“It’s not viable for all of us anyway,” Binot observed, “but one or two people could go in that way.”
“Anything else?” Sheen asked.
“Nope,” Dornan replied. “Heat signatures are about what you’d expect for an office building in the evening, but there’s no telling whether they’re workers, guards, human, or Oriceran. Once you’re inside and deploy the hounds, I’ll be able to identify more effectively.”
“Okay,” Sheen said, “here’s what we’ll do.”
The truck stopped a block away, and the team emerged at a jog. Parker and Binot—Ninja and Croft—moved in the direction of the crane, each carrying one side of a long duffel. The rest headed for the plaza that surrounded the building and knelt in the cover of large potted trees inside giant concrete planters.
“Ground team ready,” Sheen reported.
Binot answered. “You know, Boss, you’re supposed to stay in the truck.”
“Aren’t you the whiner who’s always telling me we need more people on the team?”
“Not exactly what I meant.”
“Quit complaining and do it.”
“Right. Standby,” Binot replied. She looked up to see that Parker had freed the grapnel. It was a test model, complete with directional fins on the business end that Kayleigh Dornan—Saber—could control. Parker’s voice came over the comm.
“All yours, Saber.”
“Roger, Ninja. Stand clear.” She waited a beat before remotely firing the device. The concussion echoed from the nearby buildings as the grapnel flew up toward the forward portion of the extended arm of the crane.
“Secured,” Dornan confirmed.
Binot jogged over and stood next to Parker. He’d already latched the climbing engine to the toothed cable, and he attached double safety lines to her harness before she had stopped moving. He gave her a look to check in and received a nod.
“Croft and Ninja heading up,” he announced over the comm, and then they were levitating, or as close to it as she could get. That wasn’t her particular talent. It was a unique view, the ground receding as they went up ten stories, then twenty, stopping at forty-two, the point that Dornan’s computers had calculated offered the best odds for success.
They clambered onto the arm and separated to their tasks. She pulled a pair of lines, untoothed, out of the duffel and attached them to her harness. Parker pushed down the bipod legs of his sniper rifle and lay prone, his eye to the scope.
“Ready, Ninja?” she asked.
“Give the word.”
“Ready on the ground?”
“We’re falling asleep waiting for you, Croft,” Sheen replied.
Binot sighed into the mic. “Fire in the hole.”
The sniper rifle was loaded with armor-piercing rounds powerful enough to smash the safety glass of the “ordinary” floors of the building. They had chosen a floor several levels down that was devoid of heat signatures as their target. Parker fired a trio of shots, shattering the obstruction and opening a wide hole.
“Are you sure of this cable length, Saber?” Binot asked, tugging on the carabiners that held it secure around the end of the crane arm.
“Math never lies,” she replied immediately.
“You didn’t forget to carry a one or anything?”
“Are you seriously questioning my math skills?”
Parker had swapped his sniper rifle for the standard kind and fired a grenade on a long arc into the building. It billowed smoke and triggered the fire alarms. “Go, Croft.”
With a grin and a wave, she dashed away from the skyscraper and jumped into space.
At Parker’s “Go, Croft,” the ground team erupted into action. They flowed toward the lobby, Velcro patches on their vests removed to reveal white letters claiming membership in SWAT. It was a convenient fiction, and they yelled and waved at the after-hours workers panicked by the alarms as they entered.
Sheen positioned herself behind the main desk and hit the controls to lock the elevators out of the top fifteen floors. Kettner moved like one experienced at evacuations, shouting orders and pushing people into exit lines on his way to the right side of the lobby and the freight elevator. Khan angled left toward the private lifts that served the highest levels.
Sheen connected the final cable to the computer behind the main desk and asked, “Are you in?”
Dornan replied, “Yep, full access. Opening the executive elevators. Summoning the freight elevator. It’s on twenty-four.”
Khan set the heavy case he carried down and dialed a code into the keypad on the side. Two rovers—the hounds—emerged and rolled toward the open doors of the nearby lifts. A pair of drones with cameras—Dornan called them her canaries—rose on spinning rotors from compartments built into the top. The device was a high-powered wireless signal booster that connected Dornan’s toys to the city network, and thence to her.
