Back on the streets of London, Damian shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and frowned. The memory troubled him, as did Adrian’s mention of the Osiris Contingency. That goddamned Contingency that seemed to be on everyone’s mind, Damian’s included. He felt a burning rage rise within him, for there wouldn’t even be the risk of the Contingency with Liane if not for Adrian.
He wouldn’t, couldn't, let it happen. No matter what Liane had done to the Agency or to him, he didn’t want her to have to go through that. Anything seemed preferable to leaving her to that fate.
The retaining wall bordering the river stretched out before him, and Damian went nearer to brace his hands against the gritty concrete and look out across the water at the glimmering city. Soon—very soon, he hoped—Liane would make a mistake. And when she did, he would be ready to save her from the officer, the Contingency… and herself.
CHAPTER 13
Liane woke, aware of little but feeling warm and safe. She opened her eyes to find she and Seth had shifted in sleep. Now he was shoved against the wall with barely any
covers at all while she lay with an arm and leg across him huddled down within the blanket. He was still sleeping, his lips parted as he breathed steadily. Liane remained still, marveling at how strange a feeling it was to be so close to another person. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced before, and she wanted to stay there as long as possible. But now that she was wide-awake, the discomforts of early morning were all too present, and she needed water to ease the pain of her parched throat.
She eased herself up off the cot, managing to stand without disturbing him, only to nearly fall. Surprised, she regained her balance and realized that her feet were asleep, tingling with pins and needles. She stood still for a moment until the feeling
dissipated, then collected a handful of clothes and headed for the showers.
As she stood under the showerhead gulping down water, Liane wondered if she should tell Seth about the strange symptoms. She had never been sick before, but she knew it happened to normal people. Perhaps he would know for certain what was wrong…
He would also worry, she thought, stepping out of the shower and drying off in the curtained stall. And he needs to be thinking about how we’re going to get out of this place, not fussing about me.
After she was dressed, she headed to the canteen, her throat still dry and sore. It was early, but the kitchen staff was setting out the first round of meals. A few mods were grouped around the tables, including Neil and Ox. As she retrieved a mug of tea, they waved her over to join them. Neil smiled as she sat down next to him, asking, “Well, you managed to keep yourself out of the detention cells; color me impressed.”
Liane scowled, while Ox just laughed and thumped her
shoulder, saying, “He’s teasing you. How’s your friend?”
“Better,” she admitted. “Your medics know what they’re doing, at least.”
“I thought for sure you’d killed him months ago until I saw Laski’s photo on the news,” said Ox, giving her a grin as he added, “Remind me never to play poker with you.”
Liane focused on her tea, saying, “Seth didn’t deserve getting ripped apart by mods. Helping him get away was the least I could do.”
“I prefer the ‘love at first sight’ explanation,” Neil said, his
serpent-like eyes sparkling with mischief.
Liane gave a dismissive snort. “Hardly. I don’t put much stock in romance.”
“Pity,” sighed Neil.
Another mod, barely out of his teens, leaned around Neil and smiled at her, “I’m Alec; we met last night.”
“I remember,” Liane nodded.
Alec went on, “Ox was just telling me about your abilities. We could use a fighter like you the next time we face off against the Agency.”
“You all seemed to do fine without me last night,” Liane said. “How did you find us, anyway?”
“Patrols,” Ox said, tossing back the last of his coffee. “There are places in the city where Agents keep rearing their heads. Owen sends us out regular-like to throw a wrench in their works.”
As lightly as she could, Liane asked, “And how did all of you find Owen?”
Neil was the first to volunteer, “I met Paz at a mod bar. She’s been close with Owen for years, ran into him somewhere in the United Germanic States. She told me about Black Sun, and I asked to join them.”
“Neil recruited me,” Alec chimed in. “I was living rough on the streets, working whatever jobs I could find. He showed me I could do more with my life than merely survive.”
