Ukiyo Kanto 2182: Cybernetic Paradox

Convictions of a Vigilante:

[2:05 a.m./February 16, 2182/Kanki Masamune — Zanshu-sha]

Litter filled a dimly lit alley in a lawless outer-city block.

“Figures… The usual place.”

Beneath a flickering neon sign, a man stood illuminated as he smoked a hand-rolled cigarette. Whether it contained tobacco or something else was anybody’s guess. His shaved head revealed a tattoo of a metallic snake slithering along the side and circling his ear. He had replaced his eyes with large, synthetic ones that resembled a dragonfly’s. Metal chains wrapped around his arms. Given the large spiked balls attached to their ends, they weren’t decorative. His oversized, torn green jersey, emblazoned with the number 16, almost concealed the pistol sticking out of his baggy jeans.

“Surely he’s a model citizen…”

The sign reading ‘The Skinning Shed’ buzzed above a shallow stairwell. A metal-barred doorway sat below, its small sliding window closed. The tattooed man appeared to be acting as a bouncer for the establishment. After finishing his cigarette, he tossed the butt to the ground as two other men entered the alley. Each bore a snake tattoo: one on his upper left arm, the other on the front of his neck.

Baldy looked at the new arrivals and called out, “’Bout time!” He paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead, then continued. “Frying my circuits out in this heat.”

The two men deliberately slowed their walk to antagonize Baldy.

“Aw, poor baby… Hard night’s work, standing around doing nothin.”

“Hey, just curious. Is it bare under the hood too?”

Baldy would have furrowed his eyebrows if he’d had any, but instead he spat back, “Wanna see? I’ll give you a nice view when I ram my export down your import!”

One thug pulled back immediately with a sarcastic, submissive arm gesture. “Relax. I’m joking, I’m joking… No need for hostilities. We’re all comrades. Right?”

The other cut off his protégé: “All exist within the great serpent.”

All responded in unison, “To devour is to be consumed.”

None of the group seemed to realize they were being watched. Above them, their hunter crouched in the shadows of a fire escape. He wore casual, modern ninja attire in black and gray: a jogger hoodie and loose, top-heavy sweatpants. A metal helmet and faceplate covered everything but his red eyes—the trademark of synthetics. They were high-grade models. Nothing but the irises revealed they weren’t his originals. A wakizashi hung from his belt. If he carried any other weapons, they weren’t visible.

“Oroboros…”

Kanki Masamune was sure of it after hearing their ritualistic greeting.

“Likely new recruits. No visible deformities… How a slight deviation of fate can shape one’s entire being. In a different world… would that have been my path? It is too late for deviation now.”

As Kanki observed the men below, he pulled up their digital records visible only through his synthetic eyes. His neural implant, a standard augment necessary for cybernetics, allowed access to many convenient tools and abilities.

“Baldy’s got a past—the primary suspect in several missing-person cases and two homicides—The other two, less so. Breaking and entering, three aggravated assaults—never convicted due to lack of evidence and an unwillingness of witnesses to testify.”

Confirming their affiliation with Oroboros was all the evidence he really needed. As the men continued their conversation, they wore down Kanki’s patience. Arm-tattoo pulled out his holo-device and showed the other cultist a video.

“Have you seen the new guy? Gladiators have taken to calling him El Diablo Rojo.”

“Don’t look so tough to me… He’s barely even got any augments.”

Baldy took control of the conversation. “Nah, you don’t get it. The high-grade stuff doesn’t look like the cheap shit we get.” He pulled out another cigarette and kept talking between drags. “The guys with the really good stuff… you can’t tell till they start using it.”

Arm-tattoo mocked, “Oh yeah? So no bug eyes like you? How’d you end up with that ugly mug anyways?”

Baldy grabbed the much smaller man by the collar of his shirt. “Same way any viper worth his augments does.” Pulling the thug close, he followed up menacingly, “I took it from some punk ass that didn’t know when to shut the fuck up!”

