Reboots: Diabolical Streak

by Mercedes Lackey;Cody Martin

Humph bent down, hovering over Fred’s shoulder. “What the hell do you mean, nothing? We didn’t get this far to leave empty-handed, damnit!” His voice was a harsh whisper; he had to keep scanning the room, as the technicians were now starting to talk among themselves.

  “I mean, there’s stuff here, but none of it is very useful. At least, the stuff that I can get to.” He pressed a finger to the viewscreen, indicating what he was talking about. “We’ve got references to a lot of data, but very little concrete stuff. ‘Population densities,’ ‘dispersal patterns,’ ‘delivery vectors,’ ‘patients,’ and so on. Shipping manifests, some supply lists that I can’t make much sense out of. But that’s all I’m getting; everything else is behind encryption and firewalls that I’m not equipped to get past. Not even Jim could, I don’t think.”

  “What the hell are you saying, then, Fred?”

  “I’m trying to say that this is military-grade, Humph. There’s no way that I’m cracking it. Hacking isn’t like in the vids; for anything other than basic stuff, it can take weeks. Months even.”

  Military-grade? “What the hell is protection that heavy doing in a cosmetics lab?” he whispered, feeling a cold knot in his gut. “Download what you can. Grab something that looks like it needs moving and let’s get out of here.”

  He headed for a stack of what were obviously empty boxes and shoved his dolly under them. One of the technicians was walking toward them.

  “Excuse me, could I have a word with you two?”

  “No need, chum, we’re on our way out. Thanks, though.” Fred and Humph quickly exited the lab, hoping that would be the end of it. They were what Humph thought was halfway out of that part of the facility when the announcement came:

  “Security to Labs, sector 3, please.”

  “That’s our cue, exit stage right.” Humph cursed under his breath. Then he looked around. “Wait, where is our exit?”

  Fred looked over to Humph. “I thought you knew the way out.”

  “Goddamnit, we’re lost.” He searched for a sign, anything. “Screw it, we’ve got to keep moving. If I say run, don’t hesitate; just hoof it.” They started quick walking down the nearest hallway; it was maddening trying to find the way out, since all of the hallways looked nearly identical. Finally they turned down one hallway that was different from the rest; through a different set of security doors, it was interspaced with clear walls every ten feet or so. “We’ll use this as a reference point if we have to. Let’s keep going—” Humph noticed that Fred had stopped in front of one of the clear walls. “Fred, what’s going on…” He regretted the question a moment later when he saw what was on the other side of the wall. He abandoned the dolly to walk over beside Fred.

  “These aren’t rooms…they’re cages.” Fred’s voice was low, and taking on a low, bestial rumble more and more with every word he spoke. Inside the cages there were dozens of Weres, some caught in mid-transition; every kind of Were, from bears to the big cats, though mostly wolves. And all of them were recently dead, and horribly so. Splotchy skin, fur gone in huge patches, red lesions, and too much blood spread around were the common features. Some looked like they had torn their own throats out. The entire scene was awful, and almost caused Humph’s gorge to rise. “It’s all the cleaner and antiseptic; I couldn’t smell ’em. Weres can always tell when our dead are around…”

  “Fred…we’ve got to go.” He gently placed a hand on the werewolf’s shoulder; Fred spun on him, fury and tears masking his eyes.

  “Whoever did this…these bastards have to pay for this.”

  Humph shook his head slowly. “Now’s not the time. We need to survive if we’re going to make sense of this, make it right. Okay?” Fred didn’t answer him; his eyes were back on all the dead Weres. Humph grabbed him by the arm. “We’re leaving.” Fred jerked his arm away, then started down the hallway at a trot. Humph sighed, then started running after his partner to catch up.

  He had the sinking feeling that Fred was not listening to him; that the Fur had an agenda of his own at this point, and he wasn’t going to listen to anything. Still, they were able to avoid security; they had passed a few bewildered technicians in lab coats, but no one else. Humph mentally cursed when he realized that he had left the dolly behind. Things started to look slightly more familiar as they progressed; Humph recognized a smudge on one of the storage doors they passed. “We’re getting close, Fred. Once we get to the front, act natural—hey!”

