Shit. Do I need to bond Whispy to deal with this asshole? Nah.
The wizard thrust his wand forward, and the air wavered in front of him. A loud screech assaulted James’ ears, and he grunted and fell to one knee.
Fifty-six stepped toward James, his wand still pointed. “Too bad I’ve shattered your eardrums and you can’t hear me now. You must be in agony, you stupid cretin. I should pop your head like a melon.”
Heavy footfalls sounded from behind James. Shay barreled down the hallway, one of her knives out.
James stood and stuck out his palm to tell her to stop. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.” He turned back toward the wizard. “You’re really starting to piss me off. You mentioned having no bounty? Fuck you. You've committed enough crimes against music to be punished, and you know what? I was gonna just give you a warning, but you just admitted you tried to rupture my eardrums, so now it’s ass-kicking time.”
Fifty-six gritted his teeth and pointed his wand again. James surged forward and slammed a fist into his face. The wizard flew backward and smashed partially through a wall with a groan, his nose broken and blood running down his face. His wand fell to the floor and rolled away.
James advanced toward the wizard and yanked him out of the wall. He tossed Fifty-six to the floor.
“Here’s how this is going to go, asshole,” he growled. “If I ever so much as hear you have mentioned Anna Forsythe’s name, I’m gonna find you and bend you into a fucking pretzel.” He knelt by the groaning wizard. “I fucking destroyed the Harriken, fought off the Council, and beat the Drow queen. You shouldn’t have picked a fight you couldn’t win. Do I make myself clear?”
“I…understand.” Fifty-six moaned. “I’m…sorry.”
James sighed. “Damn it.” He pointed to the dent in the wall. “How much do you think it’ll cost to fix that wall?”
9
The anti-sonic defense mode of Weber’s tactical helmet had the pleasant secondary effect of damping the noise from the helicopter’s rotors down to an easy-to-dismiss background thump rather than an all-encompassing cacophony. Combined with his in-helmet radio, he could speak to the team without having to yell.
Maria liked to yell; it was part of her leadership style. He preferred a stern but even-voiced approach.
“We’re touching down in ten minutes,” Weber explained to the team. “Dispatch got a report of a gang fight in progress at a junkyard in Wilmington, but we’ve got some sort of interference messing up transmissions and commands to any drones that get close and cameras in the area. We’ve got one eyewitness report that it’s the Silver Ghost. Our team will hit that site, while the backup team is at the station on standby in case the Ghost rabbits.”
“Interference?” Tracey replied. “Guess that explains why we haven’t been able to get video or images of her.”
McMahon turned his head toward Weber, although with his black helmet on, there was no way to read his expression. The black helmet with red AR goggles had been explicitly designed to make individual AET officers faceless and thus more intimidating. Sometimes they could win a surrender through sheer intimidation.
“We might have to put her down hard, you know,” McMahon explained. “She might not give up just because a bunch of cops tell her to. I don’t care if she’s Oriceran or human—by the time you get to the point where you’re dancing around the back alleys of LA killing people, you’re past the point of chatting.”
“We don’t know that,” Weber replied. “The FBI sent along some profile information. Although they are still adjusting their techniques to apply to Oricerans, and we don’t know the Ghost’s species for certain, in most cases, we can figure the psychology is somewhat similar when they are humanoid. On some level, the Silver Ghost wants the police to support her efforts. She likely believes she’s helping us by cleaning up the city. If she’s not Oriceran—if she’s just a human with an artifact—that’s even truer, but if we need to take her down, we’ll do it. Safety first, ladies and gentlemen.”
The officers all nodded.
Weber took a deep breath. “Everyone double-check your weapons and anti-magic deflectors. Preload anti-magic bullets. Given what we can tell from the 25K attack, we have no reason to believe conventional rounds will be effective. They did find anti-magic shell casings on site, but we’re not sure when they started using them. They weren’t able to recover any viable video from inside the restaurant—probably because of the Ghost’s apparent jamming abilities.”