The light-hearted mood shifted, making it clear which of the three was in charge. Luckily for the underling who spoke out of turn, Baldy’s holo-device pinged. He answered the device by placing it over his ear, causing it to wrap around like a custom-fitted earbud. Baldy released his grip on his lackey, turned away, and walked toward the stairwell.

“Uh-huh… Yeah, got it… What about the girl…? When do you want it by…? Who…? What kind of synthbrain name is that?! How the hell…? AARGH! Shit’s gonna cut into the bottom line…! I’ll take care of it!”

Baldy removed the device from his ear. He turned to his idle lackeys. “Boys, our schedules just got filled. The meat inside the shack’s been cut to order.” Glaring toward the man with the arm tattoo, he continued, “Punk ass…! Yeah, I’m talking to you! You’re gonna take the delivery to our guy at the market.” Then he turned toward the other thug. “Silver, you’re with me. We’re dragging the girl to a buyer. They want live meat. After that, you and I are going out on the town.”

Silver appeared confused. “What’s in town?”

“Some merc has been raiding our slaughterhouses. Word is the Nymphs hired him. We’re gonna hit up one of their joints, ask some questions, real polite if you catch my drift.” Baldy wrapped one of his chains into a noose, gesturing as he finished his statement.

Silver chuckled at the jest before asking, “Merc must be pretty kitted if he’s clearing our locations alone… Sure it’s not a group?”

Baldy finished fooling around and replied, “Just got off the phone with the boss. He already confirmed the contract. Some guy called Zan… shu… shu… juu… Dammit! I can’t pronounce his synth-ass name! The Sandju something or other—it doesn’t matter. All that matters is we kill ’em!”

The grunt with the arm tattoo went wide-eyed. “You mean the Zanshu-sha?” He paused, then let out a long-winded, “Shi—it…”

Silver raised an awkward eyebrow over his increasingly puzzled eyes. “You heard of ’em?”

“Yeah, dude’s a full psychosynth. I know a guy whose crew got taken out by him. From what I heard, the name’s oriental. Means executioner or beheader, some shit like that.”

“Ehmm.” Silver was not impressed. “So what? The guy cuts off people’s heads. I do that…”

Baldy chimed in, “Jap, huh? That’s what Ry-Ryujin is made up of, right? Wonder if there’s a connection.”

Silver, with a change of heart, replied, “Wait, doesn’t Ryujin have backdoor connections with one of the leading corporations…? Fuji, I think. Not a fight I would want.”

“Doesn’t matter if we want the fight! They brought it to us…! Besides, if this guy’s working for a big player like that, the boss would know. More likely, it’s some punk with a grudge who went rogue. If we get lucky, we might even score some high-grade augments.” Baldy ended the conversation and started barking orders as he walked toward the stairwell. “Silver! Wait outside! Bolts for brains, get over here! We’re gonna grab the goods and get a move on…!” He’d reached the door at the bottom of the stairwell before finishing.

Three knocks sounded in an odd rhythm, followed by the small metal window in the center of the door sliding open. A single massive red-lensed camera peeked through. A raspy synthetic voice followed, “What chu’ want?”

“We’re ready to take the goods to market. Gotta get it done before the sun rises.”

“What’s the password?”

“Password…? Frank, if you don’t open this door right now, I’m gonna rip out that eye of yours and shove it up your…!”

Before Baldy could finish, the newest addition to the group opened the door. “Alright…! By the great serpent, you’re grouchy tonight!”

What stood in the doorway was barely human. His torso was that of a man, but his lower body had been replaced with four mechanical limbs. Sickly skin and a frail, hunched frame gave him an insect-like appearance. He had several mechanical arms fitted with interchangeable surgical tools in place of hands. Dead center of his face was a single massive camera-shaped eye that zoomed in and out as he turned his gaze. He ushered the two thugs into the building and slammed the door behind them as soon as they entered.

