Defiant Horizon is a Near Future, Alternate History Cyberpunk Adventure set in a world teetering on the edge of world war. As some discover that they have supernatural abilities, will they choose to use them for good, or their own selfish ends?
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A thousand little threads,
Creased by time.
We are all the sum
Of what we survive.
Good deeds and crimes.
Tachibanaya, Hashishima City, Hashishima,
Wednesday, August 8th, 2035
“Overwatch, 2319 with that Delta 1. We’re Code 12. En route to HQ.” Monica heard over her Hashishima Police Force dispatch AI radio connection. She sat in the lovely, cozy interior of Tachibanaya, her favorite coffee shop on the outskirts of town. It had been remarkably quiet on the dispatch radio tonight. A few drunk drivers, a couple domestic calls, the usual stuff, but not as much as she’d expect. She’d been listening pretty much all day as she combed through news reports, and Current, on her holo console. She had about a dozen holopanels up with various programs and feeds running. Her dark brown eyes darted between them, taking in the information, eliminating garbage data, and filing away useful points nearly as quickly as they appeared.
There had been three sightings of the Kuroi Kitsune just this week, but it looked as though there were no new sightings last night. She had killed a lower-level drug dealer, three suspected hit men for the Kuznetsovs, and the head of a human trafficking ring this week. Well, it was assumed that she killed them. The marks made by presumably white-hot claws, and plasma bursts all but confirmed they were her victims. There had been copycats of the Kitsune over the years, but something was always off on the details. No, these were definitely Kitsune strikes, and just showed that the frequency of her attacks was further increasing. What once was a perhaps monthly, or even quarterly occurrence had accelerated to multiple times a week in the span of just a year. Sure, criminal activity had similarly increased, but there had to be more to it than that. Something was happening, and she needed to find out what. She needed to find her. She stared at that same picture a Current user had posted when they had caught the Kitsune leap across Ford Plaza this week. A dark figure with nine glowing tails streaking behind her.
Frustrated, she swiped the news feeds away and brought up the code interface for her latest pet project. She wasn’t satisfied with the news and social media aggregator bot she had programmed. It seemed to pull too many irrelevant stories or miss things in social media posts because of bad spelling, or conflicting factors. She needed to retrain the algorithm that helped it judge what was useful. Monica took the archive of articles and posts she had collected over the years on the Kitsune and had her data model AI start working on modeling, testing, and corrections for her to review later. The better results she got from the aggregator, the less time she wasted with false positives and irrelevant data. She’d had enough when the aggregator had started pulling memes about the Kitsune as actual news. This time she’d written code to help mitigate pulling outright troll and joke posts on Current, letting the bot examine the user’s post history to judge whether the user met a certain trust threshold. The more obviously fake posts, or memes, the lower the score. She’d see if that helped.
Haruka, the shops owner’s daughter came to her with a plain white mug, and a small plate that held a gorgeous muffin. “You know, if you keep working on your days off, your Captain is going to have a fit again, Lieutenant Ichinose.” She said as she set the coffee and muffin before Monica.
Monica twitched, the title making her cringe. “Haru, really, just call me Monica.”
“I can’t help that I’m still excited about your promotion to Lieutenant, The youngest in Hashishima Police Force history at that.” Haruka said with a grin.
“Oh, come now, that was a year ago,” Monica groaned. She took a sip from the mug. As always, the dark, rich, and complex House Blend was exactly what she needed to feel herself again. She still couldn’t get Keiko to tell her the blend of beans she used. The notes of brown sugar, chocolate, and sweet orange filled her soul as she took a second sip. Could she really blame Keiko for being tightlipped about the blend? If she had something this sensational, she’d take the secret to her grave.
Haruka sat down at the table with Monica, and sighed. Much like the dispatch radio, Tachibanaya was exceptionally quiet. There was Ravi over at the fireplace reading a book like usual. He was probably on his second cup of coffee, and his girlfriend should be showing up soon, but Monica couldn’t remember her name. The inseparable pair of older women, Gertie and Lyanna were gossiping about work, or so she had overheard. Apparently, Frank in Accounting was sleeping with Beth, again.
