? He’s not pretty enough to make it in a top-tier band like Angel Wings, but with his strong jaw, he could—”
“Ana!” Gala interrupted.
“Right,” said the alien, a purple blush finding its way to her cheeks. “Sorry. I get a little worked up is all.” Then, she looked at Patrick, saying, “Come look me up when the Integration starts. I might have a job for you.”
“O-okay,” Patrick said, having lost the air of confidence with which he’d negotiated. I expect that an ability might have been involved, the change was so dramatic.
I thanked Ana, promising to come back and visit her when I could, and then we left. As we walked, I used the Bazaar’s interface, which had automatically hooked into my HUD, to set up a rapid transference of the skill crystals. It was expensive, but I hoped that my goods would be waiting for me when our consciousnesses returned to our bodies on the surface.
Eventually, we made our way to Dexter’s shop, where I hoped to find a cybernetic solution to my injured hand. When we drew close, Gala left to go back to her own premises, saying that she and Dexter didn’t get along. As she walked away, she said, “Don’t forget to come back by, even if you don’t have any credits to spend. I might have something for you.”
We parted ways, and Patrick and I quickly made our way to Dexter’s cube. The alien himself was unchanged, with his four arms, burgundy skin, and three legs. However, he seemed just as down about Jeremiah’s death as Gala had been. After he offered his condolences, he led us inside and activated what he called a privacy net. Once that was in place, he asked, “What can I do for you?”
“I need a hand,” I said, raising my left arm. “I also need some kind of subdermal armor.”
“Budget?”
“Just tell me what you’ve got,” I said. “I’ll figure out the budget after that.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Well, you’ve got two options for defense. I have the Tak-Mura Kinetic Sheath. It doesn’t offer much protection for blunt force, but it’s amazingly resilient against penetrative attacks.”
“And that’s subdermal armor?” I asked.
“It is,” he said. “Easy to install, too. No real surgery necessary. Just nineteen injections in the appropriate spots, and the Mist does the rest. No muss, no fuss. The other advantage is that it doesn’t affect movement at all. Not like the metallic versions that increase weight and decrease flexibility. Even the top-tier ones make their users more like walking tanks.”
That made sense to me. The people I had seen who’d used such armor weren’t exactly quick on their feet.
“What’s the other option?”
“Personalized shield,” he said, crossing one set of his arms. “Implant on your back. When you activate it, it starts draining your Mist to create an almost impenetrable shield. This one’s made by Erdogan Enterprises, so it’s better than average, but even then, we’re talking a few seconds of protection before it needs to recharge. But for those few seconds, you’re looking at complete invulnerability.”
“Downsides?” I asked. “Other than the Mist expenditure, I mean.”
“If you use it, you probably won’t be able to use any active skills or abilities afterward,” he said. “It’s a great way to escape death, but it’s also a trade-off. Both options are almost entirely undetectable on your world, too.”
“Oh? And the Sheath? Anything else I need to know about it?” I asked.
“It’s upgradable,” he said. “This is top-of-the-line stuff, so all you’d need to do is inject the right upgrade module, and you’ll have stronger armor. Very expensive, though, and those sorts of things aren’t available around here. It can also utilize boosters that will repair the armor.”
I nodded. My uncle had mentioned boosters to me once or twice, so I knew that they were hypos that would inject condensed Mist into the body. He’d described them as a good way to recover expended Mist, but if they were also useful for regenerating the Sheath, that just made them that much more valuable. To date, I’d never even used one—mostly because, with my high Mist attribute, they weren’t necessary—but I’d definitely have to buy some if I chose to use the Sheath.
“Which would you recommend?” I asked.
With one set of his arms still crossed, Dexter scratched the back of his head. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Pros and cons with either choice. Invulnerability, even if it’s limited, can be a powerful card to play. But the Sheath is more well-rounded. It really just depends on what you want.”
“What about both?” I asked.
“Not possible,” he said. “Unless you’ve got a Rank 3 or higher cybernetics skill, they’ll draw too much power to coexist.” ‘
“Rank?” I asked. “What would you call [Cybernetic Mastery]?”
“Rank 2,” he said. “Impressive at your age. But not enough to run both of those implants. Sorry, kid. You’re going to have to choose.”
“Make it the Sheath, then,” I said. The way I saw it, if my survival came down to a couple of seconds of invulnerability, I was probably going to die anyway. It was better to go with the option that would help me in a wider variety of scenarios. Still, it was a difficult choice. “What about the hand?”
