The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Chapter Eleven



Simone programmed in a route to the Old City and then closed her eyes. She knew how long the journey there was, having been there on two occasions. Both times there had been deaths and so her reputation was sullied with the WildRiders.



She slept well, as ever; while the battered old black cab took her out of the city and into the badlands and the windstorms that had killed many.



She smiled as she slept; she had plans and, each involved Rueben Shield and her hands. These thoughts kept her smiling as her journey continued… And…



The wind and the rain hardly caused any turbulence and Simone continued to sleep as the vehicle passed through two mountainous regions, through a valley known as Thor’s Throat and then back into the badlands.



She woke finally as her car began it’s pre-programmed descent, behind a rocky enclave, the top of which overlooked The WildRiders camp, situated just before the open maw in the earth that led to Old City.



Opening the door Simone stepped out into the wind and the rain and made her way to the boot which she opened. Moving equipment and provisions aside Simone grinned when she found what she sought, a Dreadnought.



It was the name given to a long-barrelled blaster, by the squad who had carried it and others from the same batch into battle, in the war that had claimed so many.



The rifle had belonged to Jason Tolliver and now, she intended using it, to avenge his death. She took it in her arms as if it were a child and then swung it round by its strap, which she drew over her body, resting down her back.



Then a tracker in hand, she followed its direction to town.



What Simone had not expected though was the quiet she found.



She walked down the quiet main street, the only noise being the sound of the rain hitting the town’s plasteen sheeting roofing.



Vehicles scattered the small road and brightly dressed young people lay about, their limbs contorted in death, their sightless eyes bleeding as if from tears, staring at Simone as she passed them.

And, a viewer saw and heard the detective, as she strode by... Watching, as…



Abruptly she stopped and turned; then as the rain lashed down she peered at the nearby youth, whose skin was covered in weeping pustules all over, bar his neck.



A button depressed on the utility-belt created a shield over Simone’s head, as she knelt to look at the body, running gloved fingers over his neck, where she felt a chip embedded: ‘A muse-chip?’ Simone wondered,



She rose and continued to walk, through the town and toward the entrance to the Old City, feeling no remorse for those she had passed by, who had died such a gruesome death: ‘After all,’ she reasoned in justification, ‘they worked for The Man… and The Man killed them, I think…’



Simone was puzzled by what she had found and, her trigger finger twitched…

Chapter Ten



Simone had smiled at the question: it was history and, she liked history.



Its inventor had been Richard Trainer, his body old in a world of the young, for the young. He could have opted for rejuvenation, as the majority had; instead he had taken an extension, to see an end to the projects he had started.



The chip had quickly grown in popularity with the young, which the owner wore beneath their skin, located behind the left ear.



This chip connected the wearer to the whole and, all other users, while providing music to the wearers taste. These chip-users considered the few who did not use them Deadheads, while these same individuals considered the museheads as deadheads, as they found it hard to socialise and communicate away from other museheads.



All of that had been back then…



“Like many of the newer technologies of the twenty-first century the muse-chip had at it’s core, a mineral only found in China; and when the mineral was gone, so were the technologies that had depended on it.



And then fifty years earlier, Rueben Shield acquired a mine on Mars, from Simone’s guardian Jason Tolliver.



So it was he had amassed a small fortune thanks to his find of a particular mineral, previously thought to be found in China. But, that had not been enough for Shield.



He wanted power, over muse-users.



To do as he wanted he needed the muse-chip, redesigned to suit his needs.



So, a shipment of them had been acquired by Brood Mercs, then sold onto the WildRiders,” Finally Amos had finished.



‘And even now, the WildRiders partied as Jason Tolliver lay on a slab…” Simone was incensed: ‘A man wanted power and, a good man had died.’



“Lawkeeper or not, there’ll be my own sweet taste of justice, to a certain someone,” she muttered, her eyes steely. Simone was ready for a firefight.

Chapter Nine



Having spent hours in the company of Amos Williston and his two young interns, Simone had learnt what she wanted, eventually.



She had spent hours with the adoring Karla; then as she dressed with wide eyes following every move the door to the guest bedroom had hissed open.



“Well well, how is my little girl?” The fellow had asked in a loud jovial voice, as he clapped his hands, floating into the room.



Karla had sat up immediately, in wide-eyed panic.



Amos had hardly glanced to her as he informed Karla, “I mean Little Simone, as she well knows… I’m sure…”



It had been years earlier, but she recalled.





“You wanted to understand the connection between Shield and The WildRiders…” He had asked, the smile having left his face.



“Yes,” Simone had answered, as she finished dressing, aware of the young man from earlier peering round the half open door.



A smirk passed across Williston’s face as he noticed the youth, reflected in smoked glass cabinet doors.



“Do forgive him, he’s just curious about the woman who has stolen his sister’s heart,” he explained.



“Consider him forgiven,” Simone had responded, “Now can I have an answer?”



“Well you know of the muse-chip?” He asked; left eyebrow arched.



