Guns on the Run

Connor and Smith tore through the mall with reckless abandon.

The scrapper had never known the squeak of linoleum, the dull look on certain shoppers' faces, nor the dirty looks from security. All of it fun to experience and mock. The rebel was Connor's guide on a journey of disrespect and pleasure. Each store the pair stopped in had eyes on them within seconds. While Connor simply meandered and glanced at prices, Smith was on a mission. Female workers were asked hundreds of questions on fashion. The rebel knew his girlfriend's everyday style matched his. Even so, he wanted to get her something special to wear. These questions were met with a variety of answers. 

"Yeah, like, I don't really know," one said, twirling her long hair blonde with a long pink nail. "Like, I just work here."

"Oh, if you're going for classy, I've got you!" said another, eyes shining. "Right over here in the designer stuff...no, of course I don't work off commission!"

"I don't know what any of you kids wear anymore," said an older woman. "Looking at you I would have assumed you were just in here to imagine horrid things. Go ask somebody else, and don't touch anything."

The stores started to blend together after a while. Smith turned to see Connor's eyes beginning to glaze over. Sensing the lack of fun, the rebel offered a moment to regroup and catch their breaths.

Ψ

"You're really committed to finding the perfect gift, aren't you?" Connor said, after slurping down a large part of his milkshake.

The two were sat in the food court, countless diners all around them. Kids screaming over fries and burgers, workers grabbing a bite to eat in-between shifts, mallrats chatting awkwardly. Smith had gotten a banana milkshake and was greedily guzzling it. Connor was surprised the man wasn't getting a brain freeze at how fast he was going. The rebel slammed the empty cup on the table with a happy grunt. Then he looked Connor dead in the eyes.

"Anything for my lovely babe," Smith said.

Connor snickered a bit, but the rebel continued his stare. The scrapper had to give it to him. Not just any boyfriend would go through this much trouble for a fling.

"So, what's your history with her?" Connor asked.

Smith turned his gaze elsewhere into the crowds. 

"Long," the rebel simply said. "We grew up together. Got into all sorts of scrapes together. Joined the Guns together. Two peas in a pod."

He lapsed into silence. Connor wondered if he had struck a nerve. Yet Smith was usually so chatty about how much he loved Sara. Furthermore, he was already a talkative guy. Why did he just give the basics? The scrapper was about to further the conversation when Smith's eyes grew wide. 

"Nuke," he muttered.

Connor followed the rebel's eyes. He met a pair of cold ones in the process. A group of men dressed like Smith were making their way through the crowd. Lots of black leather and metal. In the lead was a wiry young man with a crusty red bandana. Connor couldn't tell if it was originally white, but the source of color was very clear. The scrapper's mecharm twitched and he felt a pain in his head. His vision suddenly darkened, with the gang appearing as white cutouts approaching. 

You're in trouble now, the voice of Silas rang through Connor's head.

The scrapper ignored the Pinnacle, focusing on the approaching threats. He could make out several places glowing a soft lavender color. All of were the shapes of weapons. The leader's chest was a dark purple, meaning only one thing.

A castle-vest was standard army equipment a few decades ago. The basic premise of it was if a soldier ran out of ammunition for both main and sidearm, the vest gave them a fighting chance. Bullets were housed all along the wearer's back in a complex feeding structure. Sticking off the hips were two triggers to fire through several barrels on the front. Castle-vests were heavily used by US Marines pinned down in the jungles of South America, pushing forward for Freedom.

They were all recalled once the guerillas figured out shooting a soldier in the back set off a living fireworks show.

Smith obviously didn't care how the leader got one. He glanced over to Connor and jerked his head. The scrapper shook his.

"They open fire, they're done for," Connor said. "Security will swoop in and ice them. I don't even go to malls and I know this. First rule of business is to have somebody breathing that wants your product."

"You would think that," Smith whispered quickly. "But you don't know Percy. You see any guards around here?"