  Fred veered off down a corridor, one that actually had a little sign with an arrow on it. Engineering and Maintenance. Now…that could be a good way to get out, since most Maintenance areas almost always have their own doors. But Humph had the feeling that getting out wasn’t on Fred’s mind right now.

  Humph was fast, but Fred was faster; there wasn’t any way he could compete with the Were’s supernatural speed. Humph almost lost him a few times, and had to guess at several intersections about which way to take. He reached a terminus for a hallway, two service doors that were still swinging from Fred’s passage. Humph pushed through the doors. “Fred, we don’t have time for this shit! Whatever security this place has is going to be coming down on us any second—what the hell are you doing?”

  Fred was at a control console, typing so fast his hands were a blur. “Thought so. Standard Home Service’s Security protocol. I can frack this up in my sleep.” Fred finished at the console, then began pulling levers, flipping switches, and performing all sorts of other seemingly arcane actions at different panels and control stations. Red warning lights flashed and alarms went off, then went dead and silenced. “That bought us some time.” Fred extended his claws on one hand, using them to puncture the tops of several barrels before kicking them over. He then retrieved a lighter from his pocket, flicking it on after several tries. He carefully set the lighter on the ground, then turned to Humph. “We should run, before the fumes reach the flame.”

  “What’ve you done?” Humph was staring at the scene in front of him, uncomprehending.

  “No time, I’ll tell you on the way!” Now it was his turn to drag Humph away. They were through the doors and less than a dozen paces down the hallway when they heard a muffled whumph, followed by what Humph judged to be the sound of a moderately sized explosion. He chanced a look over his shoulder to see flames spilling out of the room they had just been in.

  “Mind explaining before I twist your head off of your shoulders?”

  “Futzed the climate control, fire suppression systems, and a few other key systems. The actual labs are locked down, but that won’t save them; that little fire I started back there is going to spread unimpeded through the ventilation. Probably a lot of toxic fumes, too. That means they won’t be able to put the fire out themselves and the fire services will be called. They’ll never be able to cover it all up once you get three or four fire companies and a swath of reporters showing up.” He smiled, looking over to Humph as they jogged. “I used to be an engineer, y’know.”

  “You’re goddamned crazy, Fred! Ever think that your little stunt might get us killed in the course of things?”

  “No worries, boss. We’re almost home-free.” They turned a corner to find the blast doors; beyond was the less-secure section of the building, and the exit. Humph sighed in relief, shaking his head.

  Any sense of a breather ended once they were through the doors; two out-of-breath security guards, younger and better equipped than the old-timer at the loading dock desk, were there to greet them.

  Everyone was still for half a heartbeat. Fred was the first to start talking. “Thank god you two are here! There are a couple of maniacs loose in the building!” He was walking toward them, arms spread wide. Humph followed his lead. If we can get close enough, we can take them out before they have a chance to—

  Both guards went for their weapons simultaneously.

  —do that. Fred was closer, and rushed forward to grab the first guard in a bear hug, pinning the guard’s arms to his sides and preventing him from raising his gun.
Humph kicked the second guard’s pistol out of his hand just as he was about to turn it on Fred. The guard reacted instantly, switching his attention to the more immediate threat. He flicked out a collapsible baton, readying himself. Humph moved forward, extending his claws; he had to stay inside of guard’s swing, otherwise he’d be sporting broken bones at best. And these guys obviously knew how to handle Paras. The guard was good; he backed up, swinging in tight arcs to keep Humph from getting too close. Humph caught Fred and the other guard still struggling from the corner of his eye; they had rolled forward into the hallway, and the guard was trying to get on top of Fred and pin his arms to the floor with his knees. Humph made a split-second decision, turned and kicked at the guard Fred was fighting; he flinched away at the last second, causing the kick to take him in the shoulder instead of his temple.

