The Neo-Metropol Heist

29: Artem

Artem ran.
Putting one foot in front of the other and tucking his arms close to his chest, he tried to keep his breathing regular.
The treadmill began to screech at him as he stumbled and had to grab onto the support bars, the heart rate monitor higher than the machine thought was normal. Slow down, it said.
"Don't tell me what to do," Artem tried to say, finding only a short, out of breath gasp.
"The treadmill is incapable of understanding sarcasm, Artem," Cad said, handing him a towel.
Artem patted down the back of his neck and stood up straight.
"Then what's the point of it?" Artem scoffed, finding his breath.
He switched off the treadmill and headed towards the bathroom in the corner of his new room.
Harry's place was old, or as he liked to call it, 'full of character'. The only place that had seen any kind of renovation in the past twenty years was the garage which sat underneath the apartments.
Harry tended to spend most of his time in the garage too, so the rooms were dusty, but it was far from the worst place in the city to sleep.
Artem threw off his sweat-drenched running equipment, showered and pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt that Cad had been out and bought earlier that day.
When they'd gotten back the day before, after stashing the ship and tearing out all the tracking equipment, Cad had detected what had happened at the apartment almost the second they crossed the bay.
After a quick fly-by to find his apartment a smouldering wreck, Artem had remotely wiped the building computer before any cops arrived and then went to Harry's to regroup, where he still remained without much of a plan.
He had to admit, he was a little pissed off, but the apartment had only been a roof that kept his head dry and a place to watch classic TV box sets. He hadn't even lived there that long, really. Still, it was an inconvenience, and he wanted to know why it had happened.
As far as he knew, he hadn't pissed off any mercenaries, at least lately, so they weren't after him.
He stepped out of his room and headed down the undecorated hallway to the door that led into Harry's garage.
Inside, Harry was speaking into a video chat screen on the kitchen counter. Artem couldn't see who he was speaking to but he recognised the voice.
"... Look, Harry," Alan Pigott said, "this isn't the first stolen military aircraft I've had to hide, I know it'll need more than a tarpaulin. Leave it with me. And stop calling me, you need to get more friends."
"Fuck you," Harry responded, moving to flick the screen off.
"Love you too, Harry," Pigott replied, "say hi to Foxe Junior for me."
The screen went dark and Harry turned to Artem, somewhere in the back of the shop, Artem could hear one of Harry's songs playing, he recognised it as Fortunate Son, by Creedence Clearwater Revival.
On the far side of the room, in the living area, Aphelion had a projected interface around her as she sat on the sofa and was gesturing quickly between screens.
"Let's see what's in the fridge of horrors today," Artem said as Harry followed him into the kitchen.
He pulled open the fridge door and scanned it for anything edible, finding nothing and closing it with a theatrical sigh, finding Harry's frowning face.
"You know, we still haven't talked about the whole giant, colossal, mother-fuck of a clusterfuck security breach thing," he rumbled.
Artem shrugged.
"Don't blow the whole thing out of proportion, Harry, everything is still on track," he replied, finding an open pack of cookies in a cupboard and stuffing one into his mouth, "relax."
Harry shook his head and scowled in the way that he did when he was stressed.
"Kid, our hideout was attacked by spec-ops," he said, smacking the kitchen counter with his palm and making it shake, "then, Grampa Simpson and the Wonder Twins came straight to our other hideout."
"Aphelion said that whoever those guys were, they aren't tracking her any more," Artem said, "I trust her."
"She didn't know they were tracking her in the first place, kid, how can we know for sure now?" Harry said, "we need to know for sure that this thing is air-tight still otherwise we need to call it off, but she won't give me anything."
Artem shrugged, again, putting the cookies down and finding the raw materials required to pour a glass of milk.
"Well, that's because you're a big scary man-hulk and you probably did that thing where the vein in your temple looks like it's going to explode," he said, holding the glass of milk up, "leave it with me and I'll sort it. Relax."
"Don't tell me to relax," Harry said, as Artem picked up a cookie and dunked it in the glass of milk, biting it with a grin, "what are you, twelve?"
