The Towers: War for New Orleans, #1

By Cassandra Drake

A cop. A fighter. A couple of Wall-Street suits. Brought together by a Shaman, what they have in common is simple – they are the fulcrum that will change the face of New Orleans. The city has been split into Quarters, each one ruled by a leader that has no intention of giving ground to anyone else. Gangs roam the streets, amped up with cyber-ware and itching for a fight. Even the digital world is unsafe, as teams of hackers jockey for supremacy. Either a way will be found to bring order to the chaos, or the powder-keg of a city will go up in flames. Can this small group of determined strangers find a way to claim the fuse before it’s too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Quicksylver Publications
• Release date: Jun 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386389521

Book preview

To Everyone who has ever rolled the dice,

taken notes, or lived a character...

The Future is Coming –

And the Geeks are Ready.

© Quicksylver Publications, 2017

Cover Art by: Madolyn Locke

The Towers

Book One of the War for New Orleans Series

By Cassandra Drake

Notes of the world... and the shape it’s in!

Everything started in Inclement Weather *... so named because it precipitated the Third World War that’s more commonly referred to as The Storm.

What started off as industrial espionage escalated to the assassination of key industry leaders and from there... warfare between several major international corporations. In an effort to conserve their resources, these corporations turned to the governments they controlled. The planet soon fell into chaos.

For nineteen months the wars raged on, but only in third-world nations... and, for the most part, they went completely overlooked. Then reports started circulating about Russian troops landing in Mexico. The United States aggressively stepped up its efforts to build and guard its Southern Border Wall.

It was a Thursday afternoon, February 17th 2039, 2:44 PM local time, when a division of Russian Troops crossed the Canadian border into the United States, seizing parts of eastern Michigan including the cities of Detroit, Pontiac, and Ann Arbor. The civil response was unprecedented; the people demanded immediate retaliation, and war was declared.

Initially, lawmakers and military officials came off as clumsy in their approach. It was difficult to draw a clear line in the sand. In the United States, Russia was the enemy. In Syria and Iran, they were allies... or at least that was how things began. Left to their own devices, a consensus might have been reached eventually. But wars are fought by soldiers, and soldiers are forged from common folk. After losing her family in the Arbor Annex, a decorated United States soldier took it upon herself to make it very clear who the enemy was. She carried a bomb into a secret meeting between three U.S Congressmen and five dignitaries of the Russian Parliament. The shaped charge only killed Russians.

For three years, all-out war ravaged the world. Yet in the midst of all the carnage and horror, information surfaced. In a package of files called the Ostermann Overture, it was revealed just how the war got started. World War soon became Worldwide Revolution as distrust of government ran rampant through nearly every country. Whether it was by simple civilian militia or elaborate military coup, governments were toppled; assisted (oddly enough) by corporations who spent billions on campaigns painting themselves as the victims of government overreach and manipulation.

When the Planetary Peace Accords were signed at the United Nations Building on Tuesday, January 3rd, 2045, most of the developed nations were already in a state of repair. Nations would continue to govern themselves, but the United Nations was given extremely broad and unprecedented power. It became the regulators of governments, and resolutions from the body of diplomats began to carry more and more weight. One of their strongest measures was the development of a global currency, the U.N. krone. Several countries worked to maintain their own currency, but the krone, or blue-note, was accepted anywhere on the planet.

The U.N. Peacekeepers, called Paladins, were restructured so that they worked closely with INTERPOL and nearly every intelligence agency in the world, creating a worldwide network of law-enforcement professionals dedicated to keeping the peace from the smallest municipalities to entire nations.

In an effort to placate the common citizen, the remaining corporations poured huge amounts of resources into developing technology – especially those that allowed for more interface between people and computers – and devices designed to augment the human body: cybernetics. While customers were distracted by getting the latest version of an app or a cybernetic prosthetic, certain developments occurred without too much notice.

