“Just like that? We’re free?” Digger said.
“Just like that.” Miller said.
“Digger fucking Dundee.” One of the mercs said.
The mercenary stalked toward Digger. The name on the man’s chest read ‘ELLIS’. He had been standing at the back, vibrating with rage ever since the dozen of them had come through the wall. Now that the kill switches were disconnected, Ellis, whoever he was, seemed to see his chance. Hanging his assault rifle off his side, Ellis lunged forward and punched Digger. The two men were of roughly equal size and speed, and Ellis’ gloved fist caused Digger to stumble back.
“What the fuck?” Digger said.
Digger started to raise his UMP45, but given the gun was empty and he was surrounded by the man’s heavily armed companions he thought better of the move and dropped it. Wading in, he swung his fist at Ellis’ head. His knuckles rebounded painfully off the faceplate. The rest of the mercenaries in their white armour and black facemasks seemed just as confused by what was going on as Digger felt. Ellis swung again but this time Digger ducked him. He knotted one arm around Ellis’ arm and twisted, whirling him around before trying to throw him to the ground. Ellis resisted and tried to get his other arm around Digger’s neck.
“Boys, boys! Cut this out, what the hell are you doing?” Layla yelled.
Layla and several of the mercs intervened. The mercenaries pulled the two men apart and Layla stepped into the middle. She placed her mechanical hand gently, almost reassuringly, on Ellis’ chestplate. Automatically, Ellis tried to push past her and keep coming after Digger. As soon as he did though he found Layla’s arm was impossible to shift, like trying to shove aside a metal girder that had been welded across his path, no matter how gentle Layla made it seem.
“Look! Look at this!” Ellis said.
Ellis hit a switch on one side of his neck. His helmet and faceplate retracted to reveal a handsome, sandy haired man about Digger’s age underneath. His face was familiar to Digger although his accent was American and Digger couldn’t immediately place where he knew him from. Ellis turned, pointing at his right ear which was little more than a mangled nub of scar tissue with a conch shell of cartilage in the middle.
“This is what he did to me, this asshole!” Ellis said, “When I heard he was going to be in this year’s Slayerz I was hoping he’d be dead before we got here but-, fuck, I’m happy to do the job!”
“Oh, yeah, Ellis, I remember you now, mate.” Digger said, “We worked together in that little merc outfit off the coast, right after I went on the run, didn’t we?”
“Remember me? You bit my fucking ear off, you psycho!” Ellis said.
“Mate, I told you to let up with the Dundee jokes.” Digger said, “I told you, I’d heard all the jokes before and if you didn’t stop that shit I was going to bite your ear off. And look, you didn’t stop, so-, I bit your bloody ear off.”
“You mutilated me!” Ellis said, “I’ve been waiting for a job like this to come along so I could go and get it fixed!”
“Okay, cut the shit.” Layla said, “Ellis, if you had a problem with what we came here to do, you didn’t have to take the job. You can go wait in the truck and forfeit your very generous paycheck if it means that much to you, or you can straighten your shit out right fucking now.”
Ellis scowled at Digger from behind Layla’s hand and backed up. He stalked toward the other mercenaries while affixing his faceplate back into place. Digger looked vaguely amused, unruffled from the fight.
“One hell of a rescue.” Digger said.
“Rescue is a strong word, although if you can point us in the direction of those other contestants from around here we’ll deactivate their kill switches as well.” Layla said, “P.E.T.P’s first priority is shutting down the Slayerz broadcast. You have two options, you can come with us if you promise to behave yourselves and follow my orders, or you can leave via that great big hole in the wall, leave the arena. Like Miller told you, they can’t remotely trigger your kill switches anymore. However, you won’t make it across the desert out there on your own. You’ll have to wait with our vehicles until we’ve completed our mission and I can’t guarantee your safety if they send more security drones or guards out there after you.”
Digger looked back at Homer, “So, no more killing?” He said.
“Not unless something or someone really needs killing.” Layla said, “You’re free, as far as I’m concerned. If some of you need to face justice once the broadcast is shut down then that’s out of my hands.”
