She backed away, joining Spitfire and Castle as they fired pulse rounds from a safe distance. Once again, the weapons only annoyed Joe. Heretic flitted around the towering figure, hacking at its legs with his glowing blades. The weapons sizzled when they glanced off of Joe's skin, raining molten sparks. Heretic altered his attack in mid-motion, slashing at Joe's face. The blade caught Joe under the chin, cutting into the harness that secured the horned headpiece. Joe swung a backhanded fist, knocking Heretic back through the damaged section of the wall with a crunching sound.
Vigil leaped on top of Joe Blow's back and grabbed his horns with both hands. Joe thrashed, growling as he tried to shake Vigil off. His thick back and shoulder muscles clenched, his massive neck twisted, his knotted arms reached up to seize Vigil, who planted his feet into Joe's shoulders and yanked with all of his strength. The half-severed harness strap snapped, Vigil flew backward and slammed into the ground, still holding the horned headgear. The interior of the helmet was lined with blinking sensors.
Joe Blow tottered drunkenly, blinking while fighting to keep his footing. His eyes rolled back and arms flailing, he crashed to the broken ground in a cloud of dust. The group slowly gathered around as he lay there with his eyes closed, chest heaving from the effort of breathing. Vigil dropped to a knee beside Joe, placing a hand on the giant's shoulder in a surprisingly gentle manner.
"He's still alive."
Joe Blow's arm shot forward, fingers encircling Vigil's neck. His inflamed eyes snapped open.
"You again."
Vigil dangled in Joe's grip, hands futilely trying to pry the knotted fingers loose. "You're being controlled, Joe. Try to fight it."
"Told you. Told you what Diabolis can do. You still keep coming after them."
"Someone has to."
Joe grunted, loosening his hold. "Said … he'd kill her."
"Who?"
"Honey. My wife. She's … a synoid. Don't judge. Not like … any woman would love a mug like mine. Not without being paid, anyhow. Can't … live without her. Had to do what I was told."
"It's okay, Joe. I'm going after Janus. Anyone working for Diabolis is going to think again after today. Diabolis will be finished."
Joe grunted, wincing as he placed a hand over his head. "Nothing's finished. Just circles. Heads of hydra. Snake eating its tail. Janus doesn't … matter. It's the other you have to … takedown."
Vigil leaned closer. "Other? What other?"
Joe sagged, eyelids fluttering. "Two faces. Not one, but…" His voice trailed off when he lost consciousness.
Ronnie glanced at Vigil. "He's out. Probably going to take a while for his brain to reboot after what they did."
Vigil nodded. "We'll leave him here for now. Come back for him after we're finished."
"Fine. Where to now?"
Vigil pointed to the broken wall that Joe Blow shattered earlier. "He was guarding something. Must be the way in." He tapped a sequence on his g-span. "I'm linking everyone up on the same channel. We need to be able to communicate in case things get bad."
Spitfire stared at Joe Blow. "Things aren't bad now?"
"Not by a long shot. Come on."
They followed him through the steam-enshrouded cavity, where Heretic had just recovered from Joe Blow's punishing backhand. Vigil gave him a hand standing up before they both examined the towering double doors in front of them. Unlike the rest of the labyrinth, the surface was clean and polished, solid as a bank vault with no visible entry panel or access point.
Ronnie joined them, staring at their warped reflections on the burnished surface. "Okay, this is unexpected. So what do we do, knock?"
As if in answer, the doors ratcheted open, blowing cool air in their faces. Ronnie didn't have time to enjoy the sensation because the view of the chamber was blocked by row after row of masked and armored bodies beyond the doorway. They wore the black and yellow colors of Warmonger soldiers, and they were armed to the teeth, pointing a wide assortment of firearms and yelling at the top of their lungs. Ronnie's raised her handgun in return as she shouted back, barely aware of Vigil and Heretic stepping forward, weapons ready to fire. Her heart exploded with adrenaline that coursed through her veins and throbbed on the finger that hovered above the trigger. For a tension-building moment, everyone froze.