“And Owen saved my skin when I was about to be arrested by the police for having mod serum,” Ox said, wincing at the memory. “They were beating me to within an inch of my life when he jumped in. Wasn’t that hard to make the decision to follow him, honestly.”
“You like him, then?” she asked.
“He’s a brilliant commander,” Ox said. “Whatever he did before, it prepared him well for this fight.”
“Has he told you why he started his war to begin with?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“He sees what Libertas is doing to mods and wants to stand up against it,” shrugged Neil. “That’s the kind of man he is.”
Liane nodded, unconvinced, then stood as she asked, “Is there a training room here? I want to make sure I’ve healed before I get into an actual fight again.”
“Sure thing,” Neil said, getting up. “I’ll walk you there.”
The training room was on a lower level near the detention cells. It was a large space about half the size of the main bay and was outfitted with floor pads, punching bags, and a number of practice weapons and targets. Neil showed her where everything was before heading to the door, saying, “I have to go report for patrols. If you need anything, just head back upstairs.”
He left the door open, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he walked back towards the main level. Liane waited until he was out of earshot, then turned back to the room and began to set it up. After a few minutes, she had made a poor man’s obstacle course out of punching bags, partitions, and targets tacked to the cement walls. Shoving one of the target guns into a holster, she went back to the door and stretched the stiffness out of her limbs. As she did, she thought back to the times she’d done this same exercise within the Agency, all of them under Damian’s careful observation.
“Hesitation in the field means death,” he’d said once when she was still a trainee, walking behind her as she stretched within the Agency’s arena. They had been alone, as usual, and Liane kept her eyes on the obstacle course in front of her as Damian moved closer to say, “You can’t think of what might happen to you or spare a moment of mercy to those you face. When all is said and done, there is only one truth; we have to kill to live.”
“What if those I fight are better than me?” Liane asked,
glancing over her shoulder at him.
Damian stepped so close they were nearly touching, his dark eyes grave as he looked down at her and said with quiet certainty, “No one is going to be better than you, because down here you will be reborn into something greater than you are now. Something unstoppable.”
Liane had turned to face the obstacle course once more, holding his words within her heart like a talisman. As she prepared to face the course, she felt him move her hair aside to rest a hand on the side of her neck as he quoted softly, “‘But screw your courage to the sticking place, and we'll not fail.’”
Alone in the underground shelter, Liane rolled her head from side to side, still feeling the ghost of Damian behind her as she
focused on the course, visualizing the jumps and strikes. Then she crouched, hands loose and ready for a moment before she took off at a full run.
The world whirred past her as she shoved her way through the punching bags, lashing out with fists and kicks to knock them aside. Taking a huge leap, she jumped over partitions, rolling to a crouch and firing at the targets in front of her. No
sooner were the shots done then she ran to another forest of punching bags, striking at them left and right and shooting yet more targets. Obstacle after obstacle until she reached the final target, the blue paint from the mock bullet striking in the exact center of the bull’s eye.
Liane was still in a shooting stance, her arms outstretched, when a slow, deliberate clapping broke the stillness of the room. She whirled to see Owen standing in the doorway, stony-faced as he applauded her.
“Well done,” he said, hands falling to his sides as he walked out to the padded floor. “How’s your hand-to-hand?”
Her hands and feet were numb and tingling, perhaps from adrenaline, as she said, “It’s good enough.”
“Show me.”
Liane raised an eyebrow. “Weapons?”
Owen shrugged. “I prefer empty hands, myself.”
Liane slipped off her holster and let it and the target gun drop to the ground, then walked across the room to join him within an empty practice ring. He dropped one leg back, arms loose and ready at his sides. Liane wasn’t as obvious, though she shifted her weight to her back leg. It made it easier for her to dart aside when he lunged for her. She landed two swift punches to his side, breaking his grip.