"I'm rubber and you're glue, Harry," Artem replied.
The door to the garage opened and through it stepped Zakarias, wearing a thick winter coat but his immaculate hair unaffected by the wind outside.
"Well," he announced to the room, "many thanks for the update about the whole 'your apartment has been destroyed' situation, I almost stumbled into an NMPF crime scene tech convention. Thank god for lacklustre police intelligence."
Edward appeared from the apartments and greeted him with a bow.
"Sorry," Artem said, "things have been a bit hectic."
"No worries," Zakarias replied, "what did happen, just out of interest?"
Artem glanced at Aphelion, who looked back at him momentarily before surrounding herself with screens again, retreating into the comfort and safety.
"I'm hoping we'll find out now," Artem said, "where's Theo?"
"Here," Theo replied, stepping into the living area from the workshop at the back, wearing a vest and a leather jacket, her skin stained with oil. In her right arm, she wielded a welding gun. She looked at Harry and gestured back into the garage, "transition thruster boosters are shot, they need replacing."
Harry rubbed the back of his head and sighed, but he seemed impressed.
"Ah shit," he said, "nice job, though."
Artem felt like he had missed something as Theo looked momentarily impressed with herself, dropping the gun and joining them in the living area.
"So," Artem said, "there's a been a slight change of plans due to unforeseen circumstances, but it doesn't change what we're doing. Aphelion, just tell us, what happened?"
Aphelion looked like she wanted to run away, Artem couldn't tell whether it was because she suddenly had a waiting crowd or because she didn't want to admit that she'd been wrong. Eventually, she sighed and leaned forward.
"The short answer is that I fucked up," she said, bluntly, "I didn't realise I was being tracked and some guys with a grudge took a pot shot. They weren't after us, they were after me."
Artem nodded. Nobody in the room seemed like they were particularly annoyed at her, but he knew it couldn't be nice to be put on the spot, and he wouldn't get much out of her whilst she was under the microscope.
"And they can't find us now?" Artem asked, as diplomatically as he could manage. Behind him, he could feel Harry shifting expectantly, "you're sure? Like, life in prison or getting shot by a pissed off mercenary sure?"
Aphelion nodded.
"They'd planted a bug in a file that I overlooked," she explained, "I don't make mistakes, and I definitely don't make them twice, not with this. I isolated it and disabled the tracking program before we came here - right now I'm rerouting the signal that feeds back to them through thirty different proxies," even Artem could see that half of the eyes in the room had glazed over, "unless they can trick me into breaking into their systems again, they can't find me."
The reason Aphelion was on their list in the first place was because she knew her role, and as she spoke, the words honest, Artem at least believed that she believed what she was saying was true.
"All right," he said, "I believe her. Anybody else think we need to kill this thing because of what happened?"
He looked around the room, quickly scanning every face in the room. Harry seemed calmer, but was still frowning slightly. Edward leaned up the wall, slightly bewildered by the whole thing but apparently unfazed by it.
Zakarias, as always, was calm and unreadable, but he didn't raise his hand. Theo, on the other hand, seemed as though the explanation wasn't enough for her.
From what Artem had seen of the enigmatic Beacher, Theo had lived a life that had made her slow to trust and wary of everything, but she didn't make anything of it.
"Good, then we're still on," Artem confirmed, "I need to do a sweep of my apartment before we do anything else, though."
"You said that place was clean, kid," Harry said, finding a new subject to worry about.
"Nothing incriminating, just some things we can use," Artem clarified, "before the cops haul it out. Aphelion, can you give me a hand?"
Aphelion seemed surprised that Artem wanted her help, but she nodded reluctantly in agreement, climbing up from the sofa and slinging her backpack around her shoulder.
"We won't be long," Artem said, pulling on his jacket as the group dispersed, "Harry, got a car free?"
Harry nodded and threw him a starter key for one of the cars in the storage garage below.
"The red X6," Harry said, "I like that one, try not to leave it smoking in a back alley like last time?"
