by A W Wang
“No.”
Definitely cowering in some cesspool of shadows.
“I’ll get you halfway”—I grab the device and point at the screen—“past the research lab. Things should be quieter there. It’ll still be an uphill battle to reach Flying Eagle, but at least you’ll have a chance.”
After they nod, I power down the tablet and hand it back. “Keep it off. Anything electrical can be tracked. When I leave you, stay to the side streets and avoid any fighting.”
As they check their weapons, Javier says to me, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
My lips curl into a half-smirk. “I’m sure it will find me.”
Clangs come from nearby.
“Time to go,” I say.
“Good luck,” Alberto replies before heading outside with Manuel.
As Javier moves to leave, I tug on his arm. “Be careful. Remember, after you pass the research lab, you’ll be on your own.”
“Like we’ve always been,” he says, stepping away. At the doorway, he pauses. “That outfit looks nice on you.”
I chuckle as he runs into the lobby.
Ten seconds pass before I follow, ready to protect their backs.
At least until the halfway point…
The avenue bears heavy scars from prior skirmishes, but the broken facades to either side are quiet.
My three charges travel down a darkened, rubble-filled sidewalk, moving past smashed staircases and busted doorways.
I weave around an oval crater and position myself at the corner. Somehow, we’ve avoided the roughest of the fighting, but even with that fortunate happenstance, we’ve had more than our share of close brushes.
Shadows shift in the windowless spaces above and down the street.
The subtle motions are more than enough for me to pick out three separate targets—one in a top-floor balcony, the second inside a corner living room, and the third under a sloped roof at the intersection.
I snap off three rounds. When the dark patches still a moment later, I break from cover, swapping in my last sniper magazine. I’ve expended too much ordnance covering the trio, but thankfully, we’re parallel to the research lab.
Just one more block…
With my nape quiet, I sling the carbine and jump to a low balcony. After I scale the front of the residential unit, I twist onto the rooftop and hurry after the teens, scanning the neighborhood for more threats.
After I identify another five scattered on high perches, I pull out the carbine and cut loose across my wide arc of targets.
Four fall. The fifth, glinting with ablative armor etched into flesh, replies with a cannon-caliber rifle.
I dive to the side as rounds rip through stone shingles and concrete.
While gravel whips past my face, more quick-shifting glints come as another two stomp onto the rooftop. Flares from overhead explosions whiten the area, illuminating the ugliness of these monsters.
Shadows move in my peripheral vision, and two black knights leap onto the roof behind me.
Great.
I sprint to the side, avoiding crisscrossing fire, as a skirmish erupts over the rooftops. With another eight minutes left before I can turn translucent, I need to eliminate these enemies the old-fashioned way.
Disturbing pops come from street level as the teens engage some unknown threat.
Gritting my teeth, I duck into cover behind an air conditioning unit. Despite the lethal circumstances, I won’t let the three die, at least not when I’m protecting them.
Another more human-sized group, clad in pliable charcoal-gray armor, thumps across from me.
When the black knights swivel to engage the newcomers, I twist past the rounded cowling and charge toward the shiny forms on the other rooftop. With impacts thudding all around me, I zigzag to close the distance. As I reach the ledge, I fire and leap over the street.
The trio jerks from clean hits.
I hit the flat rooftop rolling and pop to my feet. To my shock, all of them are still standing.
Impossible.
The massive figures shift, leveling their arms in my direction.
I tense, but rather than retreating, I dash sideways.
A barrage slices through the air. As all manner of lethal objects chew through everything behind me with loud cracks and metallic pops, I twist and hurriedly return fire.
The perfectly centered rounds glance off their curved armor, creating sparks, but little else.
I scowl.
For what these opponents lack in stealth, they make up for with impossible to defeat protection. The plates are layered and basically welded onto their bodies.
But, they still need to move and aim, and in certain places, there are seams to aid dexterity.
I swap in the last of my shotgun shells.
As their weapons empty and fall silent, the barrel finishes reconfiguring.
I storm from cover and cut loose.
Booms come from the carbine, and pellets fill the air. Although most ricochet off the ablative armor with impressive showers of sparks, several of them find the creases between the embedded plates. The figures twitch in pain, struggling to reload.
The magazine runs out as I reach them. I draw my sword and hack at the weak points of their protective scheme.
Limbs separate from torsos with splatters of blood and sprays of fluids.
After they fall, I sheathe the sword and push the sniper rounds back into the carbine.
The noises of battle quiet.
Only one black knight remains standing across the way.
