Lorelei, Leader of the Resistance

The hover conversion hums under me, sliding smooth across the cracked pavement; thrusters purring low, anti-grav field kissing the ground with just enough lift to make every bump feel like floating on air. I drift into the dock with style, rear end gliding perfectly into position, the rig settling with a soft hydraulic sigh.

I hop out, smirk pulling at my lips.

“Han from Fast & Furious would be proud.”

The Catch-A-Ride terminal hums in front of me, waiting for my claim. I stroll up, expecting Ellie’s familiar voice; all thick Southern charm wrapped around thinly veiled **** threats; to croon through the speakers.

Instead? A voice straight out of a bad meth trip wheezes through the terminal.

“Fuck off and die! Or… die and fuck off. Whichever!”

I roll my eyes. Fuck. Bandits have control. I open my Companion Tablet, scrolling quick. My army can tear through meatbags no problem… but this? Catch-A-Ride terminals need a steadier hand.

I’m about to turn back toward the rig when the universe reminds me this is Promethea…

BOOMPF!

A sniper round hammers me square in the back; shield flaring bright blue, the impact staggering me half a step forward. It doesn’t break the shield, but the kinetic ****? Yeah, that got my attention; ribcage rattling like a struck bell.

GhostScout pings instantly; cloaked form zipping upward, scanning for threats.

PING-PING-PING.

Threat tagged:

Maliwan Sharpshooter - 200 meters, high elevation, satellite relay platform.

I deploy SmokeScreen; she spins around me in a blur, spraying a thick, acidic smoke cloud that billows outward like a living thing, swallowing the street in gray haze, thankfully, its harmless to me.

I draw my sniper rifle; Firewatcher humming to life in my hands. The scope whirs, image zooming in tight; thermal overlay painting the sniper in hot orange against the cold metal of the relay. My other eye displays sniping coordinates: distance, wind resistance, curvature. The upgrade makes this far more satisfying; crosshairs locking with surgical precision.

The Maliwan soldier crouches on the relay; sleek black armor, head tilted behind the scope, trying to line up another shot through the haze.

“Bad day, asshole.”

I take a deep breath… and exhale as I pull the trigger.

CRACK.

The shot punches a fist-sized hole through his torso; armor crumpling inward, ribs shattering like dry twigs, blood exploding out the back in a wet spray. His rifle clatters from numb fingers, tumbling end-over-end into the void below.

His body follows; a limp rag-doll; plummeting toward the reservoir.

I keep my crosshairs trained, watching him fall.

Before he lands, I fire again.

CRACK.

A round tears through his leg; femur splintering, bone fragments spinning away like shrapnel.

CRACK.

Another punches through his side; intestines uncoiling.

CRACK.

Final one right through the head; skull blooming open like a flower, gray matter misting out in a pink cloud.

His corpse hits the water with a wet splash; the other chunks following in scattered plops.

I lower the scope, scanning for more targets.

Nothing.

Just me, my rig, and a pissed-off bandit-controlled terminal.

SmokeScreen digitizes back into my tablet with a soft beep. I shrug. I’ll figure out how to hack the Catch-A-Ride later.

Right now?

Lorelei’s pinned down.

CoV and Maliwan still crawling all over this place like roaches.

And unlike that dumbass sniper?

They won’t see me coming.

I stash my sniper and head for the rig; Promethea’s got a lot of corpses waiting to happen.

I drive toward Lorelei’s coordinates, the hover rig purring beneath me. The ground… well, the ground’s making the most satisfying soundtrack I’ve heard all day.

Crunch. Squelch.

It ain’t the thup-thup of tires over enemies, more like the sharp, panicked yelps of bandits too dumb or too grief-stricken to move their asses out of my way, followed by the wet, pulpy squelch as my hover rig flattens them thinner than crepes.

Their queen’s dead.

Boo-fucking-hoo.

If you’re too busy crying to dodge 5,000 pounds of vehicle, that’s natural selection, Borderlands-style.