“Finally, an opening.”

Kanki dropped from the fire escape, landing behind the cyberjunkie with barely a sound. Silver turned, startled. Before the thug could react, Kanki smashed him in the nose with an open palm. Stumbling backward, Silver took a wild swing at his unseen attacker. Kanki ducked beneath it and moved forward. In a single motion, he slipped to Silver’s flank and kicked out his leg. He grabbed Silver’s outstretched wrist and pulled down while driving his other arm up into the thug’s armpit. The swift motion sent Silver rolling forward. His back struck the ground with considerable force. Silver opened his mouth to let out either a yelp of pain or a call for help, but nothing emerged except the gurgle of blood. Kanki had already drawn his blade and thrust downward, stabbing the thug in the throat. The entire exchange lasted mere seconds.

Without wasting a moment, Kanki moved to the side of the metal door at the bottom of the stairwell, just out of view. The door opened, and Baldy shouted, “Hey, Silver, get in here! We need… Ughhhh!”

Baldy didn’t finish his statement. A powerful kick to the gut sent him flying. He landed with a loud crash in a medical cabinet at the far end of the room, caught completely off guard. Needles and vials of pills scattered across the floor. The other thugs turned with utter shock written across their faces.

Kanki entered the room, which mirrored that of a torture chamber mixed with a sports bar. Four surgical tables filled the right side of the room. A freshly opened body, its organs spread out, lay on top of one. A strange cooling box sat on the shelf next to the table, blood dripping down its side. On the left side of the room, a bar counter and stools sat with a holo-screen playing sports programming behind it. At the back of the room, four metal cell doors stood, a red light glowing above all but one.

“What a lovely hangout spot—catch the game, get a few drinks, don’t mind the screams or the smell—you’ll get used to it.”

Finally realizing they’d been invaded, the other two thugs moved to intercept the intruder. The Spider-like cyborg jumped, twisted, and landed on the ceiling. His metal, claw-like limbs dug into the cement, defying gravity. His several mechanical arms contorted until only two spinning saw blades remained. The other thug, who was far more human, ran for cover behind the bar.

The monstrous cyborg let out a loud synthetic-sounding screech before crawling across the ceiling at a shocking speed. It reminded Kanki of a large insect skittering across a kitchen floor when a light startled it in the middle of the night. Preparing for the beast’s counterattack, he didn’t have time to admire or be disgusted by the mechanical arachnid of a man.

Kanki quickly produced three shuriken from his right hand, sparking with an electrical charge. He didn’t carry a pouch to hold the shuriken—instead, they generated directly from his hand. In a single swift motion, he threw all three with precision that was impossible without the cybernetic connection between his synthetic eyes and organic muscles. One shuriken struck the cyborg between his right arm and shoulder, the second hit his lower abdomen, and the third hit a joint on his front left mechanical leg. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning visibly shot across the cyborg’s body as it seized up.

The cyborg let out an excruciating sound caught between a man crying out in pain and a motor engine that didn’t have enough gas to start. With a loud SMASH, he fell from the ceiling. The weight of the man’s augments was so great, the cement floor cracked in several places on impact. His mechanical limbs smoldered. Still breathing, the cyborg was clearly unconscious.

Having lost all composure, the thug behind the counter pulled out some type of fully automatic assault rifle. He started spraying bullets in Kanki’s direction while shouting, “Screw you!!!”

With movements untraceable by organic eyes, Kanki drew the blade from his hip, deflecting each bullet as sparks flashed on the edge of the blade. He sprinted toward the counter, bent over, and went straight through the barrage of bullets. Just as Kanki arrived, the shooter seemed to run out of ammo. The thug twisted his gun to see if it had jammed, but it was too late. Kanki slid over the counter and kicked the thug in the chest with one motion.

The thug smashed his back into the screen behind him and cried out, “I’M NOT DYING TODAY, YOU COSPLAY FREAK!”

