“Just do it,” Grace said. “I don’t want to have to look at her face for any longer than I have to.”
The cats snarled and pushed forward, hoping Sierra might order them to attack.
Sierra kept her grip on the back of the woman’s hood and poised to lift it off her head.
“While we await USARIC’s response. Let’s hope they agree to our terms. This piece of crap, crying for her life on her stupid knees, was meant to be a part of our ultimatum. She was late to the party, which is very unusual for her, as she’s usually the first pain in everyone’s ass on the scene—”
“—For Christ’s sake, Sierra,” Grace slammed the table. “Don’t play with your food. Do it.”
“Mffghh,” the woman squealed.
“Members of RAGE, I give you—”
WHUMP.
Sierra tore off the hood, revealing a thirty-something with jet black hair crying through her taped-up mouth.
“It’s her,” Remy gasped. “You bitch.”
“Dreenagh Remix,” Sierra flung the hood to the floor, “Individimedia’s premiere broadcasting bitch, I think you’ll find.”
SCHWIPP.
Sierra tore the tape away from Dreenagh’s mouth. She fell forward on her wrists and roared in pain.
“Agggghhh, no. Let me out of here.”
The cats pushed forward and threatened to claw her.
“No. Stay,” Sierra shouted at the cats. “Bad pussycats.”
Remy punched his fists together and walked up to her in as threatening a way as he could muster, “You bitch.”
Dreenagh kicked herself across the floor and screamed for mercy, “No, no. Remy. Please, don’t—”
“—You humiliate me,” he growled, stepping closer to her, “You shame my mother and I in front of millions of people watching your stupid Viddy Media.”
Noyin, Rana, and Grace chuckled to themselves. They allowed the little Russian kid to vent his frustration a little longer than was necessary.
“No, I swear. Remy,” Dreenagh spluttered. “I was only trying to tell the world the truth.”
Remy booted her in the shin, “Bitch.”
“Gah,” she cried and turned over onto her chest, “No, no. Someone, please. Make him stop.”
Remy squinted at the DecapiCuffs binding her wrists together, “Quickly, who has the button? Give me the button.”
Sierra shook her head, “No, Remy—”
“—God damn it, who has the button for her Decapidisc? I want to press it and remove her hands.”
“Remy, no,” Sierra repeated with a stern look in her eye, “She needs her hands for what’s coming next. Probably.”
He exclaimed something in Russian and stomped his feet to the floor, “It is not fair. I want her to scream in pain.”
Dreenagh made the fatal mistake of looking in Remy’s blood-hungry eyes, “Oh, Jesus Christ. Get me away from him.”
“I will kill you. American journalist scum.”
Finbow ran over to Dreenagh and crouched down behind her, “Okay, that’s enough. Lift your hands, Dreenagh.”
“Whu—?” Dreenagh jumped out of her skin at Finbow’s unannounced arrival, “No, no. Leave me alone.”
Finbow rolled up his sleeve and teased the white button on his glove, “You want this thing off you, right?”
“Yes, yes—”
“—Then lift your hands up and let me remove it.”
TCH-CLUNK. CLANG.
The DecapiCuffs clanged to the floor. Dreenagh kicked herself back and pressed her palms on the ground.
Everyone watched her climb to her feet and brush the sweaty strands of hair away from her face.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I d-did to upset you all, but I can assure you—”
“—Dreenagh?” Sierra interrupted.
“Y-Yes?”
“Shut up.”
Jamie and Leesa didn’t know how to respond. They just kept blinking at the scene, wondering what the hell was happening.
“Look at that lady,” Leesa whispered to Jamie. “She’s really scared.”
Dreenagh burst into tears and began to hyperventilate, “You’re g-going to kill m-me, aren’t you?”
Sierra and approached the woman and tried to calm her down, “Hey, hey. Dreenagh, listen to me.”
“No, you’re g-going to kill me,” Dreenagh yelled. She pushed Sierra out of her way and ran to the door, “Someone, please. Let me out. They’re going to kill me.”
“For God’s sake,” Grace jumped out of her chair and unlatched the shotgun from under the table, “Hey, Remix.”