  That gave the second guard the opportunity he’d been looking for; he lunged, bringing the baton down on Humph’s left forearm. Luckily, it was a glancing blow since the guard had over-extended himself, but it still drove nearly all of the sensation—save for overwhelming pain—from Humph’s arm. Hope it was worth it, bought Fred some time, maybe. For now, he had to focus on his own attacker; the guard was pressing his advantage, trying to catch Humph on his arm again, soften him up for the finish. Humph ducked under one swing that the guard misjudged, going wide; the Boggart used his good arm to shove the guard in the back, sending him face first into a wall. He tried to unholster the revolver, but the guard had recovered enough to kick him squarely in the side, causing him to fumble and send the gun clattering to the floor

  “I’m getting sick of this shit!” These guys definitely had been trained against Paras. They weren’t making most of the usual Norm mistakes. Humph threw himself at the guard just as the guard was springing off of the wall; they met in the middle of the hallway, colliding hard enough to almost drive the wind out of Humph’s lungs. He tried to claw the bastard’s kidneys out, but the uniform the man was wearing wasn’t giving; some sort of tear-resistant armor, at the very least. Whoever the bastards were behind all of this, they trained and equipped their goons to deal with Para powers. Humph didn’t have time to process the new information; the guard was at his throat again. The fight went to the floor, both of them trying to get a few good hits on the other. Humph heard more than he saw Fred wolf out; he didn’t know how much good that was going to do. The hallway was too cramped with all four of them wrestling around; Humph reared a fist back to punch his guard, only to accidentally smash his fist into Fred’s nose. The blow elicited an angry snarl from the Were, but he kept fighting.

  The guard was good, too damned good; he flipped his legs around, changing the center of gravity for the both of them. From there, he was able to slip under and around Humph, flipping him over. At that point, the guard was on top of Humph; the Boggart barely had time to catch the guard’s wrists as a knife came down toward his throat. Where the hell did he get that from? The guard was putting his full weight down, trying to drive the knife through the Boggart’s voicebox and into the vicinity of his spine. Humph noticed, in one of those surreal moments of clarity that happen when adrenaline starts flowing, that the guard’s ID badge was hanging from his lapel. Taking a chance, Humph used one hand to rip the badge off, while working one of his legs between them until he had a foot braced against the man’s belly. The knife was moving down, centimeter by centimeter.

  “Fred! Throw your guy, now!” With a final burst of effort, Humph kicked the guard off of him; a testament to the man’s reflexes, he landed on his feet, already in a fighting stance. He didn’t have tunnel-vision, either; the guard was able to catch his colleague as Fred, reluctant to miss an opportunity to savage a deserving opponent but still cognizant enough to follow his partner’s instructions, threw the other guard. Somehow, as he passed, the Boggart snagged his ID off his shirt too. Both guards retrieved their firearms, aiming at Fred and Humph as they got to their feet.

  “Hands in the air, now!” Both guards had self-satisfied smirks on their faces; even consummate professionals can get full of themselves after getting the drop on an opponent.

  “Whatever you say, pal.” Humph complied, looking over to Fred; the Were’s features were returning to normal.

  “I hope you know what the hell you’re doing, dumbass,” Fred sneered. His expression immediately changed when they heard the ultrasonic whine of an energy weapon powering up behind them. The smirks the guards had disappeared.

  “I do; now duck!”

  They both threw themselves to the floor; Humph shut his eyes and covered his head, and Fred followed suit. No sooner had they hit the floor than both of them felt intense heat on their backs, and smelled the unmistakable acrid tang of ozonating air, accompanied by what sounded like a very sharp and electrical zat! When they looked up, where the two guards used to be there were two vaguely humanoid shapes burnt black, along with a very dark smear against the floor and wall. Upon closer inspection, the bodies looked more like piles of heavily burnt wood, although they stank of burned meat.

  Humph stood up, nursing his injured forearm. Over his shoulder, the security bots were settling back down into inactivity. Fred looked at him, uncomprehending.

  “Never leave home without your plastic,” Humph said, holding up the ID badges of the guards. “Let’s get out of here. Now.”