"No promises," Artem replied.
Leaving the group to disperse, Artem, Cad and Aphelion headed down the stairs at the back of the workshop into the garage below.
The garage was where Harry kept all of his cars, both illegitimately and legitimately procured, parked in three organised rows. In that room alone, there was an impressive collection that would put most private dealers to shame.
Artem found the car that the key corresponded to, a luxurious but functional sports model in a deep, racing red, climbing into the driver's seat. He tapped in the location for Sharpe Tower and hit the ignition.
The car kicked into life and headed out of the wide open hydraulic doors on the far side of the room, the engine quiet. In the corner of the car's display, an estimated time of arrival began to count down.
"I'm sorry about Harry," Artem said, leaning back into the seat, "he tends to worry. It's like a deep-seated emotional thing. It's really annoying."
He glanced at Aphelion as he said it, her arms were crossed and she looked out of the window.
"Look, I know you're probably pissed about what happened," Artem started.
"No, I'm pissed off because I let it happen," Aphelion suddenly replied, "I'd still be pissed off even if I hadn't put you guys at risk. There's one thing in this world that I'm the best at, and that's hacking."
So it was a pride thing, Artem realised. He definitely got that. At least, he could empathise, he'd never found anybody better at what he did than him.
"So you screwed up, it happens," Artem reasoned, "people screw up, as long as nobody dies you file it away under 'fuck ups' and get on with things."
Aphelion nodded, obviously listening, but she didn't respond with much more. Artem let the subject drop and laid off before she went to ground again.
"So, these guys that are after you, they're pissed, huh?" Artem asked, trying a new tact, "who are they?"
Aphelion looked at him quickly, like she wanted to respond but didn't know how.
"If you tell me, I might be able to..."
"What, help?" Aphelion stopped him, bluntly.
Artem laughed.
"No, I'm pretty sure you don't need help," he said, "it would just be nice to know who the guys that blew up my apartment were. In case I ever want, you know, bloody vengeance."
Aphelion finally cracked a smile, and then began to laugh.
"What?" Artem chuckled, "I can do bloody revenge. Show her, Cad."
Cad, from the backseat, paused for a moment at suddenly being introduced into the conversation. After a moment, his chestplate lit up and he projected video footage into the front of the car.
In it, Artem saw the night that Theo had floored him outside of the Astoria. The video looped twice then cut out, leaving Aphelion in tears of laughter.
"Why would you do that?" Artem asked Cad, who sat silently in the back seat.
Aphelion wiped her eyes and finally seemed to relax.
"All right," she said, "do you remember when we first met and I said I was hacking into the Met-Bank mainframe?"
Artem thought back a couple of weeks to the time that he'd met Aphelion in her compartment in the Lair, when they'd been attacked by a mysterious group of armed men after Aphelion had hacked into the city mainframe.
"I lied," she said.
Artem nodded.
"OK," he said.
Aphelion waited for a moment before she continued, obviously trying to think about how she was going to word her reply and of course, which bits she would mask and hide.
"I've been running from these guys for a while," she explained, "I don't know much about them except they're an elite spec-ops group working for a guy I pissed off a while back. I was trying to hack their internal servers when you met me, and apparently they don't like that."
Artem listened to her story without interrupting.
"I thought I'd shaken them when we got out of the Lair but I wasn't thorough enough," she said, admitting it obviously difficult for her, the words acid on her tongue.
"They're still looking for you now, then?" Artem asked and Aphelion nodded, "well, I suppose that makes things more interesting, at least."
They sat in a personable silence for a minute, then Aphelion turned to him and frowned.
"I'm sorry they blew your apartment to shit," she said, the words obviously an attempt at an apology.
Artem grinned and nodded.
"That's all right," he said, "I was getting bored anyway."
Artem turned the car out of the traffic streamed and aimed it upwards, towards the roof of the quickly approaching Sharpe Tower.
"We'll put it down on the roof and go in that way," Artem said, slowing the car and hovering for a moment before dropping it into a comfortable landing between the huge air conditioning units on the roof.
