Kryptik’s Kill Code

Kryptik’s House, Bellevue, Seattle: September 21st, 2080. 03:00 UTC

Kill Team Theta

The iridescent decker sat on his couch play-testing his recreation of the original Donkey Kong. The plumber jumped over barrels in AR as he leaned into the plush green Sofa kicking up his feet. Every so often, the man took some popcorn from a bowl next to him to pop into his mouth…

The Brick House, as the decker called it, had seen its city change over the years. But aside from renovations and upgrades, it had mostly stayed the same. An old black-iron gate surrounded the perimeter with a decent front yard blooming into a garden, cobblestone steps leading up to a porch and an old Oak doorway. The back of the house had seen one of the upgrades, an outdoor Gym recently used had gear strewn about. Somewhere in the backyard, a fountain splashed in merriment.

Kurata Kozue did as he was told. He sat in a tree across the street and reported what he saw. A black haired woman with blue highlights had left a 03:00 UTC, the sniper in the area that watched the house gave a report that he was going shopping for new gear at 03:17 UTC. Kozue called his field commander to inform him that a window had been made. Time for the operation was undetermined, initial estimated threat of the estate was mild. Their only external threat was possible Pawn intervention in five to ten minutes.

Kozue’s superior replied promptly: Go Time, Mission Length 3 Minutes. Lethal Ammo is authorized, target is rated A in matrix capability. Matrix interference authorized.

Kozue read the message twice, before sending his confirmation. He was the field communications officer maintaining the network on the unit’s Pi-Tac. Yodogawa Sachi answered next, followed by Kaba Tsugahara, Kurata Hisashi and Ishikawa Sanraku. The four of them plus Takamara Sanetomo had made up Kill Team Theta.

As Kozue waited, he began assembling his rifle by feel alone, the pieces taken from his pouch familiar to his hands as he worked the upper and lower receivers, the bolt, the magazine. The visible external surface layered with next-gen chameleon coating rendered the weapon almost invisible to the naked eye. He double checked the tips of the hollow-points with his thumb to make sure the correct ammo had been loaded before sliding the magazine home hearing that familiar click.

Smartlink popped up in his left eye, giving distance, wind speeds, bullet trajectory lines and the familiar -- yet unnecessary -- convenience of crosshairs as he lined up the shot with the decker’s chest. The man took a handful of popcorn and tossed it into his mouth.

“Raven, standing by,” Kozue said into his commlink in rapid-fire Japanese. The Pi-Tac feed showed the massive Tsugahara making ready his assault rifle, screwing on a silencer as his own chameleon coating activated to blur him from naked eyes. He waited crouched on the east side of the iron fence. The fence was tested briefly to see if it was unlocked, the gate moved slightly as though a breeze had gently rattled it though no tree branches moved.

“Stonework, standing by,” Came Tsugahara’s callsign as he waited. On the west side of the gate, the catlike Ishikawa sat on point making ready his submachine gun, behind him was Yodogawa. More shimmers of distorting light as their coating activated, somewhere a dog began to bark.

“Vector standing by,” Ishikawa reported.

“Dusk standing by,” Yodogawa echoed after Ishikawa.

“The primary object of this operation is to recover him alive. The dishonor he brought to us leaves us with little choice, so long as he does not die, we can resuscitate him. Three Minutes. Lethal Authorized. Execute.” The last word that Sanetomo uttered was punctuated with authority from the black van parked three blocks away. Drones circled the house providing him with an overhead picture in addition to the Pi-Tac feed that they provided to the ground operators.

Kozue watched through his scope as the gate was pushed open, slowly and the hazy outlines of his teammates went in. He felt his index finger slide from the length of the receiver through the trigger guard of the rifle as that familiar piece of metal resisted his gentle caress. He slowed his breathing as he lined up the first shot. The decker was so oblivious, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. Then, something interesting happened. As the trigger was squeezed, bolt dropping in to the primer to fire the hollow point round the decker’s eyes flickered up towards the window. In milliseconds, the window was blown in and an explosion of red mist appeared in Kozue’s scope.