Glitch in the God Complex (AmpCore #1)

01 - Devil from the Dark Shores

"Bugger me." Kirk swallowed, tore another mouthful loose and handed it back.

She sidled closer, pressing her thigh against his and resting a head on his shoulder, biting into the kebab. Whatever it was, the vendor had lathered it with enough synthetic spices to make it taste pretty good.

She let her gaze wander past the docks. On their left, rising like a cliff was the great fortress bridge that connected the two halves of Hadrian, glittering with searchlights that revealed the silhouettes of corporate security patrolling its length. Massive guard towers climbed into the night, their eyes trained on the black wreckage across the water. Nothing and no-one crossed that bridge with out the corps' say-so.

"Look close," Kirk said quietly. "You can see the wraiths out there on the banks."

Piper followed his pointing figure. Squinting, she could just make out dark shapes on the far bank slouching back and forth with all the energy of a trance, their metal frames glinting dully as they reflected the neon-plastered shore of Hadrian North. The codewraiths: remnants of another time – a reminder that humans and AIs had once tried to share power.

The ruin of Hadrian South was testament to how well that had gone.

"Creepy bastards," Piper muttered. "Can't believe they're still out there after all this time."

"Right enough." Kirk sighed. "But that's those corporate spivs for you. Wreck a world and leave the mess for someone else to sweep up."

She nodded. At eighteen, Kirk was a year younger than her, but sometimes he seemed to have a weary old head on his shoulders. He could have filled books with every rant about the injustices in Hadrian.

They lapsed into silence, trading bites of the kebab and watching the wraiths' mindless procession until night took full grip of Hadrian. Eventually a cigarette-sucking dock supervisor shooed them away and they took off, hand in hand, scampering across the jetties, dodging growling forklifts and swinging cargo crates until they slipped into the narrow streets beyond.

Bright lights belched at them from stores that were little more than cupboards jammed into the outer walls. Metal-sheeted buildings formed a grimy labyrinth, its air thick with chemical tang.

Around here nothing could get more than a couple of stories high – the cheap crap the corps used to build the slums would implode if they put any more strain on them. More than once Piper had managed to stick a boot straight through the floor in her own house. Above it should could see the arrogant skyscrapers of Hadrian's self-styled rulers, hundred-storey advertising boards for each vampire at the top of the food chain.

She tried not to think about that right now. At least tonight she would be able to scrape together proper meals for her mother and sister. There was only room for so much fury in her mind each day. You could go crazy if you let yourself think about everything wrong with the world.

"Ahhh, you've gotta be kidding me."

Kirk's groan jerked her from her thoughts and she felt his hand tighten around hers. She looked up sharply and saw at a bend in the alley ahead, three figures had emerged. After a couple of seconds she recognised them.

"Shit, Kirk," she muttered, nudging him as they halted. "I thought we squared up with Barson already! What the hell did you do to him this time?"

"We did square up," Kirk muttered contemptuously. "Idiot just wants to play at being a big bad gangster like his daddy and shake down half the bloody bloc."

Piper pulled a sour face, one hand slipping into the back pocket of her jeans and closing around the solid grip of her flick-blade. As the trio of youths swaggered into place to block their path she eased it free, keeping it closed for now. The leader stepped forward – a gangly, narrow-eyed young man whose black overcoat hung awkwardly on his skeletal frame. His skull was shaven, and a feeble attempt at a beard darkened his chin. His mouth opened in a gross smile, revealing half a dozen metal teeth.