by Andy Briggs
“I wish we still had the AttentionGrabber,” said Dev. That useful device was likely still being re-catalogued since their return from Tokyo, somewhere in the Inventory.
“So what are we going to do?” Lot whispered.
“Sing him a lullaby,” replied Dev as he pulled what looked like a small megaphone from the kitbag. Originally marketed as a gadget to lull restless babies to sleep, it was soon banned when it was used during a jewellery heist.
Dev took aim and squeezed the trigger. Luckily he couldn’t hear the concentrated sound wave due to the device’s advanced acoustical design, but the guard could. It took several seconds before the guard gave a huge yawn, wobbled, then slumped down, fast asleep.
Dev, Lot and Mason didn’t waste any time in running aboard the Avro. They took their seats, and the fluid control panel came to life in response. Lot gripped the flight controls.
“Are you sure you can fly this thing?” Mason asked for the dozenth time.
“Totally,” said Lot, biting her lip. “We just need the hangar doors open.”
Dev glanced at his watch. “Not a problem. . .”
With a slow, grinding noise, the hangar doors began to slowly open. Lot looked at Dev in surprise.
“How did you do that?”
Dev was about to boast, but instead decided to stick to the truth. He pointed upwards. “I checked the supply schedule.”
Sure enough, a large Chinook helicopter began to descend through the rooftop doors.
“We have incoming!” yelled Mason.
They all looked at the screen just as Eema rolled into the hangar. The unconscious guard at the foot of the tail ramp gave them away immediately, and Dev cursed that they didn’t take the time to hide the slumbering man.
“Lot – go now!” he commanded as he thumbed a button on the control panel to snap the access ramp closed.
Lot yanked back on the stick and twisted the throttle, and the Avro soared straight up. The helicopter was taking up most of the available room to escape.
Mason threw his arms over his eyes. “We’re gonna crash!”
Gritting her teeth, Lot stomped on the pedals – flipping the disc around – and they shot through the narrow gap like a coin through a slot. There was a loud bang as the Avro’s underbelly grazed the door, but they shot straight up with whoops of delight, narrowly missing the Chinook’s powerful twin rotors.
What is it about heights? thought Dev. Why did they always have to be involved, no matter how hard he tried to avoid them? At least this time it was his own decision to be here.
Despite his churning stomach, he remained quiet and allowed Mason to vocalize the terror he was feeling.
“There’s got to be an easier way to do this!”
Lot firmly shoved Mason’s helmet on his head, the tinted visor blocking his frightened expression. “Oh, relax. It’ll be fun!”
They all wore black full-body suits that were covered in scales the size of thumbs. At first glance they looked more like fish people. The outfits were rounded off with gloves and boots that shrank to fit them perfectly.
The Avro’s ramp opened, revealing nothing but blackness below. Dev had been expecting the roar of wind he had heard on the Eiodolon, but there was nothing more than a brisk breeze.
“You’re certain we’re on target?”
Lot peeked over the edge. Unlike the others, she had a love of heights and an appetite for extreme sports. “Yup. I can just make out some lights down there.”
Dev rested his helmet on top of his head but stopped short of putting it on. He looked at Lot, desperate for a crumb of comfort.
“You’ve done this before?”
Lot nodded and smiled. “Sure, a bunch of times with my dad. Only, we used parachutes.”
She pushed his helmet on before securing her own. Mason’s fast breathing could be heard across their headsets, then Lot’s soothing voice:
“Hold hands.” They did so, and Lot edged them down the ramp.
Dev was surprised to find himself quite relaxed. He mused that the advantage of leaping out of a hovering flying saucer at forty thousand feet in utter darkness was that he couldn’t actually see what was happening.
“On three!” commanded Lot. “One, two—”
Dev felt a sudden yank on his arm as Lot pulled him and Mason over the edge. Within seconds his stomach fluttered in what was now becoming a familiar falling sensation.
Their jumpsuits immediately took over. The scales were adaptive surfaces that suddenly angled position, forming dozens of tiny wings across their bodies that sent them into perfect head-first dives towards their preprogrammed landing zone. Called PhantomSuits, they had been specially developed by the Chinese air force to allow special forces to HALO jump. High Altitude Low Opening was a form of military parachuting that meant troops wouldn’t be detected on the way down, before special parachutes opened incredibly close to the ground, slowing them to a stop before impact.
Except PhantomSuits weren’t your typical HALO jumping gear. For one thing, they didn’t have parachutes.
Dev had originally proposed they land the Avro on the roofs below and find a way in from there. But Lot had had her eye on the PhantomSuits for a while and had read all about them on the Inventory’s computers. She persuaded the guys that there was a better way to reach their target. She assured them that they would get straight there with the minimum of fuss.
If leaping out of an aircraft without a parachute could be called minimum.
Dev was beginning to regret listening to her. Especially when a chime sounded in his helmet, indicating they had reached terminal velocity and were now free-falling at one hundred and twenty-two miles per hour. Not that he could hear it clearly with Mason screaming down one ear and Lot shrieking with delight down the other.
At first it seemed the island was barely getting closer – then just as suddenly it began rapidly growing in size. Another chime sounded, indicating when parachutes would normally be deployed on other HALO suits.
