The man combined an old-fashioned dark blue business suit with a frilly white button-down shirt, a black satin top hat, and a silk necktie with ends that stuck out like wings. In his hand was a silver-tipped cane. A silver-hued Victorian-style mask, embellished by entwining vine ornaments, covered the upper half of his face. The thin-lipped mouth beneath it was curled into a sardonic smile. If it wasn’t for the catlike stance and long brown hair, flowing around his shoulders, Chris might have assumed that he was a much older man. Only old men used walking canes, right? Still, based on his fashion sense, she guessed that the archaic speech patterns belonged to him.
This character was so strange that Chris almost failed to notice the four goons in standard-issue business suits who flanked him, two on each side. In fact, they could have been four brothers—they were all the exact same size and body shape. As Chris eyed them from her vantage point, she noticed they didn’t make the slightest sound or movement.
She turned her head just far enough to bring the opposing group into view. This group of ordinary-looking thugs faced the dandy and his hired suits from twenty feet away. They looked the type who would make petty trouble and start brawls at the local juke joint over someone’s girlfriend’s sister.
Except most of them carried guns. Big ones.
A brawny tattooed man in his prime spearheaded the group with the rigid posture of someone who was trying too hard to appear calm and composed, but Chris saw his restless fingers on the grip of his machine gun as his eyes drifted up to the ceiling.
She followed his line of vision, and gasped when she identified the source of the persistent humming sound. It came from an indescribable machine, towering a good ten feet over the well-dressed bodyguards.
That’s one huge freaking robot.
The android had more or less a humanoid body shape, its upper extremities squat and condensed. What Chris had mistaken for support pillars were the robot’s legs, long enough that it had to hunch. Squinting, Chris saw that each of its black-plated limbs had been equipped with a number of weapons of various types and size, like some sort of massive and horrifying Swiss army knife.
It was kind of cliché, really, as if the creator had studied a comic book villain’s work and emulated it with the addition of even more guns—and of several three-foot razor blades attached to every limb.
Oh, crap.
Chris’s stomach tightened into a small knot. It wasn’t hard to guess at the source of all that destructive potential she sensed, but she didn't have any idea how she could possibly stop something like this if it went into terminator mode. Compared to this, her force fields weren’t so impressive.
“No, we ain’t in agreement,” mocked the lead street thug, giving his foppish counterpart a menacing look. “You’re dodgin’ my questions like a rabbit on dope. How long we gotta wait before shit starts goin’ down? The police and those goddamn heroes haven’t loosened up the game one bit, and there ain’t much reason to assume that’s gonna change. Your toy monster just gonna collect dust if shit don’t go down soon, man. If you wanna have us on standby to cover your ass, then you gotta pay us for the time we spend waitin’ around while you get your shit together. You still ain’t paid us dick.”
So these guys are working together on something? Chris held her breath. What the hell are they up to?
The oddly dressed man exhaled a long dramatic sigh. “We should not falsely proclaim this marvel to be my work,” he corrected with an overly patient tone. “Do not forget that Data is the genius who created it. I am a mere diplomat.”
Chris gasped. Data was the most powerful Technician in the world. His inventions had garnered a lot of attention until he’d suddenly disappeared about a year ago.
“I don’t give a fuck who created it,” the lead thug seethed. “I just wanna know when we’re gonna get our money.”
The dandy made a tsk-tsk sound with his mouth. “Patience, my greedy friend. I seem to recall informing you that a series of events have been set into motion to change the board. Alas, I am afraid I cannot share specifics.” He smiled, showing a hint of white teeth. “But if you feel you cannot wait, then perhaps it would be best if I spoke to your rivals instead.”
“Fuck that,” said the lead thug, visibly shaking in anger.
“Feareth not the change,” the dandy advised patronizingly, using more Shakespearean language again. “Unless, of course, thou knoweth too much for thy own good.”
Although he looked like he was enjoying himself immensely, the man’s last few words contained enough threat potential to trigger Chris’s danger sense. Without warning, the pain that was about to be felt by these people shot through her own body. Even though the projected sensation was marginally weaker than the real deal, she still doubled over with a grunt.
Someone heard.
“Pray, pardon me, methinks we have a visitor.”
Chris’s mind cleared instantly, the phantom pain fading. Behind the pillar, her body tensed as it primed to act at any moment. But there were no footsteps—no indication of anyone moving in her direction. She pressed the back of a hand to her mouth and froze, hoping the dandy’s comment concerned someone else.
“You fuckin’ kidding me? I got guards at the entrance.”
“So someone outsmarted your guards? Imagine that,” the dandy drawled sarcastically. Then his voice rose as he called out into the car park, “Hello? Pray tell, stranger, where are you hiding?” His words took on a playful baritone with some merry eagerness mixed in. Overall, it sounded darn creepy.
Chris waited a few more seconds, hoping against all odds that he was responding to a sound that he’d heard elsewhere in the parking garage. She had to check. She tilted her head to the side, extending her neck just far enough to get a glimpse into the parking lot, but, the instant she directed her gaze beyond the pillar, her eyes met the dandy’s cold stare.
