Betrayal

by J. D. Cunegan

  It was a shock, yet it made all the sense in the world.

  "I gotta say," Gregor added, approaching Jill from behind, "I did not see that coming."

  Jill's eyes were glued to the TV, her hands balled into fists so tight they were shaking. In fact, her entire body shook. She sucked in a deep breath in the hopes she could hide the shaking from the man behind her, but she was practically trembling. "You're lying."

  "Please." Gregor chuckled and shook his head. "I'm smart, but I'm not that smart. Whatever this is... it goes way beyond me."

  Finally tearing her gaze away from the monitor, Jill pursed her lips and turned toward Gregor. Her stomach rumbled the way it always did when she saw his face, but her brow scrunched in confusion when she saw him hovering over her. He was lying. He had to be. Everything in this damn city went back to him, didn't it? Especially when someone named Andersen was involved. Gregor being on The Collective's radar was just a misdirect, she was sure of it. Every investigative instinct she had practically screamed it.

  "Then why are you here?"

  "Because." He peeled off his dress shirt and tossed it to the floor, revealing muscles Jill didn’t even realize he had. "You and I have unfinished business."

  Before Jill could react, Gregor punched her in the face. His right fist made solid contact with her nose, and the billionaire couldn't keep the smile off his face as he watched her skid along the floor and slam against the wall. The katana slipped out of her hand. Clattered against the floor. She hit with such force that she left a dent in the drywall.

  Gregor stole a quick glance at his fist, chuckling under his breath before looking up to see Jill struggling to get back to her knees.

  Jill was too stunned to feel any pain. She could feel the blood running from her nose, and when some of it pooled in her mouth, she spat it back out before finally pushing back to her feet. She stared at Gregor, unable to move. He approached again, stopping only to kick the sword further out of reach.

  "You won't use that on me," Gregor said. "And even if you did... well, good luck."

  He then charged, closing the distance far quicker than Jill anticipated. She barely ducked the blow his right fist was looking to deliver, sweeping her left leg out to kick his feet out from underneath. Gregor landed hard on his back with little more than a grunt, rolling to the side before Jill could hit him in the stomach with the hilt.

  Gregor was back on his feet before Jill could right herself. He tackled her. The back of her head hit the floor, leaving another dent. The weapon was well out of reach, but Jill stretched for it anyway, which was when Gregor grabbed her wrist. The pressure was enough to cut off blood flow, and Jill grit her teeth at the effort of trying to free herself. Gregor's hand would not budge.

  But Jill still had another hand.

  She swung her left arm as hard as she could, biting her lip with the effort and letting out a grunt when her leather-clad fist connected with Gregor's jaw. The force of the blow was enough to send Gregor reeling, to cut the skin along his cheek. He braced himself against the conference table, pausing long enough to catch his breath. The loose skin on his cheek was an annoyance, but he smiled before turning his head to face Jill again. The look she gave him was priceless.

  Because she saw silver.

  "No," she whispered. Her heart leapt into her throat. Her knees buckled. The worst nightmare she didn't even realize she had was now standing in front of her. "This can't... you didn't..."

  "Oh, but I did," Gregor said, reaching up to tear enough skin off to reveal an eyeplate of his own. He hissed in pain yet relished in the feeling. Whereas Jill's was on the left, Gregor's was on the right – and he was far more gruesome than anything Terminator could ever accomplish. Jill recoiled as best she could with trembling limbs, and the stark reality sat heavy in her gut.

  She had hated him. She had felt depths of rage she could never express at the sight of his face. But this was the first time Jill had ever felt fear in Gregor's presence.

  Jill grabbed for her sword and finally stood, backing up as Gregor approached.

  "What's the matter?" Gregor taunted. "Not feeling so special anymore?"

  "Project Fusion is dead," Jill argued, swallowing back a fit of panic when she found herself backed up against a wall. "It died with Dr. Roberts."

