Cyrus sneered. “You’ve fucking ruined everything, Brownstone. I’m going to have to leave the country after this.” He gritted his teeth. “Why? Why? You never come to the fucking openings, and you chose this one to suddenly come to?” He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You damned bastard.”
James shrugged. “I needed to take a barbeque road trip, and it ended up that Nadina’s place was opening. So I’m gonna ask you again: where’s Nadina?” He punctuated his sentence with a loud growl.
A few of the men exchanged nervous glances.
Cyrus licked his lips. “We can cut you in, Brownstone. This doesn’t have to go down badly. Be reasonable.”
James barked a laugh. “You said it yourself back at the hotel, dumbass. I’ve got plenty of money. I don’t need yours.”
“You look like a freak in that armor close up,” Cyrus shouted. “I’ve seen it on the net, but you don’t even have eyes on your helmet. But we’ve got a few tricks, Brownstone, and if you’re not going to join the team, you’re going to die. This won’t be like the guys you killed at the house. We’ve got better weapons, and we weren’t sure what kind of weird magic crap might happen, so we’ve got some interesting toys.”
“This will go down exactly the same.” James stepped forward. “Everyone’s gonna die here today except you.”
Cyrus snorted, something approaching hope in his eyes. “Oh? You want to work a deal with me?”
“No. I still have a few questions for you. But for everyone else, it’s time to die.” James charged toward the flank of the enemy line.
Whispy’s approval radiated into James’ mind.
The loud, echoing sound of rifles spitting lead filled the room. The bullets bounced off James’ armor without him even noticing. A rocket hissed away from one man’s weapon and exploded against James, scorching the surface of his armor and knocking him to the side, but it only took him a few seconds to right himself. It wasn’t deadly, just an inconvenience.
His enemies took the opportunity to back away. More rockets and grenades exploded around James, annoying him by blinding him with smoke and debris from the damaged warehouse floor rather than doing much against his armor. His thick biometallic coating reduced the deadly attacks to tickles, not even the stings from before.
Maximum adaptation against all attack types, Whispy reported. No evidence of new adaptation potential. Increase efficiency of elimination.
Yeah, let’s do that.
James ignored the stream of bullets and jumped. He came down on top of a rifleman, the loud crunch of their collision weaving itself in with the cacophony of bullets. The man’s scream died in his throat as James caved in his chest.
The nearby mercenaries backed away, including one man with a grenade launcher who had yet to fire.
James let out a low growl as another rocket exploded on him.
The grenadier raised his weapon. “Suck on this!”
Everyone else ceased firing as the man launched two grenades in rapid succession.
Both grenades slammed into James and splattered a viscous green liquid all over the front of his armor. He looked down, confused by what had happened. There was only a slight sizzle on his armor, but it ate away at the floor when it dripped.
Oh, acid. That was their big plan? Pathetic.
Maximum adaptation already achieved, Whispy reported. Increased nullification and regeneration in progress.
The sizzling stopped.
James shook his head and sprinted toward the acid grenadier. The mercenary’s eyes widened, and he stumbled backward and raised his weapon.
James sliced his arm off. The man howled and fell to his knees, but his pain was short-lived since his opponent decapitated him a second later.
Increase efficiency! Whispy demanded.
The vengeful pitmaster didn’t hesitate, bounding from man to man, stabbing, slicing, and ripping. Blood splattered the hard cement of the warehouse floor as each man died. Their few last attacks didn’t even slow James.
Lip quivering, Cyrus dropped his weapon and ran for a hallway on the other side on the room. He reached into his pocket and muttered something under his breath.
Keep running, asshole. It won’t save you.
James finished the last of the mercenaries with a final stab through a rifleman’s heart. Cyrus turned a corner, his breathing ragged.
Enemy boasts of attack potential have proven unfounded, Whispy reported, irritation coming through the link.
Seems that way. This shit is over. Cyrus just doesn’t know it yet.
