He swallowed, dropping his eyes. "Get me off the radar, I talk. Lock house, jade. ASAP."
"Virgil Kane, you got yourself a deal." She gestured to the officers. "Let's get him to a safehouse, gentlemen."
She watched as he was lifted up and escorted to a waiting police floater. Isaac joined her a few seconds later.
"Think he'll talk?"
"I don't think he has a choice. We might catch a break here, Isaac."
"Well, while you were making friends, I was doing some real RCE work. Most of the workers are your usual scabs. Just trying to make some v-notes; didn't know anything, wasn't told anything. But a couple of the guards opened up a bit."
Ronnie smiled. "Look at you, being relatable."
"It's strange how people are. They see me as a robot; they open up to me. Faster than they would a human."
"Don't talk like you're something else, Isaac. Anyone talk about what happened?"
"Sounds like a single assailant was responsible. Shut down the system, so no security records. Systematically took out the guards from the rooftop down, then used a combination of sonic and light disorientation, and some high-tech pulse weapons. Most of the major damage was done by railgun. Looked to be the same type they manufactured here."
"Must have gotten it off one of the guards. Guy sounds like a major player. What hitters do we know with that kind of M.O.?
"I don't think it was a hitman at all."
Ronnie gestured to the damage. "Seriously?"
"Think about it. Not a single person was killed. The major damage was concentrated on the caches of weapons."
"Rival hit, then. Another gang wanted to take out his competition."
"Perhaps."
Ronnie's exasperated stare reflected off of Isaac's metallic face. "Perhaps? What does that mean?"
"It's very strange. I can't think of anyone in the business who cares about collateral damage. The use of non-lethal force to subdue when one can just as easily kill doesn't add up."
Ronnie sighed. "So what's your working theory on the situation?"
"I'm still running algorithms."
"Yeah, well you do that. Meantime, I have a perp to interrogate. And for once, I think this one might actually live long enough to tell up who he's working for."
An explosion rocked the vicinity, sending the RCE ducking for cover. Isaac snatched Ronnie off her feet, carrying her under his arm as he darted across the street, dodging the metallic debris that rained down. Ronnie twisted around, eyes widening. The remains of the armored floater slammed into the concrete, wreathed in smoke and flame.
" Good evening. You're with Cam Danvers on another NYN news Fast Break. In tonight's breaking news, a police transport vehicle was viciously attacked, leaving two officers and a suspect in their custody dead. The suspect was Virgil Kane, a repeat offender with a string of prior charges including armed assault. The attack is reportedly another reprogrammed drone strike, giving rise to the outcry over the use of armed drones by the Neo York RCE. We have reporter Jeff Stevens at the scene of the chaos…"
Ronnie groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This is unbelievable." She clicked the picjector off. Her office darkened to a level appropriate for her mood, casting her meager furnishings in shadow.
"No one caught a peep of the shooter. Don't know if it was one hitman or a dozen. We're down to nothing to show for the whole thing."
Isaac gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Look at the bright side. At least you weren't a part of the convoy."
"Gee, thanks. Two shields down, and I'm supposed to feel good that one of them wasn't me?"
"Live to fight another day, kiddo."
"How can you say that? After everything you've been through?"
"It's either that or pull the plug." Isaac smiled. "You'll feel better in the morning."
She lifted her head. "Yeah. Gotta fight the good fight."
"Go home, Agent. I'll file the report." He left, shutting the door behind him.
Ronnie leaned back in her chair and sighed. "I am home."
She pulled up the sketch file, based on witness reports from the warehouse. A man in a dark trench coat, face completely covered by a silvery helmet. She stared at the image, face fixed in concentration.
"So, mystery man. Who the hell are you?"
Chapter 9
Jett span around, fired a pulse blast at the assailant crouched behind a desk. Never slowing, he fell backward, skidding across the floor while targeting the second gunman, who held a gun to a hostage's head. Jett locked a magnetic tug on the man's weapon, pulling it out of his hand. At the same time, Jett fired a second blast. The gunman's head snapped back, and he toppled, freeing the hostage.
Jett removed the headgear, ending the VR session. His surroundings altered from the brightly lit holographic environment to the damp, humid, gloomy hollows of the city sewers. He nearly gagged as the ripe stench seeped into his nostrils. "This isn't right, Proto."
The virtual assistant's voice buzzed over his datcom. "I don't see why not. You just set a time record on that mission."
"Yeah, that's just the problem. I knew what to expect from the past times I did the program. Knew where everyone was, knew how much time I had to act. Real life doesn't work like that. Variables shift constantly. You can never have the exact same experience in any given situation. The VR training has to reflect that."
"I understand. I will upgrade the program with those observations in mind. In the meantime, might I suggest something?"
"Sure."
"Rest."
"Rest? I feel fine."
"You are unaware of your limitations. Although your biological functions were improved during your stasis, you still need to recharge like anyone else."
Jett frowned. "What do you mean? They did something to me during hibernation?"
"You were preserved in a gelatinous, oxygenated liquid that was also enriched with genetic modifiers that improved your physiology to avoid the ravages of cryosleep. To put it in layman's terms, you were upgraded. Strength, endurance, reflexes, all developed to the very peak of human potential. They call your kind enhanced."
"How many like me are there?"
"I don't have access to those numbers. What I do know is that you require rest. Even if you don't feel the need yourself."
"I'll take care of it." Jett tapped the datcom, terminating the conversation. He glanced over at Zip, who had just finished a weld on a pipeline. "That's it for today, Zipster. Let's wrap it up."
The robot's shell rattled when it hovered over. "Zip did good job?"
"Great job, Zip."
"Zip work tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Back at it tomorrow."
"Zip happy to work."
"I know you are, Zip."
"Jett happy?"
Jett stopped in his tracks.
"Jett?"
He raised a finger to his lips. "Quiet."
He glanced down. The brownish liquid that sloshed over the toecaps of his boots quivered, ripples widening.
"Someone's coming. Duck into that pipe, Zip. Stay out of sight."
"Zip hide." The robot obediently backed into a large sewer pipe until it was just a silhouette. Jett crouched under the pipe, sticking to the shadows. A rumbling sound approached.
The tunnel brightened from the headlights of an approaching hovercraft. The large skiff's armored hull was rusty, composed of mismatched plating from several different vehicles. Several figures sat or stood at the railing of the craft, faces obscured by various painted masks. Their ragged clothing was overlain with junk, from air hoses to jewelry made from scrap metal. Though some carried metal or wooden staffs, they used them as walking aids, not weapons.