Renegade: The Ten Sigma Series Book 2

by A W Wang

  “I have to sell some of these prisoners to offset the cost of this operation,” Flying Eagle says in a pleading voice to Princess. With a stern expression, she shakes her head.

  “Fine, we need time to catch more merchandise,” he replies.

  After she shrugs, he turns away and catches my eye. “When she and her people are done with you, you’ll wish you were with me.”

  I gnash my teeth, but before I answer, he faces his men and shouts orders to find more loot and civilians.

  To add to the immediate problems, more augments show up from different paths and enter the park.

  I tug at my manacles, but breaking the thick metal is beyond even the abilities of my passable-for-human body. My eyes locate the man with the smushed nose, and I assess how to kill him and get the keys without being immobilized by the watching guards or getting everyone killed in a firefight.

  “Just wait,” Victoria whispers from next to me, her attention on the nearby buildings.

  I pin my gaze along her line of sight, focusing through the smoke to discover what’s so interesting.

  Past the boundary of the park, a shadow ripples on the third floor of a blocky building. There’s nothing at the next corner, but a silvery movement comes from a dirty window further down the street.

  Something’s going to happen.

  A high-pitched whine fills the area as a black craft appears over the skyline. The flattish airship has a sleek nose that leads to a heavy circular belly. Four conical engines protrude to make corners. None of the surfaces are flat; it’s a transport constructed for stealthy missions like this one.

  Like this one…

  Princess strides over, her dark eyes studying our expressions. She glances at the nearby buildings.

  “That’s your ride,” Flying Eagle says, giving me a leer.

  Guards grab my arms when I step toward him.

  Disturbingly, Princess doesn’t flinch, keeping her focus on windows past the last of the prisoners. She’s suspicious.

  “Ignore what I said before,” Victoria says calmly.

  My situational awareness heightens and fixes everyone’s position.

  The transport’s engines tilt for vertical thrust as it approaches and settles into a hover. People shield their eyes from the backwash.

  Time to kill everyone.

  I fire my foot into Princess’s back.

  She plows through the nearby trio and slams against the wooden side railing.

  Flying Eagle turns, his lips parted in surprise, and I send a front kick into his stomach. A grunt erupts from his mouth as he tumbles into another guard and falls onto some of the hostages.

  I snap my heel backward and into the kneecap of the man restraining me.

  His leg buckles, and he screams.

  The soldier to my other side raises his pistol.

  I twist around the flashing metal and blast a side kick into the one with the muscular arms, who flies off the truck, dropping his knife.

  The guard with the pistol steps back, trying to aim.

  I leap and grab his trousers from behind my back, swiveling and sending him into the side railing. Before he recovers, I drive my knee into his ribs, which shatter with dull cracks.

  He collapses, leaking blood from the corner of his mouth.

  Mr. Smushed Nose, who has the key, grabs me.

  I whip my head back.

  Bones and cartilage crunch as his nose flattens even more. Before he falls, I turn and, lowering my shoulder, plow him into the two remaining guards.

  Wild shooting erupts, and chaos sweeps across the flatbed.

  Scientists dive and hug the metal flooring while Jonathon tackles Victoria and covers her.

  The guard with the busted kneecap grabs at my legs.

  I smash my boot downward, and his neck snaps with a sickening crunch.

  The knot of remaining guards untangles from Mr. Smushed Nose.

  With a quick step, I launch myself, swinging my body broadside into them.

  We slam against the driver’s cabin. From behind my back, I reach down and grab a shin and twist. While the man cries in pain, I stand and pivot, tossing him off the platform.

  Mr. Smushed Nose shifts, and I fall on his back. I wrap my fingers over the edge of an armor plate and, using him as leverage, drive both my legs into the remaining soldier. The force launches the man from the platform as well as shoving Mr. Smushed Nose into the floor. When he struggles to twist away, I roll and slam my forehead into his, knocking him out.

  A male augment leaps at me.