  "You know that's not true." Gregor punched the wall mere inches from Jill's head, grinning from ear to ear when his fist buried in the drywall and she flinched. The fear in her eyes was intoxicating, and he savored the way she quivered before him. It wasn't that long ago, she had accosted him in this very conference room, pinning him to the table and almost stabbing him with that blasted sword of hers.

  Oh, how delicious it was to be on the other end of it.

  Gregor was so busy enjoying the moment, he hadn't noticed Jill moving her legs until he felt her combat boot slam into his crotch. Gritting his teeth, the billionaire doubled over and cupped himself with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut. Jill's fist then collided with his chin. The blow sent him airborne, and when he landed on the conference table, it shattered and splintered underneath him.

  "I know they didn't put titanium on those," she quipped.

  It took a few moments for Gregor to regain feeling in his legs. Shards of wood stuck into his back. The pain had been so overwhelming that it took precedence over all other sensation. But as Gregor got back to his knees, Jill flung herself at him, tackling him back to the floor and slamming the back of his head against the surface. A metallic sound rang out, and Gregor laughed when he felt Jill pressing her left forearm against his windpipe.

  "Trying to break my neck?" he teased, his infrared eye starting to glow.

  "Maybe I should," Jill said through gritted teeth. "Everything you've done to me..."

  "You should be thanking me. If it wasn't for my money, you wouldn't be able to run around playing superhero."

  Jill punched Gregor in the face again. "You corrupted my father!"

  "Are you sure about that?" Gregor laughed and spit out the blood in his mouth, casting a quick glance at the flat screen. "Seems like he was involved in something a lot deeper, a lot worse, than me."

  "You told him to kill those people!" Another punch, the sound of metal on metal. "You paid him all that money!"

  "And yet there he is," Gregor pointed over Jill's shoulder to the monitor, ignoring the blood dripping from his nose. "Killing more people."

  Jill's fist slammed into Gregor's nose again. Then again. One more time after that, and three more to follow, until a primal scream spilled from Jill's lungs and she slammed both fists against Gregor's windpipe. He was in pain, but where Jill had hoped for a satisfying crack, she was greeted only by more metal clanging. No matter how hard she pushed, no matter how many punches she threw, the worst Jill could do was bruise him.

  "You wanna know why your father did my bidding?" There was so much blood on Gregor's face that it stained his eyeplate. Yet he couldn't help but chuckle. "Because by the time I got to him, he'd already had the taste of blood."

  "No." Jill shook her head, tears burning her right eye. She slammed her fist into Gregor's nose again. "It's not true!"

  "I got everything out of your father I never could out of Detective Richards," Gregor boasted, pulling Jill's hands from his neck and headbutting her in the forehead. As soon as her weight lifted off him, Gregor sprung to his feet and cracked his knuckles. The way Jill recoiled at the sound brought another devious smile to his face. "I corrupted the best cop this city's ever had—and now, the second-best cop's gonna be a trophy on my wall."

  Jill caught the fist that was aimed at her face, using her free hand to try and break Gregor's arm at the elbow. But the limb refused to budge, and Jill yelped when Gregor grabbed her by the back of her head and lifted her off the ground.

  "I have dreamed of this day," he muttered, tossing Jill clear through the wall. "You have proven to be quite the adversary. Tossed you out a window, you survived. Sent a mysterious cabal after you, you brought them
all down. Sic'd another Project Fusion success story after you, you made them your buddy before they took the coward’s way out."

  For all the physical pain Jill felt, the emotional toll was worse. The revelation that her father was alive and killing, part of The Collective, was a bitter pill to swallow—and the fact that David Gregor was now her physical equal, having undergone the same procedure she did...

  For the first time, Jill wasn't sure she would survive this.

  Part of her didn't want to.

  Gregor picked up her sword, tracing the blade over his fingertip and studying the surface of the blade. "This is exquisite," he said. "Tell me... has this thing ever torn through human flesh?"