Then bloodshed erupted.
Chapter 19: Hostilities
This is it, then.
Vigil's omni-shields sprang from his g-spans at the last possible second, just before the lead lines of Warmongers opened fire in a roaring blaze of muzzle flashes. The noise would have instantly deafened if his helmet's dampeners didn't automatically activate. Even when muted, the sound of thousands of bullets glancing off barriers of electromagnetically-framed plasma was near-maddening. The air crackled and warped, casting the screaming attackers in flashing neon hues. He gritted his teeth, planted his feet, and leaned into the shields to keep from being bowled over.
This is war.
On his left, Heretic had triggered his own defense, a protective barrier that resembled an energy-based Roman shield. He hunched behind it as it took the brunt of the gunfire, though Vigil predicted the same result for both of them. The lines of Warmongers fired continuously, disciplined enough that when the first line knelt to reload, the second ranks unloaded. It was only a matter of seconds before the deflectors overloaded, and everyone was shredded by a hail of bullets. Castle, Ronnie, and Spitfire crouched behind, temporarily protected. In a matter of seconds, they'd be the first to die. It would be the Hellrazors all over again, bodies turned into pulp by explosions of close-quarter gunfire.
Not this time.
Clicking the switch on his Charon rifle charged the breach-laser. He couldn't hear the electronic whine over the explosive sound of the nonstop gunfire. Patching through the com system, he gave the orders.
"Shields can't hold. When I say DROP, everyone hit the dirt. Heretic and I will open the gates. Isaac, you're the ram. Banks and Castle provide support fire. Spitfire, you're last. "
Raise hell, die well.
His breach-laser indicated a full charge. He gave the command.
"DROP."
As one, they all dropped to their stomachs when his shields deactivated. Thousands of bullets whizzed over their heads. Propping his rifle against his shoulder, he squeezed the trigger and fanned across the doorway, taking out feet and legs. The gunmen screamed when their limbs exploded into bloody wads, falling in a tumble of writhing bodies. As they toppled, Heretic launched a volley of small, spherical bombs from his gauntlets. They struck the second ranks, ruptured torsos, and detonated. White phosphorus ignited, splitting the bodies apart in a roar of sizzling flames. Intense heat rippled, transforming the scene into a macabre fever dream as the flailing figures burned like living torches, shrieking as they died.
Rising smoothly to one knee, Vigil fired the breach-laser.
The chamber flashed brighter than sunlight for a split second. When his vision cleared, the entranceway was larger than before, the sides dripping with superheated slag. The front lines were reduced to piles of charred meat grotesquely melted together, limbs split apart, red oozing from blackened flesh. The stench would have been unbearable if it had time to register. But Vigil was already on the move, eyes blinded to the horrors as he and Heretic parted to allow Isaac to storm forward, clearing the smoking corpses in a single leap.
They followed close behind, using his armored body as a barricade against the frantic Warmongers who appeared shocked by the brutality of the frontal assault. They retreated to secondary positions inside what seemed to be an old storage depot, recently renovated with fresh paint, concrete, and railings. The makeover was already blistered by char, pockmarked by bullet holes, and spattered in blood. Isaac ignored the shots bouncing off his metallic hide, mowing the Warmongers down with plasma cannon that morphed from his arm. The pulse rounds burned right through armor and bodies, tearing apart the barricaded shooters in front of him.
Vigil turned, firing a
t snipers on the ramparts that shot over the railings behind him. Most of them had their eyes covered by helmets or goggles, but their body language told the story. They were terrified. They expected an easy ambush, instant slaughter with little resistance and few casualties. They expected a man playing hero, someone who hesitated to use lethal force.
They didn't expect a battle-hardened soldier or the horrifying reality of war.
