Ethos Code

Chapter 8

"What are the "Numbered"?" Vanta asks.

Iria takes a sip of her tea, before setting her mug down on a coaster.  "Proelium has two types of soldiers.  They have your standard, run-of-the-mill ones who are well-trained but nothing special, and then they have the Numbered.  They're freaking crazy.  I don't know how they train those guys, but they're essentially invincible.  Experts at any fighting style, immune to practically any poison, emotionless, quick... they're horrifying."

"And why are they called the "Numbered"?"

"They each have a number assigned to them."  She explains.  "There used to be 5.  05 was taken down in combat a few years back, and 04 was killed in training."

"In training?"

"That's what Proelium's mole told me."

"The one that leaks you the information for missions?"

Iria nods.  "There are only 3 active Numbered soldiers at the moment, but if they're sending one out today, they must be pissed that we got away yesterday and are trying to get a sure capture."  She tells her.  "Plus, the target today is a 25-year-old.  From a biological perspective, I doubt they want to risk losing him to us."

"So, what I'm hearing is that we should go quickly?"

"Precisely."  Iria stands up.  "I'll get the boys."

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Vanta closes the car door, spotting the empty seat up front.

"Where's Kiyoshi?"  She asks.

"He's still a bit shaken up from yesterday, so I told him he could rest."  Iria answers, starting the car.

"Headache?"  Atlas asks.  "Poor kiddo."

"He says it's a headache, but I also think he's just a bit nervous to get back in a car after that crap I pulled at that intersection.  He said he's up to supporting us virtually, but I don't want him to push himself."  Iria tells them.  "Let's only rely on him if we need to today."

"Does your little file thing say which of these number guys is gonna be there today?"  Atlas asks Iria.

"No, unfortunately."  She tells them.  "They're all a pain to escape from, but there is a distinct difference between them.  If it's 02 or 03, we probably have a good... 20-25% chance of this mission being successful since it'll be three against one.  Just don't engage in a fight unless you have to and run at the first opportunity."

"And if it's 01?"  Vanta asks.

"Let's just hope and pray it's not 01."

"He's that good?"

"Picture the most difficult opponent you can imagine.  Someone stronger than anyone you've known, smarter than anyone from those smart people TV series, and now multiply those skills by 10.  It's pure luck that I haven't died in my previous encounters with him."

"So just grab the guy and skedaddle outta there?"  Atlas asks.  "No matter the number?"

"As fast as you can."

"Got it."

Iria parks, picking up two plain black motorcycle helmets off of the floor of the passenger seat.  She dusts them off before handing them back to Vanta and Atlas.

"01, 02, or 03, all of them have near photographic memories, so it's best to be careful not to reveal your faces to them.  I'm assuming you don't want to have your name put on some crime database where you can no longer go outside without being arrested, do you?"  She asks, putting on her bright pink helmet and turning on the LEDs in the visor. 

"Ooh, can I buy stickers to decorate my helmet with for next time?"  Atlas asks.

"You could paint it for all I care, just make sure you keep it on, ok?"

"Maybe I'll hydro-dip it."  Atlas sticks the helmet on, and Vanta does the same.

"Hydro-dip?"

"Yeah!  I'll show you videos later just trust me it'll look so cool."

"Painting later, saving lives now."  Vanta's eyes roll behind her opaque visor.

"Roger that."  Atlas gets out of the car, and the others do the same.

They begin walking towards an alleyway with a row of tents for homeless people.  Trash fills the asphalt like discount decorum, and the whole area smells like pee and old takeout.  At the sound of a blood-curdling scream, the three begin running into the alley, before skidding to a halt with trembling jaws, arriving just in time to watch Proelium's target fall to the ground, slit at the throat.  A masked man stands over him, decked in all black with a knife in hand, steadily dripping fresh blood onto the pavement.  At the sound of their footsteps, the man turns to them, revealing the number 01 stitched into his vest.