She was thinking that was the safest bet when the thing suddenly appeared in the glowing world of cyberspace as a reptilian worm with the head of a moray eel, a really evil-looking beast. It snarled at her, spat hatred, and began gorging itself on subsystems. The IC began to weaken around her, its force diminishing as it faded and dislocated, fragmenting in a burst of nothingness.

The corporate decker had been there, of course, a multi-armed Kali whirling shortswords and dripping venom from his blades. Flashy, but strictly the mark of a wage slave aiming to intimidate rather than wielding true threat. Admittedly, she’d also chosen flashiness, her laser-firing chainsaw ripping arcs of blue light across the distance, blinding and driving away the assault.

Francesca was headed out of the system when she saw the ghostly figure from her last run floating off toward the SAN. The cloaked figure carried a bag, and her pulse and endocrines went through the roof when she saw him. Whatcha got in the bag, Faceless? You wanna fight for it?

She hammered toward him through a blur of abstract space, exiting the system and downlining past another SAN, not caring which system she’d entered. She switched to attack mode, too full of herself to register the menace he presented.

The cloaked figure turned to face her oncoming rush, and as he did so he opened his bag. Inside were surgical instruments: vicious pincers, blades, saws, and a long, dreadful, ivory-handled scalpel. Taking this last instrument in his taloned hand, he swiped at her.

Francesca panicked, desperately trying to dive into the SAN and escape the maniac. She was paralyzed and he knew it. This time he had a face; a terrible, fleshy, contoiled grimace suffused with madness and hatred. His visage expanded into a ghastly rictus as he pocketed the scalpel for later use and reached out with his hands, grasping for her throat.