“Ground team, time to…” Sheen paused, then finished in a sing-song voice, “get higher, baby.” The three met at the far side of the lobby and headed for the freight elevator.
The math had been perfect. Binot’s mind supplied the “as always” that Dornan would have added. Her momentum and the irresistible pull of gravity sent her on a pendulum arc toward the skyscraper, causing the harness’ heavy ballistic fiber to dig into her flesh, guaranteeing bruises once the day’s adventure was done.
Assuming, of course, that the WMW upstairs didn’t create a fire spear and gut her with it. The world had some seriously strange shit in it these days, no doubt about that.
She had two choices as she swung toward the building, and both sucked. First, the perfect math would draw an arc that resulted in her slamming into the ceiling at full speed before falling to the floor, momentum spent. That would hurt, but it was a guaranteed entry.
The other option required her to detach the main cable at just the right instant to change her trajectory without missing the window, depositing her deeper in the level and eliminating the quick stop against the immovable object.
Hopefully also avoiding whatever else might be present in there.
She was still debating it when instinct took over and she pulled the release strap. Binot flew into the unleased space and smashed through a series of card tables and folding chairs before fetching up against a heavy tool cabinet, her helmet slamming into it hard enough to make her ears ring.
She staggered up, shaking her head, and found a support pillar to attach her backup line to. “Croft is in. Cable secure, Ninja.”
After several moments, he ziplined into view. They slipped out of their harnesses and checked one another’s gear. Everything was good.
“Just another day in the Corps,” Parker quipped, gesturing her into the lead.
“I love the Corps. Every formation a parade, yadda yadda,” she answered, striding toward the emergency stairwell. “Moving on up, Boss.”
“Copy,” Sheen replied. The trio stood atop the freight elevator as it climbed the spine of the building. The shaft was dusty and dark around them, even with the low-light augmentation of their goggles. Still, the roof was a far safer position than the cabin if something tried to stop them.
Naturally, shortly after she processed that thought, her luck ran out. The elevator shuddered to a halt.
“Saber?”
“Power is out in all the elevators. There must be a physical switch somewhere because the electronics all read right. The good news is that you should be able to force the doors. The bad news is that there are a bunch of heat signals on the floor below you. Is going the rest of the way up the shaft an option?”
Sheen looked up into the darkness and considered their options. “No. Too risky. No cover. We need to get out of here.”
“Okay. Better bet is to go up one. Canary shows it empty.”
“Got it. That we can do.”
They jumped to the ladder that ran beside the doorway and climbed to the next level. She and Kettner supported Khan for several minutes as he worked the doors free. T
hey released without warning, sending them stumbling out into the elevator’s lobby.
“Okay, show me the stairs,” Sheen ordered. The AR in her goggles drew a wireframe; the main staircase was at a sixty-degree angle from where they were, through the offices in front of them.
They crossed to the stairwell, leapfrogging from cover to cover in case the canary had missed something. They opened the door as Binot and Parker stumbled up the stairs, looking disheveled and adrenaline-spiked.
“What happened to you?” Sheen asked.
“Zombies,” Parker panted. “Gods. Damned. Zombies.”
“They’re not really zombies,” Binot replied, smacking her partner on the shoulder. “But they seem dumber than average and appear to be under some sort of compulsion, and they are way tougher than you’d expect them to be. Shots that would drop a human don’t bother them. We had to shoot them in the legs a lot and run, and they crawled after us.”
“Maybe I should take the lead,” said Kettner, hoisting his automatic shotgun. “This baby will blow limbs right off. Perfect for humans, zombies, vampires, and whatever the hell else might be up there.”
Parker looked at Binot, who looked at Sheen, who shrugged. “Be my guest, newbie. Don’t die to impress us, though. We don’t care how big your dick is; we just want you around to use it.”
