1:15 PM Silent Knight, Holy Knight

Anh | Sept 5 1998: 1315 ICT | Smooth Jams Cafe: Kitchen(10.78130984781488, 106.70005488075645) |District 1

𒀮𒁓𒆸𒐖𒈦𒀮

My gun’s display still read. The formerly plesant warmth now felt clammy, sticky. I tried to pull the slide it pushed back. I tried to pull the trigger, it pushed against me.

I was going to die, with an illegal gun in my hand and only Mitsuki Haiku as my witness.

I looked at the Haiku again. It was idling, waiting for instructions. The large, bulky machine, covered in cheap neons, hummed softly. While the Avatar sat on the ground, legs crossed. Stupid dancing Haiku....I miss my TiBo, she would be able to help me. 

Wait. What am I thinking, its still a Haiku unit.

“Haiku, how do I fix the gun?”

The Haiku figure turned toward me and looked at the display, which I pointed at the screen.

The Mitsuki Haiku transformed from her “popstar” outfit into an office lady with glasses: “search and recall mode.” An hourglass appeared in the corner.

I looked up to the mirror above the bar, and I could see four more figures starting to move toward me. I scrambled for a bottle and tossed it behind me. Another stream of bullets ravaged the mirror. I was almost blind now. Only a few shards remained useful.

“Ok, if your PAN weapon is showing that, it means the bio-psycho components of the device are unhinged and need to be rebound. Apply proper restorative measures over the course of four hours, it may—”

“I’m in the middle of a gunfight!”

To my left, a cook with a Molotov cocktail emerged from a barricade of tables.
“仆街橙色屌 !”
He shouted obscenities in Chinese before tossing the Molotov at the raiders. He overshot; the bottle hit the frame and relic-covered wall above. Flaming rock-star relics crashed onto the floor. A protestor was crushed by a large metal poster of a hair-metal band. The cook took his chance and ran for the exit to the plaza.

Alarms blared. Sprinklers turned on. I was drenched in water that smelled like mildew and iron. Why didn't I wear my poncho indoors?

“HAIKU!”

The Haiku flickered…
“Um. Perhaps apply ‘percussive maintenance?’”

Percussive maintenance? Wait… you were kidding!
I smacked the gun against the metallic rim of the counter.
The gun sniffled, and the ichor stopped leaking out.

𒀮𒐣𒌋𒐋𒀮

I was honestly amazed that it worked. But wait… only sixteen shots left???

I wiped dirty water from my eyes and saw the swinging kitchen doors. Through what remained of the mirror, I saw the men step away from the dousing fires and reload.

Of course. A kitchen probably had an exit for trash and stuff. Did I risk it?
I needed help.

“Haiku, I need you to send a message to Saito Tower, report malfunctions and assault of company personnel, and request rescue.”

“But Anon-san, the lines to Saito Corp are suffering heavy traffic right now. Why don’t you give me your cell number and I can schedule a call back in fifteen minu—”

I fired off a few rounds, striking a large man with a submachine gun and a trench coat. I ducked again as another cavalcade of bullets tore past.

I grabbed my lanyard from my purse and flashed it to the Haiku’s screen. I heard a ping from the device.

“Hai. Employee number logged, Tranh-sama. Sending priority signal.”

And to think I almost left that behind...Okay. Someone would have come out of the kitchen if there was a problem. The only way out was through. I looped the lanyard around my neck and prepared to run.

The loading signal on the Haiku stopped, and she gave a thumbs-up pose.
“Priority signal sent!” she bubbled. “Emergency response seven-nine-four—four four four four four—”
The screen turned bright white. I backed away as if it were about to explode. Clear fluid leaked from the vents.
"Oh no. Not again." I whimpered.

“For four, I will not relent.”
The Haiku unit flashed on and off. With every flicker, the figure prostrated, holding her head in her hands.
“They sell the innocent for silver,”

From the corner of my eye, past the Haiku console, I saw a large man in a pink windbreaker and padded jeans.
“and the needy for a pair of sandals.”
Oh God. Was that a sword? I had to get out of here before the bike knight found me.

His face was obscured by a neon-blue biker’s helmet, yet I could feel him looking at me. The man walked toward me with purpose.

“Get out, altar boy. She’s ours!”
A group of raiders in orange drew knives and surrounded the man.

“The Lady demands her. The Lady will have her.”

The helmeted man spoke with a soft metallic distortion as his body adjusted its stance.
“She and Saito owe a debt to the hungry ghosts, and we will collect.”

“If that is your mission, we are on the same side.”
“No, we aren’t. Not with you, and not with your whore.”

A portly man with a beard charged him. The man sidestepped, and with a single stroke the blade connected with the man’s neck. The head rolled. Two others shouted obscenities. Without breaking momentum, the helmeted man swung forward and drove his sword into the chest of a skinny bald rioter reaching for his gun. The knight turned to the last of the three and kicked him. The looter staggered. The knight wrenched the blade free and drove the hilt into the man’s skull like an axe. The figure dropped to his knees as the knight turned toward me.
(Pacing: Visceral and clear, but very compressed; reader may need a breath.)

Oh shit.

I fired in his direction. He took cover. I looked at the swinging kitchen doors and ran for them, firing cover shots before charging in and kicking the door open.

I expected cooks, staff—maybe Corey. There was no one. The kitchen staff had been raptured away. To my right, stoves still simmered with sauces and soups. Deep fryers held burning fries.

Only the knives were gone.

Ahead of me was a counter and a metal dish cart. I moved around the cart, staying to the left side of the room.

The exit was here. I just needed to make a beeline for it.

“Stop right there, Sorcerer!”

The helmeted man burst through the door, sword in hand. I raised the gun and pulled the trigger. Fluid spilled out again.

𒀮𐏓𒋻𒐖𒈦𒀮

The man pointed his sword at me.

“I am to bring you to Phu Nhan Maria.”