The Heist: A DEADROP Inspired Short Story

“You did, WHAT?” Mickey asked in disbelief, placing both hands on his fresh flat top hair cut in reaction.

“I’m telling you Mick, this is the score of the century! I got more Dust than you think. I just need a place to stay for a few days until things die down.” Rocky said.

“So let me get this straight,” Mickey said, jaw clenched. “You and a bunch of randoms boxed in a truck headed for The Tower, robbed it, went your separate ways and now you show up on MY doorstep asking to be sheltered?”

“Well when you put it like that…” Rocky said.

“That is the ONLY way to put it! Do you realize what you’ve done? The Tower isn’t going to let this slide. They’re going to send people into The City looking for you and now you’ve put a giant target on MY back, too. You’re HERE! In MY apartment. Do you even know the other guys on the job with you? Do you really think they won’t talk? You’re as good as dead Rocky, and now you’ve put a target on my back too,” Mickey concluded angrily.

“I just need to stay here for a couple of days and then it will all blow over.” Rocky said.

Mickey clasped his hands and stared down at the floor. The way he saw it, he had a few options. He could go with Rocky’s brain dead plan and wait for The Tower to hunt them down and paint his apartment red. He could kill his brother in arms himself and return The Tower’s merchandise or he could attempt to leverage some of his contacts and cut some type of deal for their lives…If The Tower would allow it.

“I should kill you myself,” Mickey proclaimed as he stood up.

“Where are you going?” Rocky anxiously asked.

“To try and get us out of this mess. You have no idea what you’ve done. I’m not going to sit here, waiting to die just so you can get away with a haul of Dust. Don’t leave this apartment until I get back. I swear to God, if you show yourself in The City, you’re as good as dead. At this point there’s already a bounty on your head. If I don’t come back by morning, you’re on your own and you’ll get to live whatever time is left in your surely shortened life with the knowledge that you got me killed, too.”

Rocky stared back in fear as Mickey swung his arms inside his long black leather jacket in one smooth motion and closed the door behind him. He locked Rocky in, as if that would make a difference should a group of hunters show up for him.

The night was dark and rain poured. Heavy drops of water pattered off Mickey’s jacket, each one producing a sound against the hardened leather. The rain was the least of his concerns at this point. The City was like an animal. Without the right job and contacts, you’ll be eaten alive. You can’t trust anyone. Life here is a constant battle for survival.

For years, The Tower has leeched from The City around it. Basically a City and economy all its own, no one dares interfere with The Tower’s business. Even the police stay out of the way. Attempting to intervene in The Tower’s operations would be like a declaration of war. Everyone knows to just leave it alone and leave them be. Everyone except Rocky and his merry band of thieves, apparently.

Mickey had turned his back on that way of life. Over the years, he had worked hard to earn respect and forge relationships. Because of this, he was able to exit the business on his own terms. But here he was, sucked back in with no time and no choice.

Mickey arrived at the “Midnight Ride,” a bar where he hoped to find an old business associate and friend. He checked his watch. “10:01pm” he said out loud. Mickey exhaled and pushed the door, knowing that his life might end tonight.

Mickey looked across the room and observed. He knew he would find them here. Saul was in the far back corner of the room, flanked by some of his fellow bikers. He had dealt with Saul on many occasions and knew what he was; a reliable work horse of a man. He was a bulky, middle aged, covered in tattoos, with a salt and pepper beard. Mickey didn’t know the other bikers with him but knew that Saul could get things done. He was a heavy hitter and was always right down to business.

One man sat alone at the bar with his back turned to everyone else. He still wore his half helmet, glasses, a black leather vest and knee pads. No drink sat in front of him.

Mickey forced a smile and waived at Saul. Saul noticed him, stood up from his seat and opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. “I’ll be damned!” Saul exclaimed. “It’s the Ghost of Claw’s Past!” Mickey walked toward Saul with his arms open and the two embraced. Saul slapped Mickey on the back several times as the bear hug went on. The two eventually sat down.

“What are you doing back in this part of town, Mick?” Saul said cheerily in his gruff, grizzled voice. “You looking to get back in?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m not. I’m afraid that I’m in a bit of trouble and I need your help.” Mickey replied, attempting to keep his voice down.

“No problem! You lose a bet or something? Need us to collect some money for you? What’s on your mind?” Saul asked calmly.

“A ‘friend’ robbed a truck headed for The Tower, got away with a ton of Dust and planted himself on my doorstep. I need to make contact with The Vendor and negotiate.”