But still they fell.
Now Dev could see the structures of Tartarus Prison in the darkness below. A wall followed the perimeter of the small island, each side a vertical cliff on which fierce waves crashed. Within the walls, three circular buildings were connected by corridors, forming a triangle. To one side lay two helipads, the only way on or off the prison island. Dev saw everything in the kind of detail that only terror encouraged. He could even make out cracks on the concrete paving and patches of moss covering the buildings’ roofs.
The micro-fins on their suits quickly morphed shape, steering them precisely for their target: the solid roof of one circular building.
Dev wanted to shut his eyes, but they remained wide open as he heard a chime indicating impact – a second before he hit the roof.
The PhantomSuit earned its name. The moment they hit the roof, they phased straight through. Dev could feel the cold concrete passing through him. It was a fleeting experience because they were travelling so fast, and they hit the floor of the first room less than half a second later. They phased through that and continued ploughing through solid earth. Dev could even taste the soil in his mouth, feel the grains of dirt passing between his own body’s cells. It was uncomfortable to say the least.
The dirt suddenly gave way to the concrete of the subterranean tunnels. Each successive floor felt as if they were splashing into water – and each transition slowed them rapidly down, so by the time they had reached their destination, they gently drifted through the ceiling and, with a final chime sounding to signal arrival at their destination, they dropped to the solid concrete as if they’d jumped off stools.
Lot was the first to take off her helmet, and she had to force herself not to cackle with delight. Dev was relieved to remove his; he was sweating heavily. Mason dropped his helmet to the ground and hunched over in the corner, where he was violently sick.
“Now these things definitely belong inside the Inventory,” said Dev, catching his breath. He took in thei
r new surroundings. They were in a semicircular room, with the only access door behind them. The room was split in half by a large plastic screen, behind which stood—
“Hello, Dev,” said the Collector with a vague hint of a smile. “And you have brought your friends too. How nice.”
Lot’s smile evaporated now that she was face to face with the fiend who had orchestrated the attack on the Inventory. Although she had had minimal contact with him, she still retained a healthy fear.
Dev wasn’t so afraid; after all, he had beaten the Collector before. “You’re not too surprised to see us dropping in like this?”
“I would have been surprised if you had brought a cake.” He gestured to several security cameras that covered every angle of the room. “I take it you have disabled the cameras?” Dev nodded. “And I admire your method of entry. PhantomSuits. Good choice.”
“That was my idea,” said Lot as she crossed over to Mason, who was still hunched over, and gently rubbed his back. They both kept a wary eye on the Collector.
“I suppose you are here because you have pressing questions that Charles refuses to answer.” Dev couldn’t keep the surprise off his face. The Collector chuckled. “Don’t forget, Dev, we are practically brothers. Good old Uncle Parker created you to replace me.” He gestured to himself. “A tired old prototype.”
Dev couldn’t resist a sounding smug. “I am a better version of you.”
The Collector nodded. If he was offended, he didn’t show it. “I am not your enemy, Dev. After all, I am the closest thing you have to family.”
“If that is the case, then answer my questions.”
The Collector moved his hand, inviting Dev to take a seat at the table.
“You worked for Shadow Helix when you raided the Inventory. Where did the stolen items go?”
“All around the world. Shadow Helix is a global network.”
“So they must have a base, a headquarters. Where is it?”
The Collector tapped his wrist where he would normally wear a watch. “You’re asking the wrong questions, Dev, and time is sorely against you.”
Lot and Mason exchanged a look and pulled out their phones to access the Inventory network.
Dev thought carefully. “Double Helix is running the show.” A nod from the Collector. “So why is he handing the technology over to a bunch of criminals? Street thugs who robbed a bank. A South African crime lord who stole a building. Why not just hold the world to ransom and get on with it?”
The Collector laughed. “Because that’s not how the world works, Dev. Helix is a strategist. Stop thinking of time in such a boring way. Events that are occurring now are merely echoes of what he planned long ago.”
“Dev!” said Lot urgently. “Eema is trying something new to remotely access the Avro.”
Dev had used his power to isolate the disc from any form of remote control, so he was satisfied her efforts would be in vain.
“Ah, you took a craft out for a joyride?” said the Collector knowingly. “Daddy is going to be very angry.”
Mason piped up. “They’re trying to trace us.”
Dev replayed the Collector’s words in his head.
“So you are saying those events are linked?”
“Of course. Nothing he does is random. Those thieves in the bank. What did they steal?”
Dev shook his head, recalling the scene on top of the CN Tower as the money spilled from the thieves’ bag.
“Cash.”
“Hardly seems worth the effort, does it? To enable some thieves to rob a bank when another thug has a gravity gun that could have broken into Fort Knox.”
“The bank robbery was a decoy.”
The Collector clapped his hands. “Now you are thinking.”
“Why would they want to draw attention to themselves?”
Lot had been listening to every word. She stepped next to Dev. “So we would come.”
The Collector pointed a finger at Dev. “Yes, or more specifically, you.”
“But they didn’t get anything from me.”