“Depends on what you’re looking for,” he said. “I have hands that can transform into cannons, ones that can spout Mist blades, and ones that are virtually indistinguishable from flesh and blood. You need to tell me what you want, and I’ll give you options.”
I nodded. I’d already given it some thought during our journey from the ruins of Mobile, and I’d decided that, if possible, I would go with something as close to my old hand as possible. So, I told him as much, adding, “The less detectable, the better.”
He scratched his chin, then asked, “You’re a {Mistrunner} right?”
“What? How do you know that?” I demanded, my heart beating out of my chest as panic mounted.
He held up all four hands, saying, “Whoa, whoa! Don’t get all worked up! It’s part of my array, okay? I just use it so I can tailor my suggestions to the customer. I can’t tell anybody about it, either. Not without significant sanctions. And we’re under a privacy net, so even the system can’t see what we’re doing.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed him, but I also didn’t think it mattered that much. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, especially if he already knew my secrets. Which he obviously did. “Is that why you steered me away from the heavier armor options?” I asked.
He nodded. “It is,” he said. “Look—I’m on your side. Jeremiah was my friend. If you don’t believe anything else I’ve said, believe that, okay?”
I glanced at Patrick, who looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere but in the same room with the pair of us. Then, I sighed, telling Dexter, “Yes. That’s my class.”
“Rare one,” he said. “Ultrarare, even. I’m not sure I’ve ever met an actual {Mistrunner}. Makes a guy wonder what Jeremiah did to get you that class.”
“What does it matter?” I asked. “How does that affect which hand I get?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned around, and when he did, the wall slid open to reveal a shelf full of cybernetic hands. Some were claws. Others were clearly cannons, like the one used by the giant I’d encountered only a few days after my Awakening. But Dexter went to one that looked strikingly similar to a real hand, albeit without skin. The muscles were black and striated, while the bones were a matte gray.
Dexter retrieved it, then held it up to me. “This is what’s known as the Hand of God,” he said.
“What? Why?” I asked. “It looks pretty ordinary to me.”
“Oh, that’s because it’s supposed to,” he said with a grin. “Nano-fiber muscles. Mist-infused titalumiron bones. It’s stronger than any organic hand, provided that the owner has less than a three hundred Constitution attribute.”
“Okay? It’s a strong hand,” I said. “What makes it special?”
He dug his fingers into the forearm, retrieving a cord. In a lot of ways, it looked similar to the one I could extract from my undamaged wrist. However, where my cord was an unexciting black, the one in the Hand of God was laced with gold. Dexter said, “This is why. Any connection made through this jack will be almost four times as fast as anything else on the market. On top of that, the hand is entirely undetectable by anything on your planet. Anything on mine, come to that. It’s only when you get to the older sectors that you’ll have any chance of it being detected. Even then, it would take specialized equipment.”
“Interesting” was my response, but I was pretty much sold already.
“Self-repairing, too,” he said. “Up to a point. If you get the thing crushed somehow, you’ll need a good cybernetic engineer, but for anything you’re likely to see in the next few years, it’ll hold up.”
“Well, that sounds perfect for me,” I said, already seeing the possibilities. With my modifiers, my Mistwalk ability was already very fast. With that personal link, I could blaze through any defenses I might find. It almost felt like it had been tailor-made for me. “I think we have a winner.”
“I don’t know if Jeremiah told you, but he bought something that he intended to give you. Supposed to have been a birthday present, I believe,” Dexter said, rubbing the back of his neck. “When you showed up today, I assumed you’d come to collect.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“One second,” he said. “Let me go fetch it.”
With that, he pressed another button, and a different portion of the wall resolved itself into a door, through which he disappeared a moment later. A couple of minutes after that, he returned with a simple bracelet in one of his hands.
“This is a Kyrobe Cutter,” he said, and a shimmering hologram appeared above the bracelet. It was long and sleek, and I didn’t need him to tell me what I was looking at. I’d been studying hover bikes ever since I was twelve years old. However, this one was clearly far superior to the models I’d seen back on Earth. “Completely collapsible inside the bracelet, so you’ll never be without a ride. D-grade durability. E-grade speed, which means it’s probably faster than any Earth-made bike, and not by a little. And it has the added bonus of being a cybernetic, which means that it can be affected by some of your skills and abilities.”
“I … I don’t … I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“No thank-you necessary,” Dexter responded. “Like I told you, Jeremiah was a friend, and this was a favor to him. So, no matter what else happens here, the Cutter is yours. Now, let’s get down to it. I can’t take less than eight million for the other implants.”