Saul sat forward in his seat and the whole bar went silent. Saul’s body language shifted from relaxed to uncomfortable. Saul broke the silence with a loud boisterous laugh. “You almost had me there for a second, Mick! That’s a good one! Seriously though, what can we do for you? Just here for a drink and some nostalgia?”

“I’m not kidding, Saul. I need your help.” Mickey said.

“Shut up, Mick!” Saul snapped. He moved across the table, closer to Mickey and whispered “There’s a bounty out for your boy. If you have him at your place, when they find him, they’ll come for you too. I suggest that you skip town right now, right this minute. Start new. Leave everything. You’ve got a nice jacket to take with you. What else does a man need?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Saul. Rocky and I were kids together. Fought side by side in The Climate Wars. He’s an idiot but I can’t turn my back on him. I know what they’ll do to him and so do you. I can’t let that happen.” Mickey said.

Before Saul could respond, the bar door opened. Four men dressed in all black entered the room and stopped in place, scanning the bar. One of the four stood by the front door while another walked toward the back and blocked the exit.

Saul looked at the man who approached their table, said “We were just leaving,” and attempted to stand but the man pushed Saul back down into his seat.

The man spoke with an Old English accent and said “Any of you happen to know anything about the robbery that went down tonight?”

Saul spoke first. “What robbery? Kids hopped up on Adrenaline stealing cars again?”

“Oh no, sir, that’s not a robbery. What I’m referring to was a hit on a truck headed to The Tower. The rats responsible scurried into The City and we’re here to exterminate them. It appears that you City folk have lost your way. Forgotten your place.”

“Our place?” Saul paused and leaned forward. “And what place would that be?”

Mickey looked toward the stranger at the bar who still sat motionless with his back turned toward them, still without a drink. The man was putting on a leather face mask.

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” The man chided, his tone growing increasingly impatient and hostile. “You don’t touch The Tower or anything coming to or from it. I’m beginning to think that you’re hiding something.”

Mickey noticed the man’s hand was at his waistline. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the wooden finish of a Heavy Pistol grip.

“Hiding something?” Saul questioned. “The only thing I’m hiding is a shotgun under this table, pointed directly at your midsection.”

The unidentified hunter from The Tower smiled. “It seems we have a standoff, so let me break it down for you gentlemen. You can fight us and some or all of you will die. When that happens, more hunters will come looking for you. Our Syns will come looking for you. And eventually, you will be caught and you will be killed. So how about you tell us what you know right now, or…”

A knife to the chest interrupted the hunter’s sentence. The man from the bar pivoted off the knife, still holding on to its hilt, spun and fired a semi-automatic pistol into the skull of another one of hunters.

Wasting no time, Saul pulled his shotgun from under the table and sent a blast of buckshot into the third hunter, who slammed backward into a wall, sending glassware to the ground with him.

The final hunter took cover behind the bar and blindly sprayed sub machine gun fire over the counter top. Mickey hit the ground, rushed to the countertop on all fours, pulled the hunter over the counter by his arm and onto the floor.

Mickey kicked the SMG away and stomped straight down on the hunters head with his heavy black boot, slamming the back of the hunter’s skull into the bar floor, stunning him. Mickey crouched down over the man and started pummeling him. Mickey struck him time and time again but was careful not knock him unconscious. Mickey heard another gunshot nearby, paused the beat down and spun his head. The stranger from the bar had executed the hunter who had done all the talking in a single shot to the head.

Mickey grabbed the surviving but severely beaten Hunter by the collar and coldly asked, “Where’s The Vendor?”

The Hunter gasped, revealing missing teeth and slowly answered the question. “The Tower. Adjacent to Sector 3. You’ll never make it that far.”

“We’ll see about that,” Mickey replied doubtfully before pressing his forearm down on the hunter’s throat until he passed out.

Mickey stood up and Saul approached him, shotgun in hand. “I’m afraid this is the end of the road for tonight, Mickey. This isn’t our fight. I hate to leave you hanging, but we can’t get any deeper into this. I don’t feel like dying today.”

“I understand.” Mickey said. “Thanks Saul. I owe you one.”

Mickey and Saul shook hands and Saul turned his back to exit. No sooner had Saul reached the door than the stranger from the bar reached inside one of the hunter’s pockets, turned toward Mickey and handed him a set of keys.

“Name’s Rex. I’ll get you to The Tower.”