  I kick at his legs while my fingers fumble around the pockets and crotch of the unconscious man under me like a clumsy prom date. I grind my teeth.

  That better not be one of my memories.

  Past a group of huddling scientists, Princess rises and gestures at the building.

  No time for the key. I pull my legs into my chest and kick out, popping to my feet.

  “Kill all of them,” an exasperated Flying Eagle yells.

  A Liberation Front soldier leaps on the hood and aims his rifle.

  Princess points to protect the hostages. Unlike Flying Eagle, we’re exactly why she’s here, and she isn’t going to let him ruin her merchandise. The male augment disengages from me and leaps onto the cab of the truck. In an instant, he disarms the soldier by smashing his face.

  When I step toward Princess, the male augment tackles me as more Liberation Front soldiers leap onto the flatbed, adding to the mayhem.

  I can’t get them all.

  While I struggle with the augment, a shadow stretches over us. The bulk of the transport nears, blotting out the hazy ball of the sun.

  The action around me freezes as the front turret swivels, aiming its guns at us.

  From a side street, a large caliber round plows into one of the corner engines, and an explosion rips into the circular fuselage. Metal flies and burning troops leap from the hold as the dying transport veers away, struggling to rise. An engine explodes, and the craft tumbles past the edge of the park, erupting into a giant fireball.

  Fifteen

  A hot blast rushes past the wooden railing while panicky shouts and agonized screams fill the air. Prisoners dive to the ground, guards scramble for cover, and battle-meshed augments, who are smartest of all, rush into defensive positions, searching for threats.

  Precision shooting zips into the pandemonium. Projectiles pierce armor with dull clacks, and Liberation Front soldiers and augments barely have time to register shock before collapsing in heaps.

  Enraged, Princess motions to the other augments on the truck and jumps to the ground. After they land next to her, she runs to different huddled groups, rallying a defense.

  One of Flying Eagle’s men at the rear gate falls in a clatter of armor, the top of his head neatly separated from his body. Still grimacing from my kick, Flying Eagle huddles behind a curtain of bodyguards, hollering for help.

  Three industrious souls heed the call and clamber over the wooden rails.

  I leap and kick a burly man off the truck. As another swings his weapon at me, I swivel inside his guard and slam a knee into his chest. He coughs blood as I shove him into the last attacker and send them tumbling over the railing.

  Across the field of battle, augments charge toward the edges of the park, using burning vehicles and M24s for cover while delivering an impressive amount of suppressing fire.

  As the barrages shred the fronts and roofs of the nearby structures, the two mysterious tormentors I’ve identified shift positions, staying one step ahead in the cat-and-mouse game.

  Incredibly, accurate volleys return through the rippling storm of glass and debris. More than a few black-clad forms jerk backward from blossoms of red sprouting over their torsos.

  Another wave of bulky Liberation Front armor heads toward the truck.

  With my wrists manacled behind my back, my fighting abilities are severely compromised. I scramble past frightened scientists to the prone form of Mr. Smushed Nose at the front
of the container bed.

  As my fingers fumble, attempting to get into his pockets, hands and angry faces appear at the tops of the wooden rails as a new group climbs onto the platform.

  I abandon the search for the key and yank out his pistol. In one motion, I roll over, flick off the safety, and pull the trigger. The bullet clips a soldier in the shoulder, and he tumbles from view. Given the circumstances, my aim isn’t too bad. I twist my hands and fire at a second target, who dies with blood gushing from his mouth.

  Three more soldiers flop onto the truck.

  I blast away.

  One screams when a round punctures his face and flops over the railing. Another sinks to the metal flooring with maroon pouring from a gaping hole in his throat. Bullets bounce off the chest protector of the last one, and he topples into the huddled mass around Flying Eagle.

  Princess lands next to me and slaps my pistol away.

  With limited options, I twist and launch a head-butt at her face.

  She sidesteps and whips a knee into my midsection.