Otherwise, most of the dark oak tables were vacant, the eclectic collection of books and curios on the shelves that surrounded the space were untouched, and just Haruka worked behind the counter. Most of the regulars for a Wednesday night were total no shows. Tachibanaya was by no means a massively popular establishment, but it was a hidden gem with a dedicated following among locals. It was rare to see it so empty, even late into the night. Its prime location right next to the main campus of Blue Spire University made it a choice spot for students to meet up, or to buckle down for an all-nighter. That’s how she had found it herself. The massive, barrel-chested Carter usually would have gotten here thirty minutes ago with his friend Tanya to help her learn to play chess. Little did he know that Tanya was only learning chess to get close to him. Then again, maybe she had finally confessed and the two were on a date or something. That would be a welcome change.
“Overwatch, 0421 here. Have a Delta 1 on 6th and Carter. Black sedan. Forwarding information. Making contact now,” she heard. Another drunk driver. Monica sighed, and took a bite of the cinnamon swirl muffin Haruka had brought. The rush of sugar and cinnamon was enough to put a smile on her face. “Haru, did you make these?”
Haruka chuckled. “Oh, Mama’s been trying to teach me her recipe, but I just can’t get the hang of baking. Too finicky.”
“Can’t say I blame you. If it doesn’t come in a box, I’m hopeless,” Monica said, taking another sip of coffee.
“Hey Monny?” Haruka probed.
Monica tilted her head to the side. “What is it?”
“Well, I mean, do you think she’s real?” Haruka shook her head, blushing in embarrassment. “The Kuroi Kitsune. I know you’re in the task force set up to find her. But, do you believe she’s real?”
Monica smirked. “With the wealth of evidence linked to her, I think her existence is hardly a matter of faith, or belief. In fact, I think doubting her existence is a rather irrational position to have. Her victims are real, the sightings and firsthand accounts have been tested and verified dozens of times. It would make less sense for her not to be real.”
Haruka seemed to think about it for a moment, and then asked, “So, do you think she’s a spirit, or demon like the legends say?”
“Now that I can’t really say. I’d have to meet her to start to answer that.” Monica took another sip of coffee.
“Yeah, but do you think those kinds of things even exist?” Haruka asked.
Monica saw a cockpit in ruins, blood splattered all over the walls, the muzzle of a gun resting against her forehead, and… her… She shook her head to clear the memory away, then looked back to Haruka with a fake smile. “Now that, I do believe.”
“How do you know?”
“A story for another time, Haru. Let’s just say that I hope you don’t have the same experience I did.” Monica said, closely guarding her tone.
They sat in silence for a bit. Monica kept listening to the dispatch radio, but nothing out of the norm came up. After a bit, Haruka got up to check on Ravi, by the fireplace. She hadn’t noticed it before, but she realized that he was reading a copy of The Unionist Papers, by Hamilton, Burns, and Jay. He must have been reading it for British History class. It felt like only yesterday that she had read it herself.
Almost unnaturally, Haruka appeared next to Monica as she finished her last bite of muffin. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked.
Monica shook her head and shrugged. “Nah, I’d better head back home.”
“No hot date lined up?” Haruka said with a smirk.
“Gods no. Like I have time for that.” Monica laughed half-heartedly as she stood up and swiped on her holo console to pay her bill, adding a tip that was twice what she owed.
Haruka put a slight hand on Monica’s shoulder, and spoke softly, “You should make time. I just want you to be happy. You’ve been alone since the day I met you when you were a college student, and I was just some stupid kid.”
“I am happy. And you were never stupid. Don’t sell yourself short,” Monica said, waving her hand in the air dismissively.