"Zakarias said the place is still crawling with cops," Aphelion said, following Artem out of the scissor doors that opened with a hiss.
"It'll just be techs now, if we're lucky, they're simple enough to clear out," Artem said confidently, leading them to a doorway in the middle of the roof.
It greeted him with a beep and opened, letting them into the slightly warmer air of the staircase that led down into the building.
The staircase was cold cement, tough and designed to last, but it quickly opened out into the plush corridor of the top floor that joined the penthouse apartments, including Artem's.
Artem put his finger to his lips and slowly moved down the corridor, leaning around the corner. Dust still lingered along the ruined hallway, the walls to his apartment torn and crumbled. There was security tape at each end but as far as he could see there were no guards.
"Cad," he whispered, "activate morning fog."
Aphelion watched, bemused, as Cad nodded politely. For a few moments, nothing happened.
From the apartment, there came shouts and the sound of footsteps as a small group of technicians in lab coats came storming out of the apartment door, followed by a lazily drifting tidal wave of dull white gas.
Artem grinned and waited for the last technician to scramble out of the smoke and run down the corridor.
"Come on," he said, heading down the hallway into the apartment, letting the smoke envelop him.
Aphelion covered her mouth as she stepped into the smoke after Artem, who chuckled and waved his hand.
"Don't worry about it," he said, "it's harmless, basically dried ice."
Aphelion took her hand away from her mouth and carefully took a breath. The gas had a weird taste to it but no negative effects.
Artem waded through the smoke to the ruined living area to where a projection on the remnants of the television screen flashed urgently. Security field triggered, releasing nerve gas.
Artem couldn't contain his amusement.
"You know, I can't believe that actually worked," he said, gesturing at the screen with his hand. The warning disappeared and the smoke began to clear, "Cad, how long?"
"Factoring in the NMPF protocol concerning unidentified toxin release, the typical reaction times of precinct dispatch, the general level of importance of the case..."
"Cad, just give me a number," Artem said.
"Fourteen minutes, forty-six seconds until the technicians return, Artem," Cad said finally.
"That'll do," Artem said, slinging an expanding rucksack to Cad and Aphelion, "Cad, get the tools from the workshop, just the top-quality stuff, and any of the design blueprints that weren't wiped. Brains, anything you left behind, now is the time to grab it."
"Brains?" Aphelion asked.
"What, you don't like Brains?" Artem replied, heading towards the bedroom.
"I hate Brains," Aphelion said bluntly.
"I'll make a note of it," Artem said, leaving her in the living area.
In his bedroom, he grabbed some clothes that he'd taken a liking to and stuffed them into his bag, as well as an old tattered copy of Orwell's Nineteen-Eighty-Four that he kept in his bedside table.
Aphelion and Cad appeared at the doorway, heavy bags in hand.
"We good?" Aphelion asked.
Artem nodded, "just one more thing."
He crossed the room to his sliding wardrobe, stepping to the side and placing his palm against the wall.
"Open sesame," he said quietly, and the wardrobe began to split open, revealing a square of wall behind that clicked and slid open.
"You are basically a walking cliche factory," Aphelion said as Artem began to root around in the safe, "you told Harry you didn't have anything that could identify you here."
Artem took out a pile of pictures and various other items of sentimentality, something that Harry would kill him for, and stuffed them into his rucksack.
"I lied," Artem said, raising his eyebrow at her, "I lie to Harry about a lot of stuff. He'd have a coronary if I didn't."
Artem shut the empty safe and the wardrobe slid back into place.
"Now we can go," he said.
As he said the words and they headed out of the bedroom, from the living area there came the crackle of a voice through a mask.
"... Spread out," the voice said. Artem stopped and they hid behind the door-frame.
He glanced out into the apartment and clenched his teeth as he saw two police officers, dressed head to toe in specially designed anti-gas attack suits, with ventilators on their backs.
Artem glanced back at Aphelion, whose eyes seemed to be rapidly flickering back and forth behind her glasses, trying to think of an exit. Her eyes locked onto the shattered window on the far side of the room, the gaping hole in the building now covered by a thick green tarpaulin.
