The person you were, everything about him has been scrubbed away. And to endure the loss, you have to become someone else. Someone new.
Jett smiled as if he knew she was stalling. Fortunately, he was too polite to call her out. "Well, it's too hot to talk out here. Wanna come in?"
She nodded, entering his box-shaped apartment after he held the door open for her. Again, something she didn’t plan on. In her rehearsal, she forcefully laid out her arguments while he squirmed uncomfortably, unable to meet her gaze. Instead, she was the one who couldn't look him in the eyes. She was surprised to realize she was afraid. Scared that once she spoke the words, there was no turning back. Whatever it was they had would be over, like a flower trampled before it even bloomed.
She gave his apartment a quick glance. Jett didn't have much of anything, but the few furnishings were surprisingly neat and organized. The structure itself was tiny and cramped, making her feel instantly confined. "Nice place."
Jett rummaged through a tiny refrigerator. "No need to be polite, Ronnie. I'm sure you have cells in your precinct larger than this." He held up two bottles. "Water or beer?"
She shook her head. "I'm good, thanks."
He looked at the bottles as if unsure what to do with them. "Okay. So … what do I owe the pleasure of a visit? Did you miss me?"
"Yes."
Her eyes widened after her mouth betrayed her. She didn't mean to say that all, didn't intend to do anything outside of pressing her case. But there it was, out in the open. Every second that passed, her carefully laid plans fell apart.
But it was the truth.
Jett stared, looking just as shocked as she felt. He finally set the bottles on a narrow countertop and slowly approached. Up close, he towered over her, but he was so hesitant that she nearly felt as tall. Then, looking into his eyes, she saw it. Finally unguarded, he let her see the one thing he always held back when he was near her.
Passion.
"I missed you too," he said.
That was all she needed to hear. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his face to hers. He smelled clean, like he just stepped out of the shower. When they kissed, she felt him respond with the same hunger that drove her. It was a mutual understanding, an insatiable urge to be needed. To feel something real.
To be felt.
Clothes hit the floor. His hands gripped her thighs and lifted her, carried her over to the bed. And even though it was nearly as hot inside as it was out, she didn't mind at all. Sweat dripped from their bodies, glistening in the dim light. Their heat was all that mattered, all that existed.
She let it burn her worries away.
Chapter 13: Freshkills
Vigil perched on top of an industrial crane, stalking his prey.
Ronnie's body pressed against his, firm but soft, skin silky smooth. His hands in her hair, her breath gasping in his ear…
He shook his head, reluctantly pushing the memory aside. He couldn't afford to be distracted. He had to focus on the mission.
Even at night, the temperature was sweltering, humid from the moist air off the bay. The breeze was a pitiful thing, barely stirring the cape that hung from his shoulders like limp wings. The fabric's metamaterial blended with its surroundings, rendering him near-invisible. Most of the dockyard was visible from his vantage point, including the shipment of firearms and inferno rounds being unloaded from a cargo ship that supposedly carried medical supplies. Vigil watched as the crates were separated by members of the Warmongers syndicate.
Dressed in urban blacks and yellows with Celtic symbols and crossed sword emblems proudly displayed, they swarmed the dockyard like soldiers preparing for war. That wasn't far from the truth because Vigil knew what the weapons were for. The Warmongers were called poachers by the other syndicates because of their fondness for muscling in on the turf of other syndicates when their operations became weak and/or sloppy. Warmongers rarely held the stolen territory for long, just enough to drain its resources before they returned to their well-protected Freshkills Island base of operations.
Do I love her?
The errant thought intruded, distracting him. What happened was completely unexpected, but welcome. It felt good. It felt … right. But love? Over three hundred years had passed since Tatsu died, but to him, it had been just over a year. It was a dizzying sensation to experience time through hibernation, something that threw off his equilibrium when he tried to consider it. All he knew was that Ronnie was everything he wanted, and he didn't want to lose her out of fear for the moment.