Dreenagh banged on the door with all her might, “No, no. Someone, please. Help me—”
Grace lifted the shotgun and cocked it with her left hand.
TCH-CLUNK.
“Yo, bitch.”
Grace’s holler caught Dreenagh’s attention. She exhaled and turned around to see Grace pointing the gun at her from across the arena grounds.
“See this in my hands?” Grace said. “You see it?”
“Y-Yes?”
“I’ll blow your pretty little head off, asshole,” Grace spat.
Dreenagh squealed like a little girl and made a mad dash towards Grace, “Arrrgggghhhh.”
“Get back—” Grace slipped her finger around the trigger. “I mean it, get the hell back—”
Dreenagh launched herself over the table, “Yaaaggh.” She threw her hands in front of her face in an attempt to grab the gun from Grace’s clutches.
It was pathetic.
All heads turned from the door to the table as Dreenagh slid right across it.
Grace twisted the shot gun upside down as the woman screamed towards her.
“Come to mommy, you little—”
SMACK-WHUMP.
Grace whacked the end of the gun across Dreenagh’s face, sending her flying off the table.
“Whoa,” everyone gasped.
FLUMP.
Dreenagh hit the ground, unconscious. She began to snore, her limbs splayed out in all directions.
“Wow, Grace,” Finbow grinned, impressed. “You really are old school, aren’t you?”
Sierra brushed her suit down and walked over to the central table. She pointed at the passed-out journalist snoring up a storm on the ground.
“Can someone clear that useless piece of crap off my floor, please?”
Biddip-Biddip-Beep.
The noise came from the far end of the table.
“Who’s Viddy Media is that?” Sierra asked.
Everyone lifted their left forearm and inspected the ink.
“Not mine,” Noyin said.
“Nope,” Rana said.
“This is impossible,” Sierra looked at her own forearm, “We’ve disabled everyone’s Viddy Media. It’s not mine.”
Biddip-Biddip-Beeeeep.
“There it is again.”
Grace looked at her forearm. The ink was stationary, “Nope, not me.”
Siyam shook his head and revealed the ink on his arm to everyone in the arena. “Not me, either.”
“Well, it’s not coming from the kids, so whose—” Sierra stopped her sentence and focused her attention on Dreenagh’s splayed left arm.
The ink swirled around the skin on her forearm.
“It’s Dreenagh’s,” Sierra shouted, “Grace, get her arm.”
Grace kicked the woman over and onto her back, “Even when she’s passed out, she’s a pain in the ass.”
She lifted Dreenagh’s left arm up and pressed her thumb to the ink.
“It’s a live feed. Channel one, one, eight.”
“It’s them,” Sierra said.
“Who’s them?” Jamie asked as he watched Grace remove Dreenagh’s thumbnail and press it to the tabletop.
“It’s Sibald’s channel,” Sierra said. “Display the feed.”
WVHOOM.
The thumbnail threw a large holographic feed in the middle of the room.
Jamie, Leesa, and Remy turn
ed to watch it, along with Noyin, Rana, Finbow, and Sierra.
“It’s him,” Grace said. “Santiago Sibald. How did he get the response?”
“Shh. Moment of truth,” Sierra folded her arms and braced herself for what she was about to see, “Come on, Sheck. Don’t make us be the bad guys.”
The reporter’s face, complete with immaculate white teeth, appeared on the floating image, “Hi, I’m Santiago Sibald.”
“Hi. You’re a disgusting pig with dentures,” Grace snorted.
“Silence,” Sierra snapped and lifted her palm up the length of the image, raising the volume.”
“Less than thirty minutes ago, an outfit known as RAGE, Rebels Against Genetic Engineering, issued what can only be described as a threat to USARIC CEO, Maar Sheck. In it, they promised to mutilate and murder Jamie Anderson, the surprise winner of USARIC’s Star Cat Project, which took place back in 2118.”
Jamie frowned and looked away from the image.