  Air explodes from my lungs, and I land on my back, gasping for breath.

  As I struggle to rise, she straddles me and draws her pistol. I grit my teeth, searching for a way to beat her battle-meshed, nanobot-enhanced body without using my hands.

  Two other augments leap over the railing and secure the platform. Princess nods toward Victoria.

  As the pair carries out the order, she leans forward, pushing the muzzle of her gun close to my nose.

  “What are you?” she asks in a raspy voice.

  I laugh, not being sure of the answer either.

  A male augment touches Victoria, and the line of fire swatting enemies to my right pauses. A shot zips through his battle-mesh, the augment next to him, and for good measure, another black-clad figure climbing over the rail. An instant later, the barrage resumes its original path, tearing up Liberation Front soldiers hiding behind an M24.

  Princess’s widening eyes flick to the collapsing forms of her comrades.

  Instead of being impressed with the feat of arms, I yank my leg back and rocket my boot into her crotch.

  A grunt leaves her mouth as she tumbles backward. Her pistol discharges, and I jerk my head to avoid the wild shot.

  An instant later, she crashes into the lip of the flatbed.

  I shoot forward and scissor my legs around her neck.

  Her limbs and torso jerk with titanic, battle-meshed-enhanced motions, knocking me into the air and rattling my teeth.

  I twist my pelvis, slamming her face down. Arching, I feel behind my back with my manacled hands and latch onto her wrist. With a grunt, I jam her against the wall, wedging her other arm immobile.

  Not giving up, she twists her head, opening her mouth to bite me.

  I tighten my legs and squeeze for all I’m worth.

  Gurgles pour from her lips as her air pipe constricts. With a superhuman effort, she wriggles, threatening to free her pinned arm.

  In desperation, I bring my lower leg back and shove my knee against her chin. Straining against her frenzied movements, I pull back on the other leg to twist her head until a snap comes from her neck.

  Her body shudders, and the struggles stop.

  I roll onto my knees, ignoring the blood smears on the metal basin, and search for something else to kill.

  With terror etched on his face, Flying Eagle stops cowering and unlatches the rear railing. It falls open with a metallic squeal. He jumps and hits the ground running. Leaderless, his remaining men panic, pouring from the truck and charging after his fleeing form.

  He’s not getting away.

  I keep low and make my way to the front. When I reach Mr. Smushed Nose, I shove a hand into his pocket and grab the key.

  A moment later, the lock clicks open, and the metal restraints clack on the flatbed.

  I jump up and snatch a pulse rifle.

  Flying Eagle runs with long, panicky strides amid a mass of his men. Before I get a bead on him, another soldier jumps to the hood of the truck, aiming at the hostages.

  I shoot him.

  When I turn back, Flying Eagle is shoving past running civilians, crossing a bordering street.

  I only have time to launch a micro-pulse, but the shot flares against his cheek, burning flesh.

  He stumbles, howling from pain.

  Before I can do more, his bodyguards pull him beyond the southwest corner building and out of sight.

  As much as I would like to pursue and kill the despot, I need to remain with the scientists.

  On the opposite side of the park, two men in bulky armor drag a screaming girl away.

  I blast them both.

  Another truck roars, driving off with a flatbed full of human cargo. I send a hail of pulses at the cab and tires. When the vehicle stops moving, I search for more targets.

  A hand taps my shoulder, and Jonathon says, “We need to save the hostages.”

  Before I can get too annoyed that he’s right, the wooden railing shudders from stray impacts.

  I yank him down as splinters rain over everything.

  When the flurry subsides, I peek over the metal bed to assess the situation. Many fresh bodies lay across the park. The Liberation Front is in full retreat, although more than a few augments remain.

  Jonathon lifts his head.

  “Keep down,” I yell.

  From next to him, Victoria sends a wink.

  I blow out a breath, incredulous at her cavalier attitude. But our unseen allies are taking extra care to protect her.

