by T. C. Edge
The man tried to lift his weapon and fire, but Mikel was on him in a flash. He reached out, turning the man’s neck so easily between his arms. The loud crunch of his snapping neck was extremely satisfying, made more so by the shock that spread across the faces of the final, fleeing stragglers.
Mikel grinned at them, the guard’s neck turned backwards on his body, and dropped the corpse to the floor. He lifted his weapon and pointed it forwards. The three technicians ahead stood immobilised, paralysed by fear.
“Where is your commander?” Mikel asked calmly. His voice had a reasonable hiss, though still didn’t sound very threatening. He cocked his head. “I’ll give you three seconds, then you die. Colonel Slattery - where is he?”
The technicians quivered before him.
“Three…”
They shut their eyes, arms wrapping around themselves, cowering.
“Two…”
Eyes tightened, scrunching.
“One and a half…”
An arm shot up, pointing down the corridor. It belonged to a young man, skin pale, eyes stark. He looked up, finger shaking.
“He…went…that way,” he said, voice shuddering.
Mikel sighed and shook his head.
“Coward,” he hissed.
Then he shot all three dead.
He turned and headed the other way, moving quickly out into the morning light at the rear of the building. He looked left and right. Nothing. Towards the north, alpha squad sounded as though they were having a blast. There were said to be a hundred plus soldiers on the base. Surely they’d put up a decent fight…
He headed in that direction, crossing through the centre of the base. Across an expansive courtyard, he saw a wide, flat building, fronted by an enormous door. The door was open, revealing the shapes of several jets within, tucked away in the shadows.
And one was rolling out into the sun.
Slattery sat in the cockpit of the sparrow, hunkered down low. Jason, next to him, sat in the pilot’s chair, full of surprises.
“I didn’t realise you could fly, soldier,” said Slattery, glancing over.
“I know the basics, sir,” said Jason. “These things really aren’t that difficult to operate with today’s autopilot systems.”
The jet was rolling out of the hanger, its thrusters purring loudly, pouring blue fire. Behind them, their soldier escort sat, weapon trained on the door. The battle raging over at the barracks hadn’t appeared to move just yet. With a little luck, they’d manage to get airborne before anyone knew they were here.
Just another minute or so…
The jet continued to move from the shadows, its engines humming more loudly. Slattery gazed out upon the courtyard around them, narrow eyes searching for pursuers. He could just about see the command centre from here, and the bodies lying outside. Many were dead, yet many others had escaped the slaughter.
Some were apparently seeking refuge elsewhere, darting into other parts of the base. Other brave souls were checking the fallen for signs of life. Others still were coming this way, moving for the hanger in hopes of escaping.
All of it made Slattery feel shameful. Every. Last. Bit.
“Stop,” he said suddenly, turning to Jason.
Jason glanced over, but didn’t listen.
“Lieutenant, that’s an order!” barked Slattery. He lifted his hand to the window, pointing. “We can’t leave those people. I can’t leave them, soldier.”
Jason seemed to notice them coming for the first time. He scanned the courtyard, though didn’t stop from moving the jet into position. Then his eyes darkened.
“Sir…we have no choice.” His voice was clotted, haunted. Slattery followed his eyes and saw the shape of a black-clad soldier coming from the distance, from around the rear of the command centre.
He drew a sharp breath, turning back to the soldier behind them.
“Do you have a spare firearm, soldier?” he asked.
The man nodded, drawing a pistol from his hip. He handed it over.
“Colonel,” said Jason. “I’m not stopping the jet.”
Slattery didn’t listen. He moved from his seat and made for the door, nodding for the soldier to accompany him. They took position on either side of it, before he slammed his hand down on the controls, opening it outward.
A sweep of cool morning air rushed inside, the sound of gunfire, of screaming, growing suddenly louder. The soldier in black kept on coming, moving gracefully across the enormous central courtyard, heading right for them.
Slattery lifted his pistol, aimed, and began firing. The guard across the doorway did the same, his automatic rifle rather more effective. The black intruder swerved his step, moving left and right, but still closing in. He seemed to glide, to almost skip along with glee, revelling in the conflict.
Those fleeing across the courtyard kept on coming, several crouching lower as the gunfire began. The man in black seemed to notice them. Running, he casually raised a pistol from his waist.
And began shooting.
“No!” Slattery bellowed, sickened heart thrashing at the sight.
One by one, the residents of the base fell with frightening speed. A single shot was all it took, cutting through hearts and heads alike. The intruder still came at speed, firing, running, killing. Not caring.
A dozen were killed in mere moments.
Anyone else coming their way swerved off in other directions, seeking cover and scurrying into the shadows. Slattery turned his eyes back towards the man in black, and began firing once more, hoping to slow him.
The jet began to lift, creeping off the ground. Slattery fired. The soldier fired next to him. The man in black hurried onwards, slowed but not stopped, darting laterally to his sides, ducking low, leaping over bullets as if he could see them coming. How were they not hitting? At this range…how?
