Reality Heist by Geordi Riker (e manga reader .txt) 📕

them numbered chronologically, using Dimension Seven's time line as a reference to when-abouts the other dimensions formed. Mainly, the lines between dimensions are blurred, but sometimes it's pretty obvious that you're in Three and not in Four, and blah blah blah.
“Each dimensional category has one particular trait that stands out. Six is a little bit harder to tell from Seven, but the rest are pretty straight forward. One is pitch black, with a neutron star as a sun that casts no light. We don't go there often. Two has Earth covered in water, we're thinking that the flood never receded. Three has Muslims ruling the entire known world, even in their twenty first century they still haven't found the 'Americas'. Four is a little hectic, but suffice it to say we go there even less than One, so don't worry about it too much.
“Five is a big one, we end up there more than anywhere else. Chase is from there, he could probably give you a more in depth description of what exactly makes it unique from the other six, but it boils down to the Brits getting their butts kicked and their land conquered by the French. The French turned out to be the major players in the global domination game, and from Chase's part of the grand scheme of that time-line, English is a dead language and the world is in chaos. I'm not saying anything about the French, but I'm glad that they all got eaten by the Leviathan in Dimension One. Six is where we are now, or at least we're in a sub category of it. Hitler won the war, blah blah blah. Seven is the one you're from, plus it's the one we use to categorize the other ones, so there's not really any point in my explaining it.” She takes one look at my face, “Did any of that make sense?”
“Kinda. The whole idea that the French messed everything up...”
“Don't go dissing France,” Jesse interrupts, casting a glance at Skip's back, “Last time we checked, the French were helping the English underground in Four, and Skip's all about revolutions, being British and all that, so to stay in his good graces, don't mention the French at all.”
“Okay, so what should we mention? The fact that you're the one who's actually in charge of bringing Brandee here up to speed? By the way, you should at least pretend that you're helping. Otherwise Skip might get annoyed.”
“Why should he care?” I ask, feeling left out.
Ky looks at me, “Because the person who brings you up to speed also stays out of the next few missions, until you're actually trained.”
“Basically, she's implying that I'm useless and make no contribution whatsoever to the team,” Jesse interrupts.
“You said it, not me.”
One word stood out from their little banter, “Missions?”
Ky's eyes fly open, and I shrink back form the suddenly really good look at her eyes in the dim light, “Huh? Didn't Chase tell you that yet? He took his sweet time coming last night, so I figured someone had already told you about what we do.”
“I'm guessing something illegal.”
"Shh!” Jesse hisses, looking furtively ahead of us. He immediately relaxes though, and I follow his gaze to see that we've dropped way behind the others. “Illegal is a dirty word. Never use it around Amaar, the poor guy's faith is shaken enough as it is. If you ever refer to the nature of our work, call it something like clandestine operations. Sounds more legitimate."
“Why?”
“He's Muslim,” Ky says shortly, “Don't care for religion, me, so don't bring it up with him when I'm around.” She shoots Jesse a look over my head, “Back on topic, yes, we are in the business of things that are illegal, namely stealing things of immaculate value in one dimension or another. We need to be able to live somehow.”
“So we rob the federal Reserve or the Tower of London?”
Jesse laughs, “Nothing that drastic, but we might end up doing that on occasion. Just to keep ourselves busy.”
“How do you know something's worth a lot in another dimension if you're never to the same dimension twice?”
“We never arrive at the exact same dimension that we left at any point in our lives,” Jesse corrects, “But we still manage to travel to dimensional... branches, I guess you could call them, that have similar interests in say a sapphire diamond, whereas other dimensions hold no sympathy whatsoever for jewels. We steal the stuff that's easy to grab that we can guarantee is worth a lot more in another dimension. For the most part, Dimension Five, Chase's world, is the safest place to unload, but their currency is worthless in other dimensions. And sometimes you end up in an America that is completely like yours with the only difference being that Washington deals in dollar bills of different colours, like their neighbours to the North.”
“Why?”
“Who knows? It's not like we can find out who decided to make the money the way it-”
“That's not what I meant,” I start, cutting him off, “What I mean is, why is Chase's dimension the safest to “unload” the goods we steal?”
“Oh... that's because,” Jesse replies slowly. He shoots a look at Ky, tilting his head to one side in some sort of signal. Ky pretends to be studying the wall beside her, trailing a hand along the dirty exterior. “Because Chase is a smuggler. He knows the lay of the land, who can get him what, call in favours. He's the most likely to run into someone who knows him, so him and Skip handle that aspect of the business.”
“So what do we do for the other dimensional categories?”
“We get by,” Ky interjects stiffly, “Same way we always do. We make it because we need to.”
An awkward silence descends on our little group. I squirm a little bit in the sudden silence as we pace along the tunnel, the dust thick in some spots and fresh air in others. Our path is lit by dying naked light bulbs and holes through which i can see the blue sky. Spots of sunlight dot the floor, but these are few and far between. “So... uh... what's everybody's skills?” I ask, hoping to break the silence.