Kettner opened his mouth, then closed it. He opened it again, failed to find anything useful to do with it, and shook his head as he walked forward, shotgun at the ready. Sheen suppressed her laughter as she met Binot’s eyes. Hazing the new recruits was one of the things that made life worth living. Of course, once he learned that she took it as well as she gave it, she expected the Army officer to send some choice comments her way in return.
The team followed, Khan in the center, Binot on rear guard. Parker stayed three feet behind their point man, his rifle traversing in a careful pattern, up right, up middle, up left, middle left, an arc to avoid pointing it at his ally’s back, middle right, and up to begin the sequence again. The rhythm was calming.
The only sounds in the stairwell were their footsteps. At the fifty-first floor, Sheen started to get nervous. When they reached sixty without contact, the nerves had transformed into a certainty that something bad was imminent. It therefore wasn’t as big a shock as it should have been when the doors slammed open on the three floors below them and a flock of enemies appeared, swords in hand.
“Faster,” Binot said, her voice rising as she spoke. “Faster.” Her rifle chattered. “Must move faster. Go, go, go!”
The team burst out of the stairwell onto the top floor with an army of foot soldiers behind them. As soon as they were through, Binot latched the door and Khan trapped it with explosives while the others fanned out to secure the space. It was filled with shadow, as if the spell that had transformed the windows had also caused them to absorb and dissipate the light.
It was an empty and hopeless place. Sheen felt dark magic all around. She reached deep within, tapping the well of potential that rested there, and cast both arms out wide. Tattoos glowed on her hands, joining the scarlet Eye of Horus that was always there, hidden behind her watch face; always vigilant, always protecting her.
Her power swept out and shattered the illusion that blinded them. Triple their number of enemies appeared, again with swords, arrayed in matching rows in reducing numbers before the central feature of the large empty space. He sat in a double-sized leather chair, a virtual giant of a man who topped seven feet. His muscles were bulky; huge, but conveying a sense of strain as if they struggled to hold in the raw intensity of his being.
Soft gold eyes caught their attention and urged trust and submission. They were set in an almost angelic face, with a light beard caressing his jaw and reaching up to touch his thin mustache. Luxurious hair cascaded over his shoulders onto the button-down shirt he wore. Sheen took in the rest of him and snorted.
“Business-casual demon. That’s something new.”
His eyes narrowed, and several of his minions twitched. He raised a hand, and the movement stopped. “Greetings, mortals. I am the Fallen. You may address me as ‘Master.’ Thank you for responding to my invitation.”
Binot stepped beside Sheen, hands positioned on the rifle that rested on her chest. “I knew this seemed too easy.”
The giant being laughed. “Indeed. Had I wished you stopped, stopped you would have been. But, no; I have been waiting for you, Agent Diana Sheen, and you, Agent Franklin Kettner. You will help me enter the place where you hold my subjects, and you will help me free them.”
Kettner’s laugh was hoarse and short. “I think I speak for both of us when I say there’s no fucking chance we’re doing that, you sack of demonic dirt.”
Sheen nodded. “What he said goes double for me, douchenugget. You’ll get to visit your buddies in the Cube all right, but you’re gonna be staying for a while. A long while. I suggest you come quietly.” She added a shrug that suggested she didn’t care if he came quietly or not and might actually prefer the latter.
His expansive grin showed his teeth. They were all pointed, and some appeared too wicked to fit in his mouth. As he stood and unfolded to his full height, the room seemed to strain to accommodate him. His laughter blended mockery and genuine amusement. “You will have an eternity in my service to make up for your insolence, Agent Diana Sheen.” He made an intricate gesture with his arms, and sibilant sounds hissed forth. His minions shuddered from stillness into life, from guarding to readiness to attack. They shook like horses held back from a gallop until his command released them.
“Sheen and Kettner are mine. Kill the rest.” They screamed in pleasure and charged.
Kettner’s shotgun barked and one in the front rank fell to the ground, but they were fast—too fast—and closed before projectiles could eliminate many. Binot, Khan, and Parker spread out with no need for words, firing pistols as they moved to put their backs against separate walls. The explosives-rigged door to the stairwell opened, and claymores detonated to shred the minions trying to climb up and join the fight.