The eight AET officers on the helicopter all lifted and examined the crystals around their necks before they ejected their magazines from their rifles and put in new ones, except for the two officers with stun rifles.
Maybe we’ll get lucky, and it’ll turn out she’s vulnerable to stun bolts. Don’t want to have to hear the captain and the chief bitch about the budget if we use a bunch of anti-magic bullets.
Weber took a few more deep breaths. During his time in AET, he’d faced everything from demons to powerless men in costumes who had been mistaken for enhanced threats. Before each sortie, his stomach still tightened and his throat went dry.
Every cop who put on a uniform in the morning never knew if they were going to come home, and for AET, who had to throw themselves against the most dangerous threats the city had to offer, the risks were even worse.
Mark Johnson had died when the AET took on the Council, and even if Brownstone and his people had taken down the bastards, that death hung over every subsequent police operation. Armor and anti-magic deflectors might help protect an officer, but they couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to drive home at the end of the day, especially when he could never be sure of the exact threat he might face.
“Remember our rules of engagement,” Weber ordered. “I’ll attempt to talk her down and get her to surrender, but if she attacks, we are to put her down hard. I don’t care if she thinks she’s cleaning up the city. She’s breaking the law, and we’re the law.”
The armored AET officers jumped out of the helicopter on the outskirts of the junkyard, Weber in the lead. Landing too close to the battle site risked damage to the vehicle.
They rushed toward the screams and gunfire, their heavy footsteps thudding and echoing in the night to mingle with the sounds. Their AR goggles switched to night-vision mode and the eerie green, combined with the sounds of men dying, set a chilling atmosphere.
She’ll surrender. She’s a wannabe protector of the city. She probably looks up to AET. We’ll end this without firing a single shot.
The AET rushed down the darkened dirt paths through the stacks of rusted-out cars and trucks until they arrived at a ramshackle workshop with rusted metal siding and a single open garage door, a few cars in various state of repair inside. Two late-model red Chevy SUVs were parked near the building, gleaming under the bright security lights surrounding the workshop.
Bodies and body parts lay all over the ground, along with guns. All were gang members, judging by their clothing and brightly colored bandanas. No one stirred, and Weber doubted any were alive, given the extent of their injuries.
Weber grimaced and threw up his hand to indicate the team should hold their positions. He tapped the side of his helmet to switch from night-vision mode to normal mode.
The AET officers stopped and formed a wedge, their weapons at the ready. They swept the area looking for an active target, but they only found more carnage.
Another scream sounded, and a man flew from behind the workshop. He landed in front of the officers, a burn several inches deep on his chest.
“Just like the bodies at the Kowloon,” Weber muttered. “She’s definitely here.”
Weber let out a grim chuckle. That was LA. You could never be sure if a massacre was because of any particular enhanced psycho. Brownstone was helping cut down on that problem, but he was only one man, in the end. The cops were still the main wall keeping the barbarians in check.
A few seconds later, a blur of movement caught Weber’s attention, and the
silver-skinned vigilante landed in the middle of the bodies, one of her arms in a bladed form.
Weber blinked, marveling at the lithe form for a moment. She matched the few rumors and witness descriptions the police had managed to cobble together, but seeing the faceless silver-skinned woman in front of him drove her reality into his brain in a way even the Kowloon massacre hadn’t.
“This is the LAPD AET,” Weber announced. “You are to immediately drop any weapons, deactivate any artifacts, and surrender. You’re under arrest for murder and destruction of property. Any sudden movements will be considered hostile actions, and you will be fired upon.”
The Silver Ghost didn’t move for several seconds, and Weber let out a sigh of relief. If she was thinking about what he’d just ordered, she had to realize she was outgunned, and if they were right and she respected police like Brownstone did, this would all be over in seconds.
“No,” the Silver Ghost replied, her words unnerving because the clear voice came from her otherwise featureless face. “I will not surrender. My testing and calibration aren’t done yet. I will give you, the guardians of order in this city, one chance to flee. If not, I can’t guarantee your safety.”