Ky perks up immediately, “That's safe jungle. I'm the assassin. You need someone dead, I can arrange that for you. You want them to be tortured before they are enabled to embrace the sweet sensation of death, that can be arranged too, for an additional fee.”
“Ky's the hunter,” Jesse says hurriedly, getting a look at my expression, “She's the marksman. Although, she does kill people, it's not on a regular basis. It's only every time we run into Hitler, or Stalin, or any other mucho-macho bad guy from history like Genghis Khan.”
“But wouldn't that just create other dimensions where you didn't?”
“Nope. Far as we can tell, and we can't really, none of us Sliders affect time lines in any way. We just ghost through, steal stuff that is reported missing in any of the closely related branches of dimensions that are created after that point from that particular 'branch'.” Jesse grins lazily, “Anyways, I'm the stunts guy. Any street fighting or deep sea diving expertise needed, I'm your guy. I handle all aspects of Dimension Two interactions, since there's so many rules an nowhere near enough time to teach them to any of you commoners.”
“Don't mind him,” Ky growls, “He always talks like that in relation to his own dimension. Apparently, they still have some sort of Ottoman empire ideal going on over there, heads of families and everything.”
“It's a far cry from the set up you Firsties have, I'll give you that,” Jesse snaps back, “But at least when we do something, we don't just run around in animal hides and hope for the best, with the extent of our vocabulary being 'Ug uggg ugg'.”
“You wanna go, Sticky fingertips?” Ky snarls, stepping around me to be face to face with Jesse. To his credit, he doesn't back down, but glowers right back at her.
“You're stupid,” he sneers.
Ky smirks, “Well, you're dumb.”
“That hurts... but my father's not the one on crack, now is he?” Jesse grins triumphantly in Ky's face.
Ky takes another step towards him, closing the distance. There's a deadly gleam in her eyes, cold and calculating, “Tell me,” she hisses, “They say that underwater, no one can hear you scream. I wonder if it's true?” Her implied threat hangs heavy on the air.
“OI!” Chase yells form up ahead, “Are you'se coming or what? ”
“Yeah,we are, now shut up!” I yell back.
Ky steps away from Jesse, and starts walking stalwartly ahead of us, never looking back. Jesse glares at the wall beside him, shoving his hands in his pockets and avoiding my gaze.
“Don't mind them, they're always like this,” Dutch says from behind me.
I spin around, “Whoa! When did you get there?”
He raises an eyebrow innocently, “I've been here the whole time. You three were just too absorbed in your own little bubble universe to notice that I've been behind you this whole time. Any ways, you were wondering about everyone's skills, right? Guess you just found mine. When I've a mind to, and I don't necessarily have to be sober, I can sneak up on anyone and everyone, including Ky. Used to be my job before I started sliding, and I've been sliding longer than these two combined by about a year. Chase would know the actual numbers, he's been doing this longer than me even.
“And don't believe a word Jesse said. Yes, he's got some ninja skills up his sleeve, but he'll just as soon rob you blind while giving you one of his innocent baby blue eyes smiles. That's his real skill. And Ky's not alone in her attempts to kill all the dictators, we all chip in when we feel like it.
“Chase can forge things. Letters, birth certificates, notes from your dead aunt saying she doesn't approve of the shoes you're wearing. You name it, he can sell it as legit.
“Skips the strategist. He plans the ins, outs, and all the details in between of any heist we pull off. That's why he's in charge, because he knows what he's doing.
“And Amaar's our bomber slash demolitions expert.”
I freeze, “What?”
“Nice going Dutch, you've just confirmed every notion she had about the radicalism of Muslims that they might possibly be still in the business of suicide bombing even though they run the place,” Jesse growls. His next statement is addressed to me, “It' not what you think. Amaar used to serve in the army, same as Dutch. Amaar was part of a bomb squad. His job was to actually put his life on the line and disarm the bombs.”
“Bombs that other Muslims made.”
Jesse hangs his head and rolls his eyes, “You're not getting it. Amaar isn't one of the bad guys. Most Muslims aren't. Shoot, in Amaar's dimension, the Middle East kicked renaissance Europe's butt, eventually conquering Britain, and exploring the new world. The entire planet is Muslim, and I don't think that there's much opposition. I have no doubt that there's some Christians still somewhere, kept to themselves by force and not by choice, whatever.”
“Do I hear some bias?” Amaar's voice suddenly speaks from the gloom beside Jesse. We both jump and Amaar steps into the dim light, shining a flashlight into his face with a grin. “I thought I heard some religion speak going on. I thought we had already reached an agreement on that, Jesse. You keep your faith to yourself, and I wouldn't quote the Qur'an to point out the many errors of your ways, specifically yours