James sprinted after the other man, the echo of his heavy footsteps bouncing around the cavernous room. He hit the hallway and turned the corner, half-expecting some weird demon or death wand, not an open door to a mostly empty storeroom with a few stray crates scattered about.
Nadina was tied to a chair at the back of the room, a gag in place. Her eyes widened as she spotted the armored James coming for her, and she struggled against her bonds.
James marched into the room. Four crystal-tip tripods surrounded Nadina. He was no expert, but he suspected they were anti-magic emitters similar to the ones Alison’s enemies had tried to use on her.
Anti-magic emitters? Bribes? Mercenaries? Someone had put a lot of money into this shit. Maybe it was the HDL. Maybe they had bought a fucking clue on how to not get caught. Taking down a famous Oriceran might be enough.
Cyrus stood in the corner, his right hand curled tightly around something. “You’re a damned fool, Brownstone. A damned fool! You’re worse than her in some ways.” He gestured toward Nadina.
James pointed his blade at Cyrus. “All I wanted to do was taste some delicious barbeque and check out a friend’s new place. I didn’t bring this shit on you, and you’re only not dead because I might need to ask you some questions. You’re obviously not the brains behind this shit if someone else is paying you.”
Cyrus raised his arm and let out a giggle.
“Are you fucking losing it?” James rumbled.
“You think you’re the only one ever to run into serious trouble? You think you’re the only one with special toys?” Cyrus opened his hand. A purple glass bead rested in his palm. “This is a little something I picked up years ago. Something I saved in case I ever ended up in trouble with something I couldn’t take out. Kind of my last resort. Seems kind of appropriate to use it now.” He gripped it in his fingers and cocked back his arm. “Now, here’s how this shit is going to go, Brownstone. You’re going to get out of the armor, I’m going to tie you up with Nadina, and I’m going to leave. If you try to stop me, you’re going to feel the power of this little baby, and I’ll go down as the man who killed James Brownstone.”
Accept attack for possible adaptation, Whispy sent.
James grunted.
Not like I was planning on running away, he thought. I doubt this fucker can hurt me.
“Whatever.” James shrugged and charged Cyrus.
The traitorous security chief yelled and threw the pebble. It struck James when he was only a yard away. A bright purple flash blinded James, and a cloud of violet-black particles shot from the impact site.
The force of the blast sent James back, and he smashed through the wall with a grunt. Pain suffused his chest.
James sat up on one knee. His armor was pitted, with deep holes reaching the skin underneath in many cases.
Yessss, Whispy sent. Adaptation in progress. Excellent. Moderate damage. Regeneration in progress. Primary combat efficiency unimpeded. Engage target for additional potential adaptation.
Pretty sure he doesn’t have another one, James responded.
James grimaced and climbed through the hole in the wall. Cyrus had managed to actually hurt him, which was impressive, but he hadn’t finished James, which meant it was his turn to respond.
“Well, fuck,” James rumbled as he looked at Cyrus. “I still had questions for him.”
The security chief was slumped against the wall with deep burns all over the f
ront of his body, his eyes open in a death stare and his chest unmoving.
“Shit!” James spun toward Nadina.
She lay on her side, still tied to the chair, struggling against her bonds. Her green uniform was dotted with scorch marks and holes, but she didn’t appear to be seriously injured.
Huh. Those anti-magic emitters saved her life. Funny how that shit worked out.
They had also been knocked over, and there were streams of dark smoke rising from them.
James hurried over to slice through the ropes with his claws.
Nadina stood, wobbling for a few seconds before yanking the gag out of her mouth and tossing it to the ground. “Are you okay, James?” She frowned as she eyed his armor.
James nodded. The pain had significantly lessened, and most of the holes in his armor were partially sealed. “I’m fine.” He marched over to Cyrus’ body and ripped into his pocket with his claws.
Nadina’s expression turned disgusted. “What are you doing?”