Digger picked up his empty UMP45 and glanced over at one of the mercenaries’ robotic pack mules. Each consisted of a stout, drum-shaped body on four spindly legs. They bristled with weapons and ammo. Digger could see a large, hourglass-shaped device mounted on the nearest robot’s side.
“An EMP device, just like they tried to use two years ago, right?” Digger said, “That’s how you’re going to knock out the broadcast, as well as every electronic device in the arena.”
“That’s right, but we’ve got to get it right into the heart of the control centre for it to be at its most effective.” Layla said, “Nothing’s changed, our maps say the control room is in the exact centre of the arena, underground and heavily shielded. We’ve got to get into the central section of the arena and find our way down there.”
“I’ve just got to see how this one plays out, I’m in and so is my little mate Homer here.” Digger said, “Your robots carrying any ammo for this gun?”
Chapter Sixteen
An elderly woman, grey-haired and in a knitted shawl, shuffles down a dark street. Pools of darkness well between meagre streetlamps. A mechanical pack mule follows her with shopping bags hanging off it. Four skinny legs support a narrow, barrel-shaped body, with several camera lenses behind a plexiglass dome serving as a face.
Predatory shadows flitter out of a nearby alley. Four hoodlums surround the old woman and she lets out a short cry of surprise. One of the hoodlums flicks open a small switchblade.
“Hey, you old bitch.” The lead hoodlum says, “What you got in that purse?”
“Oh, my.” The old woman clutches her handbag.
“We’ll take whatever you got, and we’ll take that robot too.” A second hoodlum says.
“Oh, dear.” The old woman says, “Li’l Helper-, um, a little help, please?”
A panel opens on the pack mule’s back and a barrel springs out of the opening. The auto-targeting shotgun acquires its first target, the lead hoodlum, and blows them away. Intestines spray from his midsection like party streamers as he is hurled backward. The gun swivels, seeking targets and firing rapidly. The second and third thugs are flung off their feet, clouds of flesh and blood erupting in their place. The last tries to run but the mule fixes them with the shotgun and fires, blasting them in the back.
“Thank you, dear.” The old woman says.
“Get by with a li’l help from your Li’l Helper. Weapon upgrades are now in store for your Li’l Helper cargo and companion droid, including shotgun, six-barreled rubber bullet cannon, or flamethrower attachments.”
The control room was in chaos as technicians raced around their workstations or hunched over them, talking furiously. The head producer, Zachariah Hawthorne, screamed at them from the balcony. His voice became shrill.
“What the fuck is happening?” Hawthorne yelled.
“Cameras are malfunctioning but we’re getting a feed.” One tech said, “Their equipment is interrupting ours but-, we can still see them. They want us to see them. To keep broadcasting what they do.”
“It’s true what they said, we’re cut off from Dundee and Number Eleven’s kill switches.” A second tech said.
“We need to send guards out to apprehend these terrorists! Last time this happened they let them get all the way into the control centre.” Another woman, the security head, said, “We need to make taking them out top priority!”
“No! No, the show must go on, the show is always top priority! Send
security but they need to avoid the other contestants, and the contestants with these intruders-, well, try to avoid shooting them.” Hawthorne said, “Yes, the show must go on. If we’re going to take them out it’s got to be-, spectacular!”
“Sir, what about the Slayers? Could we release them?” A tech asked.
“Not the civilians, not yet.” The head producer said, “If security can handle it I want to keep the game on track.”
xXx
Digger and Homer moved alongside the group of mercenaries hired by P.E.T.P, led by Layla Jackson. The man Digger knew as Thao, Tommy Nguyen, was filming everything. The others didn’t defer to Tommy like they did to Layla, who was clearly in charge. He was a tourist, like Digger and Homer. Tommy wasn’t trained but he’d survived one season of Slayerz without previous military or fighting experience, even with his memories stolen. That made him tough enough in Digger’s book. The mercenary called Ellis stayed on the other side of the group. Digger could’ve told it was him even without the name on his breastplate. He could feel the man with the deformed ear’s glare through his opaque faceplate.