Mickey cautiously took the keys and thanked the stranger, now known as Rex.

“You sure about this?” Mickey asked.

“Let’s move,” Rex replied.

Seeing no better option, Mickey followed Rex out the front door. The hunters had driven a black Lonan. The license plate read “TRYHRDR.” Apparently the hunters hadn’t got the message.

Mickey fired up the Lonan and followed Rex who comfortably sat on an old fashioned motorcycle. If Mickey knew his bikes, it was a Honda of some kind.

Mickey and Rex cruised the highway to The Tower for a while. The roads were slick from the rain, with pools of water reflecting light off the road. Though cut throat, The City had a certain charm to it, especially at night. Mickey imagined it as the Wild West but in a cold, dark future.

Mickey frequently checked his mirrors, waiting for pursuers and eventually, they came. First came a red Gallus approaching from behind in Mickey’s left mirror. Not far behind it was a second Gallus. This one was blue with a “HOTSHOT” license plate as clear as day.

Mickey floored the Lonan and pulled up alongside Rex. Rex slowly turned his head to the right and met Mickey’s gaze. Mickey motioned backward with his head and Rex looked back. Rex nodded and eased off the throttle, dropping behind a bit.

Mickey watched as the first Gallus pulled even with Rex. Rex reached toward the back of his bike and pulled out a sawed off shotgun, seemingly out of no where. Rex leveled the shotgun at the driver of the Gallus with one hand, holding the bike steady with the other. Mickey saw the muzzle flash of the shotgun in his rear view mirror and the red Gallus suddenly drifted off to the right, crashing into the side of a ramp and exploding.

Mickey noticed his speed. He was driving 120mph. After the smoke cleared, he saw Rex, still driving with one hand. Rex swung the shotgun around in a loop in one hand, chambering a new shell in one slick motion and continued driving the bike with the shotgun pointed straight in the air.

That’s when Mickey noticed the blue Gallus had caught up. They were pulling up on his right side and shots sparked off his Lonan. Mickey ducked down and held a hand up to shield his face from the passenger side window glass, which was blown out from the gunfire.

Mickey reached across to the Lonan’s passenger seat and grabbed hold of the submachine gun that he had looted from one of the hunters. While he wouldn’t be able to aim it well especially with one hand, the blue laser equipped to it would certainly make his life easier.

Mickey took aim at the Gallus and squeezed the trigger for a couple seconds. A dozen rounds sprayed into the Gallus but the vehicle maintained its speed. Mickey squeezed the trigger one more time and sprayed a few more rounds before hearing the unmistakable clicking sound of a weapon lacking ammunition.

Mickey tossed the empty weapon onto the floor of the passenger seat, put both hands on the wheel and looked ahead. He saw a ramp. It was crazy, but it might work.

Mickey activated the turbo boost on the Lonan and sped forward toward the ramp, reaching 150 mph. The Gallus did the same, catching up to Mickey as the ramp approached. As Mickey’s Lonan launched off the ramp, he spun the wheel to the right, the direction of the Gallus. The Lonan crashed into the Gallus mid-air and sent it’s momentum to the right. As the Lonan touched down in a parking garage, the Gallus missed the narrow window of entry and slammed into an external wall, with a loud, fiery crash.

Mickey sped through the parking garage, fish tailing left and right, attempting to avoid debris and abandoned vehicles. Before he knew it, he had reached the other side of the parking garage and would soon be in open air again. He slammed the turbo boost as quickly as he could, rocketing into open air and landing on the highway once again.

He could see Rex up ahead of him now. Mickey’s detour had apparently added mileage to the ride. He could see Rex firing and dodging fire from an automatic pistol from a third vehicle. Mickey couldn’t make out the model but it had a yellow stripe down either side. Rex looked back and applied the brakes. Rex made eye contact with Mickey and pointed his shotgun to the right.

“Is that a turning signal?” Mickey wondered out loud?

Rex sped up and blasted the yellow vehicle on his way by. It didn’t slow down. A helicopter passed overhead. Mickey could see The Tower dead ahead.

“Never thought I’d come back here…” Mickey muttered out loud. Rex, now ahead of the yellow vehicle turned off to the right, the yellow vehicle following close behind. A distraction. The path was clear. Mickey raced to The Tower and exited the vehicle after reaching the Sector entrance.

As Mickey entered Sector 3, as he has many times before, he stopped to ask himself, “Who was that guy?” Why did he help me?” For a moment Mickey felt bad about leaving Rex on his own but he clearly more than capable of handling himself.

