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The Red Rat

 

The Rat folded away her lockpick and put it in her jacket with a smile. Easy as sin!

 

It didn't look like the most salubrious of residences. Not by any rubric. Not unusual for Bedlam, and not unusual for someone to stay under the radar either. She was thankful that the outside lock had been cheap, but on the other hand, she anticipated more serious counter measures coming up. 

 

Silently, or as silently as she could manage, she walked up the stairs. Her eyes gave her an IR HUD, and the low light was no issue. Down the hall, she went, until she reached the room she wanted...

 

And X-Ray eyes once against scanned the room. 

 

She was aware of her guns under her jacket. No need to pull them out yet - or perhaps there was, but duns in your hand was not the best way to meet someone...

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It was fairly well spartan.  Not that it was devoid of personality, but rather that Snelling seemed to be a fastidious man.  Perhaps in an effort to combat the urban decay around him it was hard to see.

 

Such an orderly person, he would be better served as part of the aparatchik.

 

Now here was the tricky, part, though she was able to boost the lock, though it would entail a lot more looking over the shoulder, even if all she could really hear around her was pretty much nothing, except for some noises from upstairs, the floor indicating the rapid shifting of weight.

 

Inside the apartment was more of the same.  Normal.  A cough and television and video game system and a desktop computer on a desk.  Some pictures of a milquetoast looking man at work, and doing things.  But it was silent and dark.  And her scans had been less than certain as to whether anyone was still here.

 

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Red Rat

 

The Rat kept as quiet as her namesake and as still as marble. Part of her admired the spartan discipline of the place. It reminded me of the paranoid soaked spycraft games she had played over the course of the cold war. She permitted herself a slight writhing of her hands, the palms perspiring, in anticipation. And in readiness to pull out her guns. 

 

She hoped Mr Mortimer Snelling was not part of that old fashioned Paranoia. That he would "trust" his computer with the data. And she hoped he had not plastered that computer with enough encryption to block SLAVE. There was not much that she could not hack with the Superior Soviet Technology, but it did happen. 

 

She toyed with asking Sokolov for help. But he did not enjoy her full trust, and besides which, radio silence was the best policy. 

 

So instead, with SLAVEs assistance, she linked up to the wi-fi, and started peeling back the defences as best she could, looking for any files related to mind-control helmets...

Edited by Supercape
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It was... a computer.  SLAVE would have no issue -

 

Inferior capitalist technology!  Soviet superior.  Supreme!  Not beholden to the weak vacillating simpering of the West!

 

...Would have no issue in breaching the computer.  Nothing too fancy.  Though the cursory indexing found little if any thing to real...

 

Wait!  They hide and lie!

 

Buried there was a virtual machine, and there were fragments of the files she was looking for there.  Though nothing whole, but there was a trail from there, and a destination email: ostermann@tributesnow.net.

 

 

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The Red Rat

 

ostermann@tributesnow.net? the name meant nothing to her. But if it was burred under so deep, then it must be important. 

 

She kept on peeking under electronic rocks and through virtual vaults. If there were any further fragments to find, then find them she would. Or possibly the irritating soviet...superior soviet...no, supreme soviet computer in her head would. Under her firm guidance. 

 

Perhaps Dr Sokolov and his pet bear might know the name. There was something a bit odd about "tributesnow"? what did that mean? was it some kind of ABBA tribute band? A start up social media thing? A funeral list?

 

Or just some cover for something nefarious?

 

At least Ostermann would be a name to think on...

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But she had a location for where most of it went, what remained there was pieces, fragments.  A lot of nothing, though that alone would tell her things.

 

Capitalist swine!  They do not know how to keep secrets!  Superior soviet shredders would have worked!  Tapes drives are better!

 

As a query for the domain tributesnow.net showed a website, Tributes Now, whose purpose was... vague at best.  It had a forum with a miscellany of topics.  With Ostermann seeming to be the webmaster, with no other name attached to it, a blank black space as the representative icon for the 'person.'

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The Red Rat

 

Well I am glad they are Capitalist swine and not using Superior Soviet Shredders...

 

The Rat smirked as she mentally made her way through the data. In someways, it was rewarding in that she had access to the computer. In others, it was frustrating. Whilst the firewalls here had been average, her quarry had at least made sure nothing horribly damning was on it. Just breadcrumbs. 

 

Well, breadcrumbs would have to do...

 

She couldn't track down the physical location of Tributesnow...perhaps Solokov could shed some light on the matter. 

 

She decided to give him a call, but...

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SOVIET TECHNOLOGY SUPREME!

 

As she turned to move out of the door she caught a standing thrust kick to the face that sent her staggering, stumbling, finally crashing through the window, and onto the fire escape.  Before she lost consciousness on cast iron, in the rain.

 

Hours later...

 

Flourescent buzzing, and flicker.  But that could be anywhere.

 

Finally, you are no longer proving a weakness to our endeavors!

 

As it comes into clarity, with a bit of dizziness, she sees the room around her, empty, an industrial building or warehouse, with a long light tube above her.  Hanging from a fixture attached to a chain on each end, the air heavy and a little wet from the drizzle hitting the metal walls and roof.