She froze, unable to avert her eyes. She had little doubt that she was facing a villain here. That guy had cheated. He shouldn’t have been able to spot her so easily, at least not with the angle that separated them. No, he had something else in his arsenal beyond normal human capabilities. Or maybe it was something in that monster robot’s arsenal. Some kind of scanner or something.
As the dandified villain considered her over fingers laced together beneath his chin, the grip of his cane sticking out from the crook of an arm, an engrossing smile crept across his roguish face.
The heavily tattooed gang leader didn’t look so amused when he caught sight of her, though. His features twisted in a way that left no doubt about how little he appreciated her interference. He raised the barrel of his machine gun right at Chris’s face.
She reacted to the pointed gun by reflexively creating an invisible force field around herself. Here’s hoping, she thought. Then she raised her hands to show that they were empty.
“Well, well. How shall we proceed?” the villain asked her in a smooth tone. He cocked his head, maintaining scrutinizing eye contact that betrayed too much interest for her liking.
Chris took a quick tally of her options. Disabling that robotic thing before she ran for her life came up as her best bet. Too bad she lacked any ideas as to how to pull that off.
“I’ll get rid of her for you,” the street thug offered, his semi-automatic weapon still aimed at her face.
“I think not,” the villain rebuffed. “I have a different idea entirely.”
At that moment, the oversized robot realigned its invisible guns with a series of clicks. None of its visible parts budged, leaving Chris unsure of where to direct her attention.
The instant she felt her danger sense flare again, she discarded her half-baked plan in favor of acting on instinct. Summoning all her willpower to shut out the mental impact of thirteen men ripped to pieces by gunfire, she raced for the group at max speed. A split second later, she had positioned herself in front of the street gang while pushing her personal force field, increasing the size of the energy bubble around herself in order to sur
round a few of the thugs. She also managed to fling extra shields onto some of the men who were on the outer edges of the group, but didn’t have enough time to cover them all.
Before the street gang had time to process her presence, the robot opened fire with a deafening roar. The sound of a dozen machine guns and small artillery fire resounded off the walls, assaulting the eardrums of anyone nearby. A shift in energy informed Chris that the force fields were collapsing. In moments, every single one of them except for her own had crumbled beneath the assault. The unprotected thugs didn’t have time to raise their weapons to return fire before they were cut to pieces.
Chris was feeling so much phantom agony that she could barely process anything else. This time, unlike the car accident, the pain wasn’t dulled by the force field surrounding her. She sagged to her knees, trying her hardest not to throw up.
Meanwhile, the deafening roar of firing guns let her know that the gang members who were still standing were attempting to return fire. She felt the bullets that collided with her force field stop in midair and drop to the ground.
The men started running. Chris ground her teeth in an attempt to focus and restore their force fields. She was on her knees, hands pushing hard against the ground.
Then more noise came from the robot’s direction, a series of singular explosions rather than a hail of bullets. This time, the impact wasn’t strong enough for the force fields to collapse, and the sound of retreating footsteps didn’t stop. Chris sensed the impact of every single bullet and the kinetic energy that carried it. Each was powerful in its own right, but collectively weaker than the previous barrage.
I couldn’t protect all of them, Chris realized, though she didn’t understand why. The confusion she felt was similar to the emotional turmoil she experienced after the car crash. All she knew was that some people had died—and she didn’t have a clue as to why her power decided to selectively keep others alive.
The sound of receding footsteps continued until it grew too distant to hear. They were safe.
The robotic weaponry finally lapsed into silence, and Chris felt herself collapse. She heard the sound of a graceful footfall approach before it stopped beside her sprawled-out form. She was still collecting her senses, unable to do anything but give a pained groan.
“Fascinating.” The way the word was said sounded like admiration.
Chris shifted with some effort, but she still couldn’t raise her head. Her field of vision was limited to the sea of red and fleshy bits that covered the pavement around her. She closed her eyes. It was like déjà vu from yesterday. It didn’t matter that the people she’d let down this time had been little more than hired goons willing to work for whatever villain threw them a bone. The simple truth was that she had failed to protect them. And now they were dead, too.
After spending a moment composing herself, Chris managed to open her eyelids. She met the villain’s gaze as he peered at her through the eyeholes of his half mask.
“Powerful.” He watched her struggle to stand up with an irritating air of patience, his mouth twisting into a knowing grin.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he drawled when she had finally made it to her feet. He extended a hand which Chris ignored, so he let it drop to his side. “Perhaps I should be irritated at your intrusion, but making your acquaintance is ample compensation.”
He straightened his top hat. The small motion sent a ripple of transformation down the length of his body, changing his guise from top to bottom in the blink of an eye. The frilly shirt and necktie disappeared while the navy suit gained a modern design, complete with a crisp dress shirt and gray tie, like something out of a Hugo Boss ad. The same silver Victorian masquerade mask still covered the upper half of his face, and his long brown hair was suddenly bound back into a sleek ponytail. Even the villain’s body shape shifted, from gangly and catlike to well-proportioned and muscular. The top hat and mask were the only items that stayed the same.