He loomed closer, then raised his own weapon. A series of rapid fire shots began to chime against metal, some clanging on the outside of the jet, others speeding inside. One hit with a different sound - a thud and squelching burst. Slattery turned to his left to see the soldier’s neck split open, blood gushing forth from the bullet wound. His eyes flared and he watched the man drop his rifle to the floor, hands reaching to close the wound.
Slattery knew, in a split second, that it would be no use.
It was instinct to try to stave off death, but in such situations there was no holding it back. The blood came in spurts, squeezing out between his fingers. Slattery watched for a moment in horror, the jet still rising, before turning his eyes back towards the square. He knew there was nothing he could do for the man. Nothing he could do for anyone…
The man in black was there, beneath them, close now. So close. He looked up, legs bending into a crouch, as if preparing to leap up through the open door.
No, that was impossible. They were almost thirty feet off the ground…
The next few moments happened in a raging blur. The man leapt, surging skyward as if able to fly. Slattery, at the same time, grabbed the rifle from the floor of the jet, raising it for the opening, and fired. The man’s frame appeared before him, black, broad, strong.
But in the air, he could no longer swerve, no longer move. He couldn’t avoid what was coming his way.
The burst of gunfire from Slattery’s rifle hit him in the chest, knocking him backwards as his fingers reached out to grab the old colonel. His eyes widened behind that mask of his, his frame knocked back, hanging in the air a moment, before plummeting back to the earth with a heavy thud.
He hit, punching a cloud of dust from the ground as he landed flush on his back. Slattery watched him for a moment as the jet continued to rise, staring at this man, this…creature. For a moment, he lay motionless.
And then the creature stood…
What are you? Slattery thought, eyes shaped in shock and wonder.
The man in black just gazed up, watching as the jet fled away into the misty skies. And then, in a shot, he sped suddenly towards the n
orth, disappearing from sight.
The sparrow lifted further, rising quickly now, entering into the low mist. The base came into view, the scope of the devastation clear. Bodies, dozens, hundreds of them, lay everywhere.
To the north, the barracks were aflame, little black figures slaying his soldiers like lumberjacks felling saplings. To the south, the command centre was a blackened ruin, fire now pouring from its windows, smoke billowing high into the air.
He looked down and he knew - Project Dawn was no more. The Crimson Corps was destroyed.
And then, as the jet rose further, it moved through the veil of the cloaking field, and the base disappeared from view.
Replaced by the sight of a tranquil forest, a lie to hide the terror within.
98
Chloe and Nadia stood either side of Tanner, staring at his unwrapped face, muted expressions of relief and - oddly, given the situation, happiness - hovering upon their faces.
Another day of healing had, by the looks of things, done the world of good, his nanites working like absolute troopers. The inflammation was entirely gone, his scars more tightly closed. The obvious red lines that had marked him the previous day had now dulled significantly. In time, they’d fade to white, and several may disappear entirely. The deeper, more vicious lacerations would remain a problem, but still…it was so much better than they’d hoped for. So much better than they’d expected.
They looked at each other, smiling, almost beaming. Yes, he was still scarred, maybe even quite badly in places, but those ruts on his flesh would become roguish in time. Hell, they might even suit him one day.
Wishful thinking, perhaps, but right now both girls were trying their damnedest to stay positive.
“OK,” said Nadia, breath catching nervously in her throat. “Let’s…find out what he thinks.”
She gently drove a syringe into his neck, pumping in a drug to wake him. The heavy sedative she’d administered the previous night had been plenty to keep him out, and neither wanted to wait for him to wake up naturally like last time.
As the drug swam quickly through his body, his limbs stirred and his left eye flickered. After a few fluttered beats of his eyelashes, it opened fully, staring straight up. For a moment, Chloe felt her nerves beat louder. That staring expression had the same dull quality as the previous day - that detached gaze that had so upset Nadia, and Chloe too.
The girls watched on nervously for a moment in silence. Then he blinked a couple of times, as if escaping a reverie, withdrawing from his induced dreams. His gaze hovered, working to the side, and then settled on Nadia’s gorgeous, inviting face, eyes glinting, mouth curved into a hopeful smile.
He looked at her for a moment, they whispered a single word.
“Sorry.”
Nadia frowned.
“Sorry…for what?” she croaked, leaning in.
Tanner sat up on the table, easing himself into a rather sunken, deflated posture. Nadia took a grip of his hand, squeezing tight.
“What?” she pressed. “What are you sorry about?”
He shook his head, eyes low.
“I never want to see you hurt,” he said, chin to his chest. He gingerly lifted a hand to his face. “This…hurts you.”
“Cliff…” Nadia whispered. “I…
She hugged him tight, drawing him close. He rested his chin on her shoulder, arms weakly reaching around her back. Chloe stepped away, retreating from the private moment. She reached to the side to pick up a mirror in preparation.
After a few moments, Nadia drew back, eyes damp with tears. She smiled and sniffed, wiping her nose. Then she kissed Tanner on the lips, a firm, full kiss. Not that of a friend, but more. So much more.
Tanner melted into it for a moment, then remembered himself, and drew away.
“Don’t,” he said. “I don’t want the pity.”
“It’s not pity,” said Nadia, voice soft, yet firm. She looked up to Chloe and nodded. “Look, see for yourself.”
