“Which is bullcrap,” Higgy said. “Why couldn’t I be Woolzy?”
“Me and Higgy were recruited together,” Woolzy confided. “He got the looks and I got the talent.”
“Talent for riding my coattails,” Higgy muttered.
“That’s enough out of you two,” Nigel said.
“Why Orange and Green?” Jason asked.
“Well,” Nigel said, “they have the same last name and one of them is from the town of Orange, so we call him Orange.”
“Are you from a town called Green?” Jason asked Green.
“Nope,” Green said, without further explanation.
“Do you have the same first name?” Jason asked them.
“Nah,” Orange said. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Okay, then,” Jason said.
“Saving the best for last,” Nigel said, “due to me being one of them, is the hitter group. We’re the sweet, meaty chunks of this stew and we’re all about that damage.”
“Meaning they aren’t worth a damn without the rest of us,” Orange said.
“The other hitters are Cobbo and Digit,” Nigel introduced. “I recommend against asking about Digit’s moniker.”
“Suffice to say,” Digit said, “that there are certain services one might procure from a lady of negotiable chastity for which it behoves one to check the quality of said lady’s cuticle care.”
“Meaning don’t let a prozzy stick a finger up—” Orange said before Nigel cut him off with a sharp glare.
“I’m sure he gets the idea, Orange. Now, this time around, our goal is to introduce Mr Asano here to exactly what it is we do and bring him back very not dead. Mr Asano, we can get you suited up if you like, although I imagine you have your own gear.”
“I do,” Jason said as dark mist appeared to engulf him. A few seconds later, it passed to reveal Jason in his combat robes and cloak. He pushed the hood back off his head.
“That’s a neat trick,” Higgy said. “Ever tried it in a phone booth?”
“Oh, I totally should,” Jason said. “If I can find one.”
“Are you that bloke from the news?” Woolzy asked.
“Yep,” Jason said.
“What’d a bunch of bikers come after you for?” Orange asked.
“It was a huge bloody balls-up,” Jason said. “I was hanging about with my mate Vermillion, who’s a vampire, but I don’t hold that against him. Some other prick vampire didn’t like it, so he sent some bikers to mess me up. Problem is, this other vampire’s thick in the head and doesn’t realise a very obvious problem. If you take a bunch of bikers addicted to vampire blood, cut off their supply and then tell them you’ll turn it back on if they do a thing, they get really worked up about doing that thing. The inevitable happens, the bikers go nuts and suddenly, they’re firing guns from the back of motorcycles in the middle of the highway when every sod and his mum are out driving to bloody brunch. Now, I’ve got my uncle in the car and I’m not going to let a bunch of bikies shoot him full of holes, so I step out. Suddenly, I’m all over the telly.”
Nigel was quietly observing as Jason’s mannerisms shifted more in line with those of his section, along with some subtle changes in his aura that brought it more into line with theirs.
“Is that the guy who runs Club Vermillion you’re talking about?” Woolzy asked. “I always wanted to check that out, but it’s a Cabal club. Normies and Cabal only.”
“I get in,” Higgy said.
“That’d be bloody right,” Woolzy complained.
“Is that a magic sword?” Jonno asked, looking at the hilt poking out from under Jason’s cloak.
“Yep,” Jason said. “A mate made it for me.”
“Nice,” Jonno said. “They won’t give us anything bigger than a knife.”
“Jonno,” Darce said, “you conjure an M61 Vulcan. That’s a Gatling gun from a jet fighter, yet you won’t shut up about getting a bigger knife.”
“Sometimes you don’t need a rotary cannon,” Jonno complained. “Sometimes you need a big knife. A sword would be even better.”
“Do you know how to use a sword?” Jason asked.
“Could you teach me?” Jonno asked.
“Don’t answer that,” Nigel said.
“Hey, Asano,” Orange said. “How come you sound like an Aussie but look like a Jap?”
“I dunno, Orange,” Jason said. “How come you sound like an arsehole but look like… actually, that checks out.”
The section all laughed.
“Yeah, fair enough,” Orange grumbled.
The Network’s paramilitary nine-person sections were assembled, along with their actual military counterparts. The organisational structure seemed quite similar; the Network appeared to have adapted much of theirs from the military. The sections formed by military personnel were based on weapons rather than essence abilities, with the heavies, scouts and hitter groups of the Network sections replaced with gunner, scout and rifle groups respectively.
“Once the boffins get the aperture opened up,” Nigel explained, “SOP is to secure a beachhead on the other side and assess local conditions. Once we have a stable landing point, we go hunting the ADE while the harvest sections get to work. Lucky for us, the ADE radiates a nice, detectable signal. That means we can go after it and the harvest teams stay out of its way. Green is our signals man, and he’s going to lead us right to it, aren’t you, Green?”
“Yep.”
“Asano, you need to do as I say, when I say it, no complaints,” Nigel said. “Your job is to do what you’re told and not die.”
“I won’t lie,” Jason said. “Those are both things I’ve struggled with in the past. Since I’m a self-invited guest, though, I’ll do my best.”
40
CORE USERS
As a Network team set up a ritual to open the aperture to the proto-astral space, Nigel talked Jason through the assembled force. The Network’s tactical presence consisted of two platoons of three nine-person sections. Four of the six boasted silver-rank tactical division members, while a specialist medic section also had Gladys.
“Those five make up the entire category-three contingent of the Sydney branch,” Nigel explained. “The Network does not hold back with category-three incursions.”
Jason hadn’t known how many silver-rankers the Sydney branch had; Shade had only spotted Gladys during their time in Sydney. The tactical personnel either spent their time at another facility or practised better informational security than the healer.
“So, you’re the only section with no category three?” Jason asked.
“Thorny’s the only category two the Ditto trusts to run his own section,” Digit said.
“Ditto?” Jason asked.
“DTO,” Nigel explained. “Director of Tactical Operations.”
“So much bloody jargon.”
“The Ditto is Koen Waters. He’s the strongest of our category threes. That’s him there, giving orders.”