Another noted development was the Department of Psychic and Acroamatic Affairs and Regulation. D-PAAR (pronounced DEE-par) came about as the result of the witnessing of inexplicable supernatural phenomena. These events were, by all accounts, purposefully triggered by persons affiliated with occult studies. While investigations continued long after the war, the files of the department, along with any details of its investigations remains highly classified.

Human life is a part of nature... and we know that nature always finds a way. The scope of human existence has indeed changed. Most people are now found huddled together in massive Mega-City complexes with the terrain between urban areas claimed by nature and those not wishing to be urbanites.

It is in this backdrop where the story begins. It’s 2065 and The Storm has come and gone, leaving behind a tattered world that is slowly coming together... in its own fashion.

壹 – Uno – One – Un

Finding the way...

He frowned, lowering his hands into the water. Nathaniel had let the warm water run for over three minutes before dropping the stopper over the drain. Still the water was freezing cold.

You get what you pay for, he muttered.

Excuse me, the woman said, sounding as if she had been insulted.

Nathaniel smiled, splashing the water in his face. There it is, he thought. We’ve definitely drawn the curtain on this one. I wonder... if I don’t say anything, will she realize that a normal person wouldn’t have heard me? Of course, she’s not the only one who’s fouled this up.

What the hell are you trying to say?

So much for realization, he chuckled, reaching for a towel. I think I’m going to be sick, he spoke into the towel before darting into the bathroom.

Get in line, the woman replied, reaching for her pants. Asshole! Putting one leg in, the woman shuddered at the loud, booming sound that came from the bathroom. Shit! she whispered, rolling off the bed. On the floor just inside the door!

The door to the small motel room came away from the door, exploding into the room. Three men in full-coverage body armor and helmets came into the room with their heavy assault weapons at the ready. The first man in turned to his right and stepped in the same direction, allowing for the other two to move further into the room. The first man pointed his gun at the woman on the floor.

I’ve got our friendly, he reported.

I’ve got smoke coming from the bathroom, the second man reported.

The sound of a horse whinnying came just before another hammering bang filled the room.

What the hell?! The second man reached the door to the bathroom – which was not all the way closed – and pushed it open. He gasped at the size of the hole in the wall where the toilet should have been. Straining his eyes, the young man gasped to see their target swing up onto a horse made of smoke. The man smiled back at him before kicking the horse and riding away. Shit! He’s rabbiting! Parking lot!

The two came running from the bathroom as the lead man lifted his rifle. He looked at the other two and allowed them to pass before he too left the room, running into the parking lot.

The three men came out of the motel room, weapons again at the ready, looking for the source of the sound.

Back inside, the woman was just getting up from the carpet when a palm-strike bashed into her face, sending the back of her head to the wall. Fumbling hands dropped the 1.1mm pistol, and stupefied lips spat out incoherent words too softly spoken to reach the armed men just outside the open door.

The Native American man came quickly out of the room, not making a sound. He lifted his left fist to the right side of his face, focusing on the man closest to him. The kidney strike locked the man’s body and Nathaniel dropped to his right knee, driving his left fist into the side of the left knee of the second man. With that target dropping to his knees, Nathaniel shoved him toward the man furthest away. He then quickly stood up; landing a wild-punch of a hook to the face of the man he had first struck. The man went from being unable to move to blinded and dizzy.

Let me borrow this, Nathaniel whispered, spinning around the man and relieving him of his weapon. He fired without aiming, and a dart lodged in the leg of the man who had just rid himself of a half-crippled colleague. The drugs in the dart started doing their job before the man even felt the prick of the needle.

Nathaniel then fired darts into the two other men and the woman in the room. When his ‘massage therapist’ hit the carpet, Nathaniel could hear a far-off engine revving and tires screeching.

Cargo van, he thought. Probably that black one that’s been at the corner since 0330. I wonder what took them so long to take the initiative to come to the aid of their friends. Not that I’m complaining. Gives me more time at the store!

The black panel van screeched to a stop with the side door opening. One young woman exited with two pistols drawn. The driver then got out with a fully automatic shotgun, nervously blowing out of his mouth as he started looking around.

