49

  Marcus

  Marcus landed on the deck leading into the tower, the squad of Ruger’s militants right behind him, a group of Custodian defenders in front. The sides traded fire through the repaired glass, reducing the shards to dust and obliterating the adhesive. A moment later, Fairy resumed firing on the defenses from above them, adding to the chaos. Three of the Custodians were hit by the heavy slugs, punching through their armor and tearing them in half.

  A blaster in each hand, Marcus joined the assault, triggering each weapon as he charged toward the defenses. There was no cover for the Custodians to hide behind, so they crouched near the elevator, picking out targets and shooting. Oddly enough, they focused their attention on the militants trailing Marcus instead of on him, allowing him to pass from exterior to interior unharmed. One of the militants screamed behind him, his weapon going silent. One of the Custodians fell ahead of him. He targeted two others, his plasma blasts sizzling into their armor, landing multiple hits. The protection allowed them to stand their ground against his attack, but only for so long. Each hit they took weakened their defenses, chipping away at the armor plating or ablating through.

  The defenders managed to stay in place long enough to take out two more Alpha Squad fighters before Marcus’ plasma blasts finally broke through. Combined with the firepower of the remaining two militants, the last Custodians were put down.

  Marcus ran to the elevator and called the cab. He backed up a few steps, watching the number above the shaft quickly increase. It paused on the fifth floor for a few seconds before continuing its ascent.

  He glanced at the two militants, who waited expectantly for him to decide their next move. They could either engage the defenders who had boarded the elevator or they could head for the emergency stairs. He hesitated for a couple of seconds before making his decision and breaking for the stairs. The initial ingress had already proven the sides were too equally matched in a firefight. While his group was already whittled down to two fighters with scuffed and pitted armor, the oncoming enemy would be fresh. He glanced at his Axon replacement arm as he reached the stairwell door. He felt better about their chances in close combat, which the confined space of the steps would enforce.

  He pushed through the door without slowing, slamming it open and letting momentum carry him to the wall, blasters pointed down to the next landing. “Clear!” he snapped, the two militants following behind.

  He held there for a few seconds while the door closed behind them, listening for footsteps. He heard them further down, two or three floors at least. They had to know he had entered the stairwell too.

  He freed his Axon hand by holstering the blaster before starting down the stairs. He had only made it two steps when he heard the tone of the elevator’s arrival beside them. They would only have a few seconds before the Custodians on the elevator realized they had gone by way of the stairs.

  “Cover our rear,” he said to the two militants, who immediately pivoted to face the stairwell door.

  Just beyond it, the elevator shaft doors opened. The cab inside it exploded.

  The shockwave shook the stairwell walls. The force blasted through the cement beside the cab and punched the metal fire door off its hinges, throwing it into one of the militants. Heat and debris filled the top of the stairs, and Marcus barely threw himself down the steps in time to avoid being overcome by the blast of debris. The other militant wasn’t as lucky. A piece of rebar found the joint between his chestplate and backplate, spearing him deep through the side. He collapsed as more rubble pelted him, his body sliding to the landing where Marcus hit the wall and stopped.

  “Son of a bitch,” Marcus said, coughing as smoke and dust filled the stairwell. He jumped to his feet and turned the corner onto the next set of steps. A Custodian stood there, leaning against the wall, one foot on one step, the other a step below, holding onto a jagged piece of metal from the explosion protruding from his side. Still, he raised the firearm in his other hand, aiming it at Marcus.

  He rushed down the stairs, throwing a hard right hook into the Custodian’s helmeted head. The blow hit the man hard enough to crack his helmet’s faceplate and drive his head so hard to the side his neck gave a sickening crunch. The man crumpled at his feet..

  Marcus drew his fist up, opening and closing his fingers as he stared down at the black appendage in amazement. The Axon arm was at least as awesome as Iagorth’s appendage had been without the enslavement that came with it.