"Oh no," Artem whispered.
Aphelion nodded and ran across the room, pulling the tarpaulin back, revealing the orange setting sun that illuminated the city in muted tones.
"No," Artem repeated. In the living room, he could hear the footsteps of the officers wading through what remained of the fake toxin.
Aphelion stepped out through the tarpaulin onto the narrow ledge outside and Artem's stomach lurched.
Cad gave him an urging glance, obviously calculating and analysing every possible outcome and deciding that climbing out of the thirtieth floor window was the safest option.
The officers outside came closer to the door and Artem realised he didn't have a choice, following Aphelion out onto the ledge.
Immediately, he made the mistake of looking down, feeling a surge of sickness wash over him as he registered the sheer drop. Below, the traffic flow railed past barely fifteen feet down. He couldn't even see the ground, anything underneath the traffic a deep black abyss of total nothingness.
The wind battered his face and wound around his head with a scream. Behind him, the tarpaulin rippled and shook, whipping him and threatening to tip him over the edge.
Trying to stay as quiet as possible as Cad appeared to his left, the three began to shimmy along the edge.
Artem felt his nails digging into his palm as he tried to maintain a desperate balance between falling backwards into the apartment and into the waiting cuffs of the NMPF, and falling forward to his death.
A particularly vicious gust of wind caught him off guard and he shifted awkwardly, feeling his leg slip from the ledge before he could react. He felt himself going with a stunted gasp, before Cad reached down and pulled him up with a vice-like grip.
Panting, he answered Aphelion's attempted look of concern with a nod, urging her on.
Several metres away, an open window lay in wait, a stroke of luck that Artem found himself thanking any deity that was listening for.
But it was still so far, the distance further than it seemed because of the fragile knife edge on which they currently perched.
A loose tie in the tarpaulin or even a curious glance out by one of the guards would blow their cover, but with more luck than Artem thought he actually had in store, Aphelion reached out to the open window and grabbed hold of it, rolling into the apartment, Artem falling in after her.
Artem landed on his back and panted as Aphelion climbed to her feet and looked over him.
"Heights," she said, strangely surprised, "of all the things, you're scared of heights?"
Artem shook his head and propped himself up on his elbows, still trying to catch his breath.
"Heights? No, that's moronic," he said, "who's scared of heights?"
Aphelion raised her eyebrow.
"I'm scared of falling and dying," Artem said, "that's perfectly reasonable."
Aphelion held out her hand and Artem took it, righting himself and brushing himself off.
"You know," Artem said, "there seems to have been a huge increase in the amount of drama in my life recently. It's almost like it's happening for the entertainment of some omniscient sadist."
They were in the apartment that Edward had been using for the days before a gunship had shot it to pieces. The place was bare, Edward hadn't exactly tried to make it homely - a single armchair sat in the middle of the room, a side table next to it.
On it was Edward's battered old hat and a dog-eared copy of an old sci-fi novel.
Aphelion picked up the hat and book and tucked it into her rucksack and Artem headed to the door, palming the open pad and peering out.
At the end of the hallway, one of the officers appeared from his apartment, facing the other way.
"... Just a booby-trap, boss, nothing toxic," the officer said, "can't believe the techs fell for it, but I guess they were right to be cautious. Call them back up."
The officer in the bulky environment suit clicked off his commlink and turned back into the apartment.
Without hesitating, Artem gestured to Cad and Aphelion, who quickly followed him out of the apartment and around the corner they had come in from and headed back towards the maintenance stairs.
"Holy to the hell that was close," Aphelion whispered as they found the concrete stairs and began to head up to the roof to the waiting car.
"Yeah," Artem replied, suddenly feeling the weight of the past few days bearing down on him coupled with the knowledge that he had at least a couple more weeks of it to come, "you know what I would really like right now? A nice lie down."
Aphelion gave him a look that seemed to visualise the same thing he was thinking.
"Yeah, I thought as much," he said.