Shit! the woman hissed before holstering her pistols. He’s gone. And he fleeced the guys before he took off. Squatting down to put her fingers to the neck of one of the downed men, the woman closed her eyes, sighing in disgust. Call it in. We’re going to need drugs if we want them up and going inside fifteen hours.

=  =  =  =  =

Wilva Helene Simpson had finished her cigarette and her breathing exercises. She still wanted to kill all six agents. I don’t even have your damn names yet... and I’m ready to assign you plots at the closest cemetery! she said, shaking her head.

One of the six started to speak, but no words came out of his mouth with the speed Wilva showed getting her gun from her shoulder holster. It was a snap-slide holster, too... the round had been chambered and the hammer was back. The woman’s brown-green eyes just stared at him, her head slowly moving from a right-shoulder tilt to a left-shoulder one. Swallowing hard, the man stepped back, pressing his lips together.

Wilva nodded before she started pacing.

Get them out of my sight, she ordered, and three men came to escort the failed field agents to their van. There was a plane waiting for them; one that would take them to their debriefing... and then, if they were lucky... to another world... one well away from Wilva Simpson. Hearing them quickly make an exit from her stage made the woman smile. "If they were going to play hero, you’d think they’d have the decency to change into tights! ‘Observed the target making a call requesting company for the evening’... can you believe that shit?! Too stupid and way too green to know that was him loading the trap! Tell DC I don’t want any more advance teams... or point teams... or whatever they’re calling the shit this week!

Top shelf numbskulls! she sighed. Can you believe it? Those idiots reported they heard a horse! she exclaimed, continuing to walk slowly in a circle.

Sorry, Simpson, but– Harper started before he received Wilva’s glaring eyes.

He’s Miccosukee, Harper! she shouted. "Didn’t you read the man’s file?! Please tell me you know who we’re dealing with.

Wilva took a step toward the young man she was considering firing. "Nathaniel James Stormcrow! Native American... and not one of those ridiculous fractioned freaks; some white-boy whose Great-Great-Grandmother once had her hair done by a Choctaw hairdresser... and in a fit of passion kissed! He’s the real deal.

He also happens to be a person of interest for the incident in Opelika two years ago, she shared, lowering her voice to a new whisper. "You know... the one where fifteen people – all members of the local chapter of nationalists – disappeared without a single, solitary trace that they had ever existed! That Nathan Stormcrow.

Anyway, he’s Miccosukee! she shouted, waving frantically as she spoke. "That puts him in FLORIDA... near the EVERGLADES! Ever hear of the cowboys getting on their horses and cutting someone off at the pass in the fucking swamp, Harper?!

Taking a moment to reflect, Wilva calmed down a bit. "Now, if it had been a gator... maybe. Thank you, Hollywood, for that load of bullshit! I got agents thinking all Indians ride horses.

And don’t bother activating the trackers for those weapons, she said, turning to face the motel room. "Just like the hole in the wall three of them swore they saw, that’s a set of wild goose chases going every which way, just begging us to chase our tails. Stormcrow’s in the wind. We won’t know where he is until he sticks his head out... and then only maybe. Keep an open eye and ear, Harper, especially on the tabloids and local news. The weirder the report, the more I want to see it!"

You got it, Harper said before walking off.

Wilva kept looking at the motel room, shaking her head. She didn’t know which of her emotions would take the front seat in her mind, but it seemed that anger was winning the war.

Nathan, you’ve got the attention of about a dozen seriously loaded corporations, the U.S. Government, and the U.N. all circling the swamps – cuz they know better than to go into that place – just waiting for you to show yourself. And just like that, you come walking out. What the hell made you leave your safe spot?

That’s a very good question, Nathaniel thought, still seated in the middle of the bed that was furthest from the door. So many policemen and agents had walked right by him, but none of them had the eyes to seem him. The answer to that question would blow your mind. It blew mine and I’m supposed to be used to this shit!