“Along with Anderson, the outfit also kidnapped and threatened to murder the Russian owner of Bisousbisou, Remy Gagarin, and third place finalist, Leesa Task. All three children are believed to be just ten-years-old.”
“Yeah, hurry up and get to the point, asshole,” Sierra huffed as she walked around the image. “Tell us your boyfriend’s answer.”
A paused image of Maar Sheck standing in front of a gray wall appeared in Santiago’s place.
“They gave Sheck one hour to disband and cease all operations and release what they referred to as ‘USARIC’s subjects.’ I can sensationally reveal right now that CEO Maar Sheck received the message and has, in fact, issued a response. And the news isn’t good.”
“God bless Individimedia,” Siyam spat with sarcasm. “Sheck went through that silver-haired lamebrain to release a statement? This is very bad news.”
“Plan B,” Sierra hung her head and growled, “Rana?”
“Yeah?”
Sierra lifted her head back to the feed, “Start the van.”
“What, now?”
Sierra ran over to the table and reached underneath it, “Plan B, Rana. Start the damn van. Grace, get your Black Gold on.”
“For a moment, there, I thought he’d cave in,” Noyin offered and made his way to the computer console.
“Shouldn’t we wait to see the response before we kick into overdrive?”
“God, no,” Sierra said. “The moment he got the message he probably quadrupled security. We can’t waste any time.”
Grace pulled open the table compartment and withdrew a small black box. She flipped the lid and scooped her fingers along the transparent goo.
“What are they doing?” Leesa asked Jamie.
“I, uh, I d-dunno?”
“The original broadcast hit millions of viewers across the globe,” Santiago’s narration continued as Maar’s image began to play out, “Viewers are advised that this broadcast may contain language that could be upsetting to some viewers.”
Maar pressed his hands to the table and leaned forward, addressing everyone in the room.
Rana climbed into the van and started the engine, “Come on, guys. Let’s go.”
She reached into her hair and pulled down a peculiar-looking device over her eyes, “Binocles. Start-up, please.”
Jamie, Leesa, Remy, Noyin, and Siyam watched the feed as Grace and Sierra prepared themselves for action.
“My name is Maar Sheck, Chief Executive Officer at USARIC. This message is intended for the eyes of those calling themselves RAGE.”
“Yeah, dream on asshole,” Grace tossed the Black Gold to Sierra, who caught it and tipped the contents onto her face.
Rana hopped into the driver’s side of the van and fired up the engine, “Noyin?”
“Yeah?”
“Launch coordinates for the van. Cape Claudius.”
“On it.”
Noyin slumped into the chair at the computer console. He punched a command onto the holographic keyboard hovering a few inches from the surface of the desk, “Coordinates loaded onto the vehicle’s unit.”
Rana spun the wheel and backed the van up to the dome’s entrance.
The playback continued.
Maar stood up straight and continued his announcement with as much dignity as he could muster.
“The Rebels Against Genetic Engineering are a left-wing group of fascists who use violence to silence the opposition. They understand little of the good work USARIC have done for the good of mankind. They seek to halt and disrupt our work, and it will not be tolerated.”
Sierra unhooked her machine gun from her belt and ran alongside the van, “Kids, change of plan. You’ll have to wait until we’re back.”
BANG-BANG-BANG.
She thumped the back doors of the van. They swung open and allowed her inside.
Sierra climbed in, unhooked a handgun from the wall and threw it at Finbow, “Catch.”
He caught the firearm in his right hand and ran to the back of the van, “Step aside. Let me in.”
“Citizens, do not believe a word these charlatans say. For they are the true enemy of the people,” Maar continued with a dose of healthy cynicism and conviction, “Much like you, we at USARIC do not tolerate terrorism in any shape or form. These people are not killers. They are mistaken. I only have one thing to say to those malformed, cretinous imbeciles at RAGE…”
VROOOOM.
Rana hit the gas and leaned out of the window, “Siyam. Open the damn door.”
“Okay,” Siyam threw his hands across the infrablue sensor by the door and opened it.
Grace climbed into the back of the van and passed the Black Gold to Finbow, “Quick, slap some on.”
“Okay, okay.”