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The Red Rat

 

Damn that had hurt. She felt blood in her nose and in her mouth. She was pretty sure her nose was broken. Perhaps she had lost a tooth, too. And her head pounded. Not just from SLAVE, who seemed, in her experience, completely impervious to head trauma. Lamentably. 

 

It was odd she was not tied up. She patted her jacket. Unsurprisingly, her superior soviet pistols had been removed. 

 

If it came to it, her fists would have to suffice. 

 

Melding with SLAVE and her eyes, she took in IR, UV, and X Ray scans of the building, fearing little would be gleaned. She had been outsmarted, and she would not underestimate her adversary, whomever he might be. However, her internal clock should still be intact. What time was it? How long had she been out?

 

 

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An hour had past or there abouts.  And SLAVE was subdued, which... was moderately terrifying.

 

It had been one hit, the swelling on her face, and some dried blood around her nose and mouth told her that.  The ache, the hurt.  It made things swirly.

 

Compensating.  Endangered superior technologies with careless.  May necessitate reboot, because of your failings.

 

Her scans showed some, though with it being hard to focus, that was making this difficult, plus the metal was messing with stuff.   That said, she could make out more people besides the guys on the other side of the door.  As well as some other things beyond.  Support pillars, some boxes, or similar objects.  Cars.  Shipping containers.  It was unsurprisingly empty, of what she'd expect from being a place like her immediate surroundings would indicate.

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The Red Rat

 

Normally, a routine reboot would have been a pleasant time, when the Red Rat could watch TV without her eyes blacking out Inferior Capitalistic PropagandaShe didn't fancy it right now, however. Not least of which, because it might leave her blind. Literally blind. Her eyes where tied to SLAVE. 

 

Time to get out of this joint. Her ear piece was gone. Her own internal radio transmitter - it was short range. Unlikely to pick up anything helpful and too risky. It might be picked up. 

 

Instead, she made her way to the door, leaning in carefully, seeing if she could hear anything from the men behind, and also seeing if there was a lock or bar. Not that she could pick it without tools, but good to know what was keeping her in...

 

 

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Red Rat could see the bar, as it was metal to the normal wood of the door, the door handle moved clearly enough.  She could hear, and feel thumping bass, and music from beyond.

 

...Decadent.

 

Decadent music.  Keeping aware she knew she hadn't been stripped or professionally searched.  It was obviously not a pro-job.  Though, that made sense, with the pieces of what she had found came together on the picture of Mortimer, or whoever had this was hardly a normal threat.  This was someone came across something and then it all Escalated.  At least, that was her foggy mind, the information, and a rebooted SLAVE could wriggle free.

 

She could see the two men weren't armed.  At least nothing metal or that would show readily on her vision as the cyber stuff kicked back in fully.

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The Red Rat

 

What was this, a rave party? It all had the most strange ambience. Although she quite liked the music. She may have grown up in the cold war fifties, but her music taste had become quite eclectic and fully embraced the modern decadent style. 

 

She cracker her knuckles. Even without her guns, she was an expert in martial arts. Sambo, savate, judo...the standard fare of the Russian military. Whilst she could do flashy if need be, her style was based on quick effectiveness. 

 

She knocked on the door. 

 

"Help! Help!" she yelled. "I'm hurt...real bad..." she moaned. "I think I'm dying...ahhhhhhh...."

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It might be.  Just a beat was there.

 

DECADENCE!

 

There was a moment, and then she heard the bar scraping as it was removed, and then the door was opened before her, as her ruse worked at least that well, before a large framed man was there, looking down at her.  He stepped into the room, and walked towards the still standing Red Rat.  The other had moved to block her flight, or something else.  It was hard to say, as until the dim light was on their faces, she couldn't tell much.

 

Once it was... they didn't seem altogether present and account for.

 

The once closest to her spoke, "You need to be quiet, you ain't dying."

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The Red Rat

 

"Ohh...but I am..." she said, clutching her head and her stomach. "I have a blinding headache...blurred vision...."

 

Basic trauma medicine was part of her training. She knew enough. 

 

She wobbled on her feet. "Nausea...its a subdural haematoma!" she blurted. For added effect, she slurred her words just slightly, and allowed a hint of dribble from one side of her mouth. The muppets would surely be ignorant?

 

"If I don't have surgery, I will die!" she pleaded. A solitary tear flowed. 

 

"What are you doing locking me up here? It's against the law!" she whimpered, playing a dumb blonde. 

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The men's response was a bit... dull... as they regarded her mutely, their expressions flat as they regarded her.  Like there weren't entirely focused on their surroundings.  One of them, he had a mustache.  "Where does it hurt?"  That one stepped towards her, his hands rose as he approached, with the other remaining at the door way.  She would have to fight her way out, but she could do that, and while she was hurt, and hurting, she could still get free from here now.

 

They believe she was hurt, but apparently they had orders, or something.  But it was clear to her, they weren't expecting her to be so much trouble, especially given what happened previously.

