Chapter Twenty - How to Get to The Top

"It's always the quiet ones."

--Final Words of Maxwell Schmidt before an unknown Samurai ended his career, 2038

***

The number of guards only increased after my little show. I was actually starting to grow a little bit worried. I was pretty sure that my armour could tank whatever they had, and given ten whole seconds I could summon up enough munitions to turn the skyscraper we were in into a crater, but that would be... problematic.

So, instead, I half-turned towards Shy, who was next in line for the scanning machine. "Is our Commander still in the building?" I asked.

A few of the guards perked up at that.

She blinked, then looked off into the distance. "He is. But I think he's trying to run?"

"Can you stop him?"

"I can," she said. Then she flipped the hood of her coat up, covering her entire face because it was one of those cool, loose hoods. In a blink, she was gone.

That was some good stealth tech. My meat eye couldn't see her at all, and my cybernetic one only caught some faint shift in the air from where she was. Her tech probably had ECM and something to disperse heat or something.

The guards, predictably, didn't like that very much.

So, I reached over and pulled out my Bullcat and racked the charging handle back with a heavy ker-clunk that echoed through the room.

Crisis Mode behind me scrambled to pull out a pair of little machine pistols from holsters on her sides.

"Okay, everyone," I said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Charades are over. Bring us to your boss."

"We, uh, you're not part of our chain of command," one of the braver ones said.

"Yes I am," I replied. "I'm a Samurai. Crisis Mode here is a Samurai. Shy, who you can't see right now, is a Samurai. All three of us are in your chain of command because we said so. Might makes right and I might not kick your ass to the curb if you start moving."

A lot of hands touched guns, but for each idiot that looked ready to throw down, there were two that looked like they didn't want to die for minimum wage.

"Okay, cool," I said. "So, who wants to lead me to your boss? We're here to chat with the commander, but I'd take a nice conversation with someone who thinks they're in charge as well."

No one stepped up to the plate, so I shrugged. "Myalis? Care to show me where the big offices are around here?"

Certainly.

The amount of willingness I got from her either meant that I'd get there and find the place empty, or I was about to discover some CEO type with his trousers around his ankles.

Either way, Myalis tossed up some directions onto my augs and I shoved past a guard, Crisis Mode following after me. Then the guard followed as well. We had a little procession of ducklings behind us. Well-armed, nervous ducklings, but I think my analogy held.

"I thought we were about to get shot," Crisis Mode said, her voice low enough that I only barely caught it.

"I wasn't sure either," I admitted. "But hey, that new armour of yours is bulletproof, right?"

"To a certain extent," she said. "Some of those bigger rifles... maybe more resistant than proof?"

"Fair," I said. "Think about it this way, if they shot first, we'd be justified to turn the place into a bloodbath. We'd probably come out on top in that kind of situation. If they did win, then they'd have been the ones responsible for killing two samurai while a third was nearby. I've only known Shy for a few days, but I'm pretty sure she likes me enough to do a bit of revenge."

"But they might be paid well enough to try," Crisis Mode said.

"It doesn't matter how well you're paid. You can't spend a credit if you're dead, and merc'ing a samurai in broad daylight, so to speak, isn't a livable offence. If it wasn't Shy it'd be Gomorrah. Those boys back there, half of them look like they're deserters. That's not exactly a badge of bravery, eh?" That last was aimed at the nearest of the group following us.

They'd obviously been listening in by the way a few of them flinched. Not that I'd been keeping my voice down. Being quiet was for when you were ashamed.

"You don't do something that'll guarantee to result in your death unless you're backed into a corner, have a lot to win from it, or are stupid."

"People die for what they believe in all the time," Crisis Mode said.

"That's what I said, stupid," I replied. It was a bit... what was the word, glib? I didn't believe it entirely myself. There were some things I'd die for and not regret it. If the choice was me or Lucy, or even some of the Kittens I liked better than the rest, then yeah, I might, but I'd still think it was stupid.

My speech was half truth and half aimed at reminding the guards that if they pulled something, it would be the last thing they did before an inglorious death.

"No one remembers the names of the morons who kill samurai, but a lot of people remember the idiots that got killed by a samurai for standing in their way," I said.

We made it to an elevator, and I stepped in, then let Crisis Mode past before stretching an arm across the door. "Nope. We're hitting max weight already. Take the next one," I said before nudging the door-closed button. "Which floor, Myalis?" I asked.

Eighty-third. Only a few from the top.

"Of course," I said. "Do we have an idea of where Shy went?"

She has turned on her location beacon. The same one you used when you went hunting with her and a few other Vanguard.

Ah, right. I checked in on that and discovered that Shy was three...four...five floors below, and counting, mostly because we were moving up while she was staying steady.

"So, who are we visiting?"

The person who holds the purse strings.

"Are you going to turn this into a joke about cats and pieces of string?" I asked.

I wasn't going to, but now that you mention it...

Crisis Mode cleared her throat. "Is it... common for samurai to talk to their AI out loud like that?" she asked.

I was happy that I was wearing a helmet, it hid the flush that crawled up my neck. "Y-yeah," I said. "Yeah, all the time. We all do it," I lied.

"Oh. I guess I haven't really spent time with a lot of samurai," she said.

"Well, there's a lot more of us in town, now," I replied. "You'll like Gomorrah. She's hot. Heh."

Crisis Mode stared at me until I was a little uncomfortable.

"It's a pun? Because... she uses fire?"

"Oh."

"Yeah," I replied.

Fuck, and I'd been so cool like, not three minutes ago. The elevator doors dinged open, saving me from more pain.

The first thing I thought when I entered the floor was 'fancy,' the second thought I voiced aloud. "Is this a fucking penthouse?" I asked.

The place was all marble floors and little abstract statues on metal plinths. A large painting that looked like oil on canvas was hanging on the wall opposite the elevators and was lit by its own personal spotlight above.

The space opened up to the sides, two double-doors leading into a wide, long room with a second floor visible above, a glass-railed balcony running along the edge.

There were three men and two women in the centre of the room, sitting on some rather nice looking couches around a hologram table. Along the edges were the usual cohort of people you'd expect to see around the rich. Guards, but in nice suits, a couple of waiters, a few people that looked like accountants, and both pretty women and pretty men. Most of the latter were off by a pool in the next room over, laughing and giggling as they traipsed around and tried to look hot.

One of the guards on the edges was the first to notice.

Credit where it was due, he pulled out a gun right quick and was pointing it at me in a split second. "Down!" he shouted.

No one dove, but the thought was nice.

"No," I said.

One of the men in the middle group stood up, taking his time about it. He adjusted the lapels of his suit, then put on an expensive smile. "Ah, if you don't mind me enquiring, who might you be?"

"Room service," I said.

***