James found Cyrus’ phone. It was a little scorched around the edges, but it still was on and had bars. He stood and returned to Nadina, holding out the phone. “My phone’s in my truck if you prefer to use that one. Go ahead and call the cops. They’re probably swarming around my hotel still.”
Nadina glanced at Cyrus and sighed. “It’s pathetic, really. This was all so unnecessary.”
“What? Him taking me on? Yeah.” James shrugged. “Desperate times and shit.”
Nadina shook her head. “No, his betrayal. He didn’t reveal who he was working for, but he made it very clear this wasn’t part of an ideological crusade. He did it simply for the money. He even admitted it wasn’t that I paid him poorly, and now look, he’s lost his life. What a waste.”
“We all get what’s coming to us in the end.”
James was faintly surprised by Nadina’s calm reaction. He had to remind himself that just because she looked young didn’t mean she was. She had lived more than twice as long as he had, and even if she hadn’t been a bounty hunter, that left plenty of decades to experience the darkness and greed of multiple species. Oriceran was many things, but it was not a peaceful utopia.
He motioned to the hall. “Let’s get the hell out of here. My infomancer can hack his phone, and maybe we can figure out who he was working for from that.”
Nadina chuckled as she followed him. “I don’t think most of my friends in the barbeque community could have rescued me from a group of heavily-armed thugs. You truly are a man of multiple talents.”
James snickered as they headed down the hall to the main warehouse floor, but then he heard something clanking outside the loading bay door.
What the hell is that?
James threw up a hand and nodded to the corridor. “Something’s wrong. You should hide. I don’t think it’s over.”
Nadina lifted her chin, a haughty pride he hadn’t seen before on her face. “I’m a Light Elf. I’m not completely defenseless. They don’t have their anti-magic toys in the entire pl—”
A huge explosion blew a hole in the loading bay door, littering the ground with smoking bits of aluminum shrapnel.
“Fuck,” James rumbled. “This shit just never ends.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Three suits of power armor marched through the hole, one with a heavy machine gun, another with a railgun, and a third with a rotary rocket launcher and a large silver blade crackling with blue-white energy.
James grunted. “Are you an elf who can take on power armor? Just do some invisibility shit, go to the truck, and let me do my thing. You might be a great pitmaster, but I’m a great pitmaster and ass-kicker. Multiple talents, remember?”
Nadina laughed and backed into the hall. “We should really open a restaurant together, James. It would be glorious.”
“I’m good with one.” James shrugged. “My keys are in the truck. You can drive away while I’m taking them on.”
Nadina shook her head. “I’m not running. I have faith in you.” She raised her hands, half-closing her eyes. Her incantations came out as layered melodies, and she vanished.
Low probability of adaptation potential, Whispy reported, but non-zero. Engage and kill enemies.
The comments were tinged with hope.
James snickered.
This is the most fun you’ve had in a couple of years, he sent.
Adaptation strengthens host. Mutually beneficial.
The men in power armor had ceased their advance, but they aimed their weapons at James.
James growled. “I’m starting to get kind of pissy.” He gestured toward the dead bodies. “And as you can see, when I get pissy, people die. I don’t know what all this is about, but as far as I can see, it involves you fucking with barbeque, which makes me extra angry.”
“Then we agree on something very important.” A white-haired man stepped through the smoking hole in the loading bay door. He waved his hand to get some of the smoke out of his face.
James stared for a few seconds, having trouble understanding what he was seeing. “Wait, aren’t you Atticus Taylor?”
The man nodded. “Indeed, I am, Mr. Brownstone. Indeed, I am. I’m pleased you recognize me.” He smiled. “I have to say I’ve always been a big fan. We’ve not met before. I don’t compete in the same places you do, but you’re an inspiration to both the world of barbeque and just simple law and order.” He laughed. “Everyone always says you’re retired, but then…” He gestured to James. “Well, I never thought I’d be able to see the famous magic armor up close. It’s even more impressive in person.”
The armored suits spread out slightly.