The Collector turned away from the glass and began walking in a slow circle. “Really? Think, Dev.”
Lot looked around with a frown. “Did you feel that?”
Dev didn’t feel anything. He was trying to remember the exact sequence of events. “Nothing happened. I caught them. One guy knocked me out for a second, but. . .”
“Knocked you out,” the Collector repeated, with meaning.
Lot walked around the room – then stopped and looked sharply at Dev. “Surely you felt that?”
He had. As if the entire room had trembled.
“Ah, I fear time is running out. And you never even had time to ask me about the Black Zone. Or what our beloved uncle does to his pet projects that stray off their leashes.”
Dev’s mind reeled in confusion. “What?”
“You were not knocked unconscious. This power you have, this synaesthesia, it is not all one way.”
Dev looked at his gloved hand. He tried to imagine exactly what the Collector meant. He hadn’t noticed that the villain had moved to the very back of his cell.
“Tartarus is the most secure prison facility on the planet. Highly secretive and, I assure you, a complete mystery for Shadow Helix. There was no hope that they would find me here. . .”
Now Dev understood. “Unless they were led here by somebody. I’m carrying a homing beacon. Those thieves gave me a virus!”
The Collector shrugged. Dev now understood – at the very moment the roof was sucked away with an ear-piercing crunch, as if a tornado had swept it up, and the Collector’s rescue team dropped into the room.
The remains of the upper five storeys of the prison complex swirled in a maelstrom above their heads. A five-floor column of earth had been scooped out in seconds, next to which stood Christen, controlling the swarm of debris with Newton’s Arrow.
With the ceiling removed, the transparent screen between Dev and the Collector just fell away. The rescue team had dropped in on streaming energy ropes, and before their boots had touched ground and the energy ropes had vanished, alarms had begun to sound across the complex.
One well-built man dropped in front of Dev and stared at him. There was something very familiar about him.
“Ah, Kardach,” said the Collector, stepping forward. “I believe you met Devon in Tokyo?”
It clicked in Dev’s mind: the silent watcher in the shadows. And while Dev hesitated, Mason didn’t have such reservations. His reactions were fast, and he pulled a weapon from his back – a net-gun, one of the few weapons remaining in the Inventory – and took aim.
Kardach didn’t even look at him. He raised one hand as Mason pulled the trigger. The trigger moved, but the weapon was dead in Mason’s hands. Lot raised a taser, but it too failed to fire.
Kardach then gestured towards the squawking sirens. As he clenched his fists the alarm fell silent.
The Collector regarded Dev critically. “Thank you for releasing me. You’ll be pleased to know that I have no further use for you. I fear after this your uncle will decide that you’re redundant. That is exactly what he thought of me. Dissolution awaits you, so this will be the last time we meet. After all, you were already replaced.” He gestured towards Kardach. “Another project I released from the Inventory.”
Streaming energy ropes, made from pure light, shot down from above. The rescue team touched them and were instantly conveyed upwards, out of the pit. Kardach went next. The Collector touched his brow in a final salute before following.
No sooner had they cleared the pit than Christen deactivated the gravity field and the rubble thundered down.
Dev shoved Mason and Lot towards the heavy door frame as hundreds of tons of debris slammed into the room. The air was filled with dust and the remaining lights died, plunging them into darkness.
They were entombed alive.
The Collector took a deep breath of fresh air, the first he’d had since he was captured. The sound of
energy weapons blasting in the darkness could be heard all around as his rescue team kept the prison guards at bay.
With his enhanced vision, darkness was no blindfold, and the Collector could see everything. A pair of rescue choppers, running with no lights, sat on the helipad, rotors still whirling. Anti-aircraft missile launchers hung limply on prison walls, deactivated the moment Kardach had closed in. They didn’t stand a chance against Shadow Helix’s superior forces.
The Collector headed straight for the helicopters, Kardach close by his side. “Did you have to bury the children?” the Collector asked, unable to disguise a hint of annoyance.
“We had our orders,” Kardach replied, glancing at Christen, who followed a few steps behind.
They reached a chopper and boarded without another word. Within seconds they lifted into the darkness, and the rescue team followed in the second aircraft.
It took a few more moments before the prison guards emerged from safety and began shooting, far too late, at the receding aircraft.
Finally, thought Dev with a macabre hint of satisfaction, they had found something that Lot hated. Confined spaces.
Pushed against a solid metal door, the trio had barely any space to move. They were wedged between several large chunks of rubble, sealed into their tiny tomb by hundreds of tons of dirt. The only light came from the dim HUD displays in the helmets they still clung to.
Already Lot was fighting to control her panic, gulping deep lungfuls of air. With every breath she took, Mason’s concern that she would use up all the oxygen increased.
“If I die because you suffocate us. . .” Mason stumbled for a suitably threatening conclusion. “I’ll kill you,” he finished lamely.
“Stop arguing,” snapped Dev. “You’re using up the air.”
Lot suddenly dropped to her knees, hyperventilating.
The door was the obvious escape route. Being a prison door, it didn’t have a lock on the inside. Instead, Dev traced his hand along the wall surrounding it, using his ability to sense the circuitry – but he could find nothing.