Swift Runner

The door that led inside the bar opened and momentarily revealed the streets flooded with rain water. The storm outside had not yet calmed and the weather forecast on SocMed news has stated that the typhoon will leave the fractured archipelago's area of within a week.

The flat screen television screen behind the pleading bartender was currently playing a live SocMed feed of an online 'Sabong'--cybernetically engineered fighting cocks killing each other in a circular pit. The wooden tables and chairs around the red-lit bar were strewn alongside broken bottles, scattered plates and utensils. Unconscious bar patrons laid beside bound and muffled scared waitresses.

Gathering in the middle were five men, one had a rapidfire Chrome slugger in his hand trained at the bartender while his other hand choked the bartender's son, who only sought to calm the rampaging loan shark. Each of the gangpunker bastards were equipped with green assault flak jackets that covered their torso, upper shoulders and groin areas. Their cream cargo pants remained unprotected with the exception of the knees that were covered with an orange cyclist's kneecaps.

The gangpunkers were a team of collectors under the employment of Barry's Heavy Hands, a loan shark. They operated within and around the neighborhood. They were targeted by the area's Elected Sherrifs for meddling with public security since the gangpunkers tended to "take the law in their own hands."

They were nothing but another problem in the society, a bodybag to be collected when the Flatliners were done with them if the time comes.

But since the Enclave Authority was occupied with other matters at the moment, the Minor Police Unit decided take over to assist the Elected Sherrifs. They called in a 'specialist' to take care of the problem.

And he just arrived.

"Hey, the fucking bar's closed, fancy boy!" The armed gangpunker yelled at the figure in red leather jacket, which sported an LED print design of burning flames that illuminated in blue. The visitor removed his green lensed mirror shades and placed it inside his pocket.

"I didn't come here for alcohol, chumboy." The guest said.

"Then what the fuck are you here for? You wanna be an alleykill?!" The man aimed the gun at him this time. The bartender's son twitched in fear while his father plead for the enforcer to calm down.

"Watch where you point that thing."

"Make me!" The gangpunker said.

The guest grinned, his brown eyes flashed in blue as his brainchip implant analyzed his opponent's possible next series of actions, as well as the trajectory of his weapon's bullet. His right leather gloved hand extended a long blade and swiftly amputated the man's hand. The organic hand fell onto the floorboard with a muffled impact while its owner screamed in shock.

He accidentally released his grip on the bartender's son, who vaulted over the bar and hid with his father. The guest's launched his mechanical hand, which spat electrical sparks, and made contact with his target's jaw. The gangpunker hit the ground while convulsing erratically.

He detected movement from his left. The blade in his right glove detracted. He reached for the cylindrical hilt of his sheathed iron slicer and pulled it out with a swift motion. He impaled the throat of the second gangpunker with a speed that was almost imperceptible. More movement was detected; the guest grabbed the dying goon by the scalp of his head and used him as a body shield.

The gangpunkers opened fire. Some of the rounds penetrated the flak jacket due to the concentrated firepower. The guest closed in on the nearest one before he discarded the body and decapitated his target with a swift strike to the neck.

The headless punk dropped to the ground. Two more remaining, the guest thought. His reflex booster implant kicked in and slightly affected his vision in a way where lights became blur and every movement he made seemed to be played in fast forwarded holovid. The illegal implant, the dealer said, was rumored to be smuggled from the walls of the Isko Moreno Tower, before the cybernetician wired it inside his body.

Of course, he would not enjoy the full capability of the implant since he lacked a certain speed-mulant that made Flatliners, THE Flatliners, but it would suffice.

He charged from his cover with his hand blade extended. The bullets in his vision seemed suspended in the air as he approached. It was surrealistic; the way technology altered man's perception of the world around him, like his actions were triggered by thoughts instead of muscles. His body felt light and was like strapped in a meteor. He impaled his target in the chest and swept upwards, splitting his upper torso and head apart.

The guest sent a flying kick at the last gangpunker. The heel of his armored boots smashed his wristbone to smithereens. He split the punk's skull before he could react further. The world returned to normal speed when the blade slid back home. The battle immediately ended and, for the guest, it felt like long minutes. He glanced at the wall clock and noticed that only twenty seconds had just passed.

"Th-thank you!" The bartender said.

"Don't mention it." The guest replied. "The MPUs are conducting a crackdown to clear out the Barry's Heavy Hands within the area." He grinned. "Better that than the Flatliners, eh?"

"How can we repay you?"

"Nothing. Just get on with your life and forget all of this happened."

