I took a step back from the gaping hole I’d made in the side of the car.  Inside sat Trent Freeman, a pistol in his left hand and a bullet hole in his head.  The blood from his wound dripped down the side of his body and pooled in the bottom of the car, dripping out onto the desert ground in clumps.  The concussion from the handgun had cracked the side of his skull and splattered blood onto the other side of the car and the roof, painting the disturbing scene a deep crimson.  His body had slumped backwards in the driver’s seat, his head laying silently against the canvas seat.  In his right hand was a bloodstained piece of lined paper, crumpled up in his now limp hand.  

To prevent myself from losing my footing, I sat down in the dirt next to the car.  I took in a deep breath, trying to keep my composure.  In my two years of bounty hunting, I had never seen a scene like this.  A warning flashed in my eyes, telling me that my heart rate had elevated to a dangerous speed.

Keep breathing, you’re fine, I thought to myself, you’ve seen dead people before.

I repeated this thought to myself a few times, but it wasn’t much help.  As a last resort, I pulled a cigarette from my pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply.  The cigarette was reduced to ash quickly.  As the last embers fell from the butt onto the dry ground, I put it out on the ground and dropped it under the car.  It hadn’t helped much either, but just enough that I was able to return to my feet and begin to assess the situation.  The first thing that caught my attention was the paper in his hand.

That could be some kind of suicide note, I thought to myself, who would he be writing to? He killed his whole family.

My curiosity outweighed all else, so I reached into the bloody mess of a car and grabbed the paper from Trent’s dead hands. It was in bad shape, crumpled up and stained in blood, but I was able to make it readable.  

“What have I done?  One minute they were all there, the next they were dead.  All dead. There was blood, so much blood.  On my hands, on my face. Everywhere.  They did this to me.  Put their fucking chip in my head and made me some lab monkey. Made me kill my family.  They made me do it.”

After the main note, the words “They made me do it” were scrawled all over the paper in semi-illegible pen ink. 

“They made me do it?” I said aloud, “Who the hell are they? What kind of chip is he talking about?”

None of this made any sense.  A man that I was chasing down for murdering his whole family had shot himself in the head, leaving a note indicating that someone put something in his head and made him do it.   Does technology like that, with the capability of controlling someone’s mind or making them go insane, even exist?  And if so, how and why did this random guy without any other BodyTech get himself involved in it? There had to be something that I was missing.  

I pocketed the note, deciding that I was going to bring it to Cipher to see if he could help me with it. As a caution before calling the bounty hunting agency, I checked the backseat and trunk of the car to make sure there weren’t any explosives or weaponry other than Trent’s handgun.  When I had sufficiently investigated the car, I sent the call out and waited for them to arrive.

… … …

Six hundred credits richer and more drained than ever before, I drove from the desert outskirts to the centre of Santa Luz. Until Cipher called, I didn’t have much to do, so I decided to spend some of the money on a meal.  I walked into the restaurant and ordered a cheeseburger and a beer. They came out quickly, as it was one of those automated restaurants where the food was ready instantly.  I leaned against my bike while I ate and drank, trying not to think about Trent Freeman’s caved-in skull.

Questions were still bouncing around my brain like pinballs.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I had a sneaking suspicion that my situation was somehow tied to Trent’s.  I wasn’t sure whether I fully believed that a chip in his brain caused him to kill his family, but I could reasonably assume that something more was going on here.  The situation seemed a lot more complex than I had initially expected.  As if to make my situation even more complex, Cipher called right as I was finishing up my meal.  I blinked twice to take the call.

“Hello? What have you got?” I asked.

“A lot,” he said,  “you need to come over here ASAP, I’m not gonna risk talking about this on the Grid.  Meet me at The Hollow in an hour, you know the spot.”

“Will do.”

As quickly as the call began, it ended. 

The Hollow, huh? I thought to myself, I haven’t been there in a while, this must be pretty damn important.

The Hollow is one of Cipher’s old haunts.  It’s an old subway station in the industrial district that’s been abandoned for years.  People who operate outside the law use the place as a shelter during times when they’re wanted.  Bounty Hunters don’t go there unless they’re looking for information, as it’s an unspoken rule that anyone allowed into The Hollow is not a threat. I had actually met Cipher there for the first time a while back, as I needed some information and heard about it from a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy. Had to pay a damn fortune for the information I needed too.  

He must be spooked, I thought, the last time we went to The Hollow was when he tripped a security system on the Grid belonging to a weapons manufacturing company. 

I tossed the trash from the meal into the trash can near the entrance to the restaurant. The entrance to The Hollow was about half an hour away from me, so I had a few minutes to relax before heading there.  I decided that I would send Lyra a message, letting her know that I’m still alive so far.  Considering the interest she showed in my plight, I planned to go see her again once I got information on Rodriguez and Blackthorn.  I searched through my contacts until I found hers, and typed up a quick message.

“Hey, It’s Badger.  I’m still alive so far, and a friend of mine seems to have gotten some information on the situation.  I can come back and tell you more once I have it if you’d like?” 

I sent the message to her, then closed the contact menu and returned to my bike.  Wanting to get there before Cipher, I decided to leave a bit early.  The bike roared to life as I turned the key in the ignition and began to ride.

As I wove through the streets of Santa Luz, I prepared myself for anything.  The Hollow was as safe a spot as any for someone in my situation, but I was worried about what Cipher had to tell me.  His tone of voice on the phone was almost frantic, as though the information he had found posed some sort of threat to one of us.  I decided that overthinking the situation would only cause me to be on edge, and rather than speculating I should just wait for what Cipher had to say to me. 

When I arrived at the entrance to The Hollow, I parked my bike in the hidden lot near the building and walked to the entrance from there.  When I got to the front of the subway station, a large man with a gun on his hip greeted me.

“Hello, traveller.  What do you hope to find here?” He asked me.

“Just a place to meet with a friend in private.  He’s a regular, and goes by Cipher,” I explained to him. “Knowing him, he probably called ahead to let y’all know he was coming.”

“Let me check,” he said, then made the motions of checking his inbox with his eyes. 

“Yep, looks like he did.  Come on in, I’ll take you to his spot.”

I followed the man into the station.  We went down an escalator that wasn’t in service any longer, using it instead as a staircase. Once we got to the bottom, I noticed that people were sitting just about everywhere. Makeshift furniture lined the walls, mostly covered with people talking about various topics.  People took the see nothing, say nothing rule of this place very seriously, as very few people even looked up at us, let alone came up asking questions.  Everyone just went about their business.

“See the doors on the right wall? The third door from the back is Cipher’s hideout, head in there,” the man informed me.

“Thanks, much appreciated,” I thanked him and approached the door.  

Behind it was another computer setup on a large metal desk, and two lounge chairs that had seen better days, but were comfortable enough. I sat in one of the chairs and awaited Cipher’s arrival.

“Let’s just hope I haven’t found myself in too deep of shit,” I said to myself, leaning back in the chair and trying my best to relax.