Connor scanned the area. Surprisingly, Smith was right. The human guards or cyber-sentinels were nowhere to be seen. The scrapper could feel his heart begin to beat a little faster. Surely they wouldn't just ice the pair in the middle of a crowded area? Would they? Connor looked to Smith for some reassurance.

All he got was a cold look of acceptance.

It was settled then.

Connor stood up and paced the opposite direction of the gang. Smith blinked, stunned at the action. Then he too took off with out a word. The empty cup wobbled at the action, tipping to the ground. It was quickly stomped on by Percy and his soldiers as they followed the pair.

Sticky yellow footprints ground into the tiles underfoot as the chase began.

Ψ

Connor and Smith headed deeper and deeper into the heart of the mall, hoping to get away from the Percy gang. Each one kept looking back to catch of a glimpse of the crimson bandana along the way. After a couple minutes of harried silence, Smith began to speak.

"They're a group of bounty hunters," the rebel started.

"Looks like I was right," Connor smirked.

"Save it. These guys aren't after you. They're after me."

"What for?"

"I broke some heavy ice about a week ago. When I did, some underground operation got lit up. Don't ask me who they are. A bunch of lowlifes so deep only somebody like me could find them. A bunch of those dudes were rounded up and sent to the slammer. Unfortunately, their guy managed to identify my trawl signature. Which means the remaining ones hired Percy and his guys to come get me. Nuke, I should've figured they would be here."

Smith went back into survival mode, eyes flitting around in hopes of finding someplace to hide. No dice. Connor kept on looking back. Each time one of the gang members saw him. Each time the scrapper was rewarded with a bloodthirsty grin. Eventually he just stopped looking back.

The crowd was no help either. Percy and his men could have been ancient lepers. A constant flow of people swerved around them like stones in a river. Only once did somebody bump into them; a girl on her pocket-deck. She was too busy trying to pirate a Flick that she walked right into Percy. She squeaked out an apology and darted away before she could get grabbed. The gang leader cursed, watching her run away. His eyes then swung back to his bounty. He had taken the job and he had to see it through. Though he made a note of which direction the beauty had gone.

She might still be watching and waiting when he came back.

The foot chase took the posse to the arcade portion of the mall. The entire wing was dedicated to the newest games and electronic sensations. Swathes of the area were cut out for digital excursions, users plugged into a simulation of their choosing. Ancient cabinets beeped and booped without a care. A metallic symphony clinked from the endless quarters and tokens changing hands. Screams went up every few seconds from heroic wins and tragic losses. Connor kept his eyes focused on Smith lest he be distracted and overtaken by the threat behind them. 

Smith had his vision locked on a door tucked away to the side. 

Ducking past it and revealed a staircase that turned back the way they had come. The pair climbed, facing down a dull grey tunnel. Doors faced each other in set intervals down the way. Connor stood stunned; the thing stretched on forever. Smith elbowed the scrapper and began to run. Connor shook himself out of his stupor and followed.

"Utilidoor!" Smith yelled over their footfalls. "Leads back through the whole mall! Might as well have nobody around when the shooting starts. Blessed be we just make it back to the exit near Becky!"

Connor nodded and followed. Before he could get out a joke about the car's name, he heard two sounds at once. One was a slam from behind them.

Another was a slam up ahead.

Smith screeched to a halt on the concrete floor, cursing up a storm. Connor turned to see the main force of the Percy gang meandering their way over. When he looked back, there were several emerging from a door in front of him. These men all began to form an orderly line. Each one crossed their arms and grinned. Smith spat at the group, then turned to see the leader standing and chuckling.

"You all didn't seem keen on having a bash downstairs," he smirked. "So we had to bring one to you. Pity it's taken so long."

"Quite right," Connor mimicked the man's accent. "You missed your dental work thinking about serving us tea and crumpets."

Sticking his teeth out got them punched by the fuming Brit.