“Bullshit,” said Patrick, his first contribution to the conversation. And so, the dickering began, and in the end, we paid a little more than half of Dexter’s initial asking price. Once all the agreements were signed and I’d set up the rapid transference, we said our goodbyes. And off we went back to Gala’s shop. I couldn’t help but wonder what she had in store for us.
CHAPTER TEN
WEAPONS
I knew the bio-enhancers came with plenty of downsides. Everyone does. The decreased life span alone was enough to scare most people off. But I would rather die a few decades early than spend another moment corralled by the arbitrary limits on my Constitution. So, the choice was an easy one, and I haven’t looked back since.
—Nora Lancaster
as Patrick and I walked through the halls of the Bazaar, I had a hard time thinking of anything else but my upcoming upgrades. The Hand of God was likely the most useful addition to my arsenal, but I had to admit that I was far more excited about the Sheath. I’d been shot enough that I knew just how valuable such protection would likely prove to be.
But then there were my new skills. [Acrobatics] would probably change everything about how I moved, though I wasn’t entirely sure what that would look like. On top of that, I knew that different skills presented themselves differently based on the individual. For instance, my uncle had seemed a little surprised that I’d gotten so many abilities from [Combat Utility]. So, there was every chance that Ana’s assessment that the skill wouldn’t result in any abilities was inaccurate. The same could be said for [Demolition], which probably excited me even more than acrobatics.
After all, I did enjoy blowing things up. I only regretted that I hadn’t been the one to activate the detonator back in Mobile. However, there was plenty of time to rectify that regret, and I intended to put my new skill—along with my existing Basic Explosives Handling ability—to the test. First, though, I needed to return to Gala and improve the rest of my arsenal.
As much as I loved the Kicker, I had already begun to outgrow it. Even before obtaining my class, I’d noticed that my bullets were doing less and less damage. The sniper configuration was still strong, especially when paired with Empowered Shot, but the assault rifle mode had proven itself insufficient. Usually, that was a problem that could be solved by pumping my enemies with a few extra magazines of bullets, but as effective as that was, I knew it was less than ideal. The simple fact was that I needed an upgrade.
The problem was that I knew that, if I wanted anything more powerful than the Kicker, I’d have to give up on having two weapons in one gun. More than once, I’d exploited the rifle’s ability to reconfigure itself, and I knew I’d miss it once it was gone. But that was the price I’d have to pay. As my uncle had once said, increased power often meant decreased versatility.
Besides, nestled in a corner of my arsenal implant was the Pulsar Class sniper rifle my uncle had bought for me. I’d barely even looked at it, much less used it in any significant situations; in fact, until recently, I couldn’t do so. Before the acquisition of my class, if I’d have pulled the trigger, nothing would happen. However, I felt positive that with the evolution of my skills, I’d be fine now.
Which meant I needed a real assault rifle to replace the Kicker. Hopefully that was what Gala had in mind because I wasn’t sure I could afford anything else. After all, I only had about nine million credits left. It was a lot of money, but I’d seen how much my current arsenal had cost. In addition to that, I had to pay for a new base of operations as well as for someone—hopefully Dr. Montague—to install my new cybernetics.
Not to mention the cost of ammunition. I couldn’t be sure, but I felt that there was a good chance that my uncle had spent even more on ammunition over the past few years than he had on my weapons. And I was running low on basically everything, which meant I needed to restock.
So many expenses, and my revenue stream was all but dried up. If I was going to make things work, I’d need to change that, too. It was yet another item to add to my to-do list, which had grown to become almost overwhelming in length. So, I used the same philosophy I’d employed when my training got tough—one step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Eventually, I would get where I wanted to go. It was a fancy way of forcing myself to divide my tasks into smaller bites, but it worked for me.
As we made our way back to Gala’s shop, I distracted myself with thoughts of my new hover bike. I’d wanted one for as long as I could remember, but my uncle had always steadfastly refused to get me one. The fact that he’d always intended to do so was so on point with his personality that it almost brought tears to my eyes. For all his rough exterior, he’d never really denied me anything I truly wanted. In fact, he almost always went that extra mile, like he had with the Leviathan file I still frequently listened to. The hover bike was no different, especially in that it far exceeded my expectations. I’d have been happy with a run-of-the-mill version, but instead, I’d gotten something that I expected even those rich assholes in King’s Row couldn’t afford.
Once again, Jeremiah had come through. Even after he was gone, I was still standing on his shoulders.
I let out a sigh, which Patrick noticed. As we walked, he asked, “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited about all of this.”
