You are Kaz Kepler (KK) born the year 32 of the Triple Ascendency and a Red-Class citizen of the Jovian Superstructure. Your gene pod population was built for physical and emotional endurance, programmed with the justice code, close-quarter combat strategies, and conflict resolution. You were custom-made to grow up to become a cybernetic, GMO, ass-kicking space-cop, a perfect child for your parents.
As fate would have it, however, dark times, evil men, and corrupted AI burnt down the society that you were made for. This social devastation took a harsh turn for gene-built children. You were taken from your families and forced into slave pits and experimentation, and eventually wiped from society for fear of what you would become. A few of your pod-kin escaped and survived in the Red Commons working for the gangs.
At the age of 16, you survive by running “Black Water” for the Cyber Narcos gang in the slums of Paradise City. As often happens to young couriers, they come to the attention of the actual police. These interactions can result in arrest, torture, personal violation, or death. Today three cops have gotten the jump on you in a muddy alley on the downside of Paradise City.
Variable 1: Bottom of the Klein Bottle
Your face is slammed into the muddy waters of the back-alley street. The heavy boot of the Paradise police officer presses on your neck and shoulder forcing you to spit mud to breathe. You know they are armed; their weapons are aimed at you, and you’re alone.
“KK, I thought you were doing time in the city deep freeze,” says the officer with his boot pressing on your neck.
“Computer says he was turning triks for Big Daddy Zeta in the Deep Blue Narrows,” says the other cop.
“Can I talk?” you ask spitting muddy water.
“Maybe. Roll over, slowly, keep on your back, and why don’t you tell us about this,” says the first cop as he removes his boot and holds up your backpack.
“Is this on the record?” you ask as you wipe dirt and rocks away.
“Well, it depends on what’s in here and where it’s going. I mean if it’s amps for the CN, well they ain’t been very nice to us officers lately. I haven’t had any love from them in a very long time, don’t you think that’s kind of rude?” says the cop holding the bag.
“One: doin’ triks isn’t immoral; two: Big Daddy Zeta ain’t hiring right now, and three, you know for a fact we’re in Cyber Narco territory,” you say.
“So far, we’re still on the record. You’ll need to tell us something we want to hear,” says the second cop.
You take a deep breath as you know you can easily take out two of them, even with their guns. The third has been quiet, you’re not sure if he’s a rookie, or a Synth. A rookie you can wipe the floor with. A Synth, well, robots are hard to beat even with heavy weapons.
If you fight and escape the CN will reward you with more runs and better ‘snacks’. If you lose, you might die, or worse, lose your shipment. Couriers who drop packs find a fate worse than death in the Narco’s slave pits.
Sometimes, the path of least resistance is the best. You might be able to leverage your ‘snacks’ to walk away from this. These non-GMO cops are dumb-as-fuck and a smart courier can easily outwit them.
What do you do?