Mickey checked his watch. It read 11:27pm. It was time to focus. Mickey had to find his way through Sector 3 and get to The Vendor. He was the only person or “thing” that might be a solution to this mess. Mickey wondered if Rocky was still alive before burying the thought and getting to work.

Mickey stuck to the shadows and looked for gear. It was unlikely that he would be able to avoid others during his unexpected raid. He came across a duffle bag that contained body armor, a heavy helmet and an Assault Rifle. Someone had painted it with red snake skin. A simple holographic sight was attached to the rifle, which would be good enough.

Mickey slung the rifle over his back and climbed a pipe that he had used many times before. As he scaled upward, attempting a stealthier approach to higher ground, he heard gunfire from above. A Claw sprinted off the ledge above him and latched onto a zip line going downward. Mickey froze in place. A moment later, someone stepped onto the ledge above him and aimed down the scope of a sniper rifle. The man above him fired the sniper rifle, dropping the Claw on the zip line in a single shot. Mickey watched as the unlucky Claw plummeted to the ground. If the gunshot didn’t instantly kill him, the fall surely did.

The man on the ledge above him worked the bolt of his sniper rifle. This was Mickey’s chance. Mickey swung his hand upward and grabbed the sniper’s boot. He pulled downward and sent the sniper plummeting to his death. Mickey watched as the sniper struck the ground and lay motionless. Mickey turned his attention upward once more and pulled himself up.

Mickey crouched behind nearby cover to regain his breath and composure. Climbing was hard work. As he scouted his surroundings and formulated his path forward, he heard a sound that was all too familiar: Cleaners.

Mickey spun around and watched as a group of three inhuman Cleaners, dressed in all black and strange face covering masks, approached the ziplining Claw’s dead body. One crouched down and searched through the Claw’s equipment as the other two stood watch. They communicated to each other in their strange, unintelligible language.

Not willing to stick around and test his luck, Mickey moved forward. He moved past a Lifelink station, the beeping of which masked his footsteps. With his assault rifle leveled in front of him, Micky moved carefully, checking every corner and path as he moved up sets of stairs.

Eventually, he came to the flat area at the base of The Crane. He needed to climb the stairs and platforms in front of him, scale the crane, sprint across the top floor of the shipping hub and then make his way to the helipad.

Mickey slung his snake skinned rifle across his back so that he could move quicker with a full range of motion. Climbing these platforms made you somewhat of a sitting duck. Mickey sprinted up the stairs around the first strange metal hut. As he passed the backside and moved further upward, a bullet pinged off the metal alongside him. He didn’t have time to look. He was out in the open. Mickey pumped his legs as hard as he could and dove into the second metal hut, taking cover behind a stack of metal barrels.

Mickey lay slouched against a wall and peaked to the left. He saw the glint of a sniper scope and ducked back behind the barrels just in time to dodge the incoming projectile. Mickey closed his eyes to think. There was no way he could scale the ladder to the top of crane with a sniper honed in on his position. Mickey turned his head to the right in thought and opened his eyes. Leaning against the wall on the right side of the hut was a sniper rifle.

Mickey took off his helmet and laid it to his left. He shouldered the sniper rifle and set himself up behind the barrels to the right side. Mickey prepared to look down the sight of the sniper rifle and kicked his helmet to the left of the barrels. A gunshot rang out and hit the helmet that he had kicked out as a distraction. Mickey quickly peered down the scope of his sniper rifle, took aim at its chest, fired and watched his target drop. Mickey dropped the Sniper Rifle and sprinted toward the ladder.

After a brief climb up the ladder, Micky hoisted himself up to the top of the crane. While the crane was relatively barren for cover, most positions in Sector 3 would be unable to fire at him from up here. Mickey raced across the crane, jumped off the end and pulled out his Assault Rifle. That’s when it hit him.

The Cleaners were directly in his path. The sniper that he himself had counter sniped was being looted and “cleaned.” Mickey would have to engage them one way or another. He decided to strike first. Mickey unloaded his magazine into the back of the Cleaner with it’s backed turned toward him. Even as it was pelted with 30 total rounds, it still managed to turn around, identify him and call out Mickey’s position to its companions.

Mickey’s magazine ran dry as The Cleaner fell to the floor. Mickey quickly moved back down the ramp that he fired from and moved behind the large wall to his left. To his far left was open air and a massive drop. He had no where to go but forward but the least he could do was reposition.