James grunted and ignored another death request from Whispy. “You’re not getting a fucking autograph after all this shit. What’s this even about? I thought it didn’t have anything to do with the HDL, but was I wrong?”
“The HDL?” Atticus grimaced. “Those whiny, short-sighted idiots?” He snorted. “Of course not. They were useful patsies, although this whole thing ended up far more expensive than I’d planned. Mercenaries, bribes, blah, blah, blah.” He shook his head. “It sounded so cool in my head when I thought about everything, but the expenses just kept piling up.” He sighed. “Oh, well. That’s business for you.”
“I don’t get it,” James replied. “If this isn’t about HDL, why did you do all this? You New Veil?”
Atticus flinched as if struck. “Don’t ever associate with me those psychotic murderers. And let me make it clear: I’ve got nothing against magic or Oricerans. I don’t give two shits about politics or Oricerans, other than how they affect my business.”
“You just ranted about how you had to spend a ton of money to fuck over Nadina.” James glanced down the hallway, wondering if she was there or if she had taken his advice and gone for the truck. “I don’t get it.”
“I didn’t spend all this money because I’m a bigot. I spent all this money because I have a lot more money on the line.” Atticus sighed. “I’m a wealthy man, Mr. Brownstone. I was before I started my first restaurant. I’m wealthy because I’m smart and take my opportunities. I’ve slowly expanded my restaurant presence, developed a brand, and reached out to partners. Come on, we both know barbeque chains are a hard thing to spread out compared to burger joints. But I put in my work, slowly and steadily, and then Little Miss Hot Elf shows up in town.” He snorted. “She got famous originally because she won a damned reality tv show.”
James snorted. “I saw your weak-ass interview. Nadina opening up one place isn’t gonna destroy your business.”
“Yes, it will.” Atticus sighed. “You don’t understand because you’ve only got one place, but my effort was finally coming to fruition. Being wealthy and being able to afford a nationwide rollout are two different things. I’ve got investors lined up who are going to help expand my restaurants under a franchise model into every damned state within five years. We’re talking hundreds of restaurants, and probably a thousand within ten years. Barbeque will become syn
onymous with Atticus Taylor. With me!”
“I still don’t get what any of that shit has to do with Nadina.”
Atticus curled his hands into fists. “She sashays in here, and suddenly my investors are talking about how she’s taking up all the oxygen. If I can’t even be the top place in Denver, how the hell are we supposed to take us nationwide? That sort of thing.” He scoffed. “I’ve been working on this deal for the last two years, and they suddenly have cold feet? They even knew she was opening a place, and they didn’t care, but when she actually announced the opening date a few months ago, they said they wanted to table the deal for a year and see what happened.” He gritted his teeth. “That was not acceptable!”
Intelligence collection sufficient, Whispy suggested. Terminate enemy.
I’m trying to give Nadina time to get away. If I fight those armored suits and she’s nearby, she could get hurt.
James didn’t move. The power-armored mercs still had their weapons trained on him.
“So this was all because of some big business deal?” James laughed. “Seriously?”
“Not just a big business deal, a deal that would make a lot of money and secure my position in the barbeque and restaurant communities.” Atticus pointed at James. “Competitions aren’t everything, you know.” He sniffed disdainfully. “Yeah, so what if I’m not as dynamic or whatever in my saucing as a lot of people? People like my fucking food and recipes, and that’s what’s important.”
James shrugged. “Not disagreeing.”
He almost laughed. There was something absurd about him in extended advanced mode facing off against three armored mercs while a man ranted about barbeque.
After a few seconds, James changed his mind. He was going to have to kick the man’s ass, but a guy causing trouble over barbeque was at least something he could relate to. It was better than dealing with the Vax or a weird interplanetary cabal.
“One thing I don’t get is why you even care about this business deal,” James explained. “You have money. Why do you need more? How rich do you need to be?”
Road Trip: BBQ And A Brawl (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 19) Page 18