  Sucking in a deep breath, Jill got back to her feet and kept her posture as straight as she could. Rubble pooled at her feet. Blood trickled down the side of her face, and she could feel another wound oozing on her right leg. She blinked back the tears and willed her limbs not to shake. She was not going to give David Gregor the satisfaction of seeing her hurt or scared. This was not who Bounty was. This was not behavior befitting the mystique of her alter ego.

  Fact was, Gregor didn't deserve fear. He deserved nothing.

  "Knowing you?" Gregor pursed his lips. "This thing's just for show." He approached until he was directly in front of Jill, pinning her up against the wall. He smiled at her and lightly trailed the tip of the blade over her midsection. "Wouldn't it be something if the first blood this weapon spilled was yours? I could gut you right now..."

  "Do it." Jill set her jaw and stepped back into the conference room. Flakes of drywall fell from her shoulders. "Be a man for once in your life and do it yourself."

  Shifting his weight onto his back foot, Gregor lifted his chin and tightened his grip on the katana. He held eye contact with Jill the entire time, his jaw set. For the flicker of a moment, Jill thought he might actually go through with it. The pulse of fear that came with that realization was nothing compared to the shock of it all—but before Jill could register what happened, she heard the weapon scatter along the floor and saw Gregor walking away.

  She shook her head and pushed herself off the wall. "You fucking coward."

  "What you call cowardice," Gregor said with a shrug, "I call pragmatism."

  Jill swiped the blade off the floor, twirling it in her grasp before slamming the butt of the weapon into the back of Gregor's head. He stumbled forward before righting himself, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he put up his arms in a show of surrender.

  "Pretty sure," he began, pausing to gulp down a labored breath. "Pretty sure killing a federal agent wouldn't be good for me."

  "Never stopped you before."

  "I'm not the monster you think I am," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "I never have been."

  Jill sheathed her sword before coming around in front of Gregor, kicking him in the chest before straddling him. Using the heft her skeleton provided, she pinned him to the floor, wrapping both hands around his neck. She squeezed—not hard enough to constrict his airway, but just hard enough to make him think she might. When he grinned in response, she backhanded him as hard as she could. He laughed. And much to Jill's shame, the desire to kill him only grew.

  Instead, she slammed her elbow into his nose again. The combined weight of their skeletons caused the floor to buckle under Gregor's back. Jill pressed down on Gregor then, her legs tightening their hold on either side of his midsection. She belted out the loudest, harshest scream she could muster—all those years of pain and torment and rage coming out seemingly for the first time.

  Her fists were a blur as they pounded Gregor's flesh. Blood caked onto her leather gloves. Gregor's face turned several different shades of purple and black. There were no broken bones, but she would make do with the damage she could.

  It wasn't as if Jill had never mourned her father. She had mourned him for more than a decade before his execution. And though she had mourned him in a different way in death, realizing he had committed those crimes made the ache easier to bear. Not that her father's death didn't hurt—it did—but knowing from a legal perspective he actually deserved it was a salve.

  But this, the first time she could truly take on David Gregor face-to-face? Therapeutic didn't even begin to describe it.

  "It's too bad Piotr's dead," she said, slamming the back of Gregor's head against the floor. "He wanted nothing more than to tear you limb from limb."

  "I see—" Gregor bit down against the pain, blood pouring down his face. "I see how it is. You won't kill me, but you won't stop someone else from doing it." He smiled as best he could through the blinding pain. "Who's the coward now?"

  Jill's next punch caught Gregor in the throat. His eyes bulged and his hands went to his neck. He gagged and coughed with such force that he sat upright, which was when Jill stood and kicked him as hard as she could in the chin. He fell back again, unconscious, and the ringing of metal on metal that came from the blow still rang in Jill's ears. She stared at Gregor as she gathered her breath, hands balled into fists so tight that they shook. Part of her wanted to grab that sword and finish this, knowing full well she would never find peace so long as Gregor was around... but she couldn't.