  He coughed again, trying to get away from the noxious fumes spreading from the explosion. Reaching the next landing, he swung around the blind corner, coming face-to-face with another Custodian, rifle nearly level with Marcus’ chest. Before the Custodian could fire, Marcus grabbed the barrel with his Axon hand, crushing it while shoving the man back with his other shoulder. The effort to shoot created a misfire that blew up the weapon in the Custodian’s hands. Marcus stayed on him as he fell, firing his blaster into the man’s helmet until the plasma pierced the glass, finishing the kill.

  Another Custodian appeared on the stairs. Marcus rushed him, getting inside his guard and shoving him back into the wall. Marcus threw a weak right jab into his opponent’s gut, expecting only to keep him off balance with the blow. He looked down when the man’s eyes rolled and his mouth opened in a painful scream, his own eyes wide when he saw the end of his fist had extended into a blade that had sliced cleanly through the armor, cutting similarly to the Sheriff’s microspear.

  Marcus laughed out loud as he pulled the blade from the stricken Custodian, racing past him and continuing the descent. He had been worried about the type of augment Sheriff Duke wanted him to have. It seemed ridiculous now. Despite everything Marcus had done, the Sheriff trusted him enough to give him a weapon that made him so much more dangerous than before.

  The thought brought him to a sudden stop as he struggled to understand how Duke could be so trusting. It was the complete opposite of anything he had experienced before in his life. A wave of anguish overtook him, a sense that he didn’t deserve the Sheriff’s kindness or understanding. It was replaced a moment later with a refreshed sense of purpose.

  Marcus bounded down the stairwell. He had over forty floors to descend and not a lot of time to do it. Sheriff Duke and his teams were probably already on the ground, making their way toward the loading dock that he and his squad were supposed to clear out. Only his squad hadn’t made it, leaving the entire job up to him alone.

  He was okay with that. Iagorth wasn’t going to win.

  Reaching the next set of stairs, Marcus turned the corner to find a group of Custodians waiting for him on the landing below. One pair of defenders crouched in front, a standing pair behind, all with their rifles ready and waiting. Moving too quickly to get back around the turn to find cover, Marcus charged the group, yelling as he leaped from the top of the steps toward them, muzzle flashes blinding him. Bullets should have torn into his clothes and the bodysuit beneath, through the bodysuit and into his flesh. Marcus could hardly believe it when his replacement arm began to glow, a blue shield of energy spreading out from it and catching the brunt of the assault. The Custodians couldn’t believe it either, even as he crashed into them, falling with them into a heap.

  All five Custodians scrambled for cover that wasn’t there. Marcus’ Axon augment extended into a blade, and Marcus jabbed it through the visor of one Custodian into the man’s head. He kicked at another and rolled on top of the third, sticking his blaster between her chestplate and helmet and firing directly into her neck. He shoved the blade through her chest and into her heart before jumping up, turning to swing his blaster, breaking his nose. A muscular enhanced clone, the Custodian was nearly a head taller and much heavier than Marcus, but he didn’t stand a chance against the Axon augment. Marcus turned the man’s wrist over, breaking it before throwing the man into the wall. He pressed the attack, driving his Axon blade through the side of the man’s helmet and into his brain.

  Marcus stood over the four dead Custodians, disbelieving what he had just done and realizing that when this was over, he would be free to do whatever he wanted with the rest of his life. If he wanted to become a warlord of a settlement, he could take it easily. If he wanted to take Fairy away and be with her, he could, whether she wanted it or not. If he decided to kill the Sheriff after all, he wouldn’t lose again.

  He sprinted down the rest of the stairs with these thoughts and more percolating in his mind. While he could do any of those things, he didn’t care about them right now. Iagorth had forced him to kill people he hadn’t wanted to kill. Iagorth had tortured him when he didn’t comply. Iagorth had used him as the worst kind of slave.

  Iagorth wasn’t only going to lose.

  He was going to die.

