Month: August 2013 (page 4 of 4)

Flash Fiction: Magnum Damage

Courtesy Alistair Cunningham
Courtesy Alistair Cunningham

For the Terribleminds challenge, Somethingpunk. I think this qualifies more as laserpunk than cyberpunk, but you be the judge.


Jack Magnum was never more at home than he was on the ground, a warm beamer in his hand, goons on his tail.

The incandescent neon of the street illumination and the various store signs were a counterpoint to the lances of hard light that sliced through the night. This had been a nice neighborhood once. Before Manhattan had been co-opted by the Cyber-Mafia, it had been making a comeback from the various financial failures of the early 21st century. That was before America got carved up and sold like so much cake at a desperate bake sale.

But Jack Magnum hadn’t given up on America.

“Jack! Two more on your nine-o’-clock!”

“I know.” The AI in Jack’s head, which called herself Artemis, was helpful in some situations and irritating in others. His cyber-enhanced senses and on-board radar could communicate with him at the speed of thought. There was no need for Artemis to engage his inner ear speaker to give him information he already knew. Still, there was a hard barrier between them when he was conscious, so he understood her desire to keep him safe. After all, if his body failed, she’d cease to exist.

He swung his .75 caliber heater in the direction and squeezed off two rounds. The projector snapped off two flashes of steel-melting light, and one assailant found his faceplate burned off, exposed circuitry sizzling and its CPU melting down its chin and faux leather jacket. The Cyber-Mafia liked to dress its goons up like bikers, so the human populace didn’t blatantly see the mostly robotic terrors that kept them in line and fed the syndicate its cash and bodies to maintain business with the struggling and laughable US government.

“That’s three total still on our tail, Jack. What’s the plan?”

“There’s a hoverbike 100 meters ahead. Can you hack it?”

“I’m on it.” The wireless transmitter in Jack’s skull hummed as Artemis tried to access the hoverbike’s security and key it to Jack’s DNA. Jack fired behind him, and heard a surprised, robotic squawk as another foot soldier got blasted. Two to go. If he couldn’t blast them, he could outrun them, and keep the information packet in his hard drive out of Cyber-Mafia hands.

“It’s ready, Jack!”

“Thanks, babe.”

He turned and sprinted backwards, taking his gun in both hands, firing a shot that melted the gun-arm off of one of his pursuers. The other opened fire, chewing up pavement just behind Jack. He had to turn quickly and jump, lest the half-molten pavement slow him down. The neon of the airbike snapped on, and Jack leapt onto it. He holstered his heater and revved the drive, getting the fans up to speed, and kicked hard off the ground. Standard airbikes didn’t have much in the way of altitude, but the hop threw off the aim of his pursuers. He whipped around the corner and tapped the holo-projector in his right cybernetic eye to call up his GPS plotter.

“They know your face, Jack. It’s going to be hard to get off of Manhattan.”

“The CIA didn’t hire me because this would be easy, Artemis. Now find me a chopper or a boat.”

“I’m on it. I’m just saying, they’re going to shut down the island rather than let you off.”

“I don’t get what the big deal is.” Jack swerved around a truck, which honked at him on general principle. “All I have is the shipping manifests for the Cyber-Mafia’s airplanes and boats for the next six months, and a detailed list of every government document to which they have access.”

“Which means they can no longer blackmail the government into holding Manhattan, I know. It’s what they wanted you to get.” Jack’s map was replaced by a holo-representation of Artemis. He knew it was a replication of one of her designers, a petite young woman with bangs, short hair in the back, and a form-fitting suit. “But Jack, the Cyber-Mafia’s been in control of the island for almost a decade. They have a private army. Hell, for all we know they have an air force by this point. How do you plan on getting around them?”

“If I can’t, I’ll just go through ’em. Just like in Casablanca.”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Jack, after Casablanca, your organics were barely alive and your system was shot to pieces. You had to crawl onto the rescue boat and it nearly sank!”

“We’ll be okay, Art. Trust me.”

She sighed. “I hope you’re right.” She brought his GPS back up and plotted a course through the streets to a dock. Smiling, Jack revved the engine and made a sharp turn.

Minutes later, he brought the bike to a halt near the dock. He blasted the lock off of the gate with his heater, and made his way down to the boats. Artemis had picked out a small speedboat, rigged up for water skiing. It was a derelict, a relic from before the Cyber-Mafia. Artemis walked him through getting the engine running and disengaging the rig that could slow them down. When he looked up, he saw spotlights in the distance.

“Artemis, tell me those are CIA choppers on the other side of the sea wall.”

“Negative. Cyber-Mafia attack choppers on an intercept course. Three of them so far.”

“Well, shit.” Jack pulled out his heater and checked the charge. 50%. Probably enough to take down one chopper with a well-placed full-power shot. He looked down at the boat. “Artemis, I need to know how to drive this thing like a pro.”

“Jack…”

“Look, we’re the only hope the country has of getting back to what it was. It has to start with us. We have to at least try. Agreed?”

“You mess up, you’re going to get us both killed.”

There was a pause. Then, suddenly, a rush of information, part head-swimming kiss from a beautiful woman, part searing shock of straight whiskey.

“So don’t.”

Jack Magnum smiled. “Trust me, darlin’. Just hang on. It’ll be fun!”

Writer Report: Home Stretch

I’ll keep this short today, but everything is going pretty swimmingly here.