  If she did that, who was she? Certainly not who she thought she was, probably no better than The Collective. Jill glanced up at the monitor, which was still frozen on her father's face. She ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach, storming out of the shattered conference room. Someone had answers. Someone knew what the hell was going on; for some reason, she wasn't as convinced Gregor was behind this as she had been.

  After all, he had been a target too.

  But what about Paul? Was that actually Paul, or was it a disgustingly elaborate ruse? Standing around stewing in her anger wasn't going to solve anything. Jill had to figure out who The Collective was and how to bring them down—and then she would have to deal with the fact that her enemy was now like her in an important, disturbing way.

  It was the sort of thing that made Jill wonder if being a vigilante was worth it anymore.

  CHAPTER 36

  The combo sucker punch of seeing her father again and having to fight David Gregor left Jill far worse for wear than she had thought upon escaping. No sooner had she left the conference room and escaped from the Transamerica Tower, the weight of it all pushed on Jill so much that she had to stop in a dark, nondescript alley and take a few moments to herself. Almost immediately, the tears built in her human eye and trickled down her cheek. Her first instinct was to fight them off. Hold them back until they burned the corners of her eye and finally faded back into nothing.

  But they were streaming down Jill's cheek before she realized she was crying, and she dropped to her knees with her back against the wall.

  Jill had never been much of a crier, even when she was a child. Not that she ever kept herself from crying for the sake of appearance; she simply had seldom felt the need to cry. But occasionally, the enormity of circumstance would overwhelm her to the point of tears. It had happened during the Trent Roberts investigation, when Jill was certain her secret was going to get out no matter what, and apparently, it was happening again. But if she couldn't cry over her murderous father's return and the fact that her arch nemesis had undergone the same experiment she had, when could she cry?

  Besides, it wasn't like anyone could see her right now.

  Though Ramon being around would've been nice. They were seeing far less of each other than she had hoped when she offered him the FBI job. They were partners and friends, but so far, they were doing far more solo work than she had hoped. Assuming Jill survived this ordeal, she would have to have a talk with McDermott about that. He clearly needed a reminder of what partners were.

  Fishing for the burner phone tucked away in her boot, Jill swiped at her face with her free hand. Calling Ramon seemed like the thing to do. After all, he was not only her partner but also her best friend, and if there was anyone she would actually allow to see her this vulnerable, he made the
short list. But he was working this case just as hard as she had been, if not harder, and she didn't want him pushing himself even further on her behalf.

  And Brian... well, there was no telling how he would react to seeing Paul again. If he had seen the transmission. The fact that she didn't have any calls or messages from him told her he hadn't. It was bad enough Brian was a target, but this?

  Her heart dropped and a sob escaped the back of her throat; the last thing she wanted was for her younger brother to have to see their father alive and killing again. She honestly didn't know if he would be able to handle it.

  That left just one person whose contact information had been stored in the phone. Jill had barely spoken to Captain Richards in weeks, since learning of the less savory things he had done over the years in her name. Spilled blood was bad enough—spilled blood on her behalf was something Jill didn't need on her conscience. She had thought Richards virtuous, everything her father hadn't been. But if he had taken lives of his own, what made Richards any different?

  That Richards had killed the wicked didn't make what he did okay. No justification would ever be enough.

  Not to mention, she was tired of Richards protecting her without her permission. Jill didn't need him going around her back like this. She'd never asked for that. Her battles were her own.

  Still... who else could she trust right now?

  Certainly not Agent McDermott. He may have been her boss—in as much that she had a boss while working for a secretive, fully autonomous federal task force—but that didn't mean she wouldn't keep him at arm's length until he had fully proven himself.

  Before Jill could stop herself, she called Richards.

  It took seven rings before Richards' voicemail picked up. Jill cursed under her breath, having forgotten that Richards wasn't even in town. He and most of the other upper administrative people in the Baltimore Police Department had skipped town after Commissioner Saunders' murder. Jill shook her head, smiling at the knowledge that leaving town had likely been the last thing he wanted to do.