Created G.H.O.S.T. System - A Cyberpunk Story

"Ugh, why are you so fragging fat?" Trace huffed and puffed wearily, as he leaned against the jagged concrete opening where the heavy rusted door of the bunker had once been. "You need to lose some serious weight, Monroe. Like maybe consider getting a lighter arm or something."

He was mostly grumbling just to hear himself talk and because the big man had occasionally responded with moans to his voice while he was dragging him down the corridor. It wasn't much, but it let him know the big lump was at least alive. That counted for something.

"S'not fat, s'muscle," Monroe mumbled softly, his voice barely coherent. "Never.getting.rid.of.this.arm." There was a long pause as the man breathed in and out several times. "S'my brother's arm. He died saving me."

During their time working together, Trace had gleaned a few things about the accident that led toward Monroe losing his arm and part of his jaw. That included the arm belonging to his brother, though he had managed to forget that. Despite everything, he still knew very little about the man, or the actual accident itself.

"I- I'm sorry. I forgot about that," He muttered to the unconscious man.

Everyone had their own story and had lived through their own trauma of some sort. No one got away clean in this world, not anymore. The days of that had ended, it seemed, when the corporations attempted to kill Deckard so long ago. If they had even existed back then, that is. Maybe only the dream was alive then. Now, not even the dream of innocence and freedom had survived.

That was the real reason everyone hated the corporations, because that was what they had taken away from them. The chance for freedom, and to have even a few innocent years.

He shook his head, dispelling the thoughts and concentrating on the task ahead. Namely, somehow getting Monroe from down here to up there in the cab of his truck.

While he thought over the problem, he poked his head out of the hole they had created and quickly looked around. Three new vehicles had joined his truck, but it didn't look as though there was anyone else around. He had been reasonably certain that was the case when no one else came running to back up the group when the gunfire started. It rarely hurt to double-check in this sort of situation.

Reaching down, he grabbed the two guns and bag from off Monroe's chest and carefully made his way out of the hole. After storing them in the backseat section of the truck, Trace went through everything in the back and was able to confirm that he did indeed not have anything that could help carry Monroe out.

At least not gently. He did have rope. If it came right down to it, he could always tie it around the man's midsection and pull him up. Really though, that was an absolute last resort, as pulling someone without eyes on their physical form just sounded like an incredibly easy way to break their everything.

With that comforting thought at the back of his mind, he headed toward the first of the SUVs parked behind his truck. It had large tires, a robust suspension, and a matte black paint job on top of what was clearly heavy armor plating.

He wanted it; he wanted it so bad! All three of them, in fact, because he was greedy like that. No, actually the second would be a parts vehicle for when the first inevitably became damaged. The third was for Ko.

The control modules would need to be changed out, and any tracking modules or related items disabled and gotten rid of. The same things he needed to do to the personnel carrier currently in his basement. Still, he wanted them.

They were corpo fleet vehicles, so they would likely be using some form of physical key instead of a specialized crystal key. That would have locked the vehicles to specific drivers, which, while possible, was a terrible plan in an emergency.

He just needed to find which of the people below were carrying the keys, if they had even bothered to remove them. He tried the door handle on the first one, finding it unlocked and the key still in the slot. Apparently, they had deemed it safe enough to leave the keys inside the vehicle. Which, to be fair, normally they wouldn't have been wrong.

In the back of the SUV, he found not quite what he had been looking for, but close enough that it didn't matter. The sad thing is that it was something he already had a version of but had forgotten about. They had their own first aid kit back there, and inside it was a stim pack. Stimulants could be designed to do anything from providing some adrenaline, to increasing the body's natural healing factor and more. If you want to temporarily lift a truck, pop a stim, just be prepared to pay the price, or pop a stim for that as well.

If you had the money and the right combination, they could be downright miraculous, though they weren't instantaneous. He had a healing stim in the kit he kept stored in his truck that he could have used on Monroe. That wasn't the one he had truly forgotten about, though he had also forgotten about that one. No, it was the much simpler adrenaline and other random cocktail stim he had first gotten from the scav den.

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He still had a couple of them left.

One of those would have Monroe up and walking in no time flat. From there, the big man himself would hopefully be able to tell them how serious his injuries actually were.

Did they have time to grab the cans of food and move the SUVs out of sight, or did he need to drive as fast as possible back to the city?

Running back to Monroe, Trace took out the kit from his bag again and found the stimulant injector. He shot the drugs through the skin in the man's neck and stepped back, just in case he woke somewhat violently.

Which, it turned out, is exactly what happened. The man's back suddenly arched as his veins bulged. The seals the PlugDocs had created held, but tiny rivulets of blood ran from spots where his movements had reopened the wounds. His heavy cyberware arm slammed against the concrete floor, cracking it, and sending him into a standing position at the same time.