I’m down to the last two scenes of Cold Streets now. I should be able to knock one out this coming week, and the last the week after.

This is good because next week is Otakon. And then a week and a half after that I will be preparing for a long trip to Seattle in the run-up to PAX Prime.

This month is absolutely insane for me. I kind of love it.

Flash Fiction: Gods and Robbers

Courtesy Wallpaperswide.com

Chuck’s weekly demand this time is to include four random items. Can you spot them all?


They dragged him into the office by his arms. His legs felt weak; there was no way they could support his weight with them yanking him along. He was tossed onto the carpet like a sack of garbage. He found himself looking at the skull of what some might have considered a large lizard, but he recognized as a small dragon. It had been re-purposed to serve as the base of an umbrella stand.

“We found him, Father,” said one of the twins.

“He thought to hide from you among the mortal officers of the law.” The other twin tossed the badge onto the expansive desk that blocked most of his view. He struggled to look up, fighting down waves of pain. He got a kick in the kidneys for his trouble.

“Castor, Pollux, I’m surprised at you.” The voice from behind the desk was deep, grandfatherly, almost kind; yet in it was the rumble, the muted flash, the sense one gets when a storm is blowing in. “This is my guest, not some common churl. Get him in a chair, for Gaea’s sake. And clean up his face. I won’t have him ruining my carpet.”

The twins obeyed, hauling him into one of the chairs facing the desk. A wet rag all but smashed into his face, and as the blood was wiped away, he tried to will his bleeding to stop. Whatever charm they’d used to stunt his powers, it seemed to have faded, as his head cleared immediately. He blinked, and looked up to face the man he’d been dragged to see.

Behind the chess board on the desk sat what appeared to be an elderly man with broad shoulders and the solid build of someone who’d spent a lifetime perfecting his physical form. His suit was tailored, hand-made, and clearly costly. His white hair was long, and his beard was somewhat fluffy. Had the suit been red, one might mistake him for Santa Claus.

“Now, Prometheus. What would possess you to put on the airs of a policeman? In the game of ‘Cops and Robbers’, would I not be the cop?”

“It let me get close to one of Chronos’ servants. I was trying to help…”

Pollux backhanded Prometheus. “No lies before the mighty Zeus!”

“Pollux, please! Castor, look after your brother.” Zeus reached down and plucked the bishop from his side of the board, examining it. “Prometheus, you and I have had our differences. I’m still not certain how you escaped your prison in the first place. But we both know that my word is law. And that law cannot be countermanded, not by the cleverness of any being, mortal or Titan.”

“I could be back on that mountain now, if you willed it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Then why am I here?”

Zeus smiled, and replaced the chess piece. “I’m curious more than I am angry. How did you escape, and why?”

“The how doesn’t matter. The why does. I told you: I can help you fight Chronos and the other Titans. Time is against us. You should hear what I have to say.”
Zeus raised an eyebrow. Thunder rolled in the distance. “Have a care, Titan. I am not so curious that I am willing to permit you to command me. Begin at the beginning. How did you escape?”

“I made a deal with the eagle.”

Zeus laughed. “A deal? What could you possibly offer it that was not the liver of an immortal?”

“I told it about America. I told it that it was a sacred animal there. It, too, could be truly immortal, and not simply tasked with devouring me. I said, ‘If you free me, I will take you there, and you will be adored and loved.’ It took a few days… and a few livers… but it believed me.”

Promet heus tried not to blanch at the memories. Centuries, millenia had gone by, and every day, atop that lonely mountain that killed any mortal that attempted its summit, the eagle tore him open and made him feel every snapping sinew and every bite at his innards until death came like a merciful, dreamless, abyssal sleep. He’d long stopped cursing his fate each time he awoke, and it was only through the tiny fraction of power he’d had left that he was able to learn of the far-off land the eagle wished to see.

“Where is it now?”

“A zoo, in Chicago.”

“Hah! Duplicity worthy of any of my children. Even as a fugitive you do not disappoint.”

Prometheus nodded. “I am happy to have amused you, my Lord.”

Zeus waved his hand. “Pshaw. I have Wingus and Dingus here to kowtow to me. You, however, never bowed. You defied me, and not from jealousy or fear or anger. You defied me to do what you felt was right. Defiance had to be punished, but I always respected what you did.”

Prometheus blinked. The admission felt earnest, but oddly timed. It slowly dawned on Prometheus that he was right, and Zeus knew it. Chronos and the other Titans were growing stronger, and time was getting shorter. Slowly, so as not to antagonize the twins, Prometheus reached into his pocket, produced the sealed envelope, and handed it to Zeus.

“This is why I escaped.”

Zeus looked at it. On it was written a single word. Hera.

After a moment, the King of the Gods opened the envelope. He read the letter within. Twice. When he looked up at the twins, his eyes were alight with the fire of the sky, the lightning that was his herald and his wrath.

“Leave us. Prometheus and I must speak alone.”

The twins bowed and retreated. Zeus set down the letter, glared at Prometheus for a long moment, and reached across the chess board to reset it. He moved his white king’s pawn forward two squares, gesturing at Prometheus.

“Tell me how this treachery began.”

Prometheus, in spite of the pain, smiled. He moved his queen’s pawn forward.

Newer posts

© 2024 Blue Ink Alchemy

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