Chapter 438: 433 Infiltration

433 Infiltration

Feather stepped out of his Raven, a small, personal hover tech vehicle reminiscent of a helicopter. Most of the capos owned something like this - an aerial mode of transportation that they could use to get around the world with more efficiency.

Ravens were not made by any official corporation but rather by underworld mechanics and technos, designed solely for the purpose of evading governmental and AA airspace tracking. In a world where variant evolution was a constant threat, commercial flying vehicles were incredibly rare, and what the black market could cough up they had to build small and stealthy to dodge watchful global security eyes.

He adjusted his grey suit jacket, smoothing out any wrinkles. It was fine Italian Altieri fabric, the kind of ware that would take the average wage slave half a year's worth of their salary to afford, but it did not make him feel any better about what he was doing. He glanced up, seeing the Evileye's trio of eyeballs staring down at him with an expressionless gaze.

'Fucking creepy,' he thought before he shook his head. The Evileye might have been disconcerting, but what was even worse was meeting the other capos. Specifically the sword capos Nico and Adriana. They were both from the Aquaslums of Neo-Venice, and it showed in their tough-as-titanium attitude.

With extreme weather events and environmental changes from the Altering, Venice sunk underwater. Neo-Venice was built atop the ruins of its old corpse. But over time, variant corals known as Breathbones created large air bubbles throughout the sunken city.

There, the filth of society, the hunted, the wanted, the unforgiven - they all moved in. They started a dark society of their own, one that existed in a symbiotic relationship with Neo-Venice. The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

As it was, the sunken city grew another type of coral called Cryo-Coral. These produced cryogen, an ultra-rare energy source that made high-cooling technology viable, powering everything from freeze rays to cryogenic stasis.

The Aquaslums quickly assumed a monopoly over cryogen and, over time, organized and took upon the image of the mob of pre-Altering antiquity. That way, they salvaged together some culture. Some refinement.

Escaped criminals became soldiers and capos.

The Slumlord became a Don.

Neo-Venice created an unofficial peace with the Aquaslums in exchange for doing business together.

That was how the Italian Prong actually started. But no matter how they liked to dress themselves up, the Aquaslums never changed in how dangerous they were.

Bubble-Zones could pop at a moment's notice, flooding and killing anyone within them. The main way to earn your keep down there was to be a cryogen miner, worming down into vast coral entanglements that acted like cave networks.

Being a miner was like taking extreme caving to another level and then smashing it through the ceiling. You had to snake your way in through the tiniest of gaps on limited oxygen supply and zero visibility.

All the while, you ran the risk of aquatic variants gobbling you up for lunch, and energy signatures from the corals disrupted quite a bit of technology, making drones difficult to use.

Cryogen had to be hand-picked from the jaws of dark, murky, death-filled depths.

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"Sure. There better be a hot meal ready for me at the base. A good vintage wine, too," said Feather as he took a step forward, towards the warehouse in the distance.

"No, sir." The soldiers blocked Feather's path. They waved their guns off the side, towards the thick, untamed forest. "Nico has also been dealing with variants. He wants you to meet him at his current location."

Feather paused for a moment, his heart rate rising. He could not have brought his mercenaries here as there was a no-weapons policy. Plus they were undead so they could not pass through any bio scan for regular body temperatures and bodily functions. It was why he was not undead - to pass any checks to infiltrate this place.

He felt as naked and defenseless as a newborn baby.

'Hey, you watching this shit? This stinks of a whacking' Feather said mentally, hoping Aldrich would hear him.

'I'm watching closely.' Aldrich's voice came in a calm reply.

'Then what do you want me to do!?' complained Feather. 'Nico's gonna put me into the dirt! Shit, does he know something's off!?'

'He wouldn't. Unless you revealed anything, but Fler'Gan's mental conditioning has ensured that isn't a possibility. Which leads me to believe that, most likely, this is due to other reasons. Do you have a history of issues with Nico?'

'Well, maybe, I don't know. Never talked to the sword capos much. But I know they never liked me.'

'In any case, we'll see what's up. Follow the soldiers.'

'But what about me dying!?'

'We have a piece of you stored in Haven. If you get killed here, you'll just respawn back there anyway. As I said, you are the perfect suicide bomber. Just go. Otherwise, you'll draw too much attention.'

Feather groaned internally at the fate he had been reduced to. From high-standing capo who threw out credits by the thousands at fancy dinners and clubs to...a renewable suicide bomber.

Nevertheless, Feather had no choice but to follow.

"Take me to Nico," said Feather, putting on an air of confidence.

"Yes sir. Follow us." The soldiers marched ahead, and Feather followed behind.

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