  Understanding dawned on Fred’s face. “You’ve got it, boss. My fire should start in earnest any—”

  There was a muffled whumph in the distance. Alarms were going off, but…it seemed haphazard, as if they were only local. Then there was a bigger whumph, and the two of them felt a pressure-wave pass through the corridor. The security bots came to life again, and headed in the direction of Maintenance.

  And all down the corridor, doors began springing open on their own, and people began pouring into the corridor. Fred found a knot of people in lab coats and joined them; Humph did the same, but not before scooping up his revolver and surreptitiously reholstering it.

  There was a kind of stuttering blat from whatever they were using for a speaker system, and finally the real alarms kicked on. Humph guessed that someone had triggered it from the security desk manually. More security bots were pressed against the wall, edging their way back toward the direction of the fire, contrary to the streams of increasingly panicking workers. When they reached the entrance, Humph noticed the elderly security guard standing next to his desk, looking bewildered. On an impulse he couldn’t have explained, Humph grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out the exit with everyone else. The smoke was really starting to pour out of the doors in huge billowing, acrid clouds; some of the windows further back in the facility had flames visible through them.

  The crowd of lab technicians and office workers had gathered out in front of the building, and were milling around. “What happened?” The security guard was shaking his head slowly, looking back at the inferno that was his job just minutes ago.

  “Sorry, old timer. Time to look for a new gig.” Humph looked for Fred in the crowd; the Were was already by a aircar that had stopped, the owner having exited his vehicle to gaze at the fire. One thing that never went to waste in a neighborhood like this was the opportunity to enjoy a good building fire, especially if it wasn’t your building. Humph wove his way through the crowd, sparing a final glance over his shoulder as he reached the aircar and Fred. The old timer was pointing at him insistently. Uh oh.

  “Those two! Somebody stop them!” The old security guard was shouting loud enough for the on-site security to hear over the noise of the crowd. Humph noticed with dismay that they all turned to focus their collective attention on him and Fred; they all started to move toward the pair, with one talking urgently into a comm device.

  “Like you said, boss, it’s time to go!” Fred hopped into the passenger side of the aircar, slamming the door behind him. Humph followed suit on the opposite side; the original owner finally noticed what was happening, but only had time to futilely pound on the driver-side wind
ow before the vehicle lurched into the sky. “Think we got away clean?”

  “Not a chance. Our luck has been shit lately.”

  “Well…there’s this much. No way they can cover up all those bodies in the back room once the Fire Service gets there.” Fred’s face was fixed in a snarl.

  “You’re an optimist, Fred. I’m not putting anything past the bunch of bastards that want us dead. You saw that shit in there; they’re doing something to kill Weres. Chemical? Biological?” Humph shook his head. “That’s beyond serious; that sort of research carries the death penalty, never mind using test subjects like that.”

  The rattle of bullets pinging off the roof of the aircar interrupted any further speculation. One of the rounds that penetrated passed close enough to whisper past Humph’s cheek; Fred wasn’t as lucky, with a round hitting him in the shoulder.

  “Fuck!” He frantically started digging at the wound, using two claws to pull the slug out; it was sizzling with his blood on it. “Silver! They aren’t playing around, boss.” With the silver removed, his wound started to close up, the process sped up by his supernatural healing. “What’s the plan now?”

  Humph took out his revolver and tossed it into Fred’s lap. “Shoot back, damnit! I’ll try to lose them. Don’t lean out too far, though; it’s a long way to the ground.”

  Humph wondered if their pursuers might be more careful about their shots if there were more civilians around. That was an evil thought, yes. But he was no angel, and after seeing those piled up bodies back at the lab, he knew for a fact that it was back to the bad old days, of Para versus Norm, at least in someone’s eyes, and that same someone was behind whoever was pulling the trigger now. Time to play dirty. Just the way I like it.

  He arced the car around, heading away from the industrial area and straight into residential. Ideally it would have been expensive, exclusive residential, but there wasn’t much of that around on Mildred. Common-block high-rises, whose grimy exterior reminded him of long-ago days in Chicago, would have to do. The nice thing was that a lot of those high-rises were parked really close together. There was room for an aircar, but not much more.