"What's your name?" His son asked.

The guest was about to walk out unto the rainy night when he stopped and turned. He reached for his mirror shades and placed it over his eyes.

"Sly," he said. "Sly Iron." He then walked away.

From a nearby alley, a black mobile, colloquially called as a 'Scavenger', was parked with two men in dark blue tactical jacket and black vests stood and waited, their left arms possessed the logo of the Metropolitan Minor Police Unit, and on the right, the insignia of the Enclave Authority. One of them puffed a cigarette before he discarded it when Sly Iron appeared from the entrance of the alley.

"It's done." Sly simply said. One of the officers nodded before he gestured at his subordinate to transfer the Digi-cred to his account. The 'specialist' received a notification of an incoming money transfer, which he accepted with a mental command. A large amount of money filled his pockets once more.

"Until next time, Sly." The cop said before they embarked inside the Scavenger and drove away.

Sly left the alley with a smile. The first thing he did was to visit the mini-mart across the street. The entrance of the brightly lit establishment was guarded by a pair of grey-armored enforcers employed by Corsair Inc. Their skull-like faceplate turned at his direction, orange cyberoptics flashed twice before stepping aside to allow him inside. The corporate-whores failed to detect his concealed weapons within. He walked inside, his body was enveloped by a cold breeze ventilated by the building's air conditioner.

He walked past shelves of potato chips, synthetic beef jerkies, soda beers and nutritious jelly bars. He retrieved five large cups of spicy ramen with self-heating cups, three packets of meat bun and a large bottle of blue-hued carbonated water. He was about to leave when he caught sight of a strawberry chocolate bar and remembered how his two sisters wanted one badly. He grabbed a pair and approached the cashier's desk; the employee could see him struggling with his items and offered to help him.

"You need some help with that?" She asked. Sly glanced at the lady, a youthpunk with an innocent face--seemingly pleading eyes, pointed nose and red lips. He frowned, he must have seen her somewhere.

"Sure," Sly replied as he placed the item on the basket she was holding. The multi-limbed automated cashier desk did its work based on its pre-programmed instructions as one of its servo hands extracted the items from the basket and scanned it with an arm that ended with a barcode scanner. He didn't cast her a second glance but the lady asked another question.

"Tired at work?"

"Yeah," Sly simply said.

"I've been seeing you frequently around these parts." She smiled. "The police were conducting crackdowns right now and it's probably unsafe for you to wander alone in the streets."

"I know." Sly said. "But I've got to work." He smiled without looking; his stare distant while glued at the automated cashier's desk now wrapping his items for take out. "You don't happen to be a SocMed Vlog-fluencer, are you?"

She grinned.

"How'd you know?" She asked.

"Just a hunch." Sly said as he grabbed the elastic paperbag from the counter. "See you around, and take care." He left through the exit.

He entered the door of his house. His two brothers were busy watching late night shows on the television while his two small sisters bursts out of the room and gathered around him. He patted their heads before setting the grocery items on kitchen's table behind the living room.

"John, Rick, get over here now." Sly commanded as he sat on the head of the table. When they arrived, he glanced at his two brothers and asked, "are you finished with your online modules?"

"Yes, brother." The two replied. Since the government department that handled the population's education was destroyed a long time ago, the corporations, upon their arrival, tried to win the hearts of the Filipinos through generous acts, which includes free sponsorship of the population's education. Because of the fact that the streets of New Manila were unsafe for youthpunks, education were done in the confines of their homes through encrypted SocMed networks and private virtual reality worlds.

In the annals of the fractured archipelago's history, such method of learning were pulled off back in the ancient times when the pandemic of 2020 had struck. They have repeated the same process and so far, the results were positive due to the technology of today.

Sly glanced at the portrait of their mother, who died in some freak accident while working within the San Miguel Corporate Zone as a welder. He let out a deep sigh, his mind was disturbed by many thoughts. In the background, his sisters were extracting the ramen cups and the meat buns while his brothers were placing plates and drinking glasses on the table. After they retrieved the blue bottle of carbonated drink from the elastic paperbag, Sly grabbed it from the table, crumpled it, and threw it on the floor for the small trash compactor robot to retrieve.

Indeed, their mother had gave them a comfortable life, even after her death as the corporation she worked for continually supplied benefits. However, Sly had been an agent of the Enclave Authority to know that the corporations were "illegally" squatting in the city...

...and it would only be a matter of time before the Enclave Authority strikes and kick them out.

But what will happen to the citizens who were dependent on the corporations?