It hadn’t been what he had intended to do. He had wanted to go to visit a friend and take advantage of their particular relationship. Instead, Nathaniel had responded to a spiritual summons. As always, anything dealing with the spirits came in its own way and in its own manner.

The ancestors had been a pretty arrogant group. They hadn’t given two shits about what the recipient of their whispers might have been doing. That had been immaterial. There was work to be done and, as always, they had needed someone of the living to do it. It had been Nathaniel’s sorry fate that he had ears that could hear them.

The message had been simple. But again, that had always been their way. And Nathaniel had known better than to question the spirits. That would have only resulted in them falling quiet, allowing all chips to fall where they would.

As always, they had shown him the world in the ‘after’ perspective. It had been their way of saying ‘this is what will happen should you fail’. Nathaniel had quietly questioned why the ‘after’ picture always had to be so tragic. He had been advised if he wanted to see ‘after’ pictures that were pleasing to his eye that he might want to commune with different spirits. Instantly he had been reminded of the fact that such spirits existed and were probably trying to find their own recipients to work on their behalf. His query had been answered, and the man had turned his attentions on the images.

Bordering on what could be described as dystopian; he had seen a city he quickly recognized as New Orleans and it had been laid to waste with only one in ten buildings still standing in full form. The rest had been reduced to blood-spattered ruins. The sky had been darkened with layers of smoke and the scent of burning was heavy on the air.

Nathaniel’s face had frowned to see human bodies strewn about. It turned his stomach to realize that they had been dead long before their bodies were destroyed. The flesh had been perverted – twisted around burned and sparking cables, broken metallic rods, and servos where joints should have been. They had not been human for some time. They had been cyborgs, with conversions far more excessive than those he had encountered during his tenure of service as a therapist.

And it had not been just the people. There were cats, dogs, and even birds with circuitry hanging from their lifeless bodies.

Has the whole world gone machine? he had asked. A gentle wind had blown across his face. It was both a response and an ushering touch. Nathaniel had turned with the breeze to look at a large flat screen monitor that had fallen from the wall but was still functional. A news report flashed across the screen as a news report relayed to Nathaniel that New Orleans had been the center of a major event, but the sickness that had destroyed it had spread to Los Angeles, New York, Sao Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, London, Moscow, Paris, Shanghai, Mumbai, Tel Aviv, Tokyo, and Sydney. "And that answers my question. Okay... it’s that serious.

So this is what happens if I fail, Nathaniel had muttered, knowing the spirits didn’t need a loud voice to hear him. He had made a very simple resolve: he would complain later... he would be moody later... provided there was a later! Where does it begin? What do I need to do?

Nathaniel had readied himself. He had known he was about to receive a wave of information. The more he could take in and remember later, the simpler things would be.

Speaking of simple, he had thought, taking note of the things he had always found most precious in life. He had known those things would have to be lessened in intensity, if not put away altogether. He had known he would be fighting human machines. He would have to be one if had any hopes of succeeding.

So much of the warm and friendly man had been folded and tucked away. But Nathaniel knew that life was a force, a spirit of itself and utter denial of it would have made him worse than what he was determined to stop. So he would take a moment and enjoy this.

And look at you, Wilva. You know something’s not right in here, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. I suppose you’ve run into enough walls to where even your head has softened... starting to let the whole world in, not just the parts you’re comfortable with. Shifting his thoughts from simply maintaining his charm – and therefore his veil – to probing the mind of the aggravated agent, Nathaniel made an inquiry. Someone was missing from this stage, and he needed to know where they were. And where are your eyes?

Does anyone have an ETA on Agent Dhoukembe? Wilva yelled as her eyes lowered to the sidewalk just outside the door of the motel room. She failed to recognize that she hadn’t been thinking of her colleague until that very moment.

His plane just touched down in Montgomery five minutes ago, one of the agents reported.