He took them down with precise shots, moving to his next target as they tumbled from the ledges. Behind him, Castle and Ronnie entered, providing cover fire. Spitfire followed, shooting knockout darts from her wrist rockets. Someone doused the lights. It didn't matter. Thermal vision activated automatically, giving his enemies no advantage as they fell back, regrouped, and died. Several yards away, Heretic leaped from one Warmonger to another, swords casting the room in shades of fire as he mercilessly cut through their ranks. A group of desperate Warmongers jumped on Isaac, trying to pierce his armor with point-blank shots. He grabbed one of them by the face and squeezed. The man's head imploded; crimson ooze dripped between Isaac's fingers. The dead man's comrades lost their appetite for violence, dropping their guns and fleeing.
The thunderous sound of gunfire dwindled as the attackers died, overwhelmed by the disciplined tactics of Vigil's squad. Vigil never stopped moving, clearing corners and taking out pockets of Warmongers who made desperate last stands, screaming as they were literally torn apart the railgun's devastating power. The last of them dropped their weapons, stepping out of their hiding places with hands up.
"Hold your fire," Ronnie yelled over the racket. "Hold your fire, damn it!"
Vigil barely stopped himself, easing his finger off the trigger, shaky from the sudden halt of adrenaline. The Warmongers in front of him dropped to their knees, shuddering in terror. Some of them openly cried, staring around at the bodies that surrounded them. Some were in pieces, chunks splattered on the concrete floor. Others still moved, quivering and crying out, clutching at wounds that bled in pools around them.
He lowered his rifle and turned around. "Spitfire. You're on zip tie duty. Spitfire…?
She was in the corner, vomiting. Shielding her face with one hand, she retched until her chest heaved, waving Ronnie back as she approached.
"I'm good. Just need a sec, yo."
Ronnie turned to Vigil with an accusing glare. "She's just a kid, for God's sake."
"She's a soldier," Vigil said. He searched the depot, optics scanning for hidden snipers and traps that they might have missed in the initial breach. The carnage around him was nearly invisible. The dead and dying weren't the threats. "Every soldier has to see war sooner or later."
Ronnie glared at him, not bothering to respond. She and Castle used the bundles of zip ties to secure the surrendered Warmongers. After a few seconds, Spitfire joined them. Her face shield was back on, goggles hiding whatever revulsion she felt.
Vigil joined Isaac and Heretic, who had discovered a doorway in the rear of the depot. Isaac glanced almost curiously at the gore that covered his hands and painted his forearms. Heretic turned to Vigil. His jerkin was so blood-spattered and charred that it couldn't be called white any longer. His armor was dented, and several bullet holes were visible, but he didn't seem hampered.
"Looks like this is what they were protecting. I don't see a lock. They probably didn't think we'd make it. Janus probably isn't far."
"Then that's where we're going."
"The others will only slow us down. We should let them mop this up. The three of us can handle things from here."
"No one's getting left behind." He turned and motioned to Ronnie and the others. "Wrap it up and gather. We have a positive on another door."
Ronnie cinched the last zip tie and stood, wiping her hands on her pants. "Fine. Backup will pick the prisoners up if they make it down here. Unfortunately, I can't send a signal—still too much interference."
Vigil nodded. "Then we're on our own. No telling what's behind door number two, so we repeat tactics until breach."
She gave him a searching look. "Whatever you say, Big Top."
He paused at the mention of his old codename from when he led the Hellrazors.
She knows.
The thought was more resigned than shocked. Ronnie was too smart to be fooled for long. It was only a matter of time. He pushed the distraction away, focusing on the mission. The next step. Turning to Heretic, he gestured.
"We're up."
Ⓥ
When the doors slid open, the stink of body odor slapped him in the face, followed by the palpable sense of collective terror. As they entered without resistance, he saw the reason why.
Hundreds of people were lined up on platforms erected for a single purpose: mass hanging. At the newly-constructed gallows, the men and women were dressed as if for a formal party—evening gowns glittering jewels on the women; tuxedos and elegant suits on the men. But their fine clothing was soaked through with flop sweat and urine, their eyes wide with terror that they couldn't express because their mouths were gagged tightly with metal straps. All of them had devices attached to their heads, electronic caps that clinched their scalps and winked with alternating, multicolored lights. Nooses made of cables encircled their necks, attached to a horizontal crossbeam above their heads. At their feet were trap doors that could drop at any moment, sending them dangling to their deaths.