He glanced at his wrist when his holoband buzzed with an incoming call. Ronnie's face flashed on the screen. He hesitated for a moment, then pressed IGNORE, which automatically transferred his location signal to transponders on the opposite side of the city. He didn't think Ronnie would try tracking him.
Would she?
She certainly didn't appear to have any regrets. After back-to-back rounds of intense lovemaking, they collapsed, sleeping for a few hours before her holoband buzzed and woke her up. RCE business, not surprising. But she smiled and kissed him before she left. A long, lingering kiss. That had to mean something.
Still, she is a cop. Better to err on the side of caution. Settling back into his crouch, he tapped the com on the side of his helmet.
"Looks like your intel was right on the money, Incognito."
His partner's voice buzzed over the com. "Blacknet chatter gets them every time. They just can't stop talking about their next move."
"Yeah, in this case, a bold and potentially bloody invasion and takeover of some of the Crimson King's most lucrative drug operations."
"With the CKs reeling from the recent raids and their beef with the Grim Reaper Posse, the Warmongers feel it's the perfect time to attack. For that, they needed to upgrade their weapons."
"And of course, this black-market dealer with military ties is happy to provide."
"Still not sure why you're interfering, Vigil. If your enemies take themselves out, that just does your work for you."
"My work isn't open warfare in the streets of Neo York."
"Don't kid yourself, Vigil. You've declared war on the syndicates when you put on that helmet. And if you didn't, they've certainly declared war on you. Have you heard about the price on your head?"
"How much is it now?"
"Five million."
"That's all?"
"That's not enough?"
"I was hoping for at least ten. Then I could turn myself over and see if they'd let me collect."
"Funny."
"I'm here all week. Hold on, looks like we have a Helmer on site."
Vigil magnified his view, focusing on a group that stood apart, watching the others work. He knew them from surveillance photos. One was the Helmer, a man called Khan. He was nearly seven feet tall and built like a tank, dressed in a fitted yellow puffer jacket despite the heat. His face was concealed by a helmet and mask that gave him the appearance of a robotic ogre.
"Good-looking guy."
"Yeah, a real hunk," Incognito said. "Intel indicates cyber-enhancements, his body equipped with technological upgrades that make him a metahuman of sorts."
Under the helmet, Vigil grinned. "I have a history with metahumans. Doubt this guy can stand up against even the weakest in the Imperial War."
"You'd know better than me. The three lieutenants with him are called the Furies: Alex, Meg, and Tisi. Like Khan, they're also enhanced with cybernetics."
Vigil focused on the trio of tall women in snug yellow-and-black combat gear. They wore sleek helmets with visors that covered most of their faces. Ropes of cables snaked out from the back of their helmets, wriggling like metallic serpents.
"They look suitably dangerous."
"Well, if this works, you won't have to worry about them. How's our secret weapon doing?"
Vigil pulled his Charon rifle from his shoulder and peered through the scope. Fanning it across the yard, he stopped on one of the Warmonger workers. Smaller than the
others, she helped direct a mech carrying one of the large weapons crates. As the crate was lowered, she slapped something on the bottom of it. When the mech turned and trundled off, she looked in Vigil's direction. Tapping on the side of her visor activated a tiny light that flashed in code.
I'M DONE.
He answered via a flashing light on his g-span: CLEAR OUT.
The disguised Spitfire took a look around and slowly backed away from the trucks, quickly ducking into the shadows when the coast was clear. Vigil pulled the remote detonator from his belt holster and pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
"What the hell, Incognito?"
"I don't know, Vigil. Best guess is a dampening field over the area. Looks like they came prepared. Means you have to be inside the barrier zone if you want those incendiaries to go off."
"These guys are good. I'd be more impressed if Spitfire wasn't in the danger zone." He glanced at the Warmongers. At least one of the Furies seemed to notice something had happened. The cables fanned out from her helmet as if they were antennas scanning the vicinity. She said something to the others, and they fanned out, shouting at the guards. Khan gestured furiously at the drivers, who ran to their trucks. His soldiers opened fire on the arms dealer's bodyguards, killing them on the spot.