“Yeah right, if you hadn’t tutored me, I’d have failed Algebra, Coding, and Physics.” Haruka countered. She picked up the cup and plate she had brought over with one hand and wiped the table off with a towel she kept on her apron with the other. Haruka always was a bit of a clean freak, which served her well working at the coffee shop, since it was always spotlessly clean. It hadn’t always been, with her, at times… absent-minded mother.
Monica smiled warmly. “We all have different strengths, Haru, even if we don’t know them yet. When I was your age, I found that out… the hard way.” She looked away for a moment, then she closed her eyes, and put that smile back on for Haruka. “You’ll see, some day. You have a good night, alright?”
“Of course, you know it’s always a good night here,” Haruka said with a smirk, and she set off to the counter with the dishes in her hands.
It was only a few strides to the glass front door. Monica took one last deep breath of the scents of fresh coffee and baked goods before stepping back out to the rest of the world.
The air was pleasantly warm, having cooled from the heat of the day. That humidity was still there, though. Between that, and the periodic dark clouds that loomed overhead, it certainly felt like rain was only moments away. But it had felt that way for three days now.
She turned down 4th Street. Her apartment was a few streets away, nothing too far for a short walk. These days, though, many would call for a car for a much shorter trip. She saw that as inefficient, a misuse of resources. Besides, walking back home from the coffee shop gave her time to think.
Captain Gambini had really tore into her yesterday after he had found out that she had worked 29 days in a row without taking a day off. She knew it had been too long since she hacked the timekeeping AI to alter its logs for her activity. She was getting sloppy again. If only he knew how long she really had been working without taking a day off… As a result, he had put her on mandatory leave for the rest of the week.
Thankfully, the security for the main server was pretty easy for her to work around, so she had full access to her virtual workstation, case files, and the dispatch radio. Even if she wasn’t at the police station, she could still get things done. The captain’s heart was in the right place, but she couldn’t just take a day off. She might miss something important. She had to stay on the hunt no matter what.
Monica sighed. This wasn’t what she wanted to think about. She needed to work on some new stimulus tests for Ay—
Suddenly, she heard the unmistakable chattering report of rapid gunfire, making her reflexively duck down into a crouch. It had to be perhaps a street or two away. She pulled her Bastion Arms Crossfire pistol, racked the slide as she got up from her position, and quickly moved towards the sound. More gunfire burst in the warm night air. It was a different caliber than the first, which was met with more rapid reports, and the sound of glass breaking.
She came to the corner of an office building at 3rd and Lake and peeked around the corner. Over on what she guessed was Kozuki Street she could see a large, armored truck that looked like a Razorback parked outside the Byakko office building. There were three people dressed in matching black body armor, with what appeared to be tactical helmets firing rifles into the building’s lobby. A couple flashes, accompanied by the snap of handgun fire told her that the security inside the building must have been fighting back. Glass littered the concrete sidewalk and street in front of the entrance
Monica quickly switched the dispatch radio back on. “Overwatch, this is 1701. Code 50 in progress at 3rd and Kozuki, Byakko Building. At least three assailants. Long guns, looks like body armor too, plus one armored truck from what I can see. Shots fired. They’re fighting with Byakko security. Can I get eyes on?”
The dispatch AI immediately responded, “Copy, Code 50 in progress, repeat, Code 50 in progress. Shots have been fired. All available units please respond on private channel with location and ETA. 1701 please standby.”
Monica nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She tapped a button on her wristwatch to activate a holo display that formed over her left eye. It was a threat detector she had made a couple months ago, but hadn’t had a chance to test. Peeking around the corner again, the lens of the detector drew a silhouette around the three behind the truck. It also provided analysis of their equipment that it was able to recognize. They had matching Defenstech Operator 7 body armor, and were using Shenlong Type 67 assault rifles. The truck was a Defenstech Razorback, like she thought. These guys had to be pros to field this kind of kit, or had deep pockets. She whispered after she switched off her microphone to the dispatch radio, “Ayaka, I need you to be my second set of eyes.”