Something about the shape of his mouth and jaw—the chiseled features visible beyond the rim of the mask—bothered Chris. But she was distracted before she figured out why.
The rhythm of the bipedal robot’s hum had changed. Chris turned her head to see that its appearance had transformed as much as the villain’s. The artificial extensions were gone, replaced by an elegant, minimalist design. It featured smooth transitions between its limbs and smaller, less obtrusive bits of weaponry.
What the hell? Is he putting on a personal show for me?
Chris looked over the villain’s shoulder at his four bodyguards. They hadn’t changed. In fact, they did nothing at all. Not even blink. Were they even real?
“You are Christina, correct?” the villain said, his voice still overly gallant.
Surprised, Chris gave him a blank stare while pushing herself up from the ground. “You saw me on TV, didn’t you?”
He ignored her question, and checked his silver wristwatch with a dramatic flourish. “I would love to have a friendly chat, but, alas, the men you allowed to escape will make a lot of noise. And I have no intention of exchanging pleasantries with the likes of Radiant and Samael.”
Neither do I, Chris agreed in silence, but she couldn’t just let the villain walk away. Could she? A series of scenarios were running through her head. Should she try to seize him for the Covenant to collect later? Lacking anything to tie him up with, even if she could, she soon dismissed that idea. Besides, the robot clearly posed the biggest threat. She had to find a way to destroy it. Or maybe she should just run for her life before the murderous android turned its attention on her?
The villain’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You are not seeking employment by chance?”
Chris gave him an incredulous look. “What, with you?” she asked, not bothering to feign interest.
“I just thought I should venture to ask. The newly transitioned often yearn for a more meaningful existence. Or so we’ve found, at least.” He gave her a hopeful look.
We? As she made a mental note of the villain’s word choice, something else clicked. His looks. His jaw … his features … his ponytail. The villain had made himself look like Ryan. He must have changed his appearance in order to influence her in some way—maybe so she would join him in whatever villainous scheme the thugs had been about to get involved in. The thought annoyed her.
“If your intention is to bait me with his looks, it’s not working.”
“Me? Never!” the villain exclaimed in mock dismay. “Now, my dear, I should be off. Shall I repeat my invitation before I take my leave?”
“To join you and your toy that’s going to collect dust?” Chris asked, repeating the gang leader’s words.
He tsk-tsked her. “That fine piece of machinery is no toy, my dear. It is a Golem—a most remarkable piece of engineering. You would be privileged to work with it.”
“I don’t think so, mister.”
“You may call me Gentleman,” he replied with a low bow. “Who knows? You may change your mind before long and seek me out.”
“I won’t.”
“Ah, another do-gooder, are you? A shame, truly.” There was disappointment in his voice. “Alas, our time is up.”
Then he was simply gone, the four bodyguards flickering out of existence along with him. Chris racked her brains to make sense of Gentleman’s abrupt disappearance. Was it teleportation? As far as she knew, only the Australian rogue named Traveler had that kind of power set. Then again, she’d never even heard of a villain named Gentleman.
The Golem interrupted her musings by stirring into action. It released a continuous laser beam from a bazooka-sized extremity on its shoulder and aimed up. It had almost finished cutting a circular hole by the time Chris realized it was breaking through the concrete into the upper level. She wasn’t sure why the robot wasn’t going after her, but she guessed that Gentleman’s strange fascination with her might have something to do with it.
“Fuck you, Gentleman,” she muttered. “And fuck your little toy,
too.”
Chris projected a force field onto the Golem’s sleek metallic shoulder to interrupt the laser, but it was too late. The robot punched a fist the size of a washing machine through the two-foot thick solid concrete ceiling which separated the parking garage from the first-floor level.
Where the hell is it going? Chris wondered. Instinctively she created a larger force field to block the machine’s advance through the ceiling. The Golem made an effort to push through, to no avail.
With barely a pause, the robot extended its extremities to their full length and pounded away at the ceiling, landing many hits just beyond the edges of Chris’s force field. Try as she might, she couldn’t expand the barrier to cover the robot’s reach. More chunks of concrete crashed onto the floor around her.
It’s trying to get to street level. It wasn’t hard to imagine the havoc that the Golem could unleash on the neighborhood. Fear gripped at Chris’s throat.
She needed less than a second to regroup. She turned on her heel and dashed at max speed up the temporary metal stairway to the ground-floor level—although she wasn’t quite sure what she’d do when she got there. When she reached the ground floor, she was glad to see that no one else had stayed behind. Even the guards were gone. If she wasn’t capable of stopping the Golem, at least she would be the only one who got killed.
At that moment the Golem heaved its upper body through the ground level’s crumbling cement floor. Chris turned her attention to creating several force fields along the edges of the crater from where it emerged. The energy fields kept the robot’s extremities from latching onto anything solid. The thing lost its balance, and was slowly pulled back down by its own weight.
The Golem screeched, its massive limbs tearing the floor apart as it struggled unsuccessfully to get a handhold. By the time the Golem had finally slipped onto the car park pavement below, it had doubled the size of the crater in the ground level floor.
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