Cognitive Deviance

82. Hunting Grounds Part 1

Carl Maslow. Jack Holloway. Daniela Andrade. Nikki Atkinson. Joseph Kusanagi. Janice Mason. Witnesses to history, to the shift in power. The Psychwatch officers sat in armored vehicles barreling towards the Multi Man's hideout, towards the explosion.

An Assault Fatemaker rested in the hands of every officer but Nikki, their eyes obscured behind the lens of their ThoughtControl pieces. Body armor coated them from head to toe, with a Blur hanging on their belts, the real shield from the danger that awaited them. Whatever the Man had aimed at them would render their body armor weak as paper. They all knew it. With each passing year, humanity grew more efficient at killing. The trick? Boost the firepower, wane the defenses. For everyone. 

Equality in death.

There was vacancy in each officer's eyes, a great loss. Family, friends, coworkers, direction in life, gone. One day down, maybe another on its way. Mortality stood at their doorstep and handed them their guns, told them to use it to cope. Psychwatch or the masked men, life or death. 

The thoughts exhausted Carl especially, wherever he was. The alter at the helm remained perfectly still, almost animatronic. Finger off the trigger, barrel trained away from him, arms tight around the Fatemaker. It seemed as if every alter in his mind had their hands on the weapon. Catalina and Loki gripped the gun as if finding a lost child while Carl and Vince carried the experience and the target, their rage subdued. Though many officers imagined Carl dropping to his knees in the dark, shrieking until his vocal cords wore down to the thinnest of strings.

Jack Holloway sat across from him with glassy eyes and perfect posture, his pointer finger hovering above the trigger of his Fatemaker. He didn't move a muscle, but his curious eyes searched the vehicle, explored his fellow officers, detecting their pain and sorrow despite how foreign such things were to him. The wound digging from his gut to his back that left his blood smeared on the wall of Psychwatch's halls did nothing to him. They sewed him up like the rag doll he was and plopped him back onto the stage.

Andrade couldn't remain stoic, not anymore. Her organic arm trembled around her gun, and her breath resisted her control. The tips of her cybernetic fingers rapped against her gun to a beat, the only sound within the van. Beyond its armored exterior, an audience of sirens and booming news reports displayed on holographic screens assaulted the vehicle, muffled but reaching the ears of Psychwatch nonetheless.

"Andrade," said Mason, and Andrade kept her fingers still. Mason raised a finger to her ThoughtControl piece. "How much closer?"

"Three minutes, Commissioner," replied Kusanagi, riding in another armored vehicle. "Ready for drone deployment. Medics following behind us."

"Good. How's Atkinson?"

A pause, the two officers awaiting a word from their younger colleague. But they received nothing.

"She's fine," said Kusanagi. "She'll be ready. You know she will."

"She better be," said Mason, and she killed the signal, returning her sights to the officers in the van.

"Hey, Maslow," said Jack, though silence was the response he got. "Maslow."

Nothing again. Gloves hid Carl's hands, obscuring his ring from his officers.

"Maslow!"

Carl blinked. Whoever had control did.

"Empty shell," said Jack. "Imagine how he'll be if we don't reach his sweet little girl on time."

The heads of every officer in the vehicle pointed in his direction. Silence remained.

"Maslow, if you can hear me...you should know that whatever happens to Sandoval is nothing compared to what I've done to her in Wonderland. That shit Slater gave me down in the Rabbit Hole? Boosted the fuck out of my imagination. I'm honestly proud of the things I came up with that I did to her."