Wary and favoring his side, Owen eyed her extremities as he circled towards her. She was faster than him, but he still managed to grasp hold of her arm and yank her off-balance. Liane dropped low and twisted free, sweeping his leg out from under him. He went down to one knee and she seized him in a headlock, but he simply reached back and threw her across the mat. Liane went into a forward roll, leaping up as Owen stood deliberately.
There was a new light of understanding within his blue eyes as he nodded, “Impressive. But then, Agents usually are. Even ones who have gone rogue.”
Liane felt cold all over as she protested, “I’m not an Agent.”
“Let’s not lie,” he said, his tone brittle. “I find it wastes time.”
Her gaze hardened. “If we’re going to tell truths, then you go first.”
Owen smiled, though it was barely that. “You must have given your Handler a hell of a time.”
“Say it.”
“Fine; I was an Agent.”
Liane scrutinized him for a moment, then asked, “Do any of your followers know what you once were?”
“Only the few who need to know,” he said with a shrug. “Paz is among them.”
Liane lifted her chin, demanding, “How long were you in the Agency?”
“Training in the Program for seven years, an Agent for another six, and I’ve been rogue for ten. You?”
“In the Program for seven, an Agent for three,” she said, her voice muted. “I’ve been out a month.”
Owen gave a short, bitter laugh. “No wonder they’re after you. You’re still fresh.”
Liane felt her skin crawl, and she looked away from him.
“Who was your Handler?” he asked, taking a few steps towards her.
“Damian.”
Owen let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head. “Jesus, you are in trouble.”
Her stomach sinking, she asked, “Did you know him?”
“He was in my training group, though he was a year behind me. He was promoted to Handler just before I escaped.” A faint gleam of sympathy lit in Owen’s eyes, “As an Agent he was ruthless. I can’t imagine much has changed now.”
“And who was your Handler?”
“You wouldn’t know her,” Owen said with a shake of his head. “She tried to stop me during my escape, so I killed her.”
Liane hesitated, then asked, “And how did you escape?”
“It was during a mission abroad,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’d been wanting out for some time. It made sense to wait until I was outside of the UK before running. They burned me, of course, but I’d already cleaned out my accounts and smuggled what I needed to a safe location in the Germanic States.”
Liane looked away. “I wasn’t that smart.”
“Smart enough to choose an ally,” Owen noted. “Does Seth know what you are?” When Liane nodded, he asked, “Was he the reason you ran?”
“Partly.” When Owen just tilted his head, inviting further
explanation, she sighed, “We met when I saved him from a group of mods in the ruins. We became friends afterward.”
Owen chuckled. “I’ll bet Damian loved that.”
“Enough to burn Seth. Now he’s as much a fugitive as I am.”
“And now? Are you still only friends, or are you more than that?” Owen asked with detachment.
Liane couldn’t seem to manage an answer, her cheeks turning warm.
“Well,” Owen said, “Regardless of that, it’s good you have an ally, even if he is a non. It took me years before I realized how
useful civilians could be.”
“I’m not staying with Seth because of his usefulness,” she said. “He’s my—”
“Friend; yes,” Owen shrugged. “But what are friends if not
people who can help us achieve our goals?”
Liane gave him a searching look. “What exactly are your goals, Owen? It can’t just be killing a few Agents.”
He gave that small, strange smile, but before he could answer a voice called out, “Hey, Owen…”
Liane turned to see Paz walking into the training room with Seth on her heels. The mod gestured back at him, saying with faint hostility, “I told him you were busy, but apparently, he’s afraid to let his girlfriend out of his sight.”
Seth rolled his eyes at the back of her head, but Owen seemed unbothered, saying, “It’s alright, we were just finishing up. How are you feeling, officer?”
“Right as rain,” said Seth with bravado. He walked over to stand next to Liane, glancing at her as he asked, “Alright?”
She gave a small nod as Owen said to Seth, “Your friend been tight-lipped, but I would like to know more about the two of you. For the sake of security, if nothing else.”