The screen had shattered, leaving several glass shards embedded in his back. He ignored the pain—if his adrenaline allowed him to feel it at all. Releasing the machine gun, he reached for a pistol behind his back.

Kanki never let him fire. He twisted the thug’s arm, forcing him to drop the pistol, then struck the bottom of his jaw with the hilt of his blade, sending the thug’s world spinning. In a final effort to defend himself, the thug threw a wild right with his cybernetic arm. Kanki stepped back, dodged, and countered with an upward slash that severed the arm at the elbow. The edge of his blade glowed neon blue, as if it had just been energized. Kanki reflexively followed through with another swing, severing the thug’s head from his shoulders.

In a low, emotionless metallic voice, Kanki muttered, “Damn, wasn’t gonna kill that one.”

Baldy, who was still recovering from being flung across the room, pulled himself out of the cabinet. He stood and took one look to assess the damage. Understanding the situation, Baldy turned his focus to Kanki. In a cold voice, he threatened, “I’m going to enjoy your cybernetics after I rip them from your corpse.”

The final combatant slowly moved forward, ripping off his jersey to reveal that his chest and abdomen had been replaced with synthetics. Holes on both sides released metal chains that connected to the ones wrapped around his arms. He untangled the chains and dropped them to the floor. Baldy grabbed both chains and began spinning them, their spike-tipped balls scratching lines into the floor. A crackling noise filled the room as visible electricity flowed from the openings in the man’s sides and down the chains.

Kanki wasted no time and slid back over the counter. Mid-slide, he produced three more shuriken and threw them toward the chain-wielding cyborg. With a whipping motion, the cyborg flung the chains, intercepting the high-speed shuriken before they hit their intended marks.

“Looks like I’m not the only one cheating.”

Across the room, Baldy wouldn’t let Kanki finish his thoughts. The violent, bug-eyed psycho stepped forward, creating an electrical barrier as his weapons whipped back and forth. Once he was within striking distance, Baldy whipped one chain in a horizontal swipe across the room. It ripped through the wooden counter behind Kanki like paper. Splinters flew in all directions as the smell of burnt wood filled the room. Kanki jumped over the chain in a spinning motion, then dropped to the ground, catching himself with his hands and feet in a sprinter’s starting position. With a burst of physical prowess, he launched forward.

Fully on guard, Baldy whipped his second chain vertically at Kanki’s torso. To Baldy’s surprise, Kanki caught the chain with his right arm. Instead of ripping through, it was stopped dead in its tracks. Suddenly, a blue light shone. The electricity running through the chains was absorbed. Kanki, who had stopped when he caught the chain, pulled hard. Baldy, lacking the leg strength to resist, lost his footing. He flew straight through the air as Kanki released the chain. The thug’s flight ended when his face hit Kanki’s palm, now crackling with the same electricity as the chains.

Kanki grabbed the thug’s face and slammed the back of Baldy’s head into the floor. A massive shockwave followed as all the electricity stored in his hand was released, frying the cyborg and knocking him unconscious. Satisfied with the results, Kanki released his grip and stood to take one last glance around the room. Confident there were no more active threats, he moved toward the holding cells at the back of the room. A green light glowed above one occupied cell.

A woman wearing only torn scraps of clothing was chained in the back. She was skinny, pale, and covered with tattoos. Her black hair was dyed with purple highlights and cut short and messy, just long enough to cover her eyes. One tattoo on her abdomen showed a mermaid sitting on a rock, dressed in black robes, as three flying ravens circled overhead. This symbol was the trademark of the Salem Nymphs, a prominent all-female gang in the outer cities.

“Found her.”

With a strike of his blade, Kanki sliced through the door’s lock. The blade glowed with the same signature neon blue it had emitted when severing a head earlier. Kanki didn’t know how it worked. Whether the blade was heated or some other technological marvel was involved, he didn’t care. The weapon served its purpose—to cut. The bright glow lasted only a few seconds after each strike before fading, leaving behind an ordinary-looking katana.