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The Red Rat

 

"It hurts..."

 

She sprung up, like a cobra struck be lightning. 

 

"Right..."

 

She pulled her fist back

 

"...here!"

 

And, kicked him hard. 

 

"You boys are biting more than you can chew" she added. "I want answers, and I am sure you want to give them to me. Well, I am sure you will want to give them to me..." she corrected herself. 

 

The first man slumped, but before he hit the floor she had grabbed the second and put him in a painful arm lock. 

 

"You can start by telling me where I am, and who locked me up!"

Edited by Supercape
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It was over fast.  They were big guys, but they weren't fighters in any sense, relying on muscle for punching people, than actually knowing how to throw a punch.

 

The one in front dropped quickly, only for the second to try and intercept her, but go down from the blows she savaged on him, joing the first on the ground.

 

Thump thump thump thump.

 

Came the bass in the background, between that and the distance, and there was no way to tell if anyone heard, but they had barely even gotten a sound out before Red Rat had cleaned their proverbial clocks.  Now... all that was left would be to pump them for information, well specifically the one she had left conscious.

His face was already swelling from her blows.  "I... I work for the Boss.  Just... told me to watch you!  That you're bad!"  His voice came out a harsh, pained groan.

 

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The Red Rat

 

"Really? You work for you Boss? I would never have guessed!"

 

She twisted just slightly harder. 

 

"Come on my friend! Everyone works for their boss!" including me, the sack of bitter lard "Well done for telling me nothing at all. Whose your boss, and where can I find him? Surely you don't want to suck it up for him? Everyone's boss is a piece of dog mess gently fermenting on the pavement waiting for a prize piece of footwear. Don't tell me yours is any different!" she demanded. 

 

She leaned in close. "Come on, I'll be your best friend!"

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The man groaned in pain, as she leveraged his arm even more, his eyes wide as he struggled more than a little bit.  "Ahhhh!  I am... I am sorry .. I don't know.  It's... The Boss!"  His eyes wide, as he struggled to get her away.  His eyes wide and a bit glassy.  "We all work for The Boss!"  There was confusion at her assertions at her behavior.

 

"You made The Boss mad!  We're supposed to watch you!"  He struggled more and tried to work into a position to attack her.  To lash out with an elbow to her.  Though he failed in his efforts, as he was big, but not a trained fighter.

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The Red Rat

 

The Rat eased the pressure a little. She believed him. "The Boss" was surely smart enough, then, to stay in the shadows, at least when it came to his name and identity. Smart. Like a spy. 

 

"Watch over you" was a little different to "Guard you". A subtle turn of phrase which might mean nothing, might mean everything, or something in between. Was she being observed even now?

 

"So where is this mysterious Boss of yours?" she asked, relaxing the pressure. Her point had been made. 

 

She scanned the surroundings carefully, using her cybernetic eyes to take in what she could...

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He grunted a bit, and started to speak, before his voice became a bit more robotic, flat, unemotive.  "Not supposed to tell.  Not supposed to know.  Just said to watch!"  He tried to use his size as leverage to throw her, but he didn't really seemed to be able to muster it together to do so.

 

Eventually he flagged, and stopped struggling, just breathing hard.  The bulk wasn't driven by dedicated exercise, after all.  But probably doughnuts and microwave burritos.  Probably.

 

The noise was still thumping, and there was no signs of anything coming as she scanned, and the person below her was still very much out.

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The Red Rat

 

"You are admirably loyal" she said, kindly, as she put him in a choke hold. A few seconds of struggle and she let him slip, unconscious, to the floor. 

 

So, unarmed and lost. At least it seemed she was not captured. But she was in the dark. Like the months of blindness in those dim Soviet Laboratories. 

 

She clenched her fists and cracked her knuckles. Be prepared for anything she told herself. Especially getting kicked in the head again. That would hurt. Her body and her pride. 

 

Cautiously, she crept forward, heading towards the throbbing music...

Edited by Supercape
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As she rounded the corner, around a cargo container she'd perceive more of what was happening.  It was a basic, stripped down musical track, a heavy thud of bass and drum, with dim lighting that helped create a heavy, oppressive sort of atmosphere.

 

She felt pressure on her skull.

 

Processing.

 

And there was a jostling and distorting of her vision for a second.

 

Compensating.

 

Then it became clear and she was able to see, differentiate and focus once more.  Able to make out the forms in the dim light.  People.  Still that thudding.  Able to see other larger individuals concentrated around one thing in the clearing.  Able to see her weapons inside of a box.

Edited by TheAbsurdist
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The Red Rat

 

The Rat had always been rather partial to Swing, that American invention that symbolised freedom in the Cold War. But she had an eclectic taste. Modern dance music, whilst not her favourite, was hardly exotic. She couldn't recall stripped down music like this, though, especially when it made her brain wobble. 

 

Maybe its just the concussion. 

 

Her guns, now...she would like them back. But she could live without them, too. And they might be bait. 

 

She thumped her head, trying to clear it, and circled closer. What was in the centre?

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