Dammit. We’ve got to sit on this site for another hour, she muttered. Wilva shook her head again and walked toward her car. She stopped when she wasn’t quite halfway there. She turned around, facing Nathan – who had gotten off the bed and was about to leave the room. He looked directly into her eyes. Though there wasn’t much smoke left to the area, there was more than enough to fool the other people. To convince Wilva, Nathan needed to focus on her thoughts, coaxing each impulse from her optic nerve to register everything her eyes could see, except his presence.

Ernest Dhoukembe wasn’t the sort of man to be fooled by the simple charm Nathan had worked. An hour would give him plenty of time to cover his tracks. Montgomery was east of Selma, and Nathan had been called to the west. That was a lucky break; Ernest’s range of perception was exceptional. It was to be expected... he was one of the craft, a Mancer. He just wasn’t a practitioner of Nathan’s particular perspectives or beliefs.

Keeping his stare on the female agent, Nathan smiled and spoke softly. You left your phone in the car, Agent Simpson. Suddenly, the D-PAAR Agent could imagine her phone on the passenger seat of her rental. She needed to call Ernest and see if he could walk her through a cleansing.

Wilva walked to the car and opened the passenger-side door. She could see the wrapper of her half-eaten bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit. That one reminded her of the risks one took whenever eating outside the established fast-food chains. She could also see the hurriedly-folded state map. But there was no phone.

Agent Simpson closed her eyes and eased her hand into her jacket pocket. Her head lowered as she felt the device where it had been a thousand times before.

Son of a bitch! Wilva cursed, taking another look around. There was nothing to see, but she knew her quarry was close.

Nathan walked to the other side of the motel parking lot and took a look into the memory of the agent who was compiling information about the immediate area. She had already filmed the license plates of each parked vehicle. Thinking that she was sending it to headquarters for review, she actually deleted it. She then took measures to insure that the data couldn’t be recovered.

Getting in the car Nathan had borrowed from his brother, he started the engine and drove away from the lot. He was nearly a half mile away when he released his hold on the charm, batting his eyes and breathing hard for the next three minutes. It had been some time since he had worked anything for so long. He had grown a little rusty.

Definitely need to work on that before I catch up to the others, Nathan whispered as he drove. He smiled at the possibilities, setting the auto-drive to take him to New Orleans. The computer quickly signaled a need for a refueling stop along the way and Nathan acknowledged the notice. And there’s no time like the present to get started.

Nathan closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift away from the focus of the conscious world. Since it was late January, there was still some coolness in the air. Not the ideal weather for running with the spirits, but the man was hardly in a position to complain. Besides, he had a feeling that the very spirits that started this crazy quest were standing close by, just waiting for an opportunity to get a hold of their chosen liaison.

With his head drifting back to the headrest, Nathan whispered, Feels like I’m being pulled in different directions. Two of them have stepped up. One woman and one man... and damn, neither one of them is fucking around! That’s what I get for questioning Grandmother.

貳 – Dos – Two – Deux

I’ll shoot the first fucker who calls me Phoenix!

KUH-SLAM!

The collision between the Emergency Room doors and the gurney rattled her awake. Back to the blinding light, back to the blaring noise, and back to the agonizing pain.

No, she thought. You know better than this! You can’t be here... not right now.

I’m still on fire! she screamed. At least that’s what she thought she was screaming. She couldn’t move her mouth the way she wanted, and her cries came out as mumbled gibberish. She could feel her skin sliding off her bones, taking muscles and blood vessels with it. I’m dying!

No, but you’re certainly on your way, she thought, sounding more like that cabron of a brother of hers. But he wasn’t a bastard; he was an orphan, like she had wished she was. You’ve got to pull it together, Teresa. The music’s getting soft, and your card’s got way too many names on it. Don’t let the DJ leave. Stay with El Baile!

The Dance, Eric had called it, coming out of the slow and graceful kata he was demonstrating. His long, brown hair slowly moved out of his face as he stood straight up.

That’s a corny name! Teresa had complained.

And what do you know? he