Twinkle toes

January 14th, 2009 by Joel | Posted in Kitch |

Kitch dropped down to the alley, landing soundlessly, and looked back and forth through the shadows.

Drugs had recently come up with a way for Kitch to transmit thoughts via an implanted transponder chip to his deck, where they would show up as written text. Likewise, Drugs could type a message to Kitch and send it directly to Kitch’s brain, providing them with instant, silent communication. The link was under Kitch’s complete control to activate or terminate. It was his brain, after all. He activated the link. Does it work?

The text

of course

flashed through Kitch’s mind. He exhaled a smile and shook his head. Stims or not, he liked Drugs.

how could you ever doubt me?

A thousand apologies, O omniscient techno weenie.

get in the building twinkle toes

i wanna get outta here

Kitch ran quietly to the side door of the warehouse, pulled out a magnetized dummy keycard, and swiped it through the electric key panel, causing it to short out.

Security’s pretty loose out here. Must be internal measures.

watch yer butt

Kitch slid into the warehouse.

There were no lights on in the entire building, which was really one large room, rafters overhead, and a small, brick-walled office in one corner. This was not a problem for Kitch, whose naked eyes would suffice in almost any situation. The problem raised by the darkness was the knowledge that Kitch was not alone in the warehouse.

He ran over the briefing he had received for this run. It had every indication of being against a wealthy zaibatsu, a Japanese business conglomerate. Kitch had known he might end up in a situation like this, and the absence of light confirmed it. Zaibatsu never employed those with augmentations for any position, even security. And the only people who could operate in darkness without augmentation were ninja.

Kuso.

something wrong?

No. Probably ninja around, though. Back on the rooftop, Drugs cringed. Stay alert. Kitch began walking towards the southeast corner of the building where the office stood. Scanning around the massive room, aware of every sound he made, he looked for any heat signatures that could be human. Row upon row of crates crowded the room, effectively cutting off his range of vision.

A high-pitched, almost sonic, ringing hit Kitch’s right ear. He dropped to the floor as two shuriken glazed over his head. He felt his hood shift in response to how close they passed. Why didn’t I see him?

see who? ninja?

Kitch panned the room and spotted the trace heat signature of a body behind a large storage crate. He had initially passed the faint signature off as something coming from within the crate, but that was nearly a fatal mistake. That was too close.

you ok?

No, there’s ninja in here.

#?

Only one so far. Kitch let his vision widen to include as much peripheral movement as possible while keeping his head pointed at the ninja, who had slowly and silently shifted one row to Kitch’s left. Kitch watched a portion of the heat signature detach from the side, rise into the air, and gracefully return to its original position. The ninja had drawn his sword.

Kitch felt a shiver run up his spine. It was a mixture of awe and disbelief. Kitch had never seen a ninja before tonight. Not alive, anyway. He was impressed with the grace and the mythos surrounding the dark figure before him. Regardless of the widespread use of enhancements and upgrades people were paying large sums to have performed on themselves, it was common knowledge that ninja, even a ninja, was nothing to be taken lightly.

What usually drove this point home for most was that ninja never altered their bodies in any way.

Kitch was aware of this. Just as he was aware of the small steps the ninja was taking in his direction. Kitch drew the pistol that was strapped to his thigh through a concealed pocket. There was no safety to push, no cocking mechanism. The pistol’s grip responded solely to the biometrics in Kitch’s palm. It was ready to fire the minute his fingers wrapped around it.

He moved a row to his right, in the opposite direction from the ninja. They both began walking toward one another, three rows apart. Kitch spun a slow circle once as he walked, checking for other ninja. He saw none, which did little to relieve him. He also glanced toward the office in the corner, his true objective. His mind running through short scenarios as fast as it was able, Kitch attempted to figure a way he could finish this run with minimum collateral.