Sheen charged the Fallen, the pistol in her right hand barking as she flicked the baton to full extension with her left. She crossed Kettner’s line of fire, so he pulled the shotgun from its sling and ran in, the barrel warm even through his gloves as he swung the stock at the giant’s neck.
With a sweeping blow, the giant knocked the weapons out of Sheen’s hands and sent her rolling, to crash into a column half the room away. She arched in pain and writhed as she fought to breathe. The attack continued into a kick that separated Kettner from his improvised club and dropped him flat on his back. He bounced to his feet and ran to Sheen, pulling her up.
She griped in a hoarse voice as she found her balance, “He hits like a truck. Not a small truck. Like, a big truck. Like, the biggest truck.”
“He must be augmenting his strength with his magic somehow, the buff bastard. Or he just really, really likes the gym.”
“I’m sure he’s got more tricks to show us, but it’s too risky to draw them out. Ninja, Croft, Glam, you ready?”
“Gods, yes. Playing with these idiots is boring,” Binot replied, followed by a series of creative curses aimed at another of the minions.
“All right, then. Phase two. Execute.”
The team members had been chosen for their magic potential in addition to their other skills. Rigorous training had taught each a set of useful combat spells. As one, the trio cast a force barrier to throw their opponents back, hurling them away and knocking several to the floor. Blanchett shouted the words of an incantation to negate the Fallen’s magical hold on them and render them either inert or free-willed, but it failed to stop them from struggling to their feet. Parker shrugged and put a double-tap into the head of the nearest, ensuring he would not rise again.
Pistols barked, and their enemies stayed down, dead or damaged enough they couldn’t continue. Binot left the other two to finish the cleanup and charged at the Fallen, her gun clicking empty a
s she sent rounds at him. She flicked the magazine release and reached for a replacement, then threw herself into a dive, her helmet cracking on the floor. The move barely saved her from the spear of fire the demon had hurled, which impacted and disintegrated behind her, sending a wash of flame in every direction. She rolled to smother any that had caught her and leapt up with a growl to press the attack.
Before she could get there, a series of metal panels fell from the ceiling, creating an impenetrable barrier separating them from the demon and their people. Binot screamed in frustration and turned to run for the stairwell, hoping that the level below wasn’t filled with more minions, calling for Khan and Parker to follow.
Sheen and Kettner circled the Fallen, radiating light as they launched magical attacks. Sheen’s magic was indirect, brilliant tendrils swirling from her outstretched hands as they sought an opening. They burned where they touched, covering him in small but wicked wounds. Kettner’s approach was more direct. He pressed his palms together, and when he pulled them apart, an orb of white light appeared. A squeeze flattened it into a disc. He created and threw them in a blur of motion, some straight, some with enough English on them to impress a professional frisbee-golfer.
The Fallen received long slashes from the discs to complement the wasp stings of the tendrils as he fought the dual onslaught. Kettner and Sheen stayed on the move and remained far apart, ensuring a single strike couldn’t get them both. The demon created shields to hide behind and intercepted the discs he couldn’t block with orbs of dark power that shattered them. He fired more of the spheres at the two agents, forcing them to dodge and slowing the attacks just enough to marshal his focus. With a bellow, he clenched his fists and threw his arms into the air, hurling a blast of visible darkness through the space.
Kettner and Sheen summoned shields, but the wave ‘s force was irresistible. They slid, pushing against its weight, boots fighting for a grip on the smooth floor. When the storm ended the Fallen stood tall, his clothes torn and punctured but a wide smile on his face. “Good, you have power. You will be excellent additions to my army.” He reached out with an open palm as if inviting them to join him and murmured an invocation. A flaming pillar erupted, reaching to the ceiling. He caressed the blaze with his other hand, both arms now aglow with orange-red tattoos that burned away the cloth covering them. When his manipulations were through, he held a sword made of fire.
Tales from the Oriceran Universe: Fans Write For The Fans: Volume 1 (Oriceran Fans Write For the Fans) Page 11