I chuckle to myself as I guide the rig toward an old entryway; more blown-out wreckage than proper doorway. I park, hop out, boots crunching the ground. I barely get my bearings when-

“YOU TOOK OUR QUEEN AWAY!”

A chorus of enraged, dumb-as-shit CoV fanatics rush me; weapons waving, eyes wild, masks smeared with paint and tears.

I lift my boomstick-

But I don’t have to pull the trigger.

Lorelei drops down like the goddess of mayhem they are.

All smirk. All badass.

“S’up?”

Lorelei lands light; already moving; shotgun in hand. It barks, close-range shells ripping through CoV meat like a buzzsaw through a melon: chests exploding, heads vanishing. They move like fluid; hand-to-hand strikes flowing between shots, boots slamming into ribs with audible cracks, shotgun barrel cracking skulls open like eggshells.

The chamber clicks empty. No hesitation; Lor flips the shotgun, boot to the chest, reload mid-spin in one slick, near-superspeed motion and… BLAM.

The last CoV’s face ceases to exist; meat, bone, brain; all redecorating the pavement in starbursts.

I lower my weapons, grinning.

Lilith wasn’t wrong.

Lorelei is deadly efficient, and, well… a looker.

Pink highlights streak through short, platinum-blonde hair, purple war paint smeared over their eyes like a domino mask. A tank top clings to caramel-toned skin, midriff bared, muscles taut and ready; sweat gleaming under the neon.

They saunter up to me, lazy grin on their lips, that smooth, accent-heavy voice wrapping around my brain like silk.

“Lilith told me you’re something else.”

They eye me up and down, making no effort to hide it.

“Were I into blokes I might take you out for a ride and a cuppa,” Lorelei says with a wink. “But right now? We need your help.”

I’m park into another Catch-A-Ride; its interface dark, screen flickering with corrupted bandit code.

“We tried everything,” Lor says, producing a flash drive that’s seen better days; bent port, casing scorched. “Our best computer guy rigged this to hack it… but he got hit.”

It’s tossed into my hand.

“You’re good with tech, yeah? Think you can salvage this poor creature?”

I roll the damaged flash drive between my fingers, smirking. My HUD informs me it’s compatible.

Compatible tech detected

Sufficient material for Action Skill use.

I pulse energy through it; the flash drive repairs itself in my palm: melted plastic reforming, casing upgrading to sleek, shiny titanium, deep purple gleam glinting in the light.

But it doesn’t stop there; reshaping, metal unfolding into a sleek, mecha-hummingbird, neon-lined wings beating impossibly fast.

Sentient Companion: DATAbyter [Hacking Drive] – Flight Class

Hacker. Hunter. Killer

Attack: Beak punctures arterial veins; rapid blood drain

Perk: Nanosecond hack, can override and commandeer enemy interface

• Hack the planet.

She chirps mechanically; scanning me before folding back into flash drive form, settling into my palm.

I smirk and toss it to Lorelei, who catches it with a grin that could melt alloy, and heads to the terminal.

DATAbyter hops free; zipping in a blur that borders on teleportation. She surveys the terminal, circuits flashing, her beak forming into a USB port and connecting.

Click.

A nanosecond later, Ellie’s voice crackles to life.

“Catch-A-Ride online! Y’all bandits better keep away less'n y'all wanna leave here with fewer limbs than you started.”

I grin. Lorelei grins.

Digital cubes of the rig flow into Ellie’s terminal.

Digiload.

Ellie’s voice confirms it. “Oooh I like this one. Hover conversion customization now in stock. Here’s a little sumthin’ for your troubles.”

Cha-ching.

My HUD ticks upward as cash flows in.

HUD PING: + $210,220

Credits now sitting at $4,214,000

“Upcoming terrain’s shit for a big ride like this,” Lorelei says, nodding at the ridge ahead. “Gonna need something… smaller.”

I already know.

I can practically hear it.

The Cyclone.

Light, fast, one-wheeled **** machine.

And I cannot wait to add that bad girl to my crew.

Vanguard and H8teWagon are gonna love their new vehicular sibling.