Seth’s eyes looked innocent as he shrugged, “Not much to tell; I was an officer on the Genetic Modification Task Force
investigating the murder of mods. I found out that the Agency was behind it, and they came after me. Unfortunately, Liane was caught up in it, too.”
Owen smiled at Liane. “Loyalty runs both ways, it seems.”
“He knows I’m an Agent, Seth,” she muttered under her breath before looking to Owen and demanding, “Are you going to tell the mods the truth about me?”
“What purpose would that serve?” Owen asked, gesturing around them as he added, “The secret can stay in this room if you want it to.”
“I do,” Liane said, glancing at Paz. “I’ve already blown my cover; I don’t need people shouting it from the rooftops.”
Paz smirked. “Don’t worry; you’re not that interesting a topic of conversation for us.”
Liane barely glanced at the mod, while Seth looked to Owen and said, “You said you wanted us to understand your goals.
Perhaps you should share what those are if you truly want us as allies. I don’t risk my life for anyone unless I know what they’re fighting for.”
Owen tilted his head, regarding the smaller man for a
moment. Then he looked past them to Paz, saying, “Tell the twins to prep the simulation.” She nodded and left the room, and Owen smiled at the two as he said, “Seeing is believing.”
The former Agent walked towards the middle of the room; Liane glanced at Seth, hoping he could tell how on-edge she was. But he put a hand on her arm, pulling her with him as he followed Owen and muttered, “Just play along.”
The lights around them dimmed to a low, bluish glow, and Owen put a com in his ear and said, “Begin the simulation now.”
Projectors around them flared to life, and the room transformed into a black void. There was no indication of a floor or ceiling; it was if as they were hanging within a starless night sky. Owen looked at them, asking, “How much do you know about the war?”
Seth shrugged. “I remember plenty; I was thirteen when it ended. And they taught us about it in school.”
Owen looked to Liane, who said, “I just started reading about it. I know it started due to the Russian invasion of Belarus—”
“It doesn’t matter how the war began,” Owen cut in. “Neither do the politics that kept it going for fifteen years. What matters is what happened after…”
The landscape around them shifted, rubble and broken buildings rising out of the black void. Smoke clouded the air, and the sounds of screams and faint explosions enveloped them. Liane turned, taking in the devastation, and realized with shock that they were standing in the ruins of Trafalgar Square.
Owen stepped through the simulated, nightmarish landscape and said, “This was the shape of the London I knew. I can still
remember falling asleep to the sounds of bombs dropping on the outskirts of the city.”
Seth looked shaken, staring at the world around them with wide eyes. “We went to the countryside near Dublin after the war broke out; I never saw anything like this.”
Owen’s expression was bleak as he looked at the simulation of the war-torn city. “Those who stayed in the major cities—like me and my family—we saw this every single day after the blitz began. Destruction, chaos; never knowing if you were safe, unknowing of who would die next. And if the bombs they dropped didn’t kill you, the chemical agents released afterward would.”
Liane glanced at him, asking, “How did you survive?”
Owen smiled bleakly. “I nearly didn’t. We stayed one step ahead of the explosions and nearly starved when our food store was destroyed. But I had parents who fought for me, went without so that I could eat. In the end, it wasn’t the enemy bombs that killed them, but looters in the aftermath. They shot my father and beat my mother so badly that she died the next day.”
Liane swallowed, wondering for a moment if her parents had gone the same way, and grateful that she couldn’t remember.
The simulation shifted again. The smoke and screams
vanished, and the city, though still devastated, was filled with workers clearing rubble and beginning new constructions. Owen gestured at them as he said, “By the time the war ended, there was so little left to us. The States were wiped off the face of the earth; half of Asia was decimated by the plague that followed the bombs. The few pockets of survivors came to Europe. It meant that London was soon filled with those who wanted to rebuild…but it also meant the desperate and degenerate came as well. People who just wanted to live and didn’t care about betraying their new country so long as it meant survival.”
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