  Marcus reached ground level, bursting out of the stairwell and into the lobby. The area was clear, but a group of Custodians ran past outside, likely headed to cut off Sheriff Duke and his teams. He had made it. Following the path King had led him along before, he made his way back to the loading dock. It was quiet inside, though he could hear gunfire further in the distance. He had beaten the Sheriff here.

  He paused a moment beyond the doors into the loading bay. Then he clenched his Axon hand into a fist and entered, pushing through the swinging doors, eyes landing on his father’s back.

  “King,” he said. “I’m here to kill you.”

  His old man turned around. His eyes shifted to the Axon augment. Then he started to laugh.

  “You and what army, pansy boy?” King replied.

  “I don’t need an army,” Marcus replied. “You’re all mine.”

  “You already tried that once, Marcus. It didn’t go so well.”

  “Things are different now.”

  “They sure are,” King said. “I got someone here I think you know. Must be serendipity or some shit like that. Come on out, honey.”

  Marcus looked to the left, the entire planet coming to a crashing halt when his eyes landed on the woman standing there in a semi-transparent negligee of all things. “Wanda?” This couldn’t be possible.

  She smiled at him, offering a provocative wave. “Hey Marcus,” she said. “Small world isn’t it?”

  “What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?”

  “Why do you think?” she replied. “Daddy King likes me this way, don’t you baby?”

  “I sure do,” King said.

  Marcus looked back at his father. “You? And her?”

  King laughed. “You’re nothing, Marcus. A pansy-assed weakling. Not even man enough for your girl here. That’s why she betrayed your ass and got you tossed in the brig. Pathetic.”

  “Pathetic,” Wanda echoed.

  “This is ridiculous,” Marcus said. “This can’t be happening.” His newfound confidence began fading fast, feelings of inadequacy returning. “I don’t believe it.”

  “You ought to believe it,” Wanda said. “You’ve always been a failure. You failed again.”

  “And again, and again, and again,” King said. “If you ask me, I think you should just kill yourself.”

  Marcus stared at King. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was a failure.

  “You couldn’t even kill Sheriff Duke,” Wanda said. “And you had him right where you wanted him.”

  “You couldn’t even keep Iagorth’s moiety alive,” King added. “Pathetic.”

  “Pathetic,” Wanda said.

  “Why don’t you kill yourself, Marcus?” King said. “Save us the trouble.”

  “Yeah Marcus. Do it.”

  Marcus began to tremble, his eyes shifting to the blaster in his right hand. They were right weren’t they? He had failed over and over again. It was better if he just killed himself now.

  “That’s right,” King said. “Do it.”

  Marcus turned the gun in his hand and put it up against the side of his head, his finger moving to the trigger.

  50

  Hayden

  Bullets whipped past Hayden’s face, too many coming too close to count. One grazed his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood before he reached the next abandoned car in the road. He threw himself behind it, a momentary reprieve as Brink and her squad worked to circle the defenses.

  “Charlie, they got a lot of shots off on me there,” Hayden said into the comm. “Where was my cover? You need to shoot back.”

  “Copy, Sheriff,” Charlie Squad’s leader said. “We weren’t ready for you to bolt like that.”

  Hayden growled softly, reminding himself most of these folks had never seen real combat before. “I’ll give you some warning this time. Are you ready?”

  “Ready, Sheriff.”

  “On three. ” This time he drew his revolvers, ready to cover himself if Charlie moved too slow again.

  He counted up to three and sprang up, sprinting diagonally toward the next car. As soon as the first Custodian popped up to shoot at him, a three-round burst caught the man in the helmet, the bullets cracking his visor and forcing him back down under cover. Another Custodian stood up, swinging his rifle toward Hayden only to catch a heavy slug in the neck from Hayden’s revolver. The bullet found the joint between thicker armor and cut through the bodysuit. He collapsed behind his cover and didn’t appear again.

  The early results caused the rest of the defenses to be more cautious, and they synchronized their return fire, popping up as one group, one squad targeting Charlie, the other going for Hayden. Too late. He reached the next car, ducking behind it as bullets pinged off the sheet metal.

  “Brink, what’s your position?” Hayden asked.