Digger and Homer’s camera drones hadn’t been replaced since Layla shot them. Typically, a new pair would have flown to them within minutes. Still, Digger was sure they were being watched by dozens of cameras that covered the houses and streets surrounding them.
“Hello? Hello, please! Please do not hurt us, we are not attacking!” A male voice with a German accent shouted from hiding.
“Who’s there? Come out, we won’t hurt you!” Layla said.
The mercenaries were alert, turning their guns on the source of the voice without acting jumpy about it. Two more contestants, Dr Klou and Echo Three, emerged from behind a garden wall. Klou, the tall, middle-aged doctor, was immediately recognisable thanks to his left arm. It was visibly longer than his right arm and halfway down his bicep it became blackened and craggy as if burnt. While it was formed like a human arm it was covered in thick, diamond-shaped scales. The fingers were long and bony, ending in wicked talons that were thin and razor sharp.
Klou looked frightened but relieved to see this apparent rescue, and slightly dazed as if he were still getting over his ordeal with the thing in the church. In comparison, Echo Three appeared ready to fight. The girl looked not much older than Homer but was tall and lean. Half her hair was shaved to a buzzcut, revealing thick plugs welded to her skull down the left side of her head. She stayed low, using the doctor for cover, and was gripping the red axe she had been given at the start of the game.
“Stay right there, don’t move.” Layla said, “Keep those bracelets raised.”
The medic, Miller, hurried forward again with her paddle ready. She waved it over Klou and Echo’s sleeves. The girl stayed tense the whole time, clutching her axe, but didn’t move. Miller gave the two of them the same explanation she had given Digger and Homer about how their kill switches could no longer be remotely activated and wouldn’t activate in the event of the other’s death even though their screens still worked. Layla offered them the same choice, they could head back to the hole in the wall and stay with the vehicles or stick with the group.
“Hey, hey, you know who this guy is, right?” Digger said, “This is one of those crazy bioweapon scientists, Dr Klou. You know what this guy was into? I mean, you can see that arm, but you know what he did to those women?”
“I know, I’ve seen the pictures, we studied the files on all of you.” Layla said, “Once we’re out of here, any contestants of a certain profile will be handed back to the relevant authorities.”
Layla spoke loudly, so it was clear she wasn’t just answering Digger but speaking to any of the mercenaries who might have doubts in their minds as well. She fixed Klou with a hard stare. The man presented both of his mismatched hands, palms outward.
“Of course, return me to my prison, just please get me out of here alive.” Klou said.
Digger didn’t trust Klou. He supposed without the kill switch bracelets he had no justification to kill the mad scientist so he would let it slide, for the moment. It was hard to get out of the kill-on-sight mindset, once he had settled on having no other option. He’d expected to be in the game until he was dead or everyone else was.
Absorbing Klou and the edgy girl with the half-shaved head into the pack, they kept moving. Smoke created a column into the sky from the direction of the destroyed church. It seemed eerily quiet without the buzzing of camera drones. Digger checked the map on his wrist screen, working in spite of the deactivated kill switch. Juan Sanzeros and Ludd, the final team that had landed initially in Suburbia, must’ve fled after coming out from under the thing in the church’s control. It looked like they were headed for the middle section of the arena. Homer stuck to Digger’s hip like a child, wearing his oversized helmet. While they were on the move, Digger drifted back toward the journalist and ex-contestant, Tommy.
“You guys are just saving everybody up in here then, ey?” Digger said.
“What we’re doing here is making a propaganda film.” Tommy smirked, “That’s what People for the Ethical Treatment of People needs more than saving a few criminals and lunatics. We’re looking to take down a whole industry, wiping out the broadcast before it comes to its conclusion is just part of that. Slayerz is one of a bunch of games that have been churning through more and more lives, games like Real Gladiators and Go for Goldilocks. They need another kind of weapon to fight back against something like that.”