A light feminine voice responded in her right ear from the earpiece she wore, “Understood. Three targets have been detected. One is moving towards the building entrance”
Sure enough, one of the silhouettes was walking to the front door of the building, rifle raised. Green and purple neon light glared on his dark, armored bulk, as he neared the large holo sign with the tiger logo for Byakko Industries draped over the top of the building’s threshold.
Ayaka then said. “The closest target currently has their back turned to you, and appears to be checking the other direction of the street. From this position you have a 87% chance to hit given your average accuracy statistics.”
“Can my Crossfire penetrate that armor?” Monica asked.
“Analyzing. Defensetech Operator 7 body armor is rated to withstand shots from a 9.9mm pistol, however the Bastion Arms 9.9mm Lancer ammunition you have loaded should be able to penetrate with a direct hit. Chest shots are not advisable as that is where the most armor plating is located.” It was amazing how quickly she could perform analysis now. All of that training had really paid off.
“Anything else you can tell me?” Monica asked anxiously. She was getting worried that she hadn’t heard back from Overwatch yet.
“Based on acoustic analysis, and traffic camera data, I anticipate there are five enemy assailants. There have been shots from five distinct Shenlong rifles. It is possible there is another in a different location, or waiting in the car. The Defensetech Razorback has six seats. 65% confidence conjecture.” Ayaka said.
Monica switched back to talking to the dispatch radio. “Overwatch, 1701, what’s the story on those cameras?”
“Unable to access building surveillance at this time, nor any other data. The data lines may have been severed,” Overwatch responded.
Monica rolled her eyes. Of course. If they had the surveillance feed, the attack would have been reported immediately as it happened. She should have anticipated that. “Copy Overwatch. How long until back up gets here?”
The dispatch AI then chimed, “1701, the closest unit is ten minutes away. Do not engage. You are ordered to observe only.”
The gunfire back and forth continued as the dispatch AI spoke. Monica growled in frustration. “1701 here. That’s not going to work. There’re people in danger in there.”
Overwatch responded coldly, “You are not authorized to take action at this time. You are currently on leave. Do not engage. Acknowledge this order.”
“Screw that.” She said back before she severed the connection. Monica tapped a button built into her holo console at the base of her neck, and the image of armor plating flashed onto her chest. She gave it a moment, and then knocked on it with her knuckles to check. Sure enough, the holo flash forge had worked. She just hoped she didn’t have to see how well it had worked.
Monica peeked around the corner again, raised her pistol with both hands, lining up the faint holosight with the base of the neck of the closest target, and pulled the trigger. A bullet burst from her handgun, cutting through the air to meet its target. But, as she fired, the man turned, and the bullet tore into his right shoulder. The man yelped in pain, and she fired two more shots. One ricocheted off of his helmet, while the other hit it squarely, sending bits of dark composite flying in the neon light.
“Warning, second target is engaging.” Ayaka said just as Monica saw the other man behind the truck turn to face her. She ducked behind the wall just as a spray of bullets peppered the spot. She heard a shout, but couldn’t make out what the man said. He was most likely calling for help.
“Did you catch what he said?” Monica asked.
Ayaka responded immediately, “Unclear. I do not recognize the language, and he is just out of range of the microphone.”
She needed to move. There were at least two attackers that she knew about for sure. If Ayaka was right there could be three more. They could be inside the building, waiting in the truck, or in another spot that Ayaka and Overwatch couldn’t see with traffic or surveillance cameras. Her position was compromised, and if she didn’t engage from another, they could figure out a way to flank her. As if reading her mind, Ayaka displayed a translucent map over her threat detector lens with a marker. “This position presents the best opportunity for successful re-engagement”
Without a second’s hesitation, she broke into a full sprint around the building to a position that was right up against the Byakko building. But as she came around the corner to the alleyway she needed to cut through, a man in black armor opened fire from further back. Air rushed from her lungs as she felt two punches in the chest before she managed to scramble back around the corner. Chunks of 3d printed concrete brick and dust sputtered from the corner as bullets ripped into the wall.