Chloe brought the mirror forward, positioning it ahead of Tanner for him to look into. He shook his head, closed his good eye, and turned away.
“I don’t want to,” he said. “I’d rather just…”
“Look!” said Nadia again, more of an order this time.
Tanner’s eye opened up, staring away to one side. His face coiled into a grimace, neck twisted off, unwilling to turn.
“Jeez, Cliff,” said Nadia. She grabbed the mirror, and pulled it in front of his face in a quick motion. His eye slammed shut again in response, though just a split second too late.
It crept open again, tentative. Then it opened much wider, lips parting, frown falling.
He stared at himself for a long, long while, though it wasn’t the same as before. His eye seemed to actually move this time, as if inspecting every scar, every change to his marginally misshapen face.
Eventually, he closed his mouth, and shook his head.
“Well, I’m still hideous,” he said. “But I guess not as hideous as I was yesterday.”
Was that…a grin?
Chloe’s felt her insides warm - no, blaze - at that sight. Never before had such a tiny, minuscule hint of a smile given her such joy. She could only imagine what it meant to Nadia.
The Texan displayed her joy by enveloping him into another hug, wrapping him up tighter than before.
“You’re still beautiful, Cliff,” she whispered. “And it’ll get better still…much better. In time.”
Tanner’s eye moved to Chloe, who ducked away awkwardly.
“And you…what do you think?” he asked her. She looked up. He still held that signature grin.
“Me?” she asked.
“Sure. Tell me straight, Phantom. Am I beautiful?” Yes, that sarcastic tone was making a comeback.
Chloe felt like playing along. She felt - no, she knew - that was what he wanted, what he needed.
“Er…no,” she said bluntly. “Scratch that. Hell no. Let’s face it, Cliff…you were never beautiful. Honestly, this doesn’t change much. You know what they say about polishing a…”
“Chloe!” said Nadia, staring at her. She opened her eyes wide, palms out, questioning frown on her face. “What did we talk about.”
Chloe smirked.
“He can take it. Right Tanner?”
Tanner shrugged.
“I’m guessing this is comeuppance for all my teasing over the years. I just knew it was going to come back to haunt me one day. With this face, now I can do the haunting…”
Nadia was shaking her head, completely befuddled.
“You’re taking this very well,” she said. “Are you sure you’re OK.”
“Babe, you know what they say. If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. I’ve got two options as I see it - I can either mope around, or accept what’s happened. I’m not sure where option one gets me. And yeah, I know I was, um…a little down yesterday. But, sure, this is much better, like you say. I’m sure I’ll learn to live with it…”
He smiled again, forcing the expression a bit this time, and glanced over at Nadia. Her eyes were still hooded, as though she could see right through him. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps this was just an act, his way of dealing with things. Either way, Chloe for one was happier for this reaction. It beat the one from yesterday, at least.
She smiled as she looked at him, though tried not to stare. Yes, the scarring was obvious, and yes it would almost certainly get him down from time to time, maybe more.
But hell was it good to have him back. This place had taken on the atmosphere of a morgue the last few days. They needed some relief, and seeing Tanner grin, hear him joke…well, that was just the tonic.
“So,” he said. “I’m guessing from the awful, but improving, state of my face that it’s been a few days since Cincinnati.” His eyes darkened. “Tell me you’ve been working on finding Mikel. I’ll feel a lot better if I repay the compliment. And then some,” he added with a guttural growl.
The girls exchanged a look.
> “Actually…nothing yet,” Nadia said. “We’ve kinda been on hiatus on that front.”
“On hiatus?”
“Yeah, you know, taking a break. Not our choice, but through necessity. There’s not much we can do from here.”
“Here,” said Tanner, slipping to the edge of the table, feet dangling off and hitting the floor. “Where’s here?”
“The desert. Death Valley,” said Nadia.
Tanner frowned, one particularly prominent scar across his right eyebrow - above his now defunct eye - furrowing deeply.
“That’s a little close to LA, don’t you think?”
“It’s beyond any of their nets,” said Chloe. “And it’s a huge area that no one really passes through. We’ve been fine. No problems.”
Tanner shrugged, and lifted his hand to that busted eye of his. His fingers ran along the patch, and a sigh escaped his lips. “This is the worst of it,” he said, voice despondent. “I can lose my looks…but this? You can’t be much of a soldier with one eye.”
“We’ll get you a new one,” said Nadia. “You’ve got a fully functioning bionic leg already. We’ll get you an eye too.”
“Hmmmm. Not sure it’s as easy as that. Eyes are more tricky.”
“Do you even want to be a soldier anymore anyway?” It was Chloe, a straight question. Tanner looked to her, lips pursed. He considered it for a while.
“I guess I’m not sure,” he said, voice distant. “I’ve been kicked out of the Spectres. The Crimson Corps have been trying to kill us. Aside from becoming a mercenary, there may not be many options left for me.”
“Same goes for all of us,” Nadia said. “Maybe it’s time to start living a different life. A more normal life.”
“Normal?” asked Tanner. “And what’s that?”
Was that a serious question? His expression suggested yes. The group went silent a moment, pondering it. Chloe frowned. What was a normal life?