"Damn it." Vigil tapped his com. "Spitfire, they have dampeners that block the detonator's signal. We're blown. Get out now—I'll cover you."
"I'm cut off. Gotta find another out."
Incognito buzzed in. "Heads up, Vigil. They're tracking your signal."
Glancing up, he saw streaks of light as guards fired shoulder-mounted rockets in his direction. He leaped from his perch, barely escaping the explosion as the missiles struck the crane, sending the massive boom-head and load block hurtling down, wreathed in searing flames.
That's it, idiots. The more fireworks, the faster the RCE shows up.
Dropping smoke bombs on the stacks of shipping containers below, he landed in the middle of the thick haze and used it for concealment as bullets hummed around him, ricocheting off the metal containers. Leaping down, he ran through the narrow alleys before firing his boot thrusters and catapulting across the dark, choppy waters to the opposite dock. Landing on a massive cargo hauler, he located the mini-tripod stand he erected earlier during reconnaissance. Quickly locking his rifle in place, he tapped his com.
"Incognito, can you jack into to the Charon?"
"Not a problem."
"Good. How about some cover fire?"
"Gladly."
With Incognito operating remotely, the rifle unloaded at the targets across the water, who milled in confusion as the knockout rounds hit from their blindside. The boom of the shots mingled with the yells of the exposed men, the sounds echoing across the water.
Vigil hit his thrusters and soared to the backside of the Warmonger's dock, where the trucks hurtled toward the main avenue at full throttle, kicking up dust behind them. Raising his g-spans, he fired ion rounds at their engine blocks, shorting out the drive systems. The vehicle tires squealed as they skidded to a stop. As the tires smoked and burned rubber fouled the air, the drivers leaped out of their trucks and bailed on foot, escaping to the streets. Vigil let them go, turning at the sound of commotion behind him.
Spitfire leaped from one stack of shipping crates to another, barely escaping a barrage of plasma rounds that disintegrated the containers, casting debris high into the air. Panting, she landed on the concrete and ran, followed by the trio of yellow-armored Furies.
Alex soared above, propelled by a hover-pack equipped with four auto-targeting telescoping gun arms, all of which unloaded at Spitfire. The other two Furies pursued on foot, leaping across the shipping containers like metallic panthers, gleaming locks whipping back and forth behind them.
Vigil tapped his com. "Clear my air, Incog."
"On it."
Incognito's pinpoint accuracy fired a shot to Alex's head that would have killed her without the helmet. She dropped from the sky and bounced across the crates as Vigil ran toward Meg and Tisi, who landed in crouches, limbs glowing with charged energy.
He fired repulsor blasts as he charged. Meg countered with a deflector shield that projected from her wrist. It sizzled as the rounds struck, knocking her back. Tisi attacked, stretching out her hand. Bladed hooks detached and shot toward Vigil, flailing from her fingers like bladed whips. He spun in the air, barely leaping over the deadly blades. They retracted when he landed, whipping back toward him. His energy blade hummed when it snapped from his g-span, slicing through the metallic whips with a hissing sound. The hooks glinted like shattered glass when they clattered across the ground.
Spitfire joined the fight, snapping her batons into a staff that hummed with voltaic current at both ends. The weapon created an electric light show when it twirled in her hands, attacking Meg with furious jabs and strikes. The seasoned Fury defended with her armored forearms and shins, showering neon sparks with every block. Four extra arms snapped from the casing on her back, each one wielding a different weapon. Counterattacking, she put Spitfire on the defensive.
Vigil fired his g-spans at Tisi, who barely managed to weave out the way. Landing on all fours, her serpentine locks whipped forward and wrapped around one of his arms. Constricting with tremendous strength, they crushed the gauntlet underneath with a crunching sound. Vigil seized them with his other hand and yanked hard, pulling Tisi off her feet. While she was airborne, he finished the fight with a savage uppercut. She slumped to the ground, unconscious.