The AET officers on the flanks began spreading out, keeping their weapons at the ready.
Weber gritted his teeth. So much for a quick surrender.
“Put your hands on your head and deactivate your artifacts,” he shouted, moving his finger toward the trigger. “We’ve got armor, anti-magic bullets, and anti-magic deflectors; you can’t win. I know you think you’re doing us a favor, but you’ve violated the law. If you surrender right now, I’m sure we can arrange leniency for your cooperation.”
Come on. You’re supposed to be on our side. Just give the hell up.
The Silver Ghost’s head turned back and forth as if she were surveying the eight officers in front of her. “This is an excellent opportunity. All my testing and calibration has been against foes of limited capabilities. Even the ones using magic have been a disappointment, and most have been cowards, like all parasites.”
“Stun her,” Weber ordered.
The harsh buzz of the two stun rifles firing filled the air. The blue stun bolts flew toward the Ghost and struck her, arcing over her body like ghostly fingers. She didn’t collapse, move, or even twitch.
The officers fired again, but the silver-skinned woman didn’t go down. At least if she’d had a face, they might be able to tell if she was in pain.
The Silver Ghost raised her non-bladed arm. “If you don’t fight in earnest, you’ll die.” A golden energy blast shot from her arm and struck one of the officers with a stun rifle. He screamed and fell back.
“Take her down!” Weber shouted.
The AET officers opened up with a volley so tight and synchronized that someone might think they practiced daily. Six anti-magic bullets and one stun bolt would be enough to take down the vast majority of criminals, human or Oriceran. The bullets struck the Ghost’s body, some making shallow, dark indentations, and a few blasting clean through her, leaving gaping holes, but there was no sign of blood or internal organs. It was like she was nothing but silver metal.
I don’t know what species she is. Maybe she’s related to some of those rock guys they briefed us about last week?
Weber spared a glance at the downed officer and frowned. His anti-magic deflector was still clear, not even a speck of darkness.
What the hell? That was obviously an energy attack. It had to be magic.
They kept up their fire, but the Silver Ghost’s wounds, if they could even be called that, started to seal. She rushed toward the AET’s right flank and sliced with her blade, cutting clean through the armor and into the chest of McMahon. He groaned and collapsed, blood seeping out onto this armor.
Weber switched to the burst fire and concentrated his attacks on the Ghost’s head. She jerked a few times, backing away.
“McMahon? Tracey?” Weber shouted. “You still with us?”
Both responded only with groans, but at least they responded.
Weber’s rifle clicked empty, and he ejected the magazine as the other officers kept up single shots. He slapped in a new magazine, his heart racing.
Why the hell aren’t the anti-magics taking her down? Shit, is there a counterspell to anti-magic bullets?
The Silver Ghost sprinted forward and leapt into the air, bringing her foot up at the same time. Her kick landed hard against a man’s chest and sent him flying ten feet back into a rusted-out Buick Skylark with a crunch.
Before she even landed, she swung her blade and cut through the armor and into the shoulder of another man. She pulled the blade back and kicked the wounded officer in the back. He groaned in pain and hit the ground, rolling several times before coming to a stop.
Another point-blank energy blast downed another cop, a hole burned clean through his armor into his leg. He screamed.
Damn it, have to think of alternatives. No defense is perfect.
Weber took a few steps back and ceased fire, then yanked a sonic grenade off his tactical belt. He primed and threw it, confident his team’s helmets would protect them.
The grenade went off with its tell-tale high-pitched whine right above the Silver Ghost, but the vigilante didn’t stop her latest attack as she sliced through a rifle and slammed her elbow into a man with enough force to send him flying backward several yards.
The lieutenant wasn’t sure how long it’d been since they’d initiated the engagement. Less than a minute, probably. Perhaps even less than thirty seconds, but the rest of his team lay on the ground wounded, maybe even dead, and their enemy hadn’t so much as slowed down.