  “Coming up on the first forward cross-street,” Brink replied. “They’re concentrated on your route. We’re clear so far.”

  “Copy that. Stay alert.” Hayden rose to his feet behind the car, pointing his revolvers and unleashing a barrage to keep the Custodians down. He located his next cover before ducking down again and quickly reloading his guns from his bandolier. “Charlie, I’m going on three. Try to move up as you cover me this time.”

  “Copy.”

  “One...two...three!”

  Hayden circled around the front of the car, sprinting to another one up the street, about twenty meters closer to the Custodians. He ran with his revolvers out, aware of Charlie coming out of hiding behind him. The Custodians popped up and Hayden dropped another one as they tried to split their defenses.

  “I’m hit!” one of Charlie’s militants shouted. Hayden glanced back as the man collapsed in the center of the street, hit in the leg. Two others slowed to go back to him—a huge mistake.

  “Keep moving!” Hayden shouted, blasting at the Custodians who moved into firing position. He cut down one, but not before they chewed apart the two members of Charlie who had tried to save their wounded buddy, leaving three of the five-member squad on the ground. Hayden cursed under his breath, taking a round off his duster before he made it to cover again. “Charlie, that was a disaster.”

  “We couldn’t leave him behind,” Charlie’s leader argued.

  “His odds of survival are a lot better if we kill the assholes who are shooting at him,” Hayden snapped back. “Brink, we’re thinned out. What’s your status?” He heard gunfire erupt in Brink’s direction and it took her a few seconds to respond.

  “Sheriff, we caught a squad on its way to reinforce the defenses. They never even saw us on their flank. Ruger five, Custodians zero.”

  “Custodians three,” Hayden corrected. “And they’ve got a lot more total than we do.”

  “Shit. I’m sweeping toward you now. If you can distract them, we’ll take them out.”

  “Copy. Charlie, get ready to move again. On three.”

  “Copy, Sheriff.”

  Hayden counted up to three again and then broke forward. There was no additional cover between him and the Custodians. Nowhere to hide when they started shooting at him again. He had to put all of his faith in Brink and her militants.

  Bullets came at him again, a few of them hitting his duster. One made it through the coat and into his side but was caught there by the bodysuit under his shirt. Hayden swiveled his revolver toward the shooter, putting a pair of rounds into his visor, cracking it. The Custodian stayed on him, ready to trigger another burst when a sudden cacophony of rifle fire exploded at his rear, the barrage of slugs hitting him from the flank. He turned toward it, rounds hitting his already weakened helmet and breaching the visor, killing him instantly.

  “Nice work, Sergeant,” Hayden said into the comm.

  “You too, Sheriff,” she replied.

  Hayden looked to the back of the tower, only one more block away. “Let’s go.”

  Hayden and the twelve remaining militants rushed toward the ramp leading into the loading dock at the base of the tower. A fresh group of Custodians came around the east side of the tower almost at the same time they arrived, hitting them hard from their flank. Two of Brink’s militants went down in the first barrage.

  “Brink, keep us covered,” Hayden shouted. He rushed over to one of the three garage doors at the base of the ramp. Pulling an explosive from the pocket of his duster and planting it against the door, he set the timer for ten seconds and backed away. “Fire in the hole!”

  The Custodians tried to come around the edge of the ramp, meeting heavy resistance. A second squad of enemies appeared on the other side, killing two more militants before Brink’s group adjusted to defend against them.

  The explosive detonated in a loud roar, blowing the garage door inward in hundreds of fragments. Hayden didn’t hesitate, rushing through the opening while Brink’s fighters held the line. Smoke and dust poured into the bay around him, obscuring his view. Even so, it took only an instant to recognize the dead xaxkluth directly ahead of him, its huge body slumped on the ground, its tentacles stretched throughout the room. One of the appendages rested on top of a modified, armored flatbed truck already facing the door he had just reduced to slag. It had to be the means of transport the Custodians had used to bring Iagorth’s pod inside.