As he spoke, Tommy was removing and opening the white, hard-shelled pack from his back. It released a small cloud of new camera drones. The drones unfolded with small wings and propellers, taking to the air. They had bodies not much bigger than ping pong balls. Hissing upward, the miniature drones whirled around the group and captured them from all angles. Images filtered back to the red and green glasses Tommy was wearing, Digger could see them inverted and appearing on the insides of the lenses as well as reflecting on Tommy’s face. The camera mounted on Tommy’s left shoulder swivelled along with movements of his head.
“These are for still photography, as well as relaying the input for the drones.” Tommy tapped the frame of his glasses, “Two gig onboard, keyed to my optic nerves, standard control. The one on my shoulder, the drones, they’re all constantly filming to create something more compelling. You need to make a movie if you want people to pay attention, who reads feedsites anymore?”
“I thought you were a reporter, mate, not a filmmaker.” Digger said, “Just tell people the news, not make it.”
“Journalists are all fiction writers, not in a bad way, but you think the world really makes sense as it is?” Tommy said, “Nothing is ever as clean as just who, what, where, when and how.”
Digger glared at Klou again, staying in the middle of the group so he was protected on all sides. The scientist’s black and scaly arm swung at his left side. The man was a genetic freak and unlike Homer or some of the others, he’d chosen to do it to himself. After losing his left arm at the elbow in an attempted assassination, Klou had decided to use his own experimental techniques to replace it instead of more traditional methods. The creatures Klou had created by implanting embryos in the wombs of captured women were up toward the top of the list with Abominations as some of the most nightmarish creations of the African Bio-Wars. It was no coincidence Klou’s arm bore such a resemblance to those monsters he’d created. The scientist felt Digger’s eyes on him and tugged self-consciously at his left sleeve. Echo Three was traveling alongside the scientist even though the two of them were no longer connected. It was habit, Digger supposed. Homer was sticking close to Digger after all, even though Digger would be free to kill the boy himself if he wanted, just like he’d almost done when he first saw what Homer could do.
Boche / Uzi Kahneman
Bolt / DFN Jefferson
Dr Klou / Echo Three
Dozer / Taka
Homo Superior No. 11 / Digger Dundee
Juan Sanzeros / Ludd
Kali Bada
mi / Tanai Den’atsu
L.L. Bitters / Rick O’Shae
Lyncher Lee / Frankie LaPalma
Macbeth Madaki / Junior Du Preez
Marcus Halligan / Luthor Crispee
Quickdraw Quilton / El Carnicero
Sunni Skyez / Alucard
Talons / Dr Martina Hart
Wilhelm Schrei / Mahmet Adani
The competition was already down to almost half its contestant teams. Digger wondered if all of those remaining would go along peacefully with the mercenaries. They may not even reach many more of them before getting to City Center. Checking the list and then switching to his map, Digger realised they were headed back in the direction of Shantytown. The section was currently empty and looped around to City Center, but after their earlier experiences there was no way Digger was going to re-enter it.
“Hey, we can’t go down this way!” Digger said, “Haven’t you been watching the show up until now? There’s poison gas through there!”
“We know what we’re doing.” Layla said.
“But they were able to vent it in and out, the producers were controlling it!” Digger said, “With you guys coming they’ll probably flood the whole section.”
“The suits can handle it.” Layla said, “We have masks and extra rebreathers for your guys on the pack mules.”
“This stuff is radioactive too though. Gets on your skin, any exposed part of you, and it’ll poison you still, it’ll just do it a little bit slower.” Digger said, “You did your time in the Bio-Wars too, you know what this shit is like.”
“You’ve got a point.” Layla said, “We’ll take the other route, through the Towers section. What does your map say about that one?”
Digger looked at the map again. It showed the latest positions of all the teams and supply drops. Each section, under its name, also had the threat that was specific to that area. In the Suburbia section, the words ‘MENTAL THREAT’ were struck out since the death of the thing in the church. Shantytown had ‘POISON GAS’ listed and the Towers section had ‘MUTANT ANIMALS’. Only the middle section, City Center, still had a threat that just read ‘????’.
Kill Switch: Final Season Page 19