The door imploded as something crashed against it. A bio-enhanced voice echoed inside the room.
“Did I hear you say Kennedy?” He was small, white, nearly albino, with twin rows of even white teeth; a calm, smooth expression lined his too-young looking face. Cort grew cold. He’d never seen an assassin before. A ninja. A government slicer. He stared at Cort.
“Too bad about Frost. She held out for the longest time.” There was genuine admiration in his voice, along with a touch of regret. Cort felt like crying, shaking, letting go. Took a deep breath, surprised when the brief sorrow was replaced with something diamond hard, a dagger of impossible sharpness, a focused rage at the man before him and what he represented.
Before he could respond the RTO’s moved against the ninja, and Cort seized the opportunity and dived across the counter, out of the path of imminent destruction. The first shade reached for the slicer, who ducked and thrust his fingers forward, razor sharp claws previously hidden suddenly impaling the shade, who grunted and swung with the other fist. Cort passed through the curtain...and stood before a woman.
Nothing special. Brown hair streaked with gray, oversized nose, too full mouth, but with eyes that caught and held him, temporarily distracting him from the carnage taking place not twenty feet from them. The red haired guy crouched in a corner, head down, shaking.
“Close,” she whispered, and a titanium plate sealed the entrance where the curtain had been. Like a magician performing before a rapt audience she produced a stinger in the palm of her hand, held loosely, aimed at his face.
“Speak. You have about...” She tilted her head as if listening to the noise in the front room. “...thirty seconds.”
“Kennedy? Kira Kennedy?”
“Who are you?” Deep breath. Focus. Drive away the fear. He pretended he was in cyberspace, jacked in, familiar territory.
“Cort, Miss. Kennedy. I...a friend of mine lifted some special software from a dead courier. Software containing your name and address among others. And some interesting shit concerning theft and the use of subliminals.” She was hooked, he could tell. Cort was good at convincing people of things, almost as good as he was in the matrix, riding the waves of pure data.
“I don’t want to know this,” she said. “I’m no longer...into that kind of thing.” That’s what she said, but there was a catch in her voice, a longing. Now he knew. Her too pale skin, smooth and perfect, absence of wrinkles despite her obvious age. She had more in common with the ninja and his kind outside than with Cort. Yet she was his--their best hope for peace.
“They plan on cracking WorldNet, playing with the data, and injecting subliminal messages into the web of all major corporations, causing country-wide revolution. Chaos and anarchy. Controlled only by the Chiba goons along with the Militech forces, curiously mobilized for supposed maneuvers. I...didn’t know who to turn to, until I caught your name...and its implications.”
It became quiet. He heard nothing but the sounds of their breathing. High-pitched beeps. A code entered. Kennedy relaxed as the door slid up. An RTO stepped through, blood matting his hair. His implant hung askew, revealing a scarred, pink socket ridged with lumpy flesh.
“He’s finished,” the shade croaked. “But not before he did Joe.” Kennedy appeared resigned now. Grim and focused.
“Pack up the disks, Ed. We’re going now. Got a job to do.” Cort smiled, joyous. A Kennedy was back. The Kennedy. Implanted with the knowledge of countless generations of leaders before her. Hail the revolution. This was better then cyberspace.
Almost.