He threw a few shadow punches. There was little additional weight, as if the material was comprised of lightweight fabric.
"Nice. How do I turn them on, though?"
Zip buzzed from where he hovered, soldering the patch from the other day. His domed head swiveled around. "Jett need interface."
"Yeah, but I don't see one."
"Jett has interface." A thin arm extended from Zip's shell, tapping the headgear strapped around Jett's brow.
"Okay." He fiddled with the band, searching for an activation button. "Can't seem to find a way to—"
"In back." Zip's arm tapped a button on the rear the head strap. Thin, translucent plates emerged, encircling Jett's head and face before solidifying into a silver helmet. The sudden movement startled Jett. He staggered and nearly fell, holding out his arms to steady himself.
"Whoa. Nice looking out, Zip."
Zip buzzed. "Zip happy to help."
The helmet interior lit up inside, displaying a command screen. A crisp, masculine voice intoned in Jett's ear.
"Welcome, Jett Wolfe. I am Proto, your digital assistant. This cyberdermis suit database has been reset. I will now set up a new program to accommodate you as the new user."
"Who reset the database? And how do you know my name?"
"I have synced to your holoband for easy access, downloading all pertinent information into my system. And the database was reset by the previous owner, Wayne Thomas, just before his demise."
"Okay… so what happens now?"
"Your biological characteristics are now imprinted into my system, ensuring the combat suit will not operate for any other person. You are now in command of the N6 system and all of its capabilities."
"Great. What can I do with it?"
"You are limited by the lack of complete components. However, the gauntlet tools and weapons are fully operational."
"Let's start with those, then."
"Very good. We'll begin by activating your gauntlet spanners. G-spans if prefer a shorter version."
"That works for me."
"Noted. Rotate your wrist twice the same direction in quick succession."
Jett followed the instruction. A holographic display panel sprang into view over his left g-span.
"This is your control panel for basic operation. You can also program functions as voice commands. Would you like to experience virtual reality training at this time to safely test the capabilities of your g-spans?"
"That would be great, Proto."
"Booting program now."
Jett's surroundings morphed, transforming into a digital replacement. He was on top of a rooftop, surveying moving figures on the streets below. Most of the people were outlined in a yellowish glow. A few others were illuminated in red.
"Running rescue and combat simulations."
A slow grin spread across Jett's face.
"Hey, Defrost. Mind if I sit?"
Without waiting for a response, Tim LeBlanc slid onto the seat next to Jett on the bar, grinning like a mouse that just found a hunk of fresh cheese.
"Haven't seen you in a bit. Thought you might have got some class and started drinking at one of those fancy joints."
"At my pay rate? No chance. I've just been busy, is all." Jett downed his shot of whiskey. "I was hoping I'd run into you, though."
"Oh yeah?" LeBlanc's face lit up as if he'd been complimented. "What's up?"
Jett lowered his voice. "You said you're a Troubleshooter, right?"
"In the flesh."
"Do you think you can find someone for me?"
"If it lives and breathes in Neo York, I can find it or my name ain't Tim LeBlanc."
Jett glanced around. The bar was half full, but the patrons were engaged in their usual business of muttering, cursing, and drinking themselves sick. "There's a guy I'm looking for. Big, built like a football player."
"What's football?"
Jet paused, then shook his head. "Never mind. Point is, he's a big boy. Member of the Crimson Kings gang. Dragon tattoos around both arms. Might be running with a small man he calls Slick."
LeBlanc nodded, focused on every word. "Big guy, dragons, Kings, partner named Slick. Got it. Shouldn't be hard to find."
"How long will it take?"
"Meet me back here tomorrow night."
"Yeah?"
"Sure. Finding a tough like that is a piece of cake when you know where to look. Don't worry; I'll have what you want."
"Okay. One thing, though." Jett shifted uncomfortably. "V-notes are a little tight right now, so…"
LeBlanc slapped him on the shoulder. "Not to worry. I'll front you on this one. Consider it a favor. As good as v-notes, sometimes. Who knows? I might need a favor from you one day."
Jett exhaled in relief. "Hey, I really appreciate that."
"No problem. Look, I'm going to get on this right away. Go nothing going on right now. Been waiting for a little action." LeBlanc yanked his trench coat on. "Remember — tomorrow night. Same time."
"I'll be here." Jett turned to the counter scanner and swiped his holoband to clear his tab.
Kermit the bartender glanced at him. "Leaving already? You only had two drinks. I know you're good for at least three more."
"Not this time. Gotta go."
"Yeah? You ain't been around much of late. Got another gig or something?"
"A few prospects."
"Well, the offer's still on the table for muscle work. If your prospects don't fall through."
"I'll keep it in mind."
Jett walked out into the cold, pulling his furred collar up. Still have an hour or two to burn before sleep. Figure I can get in at least one more sim exercise.
He burned through the VR sessions at a steady rate, taking on a wild assortment of combat and rescue scenarios. It was hard to score a success rate on many because he didn't have the complete cyber combat suit. But he persisted, engaging again and again, familiarizing himself with unlocking the full potential of the helmet and g-spans.
"Hey — get away from me!"
Jett froze at the sound of the voice. So familiar…
He turned, scanning the crowd of bundled pedestrians. The people walked in groups, perhaps unconsciously, perhaps not. From the swaggering street gangs in their oversized hoodies, caps, and jackets emblazoned with their respective insignias to the scabs in work clothes coming and going from one shift to the next, to the pockets of citizens huddling together as they strode along from whatever business they were involved in. It was almost like the VR simulations, groups marked by color coding, separating potential hunters and prey.
He finally spotted the source of the shout. It was the same girl he had seen in the alley, cornered by the Crimson Kings. He was sure of it, even though she was dressed entirely different. Leather pants squeezed tight on her slim legs and hips. Jacket studded with spikes, open to reveal a chainmail bodice. Dark hair long, streaked with flashes of bright red. Face painted in a garish attempt to make her look old enough to trick on the street.
A tall man with a grinning bandana wrapped around his mouth had one arm clamped on her arm, the other under her chin, forcing her head up. He leaned in, continuing his attempts to convince her. The furious expression on her face said she wasn't into what he was selling.
Jett made his way over and tapped the man on the shoulder. "Don't think the lady's interested."
The man's head whipped around. His voice was muffled by the bandana, but the words spat through with no problem. "Anyone ask you? Sod off, ya wanker."
Jett's arm shot forward, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. "I'll only say this once. Step off before I lose my temper." He hurled the man so hard he bounced when he hit the sidewalk. The nearby crowd laughed as he scrambled to his feet and ran, throwing frantic looks over his shoulder.