*vroom*

Miles of concrete fly by.  Rubber grips the surface.  Scalp tight in the howling wind.  Fuel powered freedom.  Tons of steel.  Roar of the engine.  Hurtling down the open road.

Reminds of the autobahn.  No limits.  Only asphalt as endless as the sky.

…

*HONK*

“HESSIANS DON’T PAY TOLLS!”

Sigh.

I wish.

Would be a hell of a lot better than going zero miles an hour on dusty dirty cracked streets baking in the sun with kids pointing guns at me.  One of them is even in the back of a patchwork truck pointing a mounted heavy caliber looking machine gun my way.

The road has gotten busier as we’ve headed deeper into the slums.  Mostly cargo or passenger vehicles.  Trucks, vans, buses.  Only a few “personal” vehicles like cars or bikes.  And none of them look “new.”  Cobbled together rusty messes of sloppy repairs and junkyard parts.

Buildings are in better shape too.  Fewer collapsed ones.  Lots and lots of trash though.  More people, more trash I guess.

And no cops.  Or garbage trucks.  The street gangs appear to be in charge.  Even seen punk looking kids working on power lines.  Mohawks and high voltage.

At least the further in you go, the less garbage is piled up in the streets.  Though some blocks look more like landfills than neighborhoods.  Smell more like them too.

Thing about no central city services or control?  Its like crossing international borders every few blocks.  Some of these ganglands are cleaner.  Some dirtier.  Some care more.  Some less.

Eyes almost popped out of their sockets when we passed a couple of blocks of recently washed and painted buildings.  Instead of the dreary filthy greys, browns, reds, and yellows, everywhere else.

Another thing?  No highways.  Not even the ruins of them.  Everything is side streets.  And the roads ain’t free.  Every few blocks traffic comes to a halt for the next crew demanding a fee to use “their” streets.

So speeds are low and we spend as much time going zero miles an hour as actually moving.

And of course tolls aren’t posted or regulated.  How much the gangers try to charge depends on how rich you look.  And a semi-armored vehicle full of mercs?

Looks pretty damn rich to those who look like they haven’t had a proper meal, or bath, in god knows when.

Gangs?  Ha!  More like insurgents or militia than the street gangs I recall.  Poorly dressed.  Poorly armed.  Poorly lead.

With the halting traffic, more crowded streets, and locals waving guns around while screaming?  Place reminds me more of Baghdad than Brooklyn.

Nope, too many guns.  Cleveland then?  Yeah, definitely Cleveland.

[Hehe.]

Naturally our calm even keeled leader is navigating local politics and traffic regulations with practiced ease.

“HOW ABOUT I PAY IN BULLETS!  YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

By screaming louder than the drooling toll collectors.

Tuedi, the merc princess with anger management issues and foghorn lungs, doesn’t hesitate to spring out of our hummer looking ride and get in their faces.  Showing off how well armed, and armored, she is.

Its pretty fucking intimidating and makes our frequent stops short, if loud.

“Cash or ass!  That’s the rule, mercenary!”

“ASS?!  I’LL BITE OFF YOUR DICK AND SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT!  THAT’S MY RULE!”

World peace, any day now.

The rest of us sit in the truck and keep our guns pointed, casually like, at the idiots pointing guns at us.  Morons who think its more intimidating to stand out in the open.

This particular toll booth consists of a block of concrete on wheels, a couple windowless cars on the sides to funnel traffic, and the aforementioned machine gun truck to establish authority.

Couple dozen gang kids loiter about.  Flanking our ride.  Pathetic mix of rifles, pistols, and shotguns only equips about half of them.  Rest only have pipes, knives, etc...

*squeeze*  *smooch*

Well, three of the four of us are ready to fire back.

The fourth, Sally, miss exploited teen of the month club, started our drive between me and Frankie.  Dressed in overalls and little else.  She moved to my lap within a few blocks and has been rubbing her hands all over me ever since.

Her eyes are melting and intense at the same time.  Keeps mumbling “free” while her hands find way too many ways to get under my body armor.

Guess she’s still suffering aftershocks from being suddenly freed from that evil imp’s control.

Not quite sure what to make of things myself.  From what I’ve seen, and what Nina and Frankie have said, this world does not have “magic” per se.  But still has supernatural powers on top of the high tech, low life, cyberpunk shit.

Sort of sounds like one of those chinese cultivation stories but the actual superpowers seem to be psychic.  At least, so far they do.  Johnny definitely had some sort of mind control ability.  Though maybe mind influencing would be a more accurate way to put it.

But why did it only work on women?  Or, maybe women were all he was interested in using it on?  Fucking scary that even priest-wife, my most loyal woman, wasn’t immune.

Back in medieval land my ocean of mana was a good defense against mind and soul influencing magic.  Most spells would just drown in it.