Simone had smiled at the question.

Chapter Eight



Amos Williston, of the Williston Corporation was a man who favoured a green waistcoat beneath an ochre jacket, that he wore over tight black corduroy pants, that he wore with ornately tooled black cowboy boots, that sported gold finish on the toes and heels; real gold.



Simone’s mentor, Jason Tolliver, had described him at one bulky and chuckled. The two men had history. He had scant greasy hair at the sides, but otherwise a bald head.



But he knew of Rueben Shield, the self-made billionaire, who Simone also knew of through Jason Tolliver; the same man who brought her up, who had maintained till his dying day that Shield had stolen his claim on the darkside of the Red Planet, nearly fifty years earlier, when he’d been mining for diamonds.



As she gazed around the mans opulent office, the detective couldn’t help but think of how ‘Father’ would have thought of this meeting with distain, yet it had to be…

At the far side of the long room two tall doors opened inward, help by two teens in leather harness and brief’s. One teen was a male, the other female and quite obviously twins, with their blonde hair, blue eyes and cherubic features.



But they would be legal, of the Simone was sure. Amos Williston had made hi money through selling and buying and, he rarely made mistakes.



Yet, he had once and now he owed Simone. Now she was he to collect...

Chapter Seven



The rain had begun to fall again as Simone left the Protectorate Building, her collar pulled up. Her mind had been decided and she knew what she had to do, who she had to take down, the head of those who had killed her ‘Father’.



Locating her own vehicle from the many others on the level two car park Simone looked all about before she opened the drivers door, by uttering His name, “Jason Tolliver.” Knowing what she’s learned, the detective was being cautious.



After the last of The Corporate Wars, The Shield Corporation had been one of the few that had returned a dividend for their stakeholders. It was said that Rueben Shield was rumoured to have the biggest private army and the best network of Brood spies this side of the Antares colony that credits could buy; and here she was, taking him on.



‘But there’s someone who could help,’ Simone mused, starting the engine manually. Then, powering the gravdrive she began to gear the battered black cab into the air and toward the only other building that rivalled the Protectorate Building for size and splendour, SinDee Towers. She had a sleaze-ball to visit...

Chapter Six



Simone watched the door close on interview room two: she knew Of Rueben Shield, a self-proclaimed, self-made billionaire, who made his money through frakking on the Red Planet, nearly fifty years earlier.



‘Now he has WildRiders working for him?’ She mused, as she made her way back down the corridor leading the Great Hall, aware of the cameras on her every move.



“And, Tollivers death was down to a chip!?!” She exclaimed aloud, then stood still and centred herself, before deciding that upon her next course of action.



“O’Rourke?” Simone called out.



“Yes Missy,” She heard clearly, from one of several speakers located throughout the passageway, “What can I do you for?”



“I need a cleanup in Interview Two…” She informed the desk sergeant.



“You been a bit too persuasive again Detective Knight, First-Class?” He queried.



“Moi?” Simone retorted, looking upward, to where a halo did not sit.



Laughter filled the corridor, as the older man watched Simone on one of several screens on his desk.



“Detective… You are my angel…” he muttered, having turned off the speaker.

Chapter Five



Amidst the sterile white room the two looked at one another across the table, Simone with expectation, Euro with fear.



If he supplied the detective with all the information she demanded of him, then Euro had little to bargain with, for his freedom, so depended on her to do as intimated.



Yet, if he was not forthcoming with the information sought then there was a distinct chance that he might suffer a fate worse than death, literally.



And, that Euro did not want.



He stared into Simone’s eyes of blue-grey, her puce coloured-lips pursed tightly, as she returned his gaze. It was evident that one of the two would blink first, he did.



“The boss does have a name,” he said with a quaver to his voice.



“And?” Simone prompted, the barrel of her weapon under the table directed at the WildRiders groin.



“Rueben Shield…” he muttered, a millisecond before Simone pulled the trigger, not once, but seven times, until she had discharged her piece…



“Well then, you wanted freedom, you have it now…” Simone told the WildRiders bloody corpse, as she stood and holstered her weapon.

Chapter Four



A second globe of nanites had eaten at the remainder of the cube and soon Euro stood free, then fell to his knees, as muscles unaccustomed to working found they had to.



Simone strode forward and slid her right hand under the man’s left armpit and hoisted him up and into one of the two seats, she sat in the other.



Languorously, Simone brought her arms up, elbows on the table, hands clasped, thumbs crossed, forefingers forming a steeple, the tips of which she rested her chin upon: “Now Euro, remember this, in the records you’re listed as cargo and, sometimes cargo goes missing, doesn’t it?”



The threat was hardly veiled and the colourfully dressed WildRider gulped. Euro hated violence, especially when it happened to him.



“What can Euro tell LadyCop, to ride free?” he entreated, a whine in his voice.