  Speaking of which…

  The shots of the augments still chew through higher floor windows where our friends were last positioned.

  A block away, a cloak billows as a silvery figure jumps from the top of a three-story and rushes toward the southeast corner of the square.

  Men and augments shout, pointing at the new target.

  The unmistakably female newcomer zigzags with blinding speed. With a swift motion, she pushes the cloak aside, melding the darker material into a thick cord down her back and thigh.

  Her movements seem familiar, but…

  Shots spatter the ground near her, and she disappears.

  I blink. Her form didn’t vanish. Instead, it’s translucent, mimicking the backdrop.

  The enemy is slow to react to the faint distortions coming from her rapid advance. In an instant, the almost invisible form slams like a whirlwind into a pack of Liberation Front soldiers. Bodies fly, some crushed, some in pieces—all flopping lifelessly to the scorched earth.

  A trio of augments charges at her.

  As the ferocious warrior meets them, Victoria says from next to me, “It’s a little open here. Perhaps we should seek cover?”

  I blink, realizing she’s right. “People,” I yell. When the terrified faces of the scientists turn to me, I rush up the platform, shouting, “Let’s go. We’re getting out of here.”

  As the non-combatants comply, a slight form in Liberation Front armor runs past the open tailgate.

  He turns as I aim.

  My eyes widen. The youthful face with the birthmark belongs to the teen I made eye contact with earlier. My shot splinters wood to the side of him. He gets the message and ducks, running to safety.

  An advancing augment cuts loose with a volley of pulses, rattling the truck.

  Scientists dive to the floor, hiding behind the thin metal ring of the container bed as I raise my weapon.

  Before I shoot, the augment’s face explodes in a shower of red.

  Whines come as another two of the coin-shaped transports approach from the north. After they descend into a hover near the edge of the park, black-clad figures leap from their bellies.

  Fresh crackles of shooting erupt across the row of buildings.

  “Time to go. Time to go!” I say, tapping people to get up while dashing down the length of the flatbed. At the tailgate, I pause and holler, “Follow me.”

  As the frightened people move, I hop off and into a fresh
firefight.

  Sixteen

  When I hit the ground, I step from the tailgate and sweep the rifle over the area to set up a safe perimeter.

  The teenager with the birthmark is scampering away with two other teenagers, including the one with the bruised face. They join the last of the retreating Liberation Front soldiers and disappear down a side alley.

  I shake my head at the strange reality: noncombatants like Victoria act like combatants, while supposed soldiers have no stomach for fighting.

  On the other side, the silvery form of the female suddenly reappears. Apparently, the translucence only has a limited duration.

  Shots pepper around her as she rushes into the cover of smoke pouring from a burning mecha.

  A black-clad augment charges at her, waving a gleaming sword. She draws a Kali stick and disposes of him with a Filipino fighting style I’m more than familiar with from the threads.

  Sensing weakness, the final remnants of Princess’s augments advance.

  Her return fire decimates the approaching forms, who scatter with more than a few falling dead.

  As they reform for another assault, I give them credit. In contrast to the Liberation Front, these enhanced beings don’t give up.

  Even if they are outmatched…

  To the north, the real battle is just starting. Fresh enemy forces cautiously move into buildings, looking for targets. This group is ready for whatever destroyed their friends and scattered the Liberation Front.

  Shots erupt along this new axis of attack as a different translucent whirlwind cuts through the newly arrived guests.

  Gray structures collapse in explosions of glass, steel, and concrete as the augments launch rockets and toss grenades, struggling to hit the faint movements against the swirling backdrop.

  Overhead, the troopships edge in tandem around the boundary, firing to help pin down the elusive opposition.

  A rocket whooshes from a building with a domed top.

  Another friend?

  One of the hovering craft swings away, trying to dodge, but bumps into its companion.

  The contrail meets a rear engine. A fiery blast rips into the innards and detonates the fuel tanks. The fireball engulfs the second ship and both tumble onto a side street as flaming wrecks.