Without it, do I have any defenses here?  Will that “technomancy” Frankie mentioned do that?

Look to Frankie for support in dealing with Sally getting too turned on but she’s got lovey dovey eyes too.  Keeps stealing glances at me without even a shred of jealousy.

Strange how accepting of this she’s always been.

(Nina?)

[Yes Jon?]

(What do you know of technom-)

*spang*

Frankie’s head lurches to the side as a bullet slams into it.

*BOOM*

Without realizing I’ve done it, one of my 12.5mm pistols is in my right hand.  And the ganger that shot her’s head has exploded like a watermelon.  The shot I took deafeningly loud in the cramped cab.

“BASTARDS!”

“No!”

*dakka* *bang* *prrrkow* *boom* *pow*

The panicking and confused gang members open up on our jeep.  And we return fire.

I’ve pulled out both of my pistols and I’m unloading rounds out the open right and left windows.  Sally is still on my lap but her hands are holding my rifle, instead of my gun, now and emptying the magazine into the dumbfucks who thought it was a good idea to stand out in the open.

Merc princess’s dad is behind the wheel.  Firing his rifle one handed and punching the gas.  While the lady herself first put bullets into the surprised boss in front of her.  Then donates lead to the diet of the confused moron manning the machine gun.

*doon doon doon doon*

In the seconds it takes papa merc to ram through the roadblock.  Daughter merc is already using the heavy machine gun to rip through any gangers trying to use anything but an entire building for cover.

“Get in!”

Showing impressive moves, Tuedi leaps from the ganger truck and lands in our short cargo bed.

*dakka dakka*

Both her and Frankie, who is still alive thank god and sitting back up, are holding down their triggers on anyone even looking at us crosswise.

Daddy merc puts the pedal to the metal.  Leaving one ruined roadblock, several burning vehicles, and a couple dozen corpses, in the rear view mirror.

*wam* *bam*

Our armored truck smashes aside a couple more vehicles as we speed down the block.  Fortunately gunfire has a “crowd dispersal” AOE in this world too.  Traffic and pedestrians scatter.

“Sally!  Check Frankie!”

Overalls drops my rifle and scrambles across the back seat to my up but clearly hurting priest-wife.

“I’m okay!  Those fucks!”

She’s one very mad harem member right now.

*vroom* *screech*

Papa merc’s driving skills are put to the test as we zoom down cramped streets and barely avoids flipping us on a couple of too tight turns.

*hoooonk*

Within a few minutes, and a few more turns, we blow through another border.  This one is on a side, side, street and the couple of gangers here don’t even try to stop us.

Armored vehicles barreling at you can have that “get the fuck out of the way” effect on people.

*screeech*

Another block, another corner, and Terek locks up the breaks.

The instant the vehicle stops I’m out the door and sprinting around the truck.  Tuedi has leaped off the back of the jeep and already has the door open.  Medkit in hand.  Sally’s helping her lift a slumping Frankie out and laying her down flat on the sidewalk.

Civies wisely choosing again to make themselves scarce.

Not giving the slightest fuck about who’s watching, both of my hands feel hot as I gently slide her helmet off.

“Wha?” “Eh?”

Both Sally and Tuedi look, well, flabbergasted as I put my hands on the blood spurting out the right side of Frankie’s temple.  It takes only seconds for the squirts to first change to a trickle, and then stop completely.

The color pink begins returning to her skin and her glazed eyes start getting life back in them.

[Warning…  Reserves have fallen to twenty-five percent.  Recommend resupply as soon as possible.]

Damn, girl.  You cost me a lot there.  But its a price I’ll gladly pay again.

Frankie’s eyes focus on me.

“Ma-master?”

On my knees now and cradling her upper half in my arms.  My eyes feel moist.  Must have gotten some dust in them.

“Naughty girl.”  Brush hair out of her eyes.  “Were you trying to leave me.”

She slowly shakes her head as tears fall out of her eyes.

“Never, master.”  A shaky hand caresses my cheek.  “No matter where.  No matter how.  No matter what.  We’ll never leave you.  Even if only our spirits can touch.  It is enough, for us.”

“That’s not enough for me.  Stay.  Please.”

The face I know and don’t know displays ecstasy, rapture, profound joy.

“Of course, master.”  She leans her head against me.  “Forgive me master but I feel weak.  Could you, possibly... carry me?”

A slow kiss with only a little tongue.

“As you wish.”

Pick up Frankie in a princess carry and get in the right rear passenger seat.  Can tell both girls really want to ask what happened but both keep their mouths shut.

“She going to make it?”  Papa merc asks.

“Yeah, we are.”

He gives me a confused look for a moment before he notices his daughter slightly shaking her head.  Shrugging his shoulders, he puts our armored carriage into gear and pulls back into the street.

We drive deeper into the slums.