He took the box from her hand and scooped his fingers inside.
“ETA on Cape Claudius?” Rana shouted to Noyin at the communications desk.
“Forty-five minutes if you floor it,” he said. “Be careful of those MagStrips. They’re everywhere, now.”
Maar leaned into the live feed once again and scowled.
“RAGE. The chances of you executing those three children are about as high as me surrendering to your demands. You know it, and I know it.”
The van reversed through the open door, leaving a thoroughly perturbed Jamie, Leesa, and Remy dumbstruck.
Grace, Sierra, and Finbow each grabbed a headset and pulled it over their ears.
“Comms are on,” Sierra said from the back of the van as it rolled into the parking lot, “Noyin, keep it tight.”
“You got it. You’re coming through loud and clear.”
Maar’s image threatened Sierra as she stood at the back of the van, “RAGE, I call your bluff.”
“Bad move, dickhead,” Sierra yelled back at the recording.
WHUMP.
She yanked the doors shut as the van shot off into the distance.
Siyam picked up his jacket and slung his arms through the sleeves, “Noyin, I’m in the truck.”
“Understood.”
Jamie turned to Siyam as he made his way to the door, “Where are they going?”
“Plan B, son,” he returned to Jamie and smiled. “Maar said no. He’s given us no option, so now we have no choice.”
“No choice?” Leesa asked.
“If Sheck won’t release the subjects, then we’ll have to,” Siyam said. “And we’ll unleash hell while we’re at it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Control Deck
Opera Charlie - Level One
Alex moved his arm around the drone’s 3D live feed. The image displayed scores of wolves bolting after the tank, “Jeez, there must be a hundred of them.”
“Alex? This is Jaycee, do you read me?”
The tank in the left-hand side of the image glowed in white as Jaycee’s voice came through the image.
“Yes, I read you, Nayall,” Alex enlarged the image of the tank with both hands and extended two fingers on his right glove, “Whatever those things are, they’re gaining o
n you.”
“Is there anything you can do to divert them from your end?”
“It’s not an armored drone,” Alex traced his fingers over the tank’s image and noticed a giant cat in the cage with Tripp, “Wait. Is that Jelly?”
“Yeah, we found her,” Jaycee said. “She’s in pretty bad shape. Prep Medix for our arrival.”
“Ah. Uh, Jaycee, the thing is—”
“—Stop stalling and get to the point, Hughes.”
BLAM-BLAM-BLAM.
The turret spun around and fired a succession of shots at the hounds barreling after them. Three of them twisted onto their side and provided a blockade for the others as they continued to run.
“There isn’t a Medix on Charlie,” Alex turned to a blue distance reading at on the right side of the image, “You’re nearly here. Head for the level three compartment at Motary, where you exited from.”
“Understood,” Jaycee said.
“I’ll open the door for you. Do not let any of those things in here.”
“Are you busting my balls—?” Jaycee snapped.
Alex cut the voice command off and watched the numbers roll down as the tank approached the side of the ship. He turned to the floating holographic book and pointed at Charlie’s visual representation on the live feed.
“Manny?”
“Yes, Alex?”
“Open Motary hatch. They’re about to embark.”
“Embark, huh?” Manny sniggered. “Woof. Woof. Sure, whatever you say.”
Alex took the semi-automatic D-REZ firearm from his belt and inspected the grip, “You know, Manny. Sometimes I get the feeling you’re not taking any of this seriously.”
“It’s not my fault, Alex,” Manny said as her cover fluttered and beeped, “USARIC didn’t want their Series Twos to have much of a sense of humor.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Alex ran over to the control deck door, “Keep all available comms on online.”
“Yes, Alex.”
“And we need to perform a basic health check on Jelly when she’s back, just to make sure.”
“Okay, okay,” Manny lifted her covers and twirled around. “Motary’s opening, now.”
“Good. Stay here.”
Alex ran through the door and lowered his gun as he raced along the walkway.
SCHUNT.
The door slid shut, leaving Manny on her own with little to do but wait for the comms download to complete.
Star Cat: Killer Instinct Page 12