Finishing with them, I headed straight for the open door and immediately spotted the kitchen. Inside, a man covered head to toe in tattoos, with metallic lines running down his spine, was beating a woman. Her face was swollen and bruised.
My metal footsteps were loud enough for him to hear. He turned to face me.
Name: Samuel Swick (Alias: Rex)
Age: 35
Employment: None
Criminal Record: Robbery, murder, assault, drug trafficking, extortion, illegal arms dealing
Marital Status: Single
Recommendation: Apprehend under all circumstances lethal measures authorized.
This one was much worse than his useless lackeys. His arms were fitted with retractable Mantis Blades, and his rap sheet was extensive.
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"Fucking useless morons. Gotta do everything myself." He cracked his neck to the left, then to the right. "Don't worry, bitch, I'll deal with him real quick and get right back to you."
He stepped toward me.
"Samuel Swick, surrender and get on the ground with your hands behind your back," I said, deliberately using the monotone voice of a machine.
"Make me," he sneered, activating his Mantis Blade. The blade shot out from his forearm with a mechanical hiss as he lunged straight for my chest.
I stepped left, letting him pass, then delivered a swift punch to his gut. The force of the blow sent him flying back into the kitchen, where he slammed against the wall.
"Khkkhh… fucking hell," he coughed, clutching his stomach. Blood dribbled from his lips. His eyes flashed with rage, and despite his injuries, he rushed me again.
His blades slashed wildly, aiming to cut me apart. He managed to scratch me a few times.
Then I saw my opening. A powerful uppercut sent his head crashing into the ceiling. His eyes rolled back, and his body crumpled to the floor.
The system still marked him as a lethal threat. Considering his crimes and what I had just witnessed, I decided he wouldn't be leaving this apartment alive.
Grabbing him by the skull, I dragged him outside. My other hand clamped down on his chin. With a sharp twist, I snapped his neck.
A sickening crunch echoed through the hallway. His body twitched briefly before going still.
The system marked him as eliminated and logged him as deceased.
"What am I gonna do… They'll kill me," a weak, trembling voice came from inside the apartment.
I turned.
Name: Catherine Wright
Age: 32
Employment: Heywood Clinic
Position: Nurse
Criminal Record: Fraud
Marital Status: Divorced, two children
Recommendation: Do not engage.
Maybe my actions had been rash. Maybe I had been too quick to escalate. But they had attacked me first.
"Calm down. They won't bother you anymore," I said.
She started sobbing harder.
"They're from the Sixth Street gang. I'm as good as dead," she whispered between tears.
Instantly, my database pulled up information on Sixth Street.
Sixth Street a militarized gang composed of veterans from the Fourth Corporate War, recent conflicts, retired military personnel, former corporate security operatives, and civilians with combat training. They dominate Arroyo, Rancho Coronado, Santo Domingo, The Glen, Vista del Rey, Heywood, as well as Charter Hill and Westbrook.
"Why were they after you?" I asked.
She scoffed. "As if you ever gave a damn about people like us."
"You can reach out for help anytime. The police will assist you," I replied.
"Hah! That's a joke. I'd be better off hanging myself than waiting for cops to do anything. And what do you want from me, robot?"
"I'm not a robot. Matthew Carrington, NCPD officer. If you need help, you can contact me," I said.
I turned to leave, not wanting to linger any longer but then I stopped.
What should I do with the body?
"Ma'am, what should I do with him?" I asked, genuinely unsure of the proper procedure in this situation.
"You're the cop. Why are you asking me? Just toss him out onto the street. The Scavs will deal with it by morning," she said flatly.
I looked at the body with uncertainty. Still, I decided to contact the police. There had to be a special channel for officers. After searching, I found the right one and connected. A few moments later, a voice came through.
"Dispatcher here."
"This is Officer Matthew Carrington. I have a dead criminal and a couple of unconscious ones. What are the next steps?" I asked.
"Send over the criminals' data," came the reply.
How do I send a report? Ah, there attaching his personal data, I sent the information.
"Received. Stand by for response teams. They'll take care of it," the voice cut off.
With that settled, I lifted the dead gang member's body, grabbed one of the unconscious ones, and started heading downstairs. The moment people saw me carrying bodies on my shoulders, they quickly moved aside, clearing my way.
Stepping outside, I dumped the bodies on the ground and waited.
I didn't have to wait long. Soon, a police vehicle pulled up, and two officers stepped out.
"So, rookie, giving us more work? Let's see… petty thugs, nothing special. And this on well, he's not getting back up," one of them, Derek, said.
"Alright, let's not waste time. Send us the incident footage, and you're free to go," his partner, Sam, added.
Footage? I hesitated, scanning my interface. After a moment, I found the logs containing my visor recordings and sent them over.
"Hah, just another couple of tough guys thinking they could take on the city. Good job if we let stuff like this slide, people will stop being afraid of us," Derek commented.
"Alright, see you around," Sam said.
They quickly loaded the two unconscious criminals into the backseat and drove off. Almost immediately after, a black van with a morgue insignia pulled up.
There was no need to ask what they were here for. Without saying a word, they swiftly lifted the corpse and shoved it inside. I didn't need to check their credentials I knew exactly who they were.
Finally free from the unexpected workload, I resumed where I had left off.
I had to climb back up to the floor where the fight had happened. Blood splatters still stained the floor. The woman's apartment remained open, so I decided to check on her.
Stepping inside, I froze.
She was hanging from a rope, her neck squeezed tight. The system indicated she was still alive.
Rushing to her, I tore the noose off. Her face was swollen and darkened from lack of oxygen. Her heart had stopped, but her brain was still active.
I couldn't perform artificial respiration only chest compressions.
Checking my inventory, I found something useful an Emergency Resuscitation Kit. Opening a small compartment on my back, I pulled out a few injectors. Information popped up immediately.
Trauma I – Application: Injection. Temporarily accelerates the body's natural wound healing. Side effects: Weakness, decreased reaction time, loss of appetite.
Grabbing one, I injected it into her arm. The device automatically administered the drug.
For better efficiency, I placed my hands over her chest and pressed firmly, continuing CPR. Slowly, her breathing returned. She coughed violently, gasping for air.
Her dull eyes focused on me.
"Can't even die in peace, huh?" she muttered bitterly as tears streamed down her face.
"You shouldn't make rash decisions. Death won't change anything. But as long as you're alive, you still have a chance especially for your children," I said.
"My kids… they're all I have. I lived for them, but I'm so tired. Every day, working myself to the bone for nothing, for a pathetic salary. I had no choice but to borrow from them. And they'll come back to collect. It's better to die on my own terms than suffer through their torture," Catherine sobbed.
"Then try to live for them again. Think of what will happen to them without you," I replied, hoping to anchor her back to life.
"What's the point? I don't want anything anymore," she whispered, standing up and heading toward the bathroom.
"You're not just a borg, are you? They wouldn't care about emotions," she said before closing the door behind her.
The sound of running water filled the silence.
I stood there for a moment, realizing that I couldn't save her forever. If she truly wanted to die, there was nothing I could do to stop her.
When I had carried Rex's body, I had taken a shiny chain from his neck. I left it on the table and stepped out of the room, heading to find my apartment.
After passing a few floors, I finally located it.
Pressing my personal port against the interface, the door unlocked. Stepping inside, I found that, compared to the rest of the building, it was in much better condition.
A single bed, a small table against the wall, dim automatic lighting, and a wide window overlooking Heywood.
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