Monroe finally opened his eyes and looked around wildly, his breathing coming in and out in a barely controlled manner.

"Woah, calm down, we're safe. I just gave you a stimulant to wake you up is all. Breathe." Trace held his hands up and guided the man through a simple breathing exercise.

It took a minute, but Monroe finally relaxed, almost collapsing as he did so. "What happened?"

"You were shot, so was I, for that matter. I handled it like a grown up though and didn't pass out, ya pansy." Trace joked, holding a hand to the area beneath his ribs.

Honestly, it barely hurt as long as he was standing. It was when he tried to bend over or use any muscles in his chest area that it blazed to life and reminded him it was there. Driving back to the city was going to be a ton of fun. He would need to check out what stims they actually had in their first aid kits before he swiped them.

Which he was for sure doing. Even if he was leaving the SUVs, there were a few things that they were bringing with them now, no matter what, even if Monroe was bleeding out on the seat of his truck. Though, if that was the case, the first aid kits would have been the only real addition.

"Can you tell how bad the damage is? I had to wake you up, as I can't even carry you to the truck."

Monroe gingerly felt at the hole in his bicep and then again at the one a couple of inches below his collarbone on the right side of his chest. "Oof, got lucky with this one, same shot on the other side would have been fatal. Everything is a little numb at the moment, so it's hard to say for sure just how bad the damage actually is." He thought for a minute before continuing. "If you want to grab a few things before we leave, I think that should be fine, but I probably shouldn't attempt to carry anything."

"That's alright, I'm just going to strip the useful items from these guys, and then shove them into a room for later. I want to work on their vehicles a little as well, but that's it."

Monroe nodded in understanding as Trace headed back down the corridor towards the first of the bodies. It was doubtful that they were carrying anything extraordinary, but every little bit helped. Besides, they owed him a pistol, suppressor, and some armor, and he aimed to collect.

Ten minutes later, he came back out laden down with several guns and pieces of armor. The rest he had stored in the second bedroom. All the now partially naked bodies were in the first bedroom. He had decided to bring some up with him on the incredibly likely chance that more people would come to investigate the site later, before he returned. He didn't want to come away from this entire affair completely empty.

"Alright," He said as he shoved the items into the backseat area of the truck. "I'm going to move the first of the SUVs over beyond that hill where it will be hidden. Do you think you can drive the truck and bring me back here so we can make this go quicker?"

Monroe nodded, though it was plain to see that he was paler than before.

A few minutes later, each of the SUVs had been moved, and their first aid kits moved into his truck. One of which was currently open and sitting between them as Monroe perused its contents.

Trace's earlier thoughts about how much fun it was going to be to sit and drive were already proving true, and he desperately needed a painkiller. Whereas Monroe just needed something, hanging around even the few minutes extra that they had, wasn't looking to have been the smartest idea. His breathing had been growing worse until suddenly he had started coughing and decorated a portion of the windshield in blood.

The lung on his right side was failing. At least that was what Ko and Sevorah told him when he called them.

It was bad, but not fatal. He still had the other one. It would be uncomfortable, supremely so, but as long as he didn't panic, or it got worse, he should make it back to the city and the clinic. He definitely needed to drive fast though.

Unfortunately, in this case, the damage to his lung was likely caused by Monroe's reaction to the stim Trace had given him, Sevorah postulated, over their shared call. "The lung was likely nicked by a fragment of something, bone, bullet, concrete. It doesn't really matter. Normally, he probably would have been fine, or I would have seen it when you arrived, and I had him on the table. His violent and explosive reaction likely strained the already damaged lining, and well, there you are. At least, that is my guess."

There was no way to know for sure until they arrived. So, she was mainly talking to fill the dead air, while Monroe looked through the first aid kit.

"Sevorah, is there a reason you are trying to make me feel guilty right now?" Trace growled as he deftly maintained control of the high-speed truck despite the terrible condition of the highway. "I admit I probably shouldn't have used a stim cocktail I got from some scavs, but what should I have done?"

"Oh, no. I checked that particular mixture when you arrived that first time. That stim while potent, has nothing illegal in it. I would have told you if it had. No, if anything, its potency is the issue here. As for what else you could have done?" A sigh echoed in their ears. "I have no idea, I wasn't there. Just hurry back. I've already called the guards at the gate to expect you and to expedite you through, seeing as you are both injured."

"You can do that?"

"If they ever want to be treated in a timely manner, it is heavily encouraged that they work with menders when we make requests." She replied.

"Ah, found it," Monroe cried out jubilantly, his voice possessing an odd wet gurgle to it.