Turning his attention to the captive, Kanki shouted, “Hey, woman! You awake?”

She didn’t reply.

Kanki approached her before slashing the chain restraining her to the wall. She fell to the ground, without reacting to the impact.

“Shit… Hope she’s not dead,” he muttered while sheathing his blade.

Kanki bent over to check for a pulse but jerked back when he saw her eyes shift beneath her bangs. At that moment, she lunged at him with a rock pulled from a crack in the wall. She must have spent days smashing it against the wall to sharpen it. The improvised blade missed Kanki’s neck by inches, catching him off guard. He straightened and backed away, holding out his hands in a passive gesture. In his best attempt at a calming voice, he pleaded, “Hey, lady! Don’t stab the rescue crew.”

Again, she ignored his comments. Her eyes were feral, twitching as she watched his every move.

“Typical nymph—stab the man first and ask questions later.”

Not that Kanki could blame her—that was pretty close to his policy too. With her arms bound together, the woman posed little threat, at least compared to what he had already dealt with. He could try to subdue her, but decided against it.

Kanki walked backward until he exited the cell, saying, “Alright, have it your way.”

When he was confident he’d gained enough distance, he turned his back to the cell and walked to the bar counter. He poured a drink and turned his gaze back. Now standing at the cell entrance, the woman’s posture reminded Kanki of a stray cat, perfectly calm as long as everyone kept their distance. She took her time, observing the room. When her eyes locked on the spider-like cyborg on the opposite side of the room, everything else ceased to exist for her.

Cautiously, the woman moved toward the cyborg. Reaching her destination, she began rifling through a bag attached to the cyborg’s hip. After a few moments, she pulled out a key. Another moment and the chains fell from her wrists. Then it started—the cyborg coughed.

With fire in her eyes, the woman let out a violent screech. The sound resembled that of a dying animal. She stabbed the cyborg once, twice, three times, then again and again until Kanki lost count. Finally, as blood and a strange green liquid gushed from the cyborg’s body, it became clear he was dead. The woman looked back at Kanki with a blank expression, waiting for him to do something. He didn’t—what was happening now didn’t concern him. She finally dropped the stone and moved toward the operating table, where a male corpse lay open. After grabbing a bag beside the table, she looked back at Kanki, who leaned against the destroyed bar counter and watched her intently. Without a word, she bolted for the entrance. A second later, she was out the door and out of sight.

“Finally…” Kanki let out a long sigh.

He lowered his hood and removed his helmet. With his face revealed, some might have called him handsome. Sharp features defined an unblemished face, and thin black stubble covered his chin. His hair was jet-black and faded on the sides, with the longer top slicked back—a typical yakuza style in the city. After downing his impromptu drink, Kanki got to work rearranging the room.

Several hours passed, enough for the sun to have risen outside. The final thug awoke to see he had been stripped naked, just like his usual victims. The synthetic eye on his right side had been shattered. Glancing around the room, he first noticed his three companions lying on the surgical tables to the side. It didn’t take long for his attention to shift to his assailant, who sat hunched over on a stool in the center of the room.

Kanki was staring at the man with a sinister glare. His helmet returned to his head, and with glowing red eyes, the executioner seemed an appropriate title. Lying at his feet were the three severed heads of tonight’s conquest. He waited patiently for his mark to make a move.

Baldy would have continued the fight from before he was knocked unconscious, but his weapon was gone, and his body wouldn’t move the way he wanted it to. He tried to stand but stumbled and dropped to his knees. In that moment, he was no different from an ordinary human. In a fit of rage, he shouted out, “What are you? Some kind of freak?! Just kill me already!!!”

Kanki fought the urge to chuckle when a viper of Oroboros, of all people, called him a freak.

He replied with a cold, metallic voice, “James, right?”

