Mardock Scramble

–Let’s see who’s the faster shot, tough guy.

The bathroom door opened.

All Medium could do was stand and stare.

A girl stood before him, dressed in brilliant white.

Pure as snow, from tip to toe.

Her clothes had a bondage-gear feel to them, as if she were wrapped up in white restraints. Or it could have been an evening dress, or a wedding dress.

One thing he was sure about—the striking figure in front of him was unmistakably the Teen Harlot he had seen in the video.

Rune-Balot.

An unusual name…

He wondered whether it was the PI in charge of her case that was responsible for her extraordinary appearance.

“Drop your weapons.” A man’s voice, out of nowhere. Surprised, Medium raised his gun. Had the voice emerged from this defenseless girl standing right in front of him?

Balot’s left hand rose, and the snow-white silken glove turned with a squish into something else.

A gun.

Light glinted off its silver barrel.

Medium gulped. His finger pulled the trigger on his gun almost reflexively.

A tremendous spark flared between Balot and Medium, lighting up the room.

Medium’s eyes were now wide enough to split his eyelids apart. He realized with horror what was happening:

The girl in front of him had actually shot at, and hit, his bullet.

Howling like a dog, he fired again.

Sparks. Explosion.

Steel shrapnel splattered against the walls, spilled to the floor.

But this time that wasn’t all. Medium felt a searing pain in his shooting hand. All four fingers, his thumb, and the grip of the gun had all been pierced by shrapnel.

The very definition of perfect marksmanship.

“Uh…” Medium’s face went white.

His left hand disintegrated and fell to the floor along with his destroyed gun. The water continued to gush out of the ground behind him, covering the tiles.

Medium tried to jump out of the way, but Balot shot at the gun on the floor. At the grip, the magazine that he had crammed full of electronically charged bullets.

All the bullets exploded at once, and a blue-white flame enveloped Medium from the feet upward.

He had no voice left in him, and instead of screaming he danced a bizarre dance in the flashing light. His whole body stiffened and burst at the seams.

The air was pregnant with the stink of burnt flesh and hair.

The blue-white light traveled across the water-covered tiles and struck Balot’s body too, but was repelled by the white raiment that bound her body tight, fizzling away harmlessly.

Thunk—Medium collapsed in a heap. Sparks continued to leap from the side of his head. The various electronic devices implanted in his head had short-circuited, and now pitch-black blood was pouring from his eyes and ears.

He wasn’t quite dead yet—but he’d seen better days.

Balot looked at the geyser of water that was jetting out from where the toilet had been. She intercepted the building’s water supply system—and snarced it. The flow of water slowed, then stopped.

She approached Medium and, with the lightest of touches, put her hand on Medium’s forehead.

She sensed a weak current and recognized it as a voice being transmitted directly into his head.

–What’s the matter, Medi? Are our transmissions not getting through? Was the target there? We’re not getting any response from Medi, Well. Medi, If you can hear…

–I’m fine.

Balot answered, in Medium’s voice.

–There’s nothing here. No sign of our target. I’ll continue searching.

Then she stopped snarcing the transmission, left the men’s toilets, and closed the door behind her.

02

–No, it’s definitely weird. It doesn’t add up.

Mincemeat heard Flesh’s voice at the back of his mind.

“Wassup, Fleshie? Explain to me what’s so weird.” Mincemeat held his Boston bag under one arm, waiting leisurely just outside the entrance hall.

–According to Medi’s audio records, he’s just heard a number of gunshots. One of them doesn’t show up anywhere on my database—my database. So we must be talking about some pretty unusual equipment.

“So there’s someone with different equipment from us. One of the PIs?”

–Yes, but Medi seems to be saying he’s all right…

“Hmm…”

–You’re the closest one there to Medi, Mincemeat.

“Fine, I’ll check it out.” Mincemeat gripped his Boston bag and headed straight for the entrance. “If the target runs from the building you’ll have to get Rare or Well to catch her, ’cause I’m heading in to see if there are any enemies closing in on Medi. Open the door for me, will ya?”

–Sure.

Mincemeat gave the lobby door a gentle shove and it swung open without resistance.

He walked straight on into the hall.

Checking that there was no one behind the window at the reception area, he shoved his hand into the Boston bag. He pulled out the reserve firearms—in the shape of an attache case—and walked down the corridor in large strides.

He shed his Boston bag and pushed on farther down the corridor, where he heard an elevator door chime and open.

He slipped deftly behind a pillar and silently opened the lock on the case in his hands.

The box folded out in both directions, and a double-handed grip appeared in the middle, which he held firmly. There were muzzles where the box folded out, pointing outward—this was a fearsome automatic weapon.

After taking note of his surroundings, he opened transmission channels.

–Is this elevator your work, Fleshie?

–That’s right.

–You want me to get in it?

–That’s right.

–I thought Medi was on the first floor, though? Do you think he’s found the enemy?

–That’s right.

–Send me the floor plans, will ya? Right, so that’s where Medi is. I’m moving on out.

–That’s right.

–Huh?

The transmission ended abruptly. But the floor plan showed clearly the route he needed to take.

Mincemeat shrugged his shoulders. “Jeez, talk about impatient.”

Paying close attention to his surroundings, Mincemeat slipped into the elevator.

He looked at the operating panel inside. There were five buttons, one for each floor from the basement to the