His breathing ragged, Weber tried to figure out his options. Bullets didn’t work. Stun rifles didn’t work. Sonic grenades didn’t work. He tossed his rifle to the ground and pulled out his combat knife. It might be a desperate sliver of hope, but he’d take what he could get.
The Silver Ghost stalked toward him. “You would still stand and fight after that?”
“You cop-killing bitch,” Weber shouted through gritted teeth. “There’s no way I’m letting you get away with that. You’re going down.”
“Don’t worry, none of your people are dead. I decided to also use this calibration session as a chance to test modulation. It helps with stability.” The Silver Ghost’s head turned toward one of the downed men. “Well, they aren’t dead yet, and I’m sure ambulances and medical helicopters will come quickly for police officers.”
Weber bellowed a challenge and charged with the knife. She met his advance with a powerful kick to the chest. The blow crumpled both his armor and his ribs. He groaned as pain radiated from his chest. The jolting impact of hitting the ground summoned more.
The Silver Ghost walked up to him and lowered her blade until it hovered a few inches above his head. “Bravery in the face of insurmountable odds is commendable but ultimately pointless. It’s an epiphany I had when I was forced to take extreme measures. Brave men and women might stand against a monster, but if they die, what have they accomplished? Sometimes discretion really is the better part of valor.”
Weber grimaced. He reached up and pulled off his helmet, desperate for some fresh air. “You’ve made a big mistake.” Taking quick, shallow breaths only did so much to dull the pain in his chest. “You just attacked…the LAPD. Now you’re…an…attempted cop killer.” His gaze wavered, and he looked down at his still-clear magic deflector.
Why didn’t they work?
“No,” the Silver Ghost replied. “It was you who made the mistake. I didn’t kill you outright only because I understand that sometimes a person has to follow orders, but you had no reason to engage me when I was confining myself to monsters and parasites. I’m above you. Better than you, but that’s a good thing, because I can protect you from the true monsters. Don’t you police already admit that by allowing bounty-hunting scum to wander LA?”
Distant sirens sounded, and the Silver Ghost’s blade arm reverted
to a normal arm, hand, and fingers.
“This isn’t…Oriceran,” Weber pushed out. “What about our…rules and laws?”
The Silver Ghost let out a dark chuckle. “Without force, rules and laws are meaningless. A fiction. I’ve witnessed that my entire life. Why don’t you ask one of your precious bounty hunters for help? Make it a good one. I need further calibration and testing.” She gave a little wave and burst into a sprint, her form quickly disappearing into the night.
Weber stared at the sky and managed a smile despite his pain.
That’s right, bitch. Bounty hunters like Brownstone. You’re going down.
10
James bolted upright, the room pitch-black except for one small light source on his nightstand: his ringing phone. He frowned and jerked his head toward the cause of his quick awakening.
He never shut his phone off on the off-chance Alison might call him for help in the middle of the night. He didn’t care if she was at a magic school surrounded by wizards and witches. The faint worry that something dangerous was always lingering around her never left his head, and he was ready to hop on a plane and kill whatever threatened his daughter.
Shay rolled onto her side. “Answer or ignore the call already. I’m trying to sleep here, and you exhausted me earlier. Plus, I was having the most wonderful dream about Alan crying and agreeing to do a haka if I would stay at the university.” She chuckled wearily.
James grabbed the phone and looked at the caller ID.
Maria Hall.
He frowned. Maria wouldn’t call him in the middle of the night without a damned good reason.
“What’s up, Maria?” James answered.
She took a deep breath before replying. “Have you heard of the Silver Ghost?”
James frowned. “Yeah, but I haven’t been paying much attention. Rumors about some Oriceran vigilante chick who has messed with a few gangs in the last month or two. I’ve been taking it easy, so I haven’t looked into it. Plus, as far as I’ve heard she doesn’t have a bounty, so she’s not really my business.”
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