Infab
The Demon Fanatic
CHAPTER I
TILT
“Let’s take it from the top, shall we?”
“Understood, ma’am.”
Holoscreens and consoles across the cabin began to light up, a sweeping flash of color filling the room as the cyborg laying on the table swung her legs off and sat up. As her pink hair swung down to hang in front of her face, she shifted it all aside with a hand as her glowing blue eyes darted between the screens. Most of them were about her. Various diagnostics regarding the numerous cybernetics her body had been outfitted with, each giving read-outs regarding their current functioning states. All were green, for the moment.
“Good morning, Ms. Elspeth Sÿferlin. It is--” spoke disembodied digital voice, before the cyborg interrupted abruptly.
“Jester.” she corrected.
“Ma’am?”
“Call me Jester.”
“Understood, ma’am. Correcting…”
There were only a few seconds of silence, before the disembodied voice began again. “Good morning, Ms. Jester. It is Sunday, June 3rd, 2418. Current position: Ptolemy Starport, Hangar Bay 17. In orbit of the planetoid Fulgrim IV. You currently have sixteen unread messages in your inbox. Shall I play them?”
“Not at the moment.” responded the cyborg, “Give me my complete diagnostic rundown.”
“Understood. Preparing report.”
There were another few seconds of silence. Then, the digital voice began to read off the data that had been gathered on the screens before. She did this every morning, making sure that her cybernetics were working in perfect harmony with what organic bits were left inside.
Once the voice went quiet, Jester spoke again. “Status of organic matter?”
Jester already knew the answer, but asking had become routine. “Organic matter functioning at insufficient levels. Cerebral damage extensive. Please seek medical assistance as soon as possible, in order to minimize further damage.”
“Of course.” responded the cyborg, a smile appearing on her face. She had already sought medical assistance quite a long time ago. Now she was doing things her way.
She slid off the dark gray table, her bare metal feet clacking against the textured steel floor. The data on the holoscreens vanished, replaced with a dull empty blue. The consoles remained lit, and even brightened a bit as Jester approached one. A lone holoscreen floated above it, its projector flickering slightly.
“Scan the unread messages in my inbox. Delete any junk messages you come across.” she said aloud, brushing her hair out of her face again before most of it into a ponytail at the back of her head. Her eyes darted about the empty screen, as she waited for the messages to begin playing. Slower than the last one. Might need to clean out some code at some point.
Soon, a window opened up on the holoscreen. “There are four messages remaining after the scan. The first is from Kanad trader Nurskada Vor’Trasn, regarding a high-end cybernetic left arm you ordered. The second is from a Trindrel collector, Siam Prina. She’s requesting an update on those gemstones that you promised to obtain for her. The third is from an El’uth mercenary, named Petteri Ko’tka. He wants his rifle back that you stole. The final message is from Mr. Clais Grave. He has a job offer for you, if you’re interested.”
Jester listened as the voice listed off each of the messages, before finally giving a reply. “Respond to Nurskada, and let him know that I’ll swing by soon to pick up my order. Respond to Siam, and tell her that I am still working on procuring the gemstones. This takes time, and I doubt she wants me to bring back any of poor quality.”
She then smirked, before continuing. “Respond to Petteri Ko’tka. Response is ‘I’m putting it to better use than you did, sweetie.’ As for Mr. Grave, play his message on the screen before me.” she said, folding her arms as she watched the window on the holoscreen.
The window quickly changed, switching to a wide view of a man sitting in a comfortable leather chair. He was finely dressed, wearing what appeared to be an Upyri-styled formal suit complete with a thin, strip-like tie that was tucked beneath the shirt. In hand, a ball glass filled with an almost clear amber liquid. Likely scotch. There was another figure in the frame as well, standing behind him with their arms crossed. Hands held together just at their waist. A bodyguard.
“Thank you for accepting my message. Allow me first to introduce myself. I am Clais Grave, chief operations officer of Celtech Enterprises. I’m sure you’ve heard of us, or at least seen some of our products out in the field.” began the seated man, eyes gazing into the camera.
Jester had seen plenty of their work. Bio-augmentations were becoming just as popular as cybernetics when it came to replacing and improving bodily functions. Celtech was one of the top manufacturers of such augmentations in the Federation, and was pretty well known outside the Upyri territories as well. Some of their products were starting to trickle into the human market, as well as others across the southern quadrant.
She continued to watch, as Clais took a drink from his glass and continued. “If you’re wondering as to why I’ve chosen to contact someone like you, you were suggested to me by a few… disenfranchised friends of mine. I have a particularly nasty thorn in my side, and I feel you’re one of two perfect tools to remove it.” he stated.
Disenfranchised. She rolled her eyes, a smirk appearing on her face. Upyri separatists. Enemies of the state, when it came to the Upyri Federation, as they were formerly members of the Imperial government that preceded it. But then again, so was she. She just changed sides when the time came. However, the things she did later sort of forced her to flee the Federation, or risk being arrested and executed. She was fairly sure her rap sheet was quite long by now, with things like terrorism and mass murder at the very top. She thought for a moment, briefly wondering who the other choice was for the job, before continuing to listen.
“The job: the elimination of a target, and the deletion of data said target has on their person. You may eliminate the target any way you see fit. Your reward for completion of the job is twenty-five million credits.”
Jester’s eyebrow arched, cocking up quickly as she heard the cash total. Quite a lot to kill one person. They must have dirt on him or the company. Perhaps a disgruntled former employee? Could range from one of the workers who dug a bit too deep or heard some things, or an executive let go on bad terms. It could also be a reporter, or even a member of a rival company. Hell, even a politician. Either way, it didn’t matter to her. It was good money, and with hopefully no strings attached.
“If you’re interested, respond to this message. My secretary will send you the details, and what I’ll need as proof that the job has been done. Thank you for your consideration.”
Simple enough. She grinned. “Reply to Mr. Grave, and let him know I accept.”
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