Peter Liu - Bald New World

“Be careful where you fire!” Russ shouted. “Those things are worth a million SC each!”

“You should get out of here, sir,” the butler told Russ.

“I need him alive,” Russ reminded him, then bolted for the exit.

I thought of using a light bomb, but I’d seen his glasses and they would most likely protect him against that kind of measure. The room was slowly spinning. The music and sound effects from the arcade games made it difficult to extrapolate his location. My leg was throbbing and even kneeling against the booth made it sting. I peeked over to the side and did not see him. I knew he wouldn’t aim for the head and this armor would hold against most shots which gave me a bit of an advantage. At the same time, my only option was to paralyze him in the face as that was the only area he had no protection, making things infinitely more challenging.

I swerved around a booth that read Golden Axe on the side, heard a gunshot, only to see it was from a game called The Terminator . For a moment, the screen turned black and I saw the reflection of the butler. I ducked quickly and a bullet blasted off the joystick. I turned around to fire, but he was gone. I sprinted for the outer circle and looked inwards. I saw Beauvoir and the other male, but the butler wasn’t there. Was he hiding? Was he kneeling in wait? Was he getting closer or was he just stalking me until I fell right into his hands?

The arcade games looked like cartoons and were limited in motion, being stuck on a flat plane. I was stuck with only my two eyes and they weren’t seeing anything. I had an idea. I placed my Pinlighter on top of one of the arcade machines and pointed it towards the middle. Then I took out the lens I’d gotten earlier, hooked the feed from the camera into the lens, and positioned it onto both my eyes. I’d gained another line of sight as a small visual screen popped up in the upper left corner of my view.

I dashed towards the middle of the room, hopeful that my motion would elicit a response. There was movement in the corner. Before I could respond, there were two loud blasts. One bullet barely missed my body and the other blew up the arcade booth next to me. I ducked under a stall, the woman and the guy cowering behind Bad Dudes .

I checked the Pinlighter feed. The butler was creeping up on me a row away. I got ready for him to get closer. When he was in proximity, I’d jump out and shoot him in his neck. I couldn’t hear his steps as the games were making their bubbly sounds and their simulated MIDI tracks were too loud. I had to trust the camera. Half a minute later, the butler was right where I needed him and I rushed to the side, hoping to catch him off guard. But as I thrust forward, the pain in my legs caused me to buckle, and when I fired, the bullet was far left. The butler wasn’t bothered by the shot and launched straight at me with a kick to my chest. It hit me right between the ribs and my breath heaved, my head feeling light. I couldn’t tell if any ribs had cracked, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it as he came with another roundhouse kick that hit my chin. I spun in the air and my gun flew out of my hand. He’d have an open shot if he took it right now. Even if it wouldn’t penetrate the armor, the force of the blow would most likely leave me too debilitated to fight back. Fortunately, I channeled the cricket in me and scrambled away as quickly as I could.

I checked the camera feed again. He was standing a row away, his hand inside his pants. It looked like he was masturbating as there was a rapid back and forth motion near his zipper. Was he getting off on inflicting pain? The mockery of his actions infuriated me. I scoured the ground for my gun. I didn’t know where it’d flown off to and I didn’t have the time to look for it.

My combat training had been limited because I’d always intended to be a media guy. Even with all the survival lessons I’d taken, hand-to-hand combat had never been a focus of what I’d learned. As the saying went, desperate times called for desperate measures. If I could get his glasses off, then I could set off a light bomb and paralyze his motion. My lenses would protect me.

I charged straight at the butler. He grinned, took his hands out of his pants. I crashed into him, but before I could grab his glasses, he slapped me back and followed with a kick. I cringed, not so much at the pain, but the thought of where his fingers had just been.

The light bomb was in my right hand, ready to set off. I just needed those glasses to come off. I rushed him again, ready for him to kick me. He was flexible and more agile than I would ever be. But I was counting on that. Sure enough, the kick came to my cheeks. I let myself stumble and when he came for another kick, I ducked. This surprised him and left an opening for me to grab his body and pull him down. I ripped the glasses off and set off the light bomb.

The power of a star scintillated blindingly.

The butler screamed in agony.

I got up and searched the ground for my gun. It was lodged onto a booth called Street Fighter II . I picked it up, fired at the butler’s neck, paralyzing him for at least a day.

I went to the two in chains and used my blade to cut through. The woman, who’d been blinded, leaped at me. I tried to pull her off, but as she had no clothes, I could only pull her hair. To my surprise, it stuck no matter how hard I pulled. Was this-was this real hair? In the bright light, she looked more like Beauvoir.

“Do you know Beauvoir?” I ventured, even though it was a far stretch. Her white hair reminded me of the package Larry had me retrieve from Dr. Asahi back in Los Angeles.

“That’s the name of my sister,” she said, eyes shut. “Unless you mean the author.”

“We need to get out of here. Hold onto me.”

I held the woman’s hand and she held onto her companion’s arm as we made our way out. I grabbed the Pinlighter and placed it back in my pocket. I streamed the recorded information into my lens and the network in case anything were to happen to me.

When we were back upstairs, I picked up two thin rugs and wrapped them around both to cover their naked bodies. “You should be able to see again in a day or so.”

The woman tried opening her eyes but shut them again.

I asked her, “Do you have real hair?”

“No,” she said. “There’s no such thing as real hair.”

I felt her hair again. There was no doubt. The man had a wig that clearly came off. He was coy, looking away, not saying anything. I looked back at the woman. Was she afraid of telling the truth? “What’s your name?”

“Plath,” she answered. “How do you know my sister?”

“She saved my life.”

“Then you are our friend?”

I ignored her question and said, “We need to get out of here.”

“Did she send you to get me out?”

“No one sent me.”

“Then I can’t leave.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t leave,” she insisted.

“You’re a slave here.”

“I know what I am,” she answered. “I can’t leave until my task is done.”

I looked at her hair and knew I had to talk with Rebecca and Dr. Asahi again. Larry’s reaction to the package came back to me. Skeletons , he said after the explosion.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean where did you grow up?”

“In Los Angeles.”

“Where in Los Angeles?”

“At the Chao Research Facilities before they closed them down.”

I didn’t know they used to have their own research facilities in Los Angeles, especially with the Absalom Institute there.

“Can I take a sample of your hair?” I asked.

“Why?”

“I need it.”

“For what?”