Once Mickey cleared the wall, he took a knee and plotted his next move. He scanned ahead and sprinted toward the lift platform. He ran up the ramp and was careful to stay behind cover. He scanned the surrounding area for anything useful and found an extended magazine. “A drum will do,” Mickey thought to himself as he slapped it into his weapon.

Mickey approached the far end of the lift with his rifle raised and ready to fire. He could hear the Cleaners holding their position. He would need to run through the open to get to Sky Bridge to move toward the helipad. “Whatever,” Mickey said out loud.

Mickey ran toward the door frame and fired his Assault Rifle in short bursts from the hip. If he stopped to take aim out in the open he would surely be gunned down by The Cleaners who could take much more damage than him, even with body armor. The incoming fire did little to The Cleaners but it did throw their aim off just enough for Mickey to clear the doorway into the next room.

Mickey sprinted to Sky Bridge with The Cleaners now pursuing him. He had two options. He could slide down Sky Bridge and hope that The Cleaners, Claws or Variants don’t fill him with holes or he could do something more drastic. He had seen someone else do it before…Once.

As Mickey approached the ledge at the top of Sky Bridge, he saw a chopper swooping in from above the Communications building. That was his ticket. Mickey took a few steps back and looked over his shoulder at The Cleaners who were slowly closing in on him. Mickey locked his eyes forward, sprinted toward the edge and jumped.

As Mickey flew through the air, his arms and legs waived wildly. He aimed for a small ledge on the helipad below him. If he missed, he was dead and Rocky’s life forfeit in the process. Mickey closed in on the ledge and grasped on with both hands. He pulled himself up and ran toward the chopper.

As Mickey ran up the ramp to board to chopper, he looked over his shoulder. Both surviving Cleaners stood at the ledge and glared at him, having witnessed his unthinkable leap of faith.

Mickey boarded the helicopter and laid his assault rifle on the seat next to him. The pilot looked back and yelled “Where to?”

“Take me to The Vendor.” Mickey said. Moments later the helicopter was in the air and veering off to the left. The ride was short and the pilot stayed silent. In what seemed like mere moments, Mickey was exiting the helicopter and entering The Vendor’s domain.

Mickey entered The Vendor’s space and approached the counter. The Vendor stared at Mickey in silence. A Ranged Shotgun lay on a nearby table. Mickey put his hands on the counter and said “I have something that is yours. But you’re not going to get it. Open lockbox 145.”

The Vendor crossed its arms and menacingly turned back toward the lockboxes that it kept in the back. Mickey watched as The Vendor opened the lockbox and a gold light came from within it splashed across The Vendor’s face.

“The contents of that lockbox are now yours. You’re going to let the people who hit the Tower truck tonight, go.” Mickey said. Tired, agitated and impatient, Mickey awaited The Vendor’s response. The Vendor slowly approached the counter and squared up with Mickey. It reached under the counter and placed a small microchip-like item on the countertop. Mickey picked it up begrudgingly and walked away.

Mickey took the Lonan home. The dead hunters wouldn’t be needing it anymore. Mickey parked and checked his watch. It was 4:35am. Mickey slowly climbed the stairs to his apartment and opened the door. Rocky was still awake, wired and waiting for his return.

“What’s going on, what happened?” Rocky asked anxiously?

“Good news, Rock. The Tower doesn’t want your head anymore.” Mickey replied.

Rocky jumped forward in his seat like an excited child. “What? How?”

“I cut a deal.” Mickey explained. “The Tower isn’t going to kill you.”

“You’re amazing Mick! I knew I could count on you! That’s why I came here!” Rocky exclaimed.

Mickey sat down and reclined in his seat, looking back at the night that unfolded. It was finally over.

“I’m going to get some rest. You’re welcome to crash on the couch.” Mickey said.

“Thanks Mick, I don’t know how I’m going to repay you.” Rocky said, running a hand through his slicked back hair, in relief.

Micky walked toward his bedroom when he heard a knock on the door. Rocky looked nervously at Mickey. Mickey held his hand out, motioning to Rocky to stay put. Mickey approached the door slowly and quietly before peering through the peephole. It was Saul, covered in blood.

Mickey jolted to life and flung the door open. Saul stared, wide eyed, bloodied, hunched over, out of breath with his hands on his knees and said “Mick…we got a problem.

DEADROP and all of its characters are owned by Midnight Society. This short story should not be considered “official” DEADROP lore.

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