“How the hell…?”

“I read your police record.”

“What…?”

“Look, let’s not waste time with small talk… I have this rule, see…”

Kanki stood, picked up one of the heads by its hair, and walked slowly toward the stripped man.

“Do you believe in redemption?”

The thug didn’t reply.

“Yeah, me either… But I want to.”

Kanki stopped, standing about a meter in front of the thug.

“So I always choose one and let ’em live.”

He tossed the head, sending it rolling toward James. It belonged to the thug from behind the counter.

“Was supposed to be him… Kid fought harder than I would have expected from a carjacker.”

James, still kneeling on the floor, looked up at Kanki with a blank expression.

“So what? Get to the point.”

“Did you do it…?”

The question hung in the air.

“Do what?”

“The couple on Burville.”

“What’s it to you…?”

“Answer the question.”

“Yeah… That was me.”

“See, that’s a problem.”

Kanki walked to the surgical tables, grabbed a handsaw, and returned to the thug.

“Which hand…?”

James looked confused. “Hand…? Ah, you mean that I killed them with? Cute… You gonna cut it off?”

Kanki tossed the saw to the thug. “Not me… You. Deal’s simple—prove to me that you have the conviction to redeem yourself, and I’ll let you live. Fail—and I’ll take your head.”

Taking the sheathed katana from his hip, Kanki shifted into a quick-draw stance. He locked eyes with the thug and waited patiently for him to make a decision.

In a moment of reflection, James picked up the handsaw and held the blade to his right hand. This was not the first time Kanki had forced one of his marks to make a similar choice. He could always tell a lot by how they reacted in that moment. Most criminals used all their willpower just not to shit themselves. Some pleaded and begged. The rarest type remained calm while looking for a chance to escape the predicament. James was unnervingly calm, likely a seasoned criminal. The suspected homicides in his police record were only the tiniest glimpse of the horrors the man had committed. This was why Kanki never refused jobs to kill Oroboros: of all the gangs he had fought, they had given up the most of their humanity.

For just a second, Kanki thought the thug would actually sever his hand, but he didn’t. James moved to attack, raising the saw to bring it down with all his might, but it was already over. The second his knee lifted from the ground, Kanki had drawn and resheathed his blade. The proud criminal’s head parted from his shoulders and fell to the floor, followed by his body. Kanki hated this feeling most—respect for the lawless of Ukiyo Kanto.

“An honorable death, driven by the conviction to follow one’s chosen path, no matter how pitiful.”

Conviction—he couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. It was the only word he could think of to describe the action of the defeated attacking a clearly superior opponent, knowing the outcome, rather than repenting. It wasn’t a decision made in panic or fear—foolish or not, the thug did not shame himself in his final moments. If only the criminal’s conviction had been turned towards more honorable pursuits, maybe things would be different.

Standing in silence, Kanki contemplated the morality of his actions when a chime sounded in his ear. He pushed up his left sleeve to reveal a wristband-like object with a holo-screen. The screen showed a notification for an incoming call. With a click, Kanki answered.

“I’m busy.”

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who doesn’t make you pay rent?” The stringy voice transmitted straight into Kanki’s head.

“Gomen,” Kanki’s voice was pitched with sarcasm. “What do you want?”

“I was looking at the job listings, and this fixer—goes by the name Saint—he’s recruiting for a Blackgate job. Might be a good chance to get some leads. So what do you say…? Should I sign you up?”

Kanki took one last look at the corpse in the center of the room before responding, “Take the job. I’ll be back shortly”

The voice in his head lectured, “You better, cause it’s a rush job. They want everyone at some church by 6 pm tonight. If you are doing what I think you’ve been doing, then I bet you’ve been up all night. Even combat stims will only let you avoid sleep for so long.”

Kanki cut off the call and headed toward the exit, letting out an exhausted sigh. “Huh… It’s gonna be a long day.”