When he turned, Meg had used her multiple arms and body weight to pin Spitfire down and try to throttle her with her staff. Vigil raised his g-span, but Meg was faster. One of her extra arms swung backward, firing a repeater handgun. The muzzle flashed as the booming shots punched him in the armored chest. Staggering back, he activated his g-span's magnetic tow, pulling the weapon from her hand. Undeterred, she twisted around, raising two other arms to aim ion pistols at him.
That gave Spitfire just enough leverage to fire a knockout dart from her wrist rocket, scoring a hit to Meg's exposed neck. Her mouth opened, and the weapons fell from her fingers when she collapsed.
Spitfire's chest heaved as she pushed Meg's body away and shakily stood. "That was close, not gonna lie. You okay?"
Vigil painfully rubbed his chest. "Feels like being shot with rubber rounds. Some bruises, no big deal." He tapped his com. "Incognito, do you have a location on Khan?"
"He got away while you two were fighting, Vigil. Out of my line of fire, so I couldn't stop him. I'm picking up several RCE units heading your way, ETA two minutes. Better get to the Stingray unless you're looking to fight the cops."
"Copy that." Glancing at his g-span console confirmed that the inhibitor field had dropped, allowing the remote link to the explosives. Pulling out the detonator, he clicked the tab. The cargo trucks erupted in flames when the incendiaries activated. The fire lit up the dockyard, crackling as they fed on the crates and the weapons inside.
Spitfire glanced at the unconscious bodies of the Furies. "What we doing with them, yo?"
"We'll slip some cuffs on and leave them for the RCE as a gift."
"Don't think they're gonna be all that grateful."
"Their problem, not ours. We're done here."
Ⓥ
Riding in the Stingray was like floating on clouds. The silent vehicle glided between the neon-lit buildings like a predator, guided by Vigil's uncanny guidance as he expertly weaved the streamlined aircraft through nooks and valleys that Spitfire didn't know existed. From her vantage points, the city lights glittered like tacky jewelry, shimmering against the dark backdrop of towering buildings.
She glanced at Vigil. With his face concealed by the dark helmet, he might as well have been a robot: silent and featureless, every movement smoothly automated.
"Jett?"
His head turned slightly. "It's Vigil when we're working. It's important you never forget that, Spitfire. Lives depend on our
anonymity, and we can't afford mistakes, not even when we're alone."
Her head dropped. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Just something to keep in mind. You did good back there, by the way. You've come a long way."
She tried not to look too pleased. "Just following the training. Qhawa calls it muscle memory."
"She knows best." He paused, dropping the Stingray onto the top of an abandoned building a few blocks away from Qhawa's brownstones. "Here we are."
The tinted acrylic canopy lifted, allowing the humid outside air to invade and immediately break her pores out in a sweat. She wriggled from the cramped rear seat and smoothly leaped out the cockpit onto the roof. Turning, she looked up at Vigil.
"You're not coming?"
The visor of his helmet slid open, revealing his face: deadbeat tired but too stubborn to admit it. "Not this time."
She masked her disappointment with a casual nod. "Okay. Catch you later, yo."
"Stay frosty, Spitfire."
Bathed in blue light, she watched as the canopy closed and the Stingray rose into the air on near-silent thrusters before taking off between the nearby buildings. Then with a sigh, she dropped off the side of the building, fired a mini grappling hook into the fire escape, and rappelled down to the street below. Crossing the road quickly, she slipped into a slim opening in the building façade that opened automatically at her approach. The rest of her two-block walk was in the narrow, brightly-lit hidden passageway that led to the garage of one of Qhawa's brownstones. Laser scanners confirmed her identity, shutting off the venting system that would flood the chamber with gas had she been an intruder. An eyeball and fingerprint scan allowed entry into the brownstone she shared with Qhawa.
In the shower, she turned the hot water up to nearly scalding and inhaled the harsh steam. Cuts and gashes made themselves evident by stinging like hell. She didn't mind. They were reminders of her work. Reminders of how close she came to dying.
She relived the fights in her mind over and over again, wincing at her mistakes, vowing to improve. She wanted to be as skilled and fearless as Jett. Unstoppable, unafraid.
Vigil: Inferno Season (The Cyber Knight Chronicles Book 2) Page 19