Simone smiled mirthlessly, “A cargo did go missing and, a friend got killed. Now… the Brood won’t talk, not even under the threat of dismemberment…”



As Brood herself, Simone knew that to be true.



“But, while they might live long enough to see a few days after their sentence is passed, you’re going to be no more than a body in deepfreeze, without a consciousness, if you don’t tell me what I want to know, WildRider…”

Again Euro gulped and he shook with fear, something that the ever vigilant detective did not miss.



“LadyCop, I want to ride free. You tell me I can ride, I tell you of the cargo the Brood acquired for my boss…” Euro pleaded, tears filling his eyes.



“Hmmm, you’d have to ride away from the city and all that you know, if you want to live, that is…” Simone exclaimed to Euro, patiently; making the man aware that there was an offer on the table, if he chose to take it. Euro snatched…



“My boss, he wanted this new chip, a ‘muse-chip’ they’re calling the Beta version and… no-one should have been hurt…” He explained, each word flowing into the other…



Unbeknown to him, Simone’s fingers toyed with the butt of her pistol, beneath the table, with fingers that turned tense at the mention of someone being hurt. That someone had saved her; he had brought her up; then finally introduced a young Brood child to the human world, prepared to accept all the challenges thrown her way.



“Your boss, does he have a name?” Simone asked, each word frozen and, almost bitten off…

Chapter Three



Immobilised within the opaque block, Euro was more than a little frightened. If he did not answer to suit, he’d be placed back in storage, until someone decided to release him; or perhaps dispose of the rough cube that had formed round him.



Yet, if he was too forthcoming with information, there would be consequences to pay, of that he was sure: ‘But what does it matter?” he mused.



The lack of movement and choice had led Euro to become more and more frustrated.



The WildRider tried to scream, he could not. Having been transported from Evidence to Interview Two, the WildRider tried to scream, but was unable to…



He held inside an opaque block, in a room with just three items of furniture, all were white like the rest of the room. The only pieces of furniture in the room were a small table and two chairs, facing one another across it.



Both the table and chairs were bolted to the floor, as fixed as he was.



Suddenly Euro heard the hiss of the door to the small sterile room open and his panic heightened. The door closed, then he heard heels tip-tapping to his left.



Euro wanted to turn his body, his head and eyes; if he could.



Yet he could not: and what was worse was the thought that this might be how he’d be serving any sentence meted his way.



“Was that WildRider?” He heard a woman ask of herself.

“Or was that TameRider?” She added, talking to herself, as though deep in thought.



Then Simone began to chuckle, as she walked to the side of the block and Euro cursed the world, the gods and everything, everyone, but himself…



She walked round further round till she stood looking into her perps eyes still wide-open, frozen in place; and Euro wanted to scream...



He looked to the woman in front of him, recalling the warehouse where he’d seen her before and he and the Brood had been found and bound.



A very tall woman stood before him. She wore a long grey smock coat, over a short jacket, trousers and boots.



She had broad shoulders, defined cheek-bones and piercing flint grey and blue and green eyes, her white hair cut close to the scalp, puce lipstick a slash of colour on an otherwise very pale face.



She flourished a pass that proclaimed lawgiver status, declaring: “I’m Simone Knight, Detective First Class…”



Euro wanted to cry out ‘who cares, I want out of here’ but, he could not. Instead he had to listen as Simone continued to talk, almost conversationally.



“Well, it’s nice to have someone listen to me, for a change. Those two Brood associates of yours said a lot, but nothing…” she laughed mirthlessly: “Now they’re on the way back to storage, waving their little arms about, hoping that someone might not leave ‘em half an half, for the rest of their sentence, which I think will be a one hundred years, or so… Now, do your people live as long as Brood I wonder? Will you want to talk to me? Well, I guess I’ll find our soon.”



Simone stepped back from the cube, a smile playing on her lips; “We’re going to see if you’re ready to talk…” she mused aloud, reaching into a pouch on her utility-belt, with her right hand. Then with her eyes fixed on Euro, the detective took several paces back and withdrew a small cylinder like that used earlier





The detective stepped back a few paces, then threw a small sphere underarm at the cube, so that it hit the cube, releasing its contents.



And, the nanites did their job as programmed, eating at the ‘material’ around ‘the customer’ until they reached his waist; and then they died.



Finally Euro was left with his midsection downward still encased. He was red-faced with anger and yet knew to behave, lest the detective left him like this…



Simone looked on, her arms crossed, “Now you better take some breaths, then talk to me. I’m missing my coffee-fix, to be here, so I’m not best pleased…”



Euro did as suggested, taking several lungfuls of air, then he glared at the woman.



“Now you can either talk to me… Or…?” Simone began, withdrawing another small silver sphere from a pouch on her belt, another FreezeGlobe.



Gasping for air, Euro gesticulated wildly, screaming; “No, no, no LadyCop. WildRider he speak to Law, as Law wants… Alright? No freeze WildRider Euro…”



“Yep,” Simone mused aloud, “Tamed WildRider.”