Jett recognized some of the terrified faces. Members of the city council, business and tech leaders, high-profile entertainers. People he saw on the brilliantly lit billboards and scrolling screens every day. Men and women who always appeared smugly content, regularly discussing the city's problems while not being directly affected by them.
Until now.
They made frantic muffled sounds, eyes rolling in panicky fear. He moved from one platform to the next, trying to find a control switch or operating panel. Heretic ignored the victims, passing without a glance. Ronnie darted under the gallows, searching as desperately as Vigil. She stopped at one of the men, breath hissing in her throat in recognition. Vigil glanced up.
It was the Commissioner of Police, Franklin Miller. Tears slid down his face when he recognized Ronnie. Panicky sounds escaped from the gag that cut into the sides of his mouth.
"Hold on, Commissioner." She examined the scaffold, eyes tight with frustration. "I don't think there is a way to free them at once. We might have to cut them down individually."
"Leave them," Heretic said from a doorway he discovered on the other side of the room. "They were left to slow us down."
She looked up in shock. "They can be killed any minute."
"As they deserve." Even filtered by his helmet, Heretic's voice was thick with scorn. "Do you think they were forced to come all the way down here? Look at how they're dressed. They came to glut themselves on the misery of others only to find themselves the main course. Their judgment is righteous. Let them hang."
Pressing the green button on the door, he turned his back on them.
The door hissed as it slid open.
The act seemed to trigger the scaffolds. The trapdoors on all the platforms opened, and the victims dropped, feet dangling and kicking, nooses tight around their necks, cutting into the skin. Muted sounds of panic seemed unnaturally loud in the death chamber as their faces turned scarlet and their eyes bulged in the sockets.
Frozen in the moment, Vigil glanced at Heretic, who took one step into the doorway before stopping with a grunt. His body stiffened when a metal spike punched through his chest and out his back, painted in blood. Barbs snapped out the tip in a spatter of crimson droplets, then Heretic was yanked into the adjoining chamber with irresistible force.
"Vigil!"
He turned at the sound of Ronnie's shout. She stood under the Commissioner, trying to support his heels on her shoulders. In his panic, Miller didn't seem to understand. Spitfire was on one of the scaffolds, using a blade to saw at one of the nooses. Castle aimed a handgun and tried shooting to break the cables. Isaac ram
med into one of the rows of scaffolds, but even his great strength only managed to slightly buckle the alloy frame.
Vigil tapped his g-span, activating the cutting laser that fired from its holding in his gauntlet. Fanning his arm, he burned through the cables, dropping bodies to the ground like overripe fruit. Moving from one row to another, the laser sizzled as it snapped the cords, filling the air with smoke and the scent of scorched wires.
When the last body hit the floor, he turned and ran after Heretic, dashing through the door with his rifle at a low-ready position and the breach-laser charged. And despite everything he just experienced, what he saw still made him stop in his tracks.
He couldn't tell if the chamber was small or massive. It was surrounded by darkness with only small recessed lights illuminating it. It appeared rounded, with silhouetted columns that disappeared into the shadows and ghostly, mist-enshrouded light. A metallic monstrosity had a clawed foot firmly planted on Heretic's torso, pinning him to the floor. The hulking mech creature was feathered in jagged spikes and had three heads, six arms, and a long, sinuous tail that it used earlier to impale Heretic and drag him into the room. The creature looked like some mythological hybrid of beast and insect, only updated with cybernetic parts. It looked up when Vigil entered, eyes flashing with scarlet light.
Janus sat on a thronelike chair. It was outfitted with streamlined augmentations in an enhanced version of the Immersion chairs used in Haze parlors. He was dressed extravagantly in a ceremonial tunic of black threaded with gold, including pauldrons of onyx and gold on his shoulders, matching his leering mask.
Vigil: Inferno Season (The Cyber Knight Chronicles Book 2) Page 27