Monica struggled to catch her breath. The shots had knocked the wind out of her, and her heart was pounding erratically. She felt at her chest armor with a shaking left hand, thankfully the flash forged armor had worked, though she wasn’t keen to see how many more hits it could take. Almost to prove the point, the armor started to crumble, and she dismissed it with a tap to that same button she had used to summon it. The armor vanished into thin air as if it had never been there. It didn’t seem as though she had been hit anywhere else. Monica had been incredibly lucky, but that luck would run out soon if she didn’t do something.
The man who had shot her stopped firing, and she gambled on the hope that he was changing magazines. Using the threat detector’s best estimate of his location to prepare herself, she whipped around the corner, lined up her shot, and squeezed the trigger twice as she aimed for the head. One bullet blasted through the neck, puffing out a cloud of red behind him. The other glanced harmlessly off the helmet.
That was two down, and she still didn’t know for sure how many left. She didn’t have time to guess as bullets came flying from where she had come from. Monica dove to the ground and cursed. A blue dumpster had blessedly been right behind her. Bullets rattled into the heavy steel bulk. She thought she could hear voices from around the corner where the guy she had just shot was. It could be more coming to flush her out.
A flash of white from over the dumpster caught her attention, and Monica heard a scream accompanied by some kind of hissing sound. She dared a peek over the dumpster… And standing over the mauled body of her attacker was a tall, sleek, feminine figure clad in almost alien black armor. Nine blazing white-hot tails of plasma flowed and coiled behind her. Claw-like gauntlets made up her hands, the claws also glowed white-hot, as if heated by plasma. On the head was a sleek helmet with three crown-like points, and a mirror-like circle in the middle about the size of Monica’s hand.
It was her: the one who had slaughtered criminals for centuries, the one called a demon by some, and an angel to others. The legendary avenging spirit of Hashishima, the Kuroi Kitsune. Not a picture, not a story, not a historical account, not a meme, not some artist’s rendering. It was really her.
The Kitsune looked from the man she had killed over to Monica, and tilted her head. Mesmerized, Monica realized that the mirror-like visor on the helmet didn’t show her reflection. She was at a complete loss for words. For almost ten years she had looked for the Kuroi Kitsune, and there she stood…
Suddenly, the Kitsune leapt into the air, landing behind Monica. She whipped around to see the Kitsune pounce on another attacker, slashing into them with her claws. The scent of burning plastic and flesh shot through the air as a spray of bullets from an unseen attacker clattered against the Kitsune’s armor. The tails whipped towards the new threat, and Monica looked around the corner just in time to see two of the ribbon-like tails slice the man in half.
And then she was gone, rocketing into the warm night air with a titanic jump. Monica fell to her knees, dumbfounded about what she had just seen. She had never doubted that the Kuroi Kitsune was real. Ten years of collecting records of sightings, surveillance footage, cases of her victims, even seeing many of them herself over the years had been more than enough to convince her that she was real. It would have made less sense for her to not exist. Something about seeing her right in front of her, though, made her feel… well she didn’t know. The entire encounter felt as though it had been some kind of dream.
Droplets of water began plummeting to the ground. She looked down at her still shaking hands, precipitation budding on her icy skin The rain had finally come, and with it a VTOL unit touched down next to her. A squad of police in full tactical gear jumped out and surveyed the situation. She watched, as if from a great distance, them take positions, two charging down the alley towards where the truck had been, two running down Lake Street to where she had been, and three checking the bodies of the people around her.
“Lieutenant, are you hurt? Are you ok?” one of the officers, Curtis, said, a stunned look on his face as he looked her over. He took a knee in front of her, and checked for injuries.
It took her a moment to find the right words. “No… just sore…”
Another officer, who was standing over where the three men had been killed around the corner, looked back to her. It was Simmons. “What the hell happened, Monny?”
All she could manage was, “It was her.”
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