My single round punches a hole through its mindless head. As it falls from view, I sprint down the row of buildings, looking to help the teenagers, hoping not to find bad tidings.
I get to the ledge just as they dispose of two augments with cybernetic enhancements on the street below. A snort leaves my mouth.
Maybe they have a chance.
After the three move past a mangled vehicle and through the next intersection, Javier glances back and waves goodbye.
Although he can’t see or hear me, I return the gesture. Shockingly, part of me wants to accompany them the whole way to Flying Eagle.
Seeing the smug man get his comeuppance would almost be worth the effort.
I turn and force my feet to march in the opposite direction. When I near the edge of the building, clangs of metal erupt from ahead. I rush over, but by the time I peer past the rooftop, the sounds have faded.
On the avenue leading toward the park, dead and dying line both sidewalks. Further away, a glint of silver disappears beyond a corner traffic circle.
My nostalgic notions of following the teenagers evaporate.
They have their demon to slay; I have mine.
And while I hope they survive, I also hope they never have the misfortune of meeting me again.
The life expectancy for anyone in my vicinity is going to be very short.
I climb down to the sidewalk and follow the path taken by the silvery battle-mesh.
Time to throw myself into the game of apex predators.
Fifty-Nine
The dark spaces whip past as I chase the silvery wraith through blasted streets and ravaged buildings. Although the smoke is thinning, I only catch glimpses of Samantha’s deft movements. Still, I keep pace by adding the sparse physical clues to my fleeting observations of the situation.
Spiders dance along my nape, and I pause behind a ruined corner of metal beams.
High-velocity, large-caliber rounds have butchered the broad avenue cutting across my path. Dying fires glow from the gutted spaces of this formerly posh shopping district. Up and down the pavement, gleams from embers lazily crawl over the mangled armor of shredded bodies.
These were enhanced beings, their nations using every technology to create superhuman warriors.
I shake my head, watching a breeze push smoky wreaths down the lonely street.
In the end, they were just failures who wilted under the true test of battle.<
br />
Not so super because…
These technological marvels don’t have the threads and haven’t been through the toughest scenarios against the toughest opponents to get here.
The least of those would be a match for the best of these.
A boxy augment storms past the intersection on my right. The initiator of this swath of carnage is literally built around a revolving mini-cannon. It cuts loose with another wave of destruction, swiveling and spitting an incandescent stream of projectiles into a row of buildings. The differing warheads disintegrate everything with puffs of dust, sprays of glass, and EMPs.
Something to kill everyone.
A round zips from an intersecting street and separates the shooter from its head.
Brute strength isn’t a substitute for the experience of a ten sigma like Samantha.
The high-pitched whine of the gun stops when the headless body smacks onto the ground.
A rustle and footstep come from beyond the freshly dead shooter.
I deduce where she’s heading from the direction of the shot and the state of the vicinity. With my carbine ready, I edge down the sidewalk, avoiding loose pebbles and butchered bodies. When I near a fading fire, I cross to the intersection and stride down the next street.
A rising gust blows past, clearing smoky mists and giving life to dying embers. In the brightening glows, a silvery form ducks into a structure with a collapsed roof.
As I ready for the last dash, a spear of moonlight stabs into the pitch-black space in front of me.
My steps slow as I glance to the heavens.
The foreboding haze has turned patchy, and the sky is empty of transports bringing new fodder into the city.
A nasty notion enters my thoughts. Less distraction means it’s easier to detect any lurking pursuit…
This could be a trap.
My determination wavers, and I pause, searching the darkness for further clues.
“Prude,” imaginary Suri says.
I shake my head, hating that I understand the meaning behind the mocking tone.
Samantha is amazing but not infallible.
“You know who else is amazing?” she asks.
“Don’t say ‘me.’”
“You!”
Before I respond to my imaginary self, sharp noises arrive from beyond the rows of shattered walls.
As I listen to the blasts of cannon and hisses of sniper rounds, I draw upon my thousands of experiences, getting into the rhythm of this skirmish. When the pieces form a picture of the battlefield, I deduce the perfect place to conduct an ambush from my knowledge of the area.
I take a calming breath, trusting my battle sense. There won’t be a more favorable situation than this.
Time to punch the bully in the face.
With Samantha’s attention occupied, I cut another street over and out of immediate sight. As more bursts of gunfire break out, I hurry to the wide building.
Silently, I climb the jagged remains of a wall and onto the second story. With the broken floor on my left, I pad past exposed beams and crumbled room dividers, hunting for clues of her whereabouts. When I skirt the halfway point, a glimpse of silver flashes from the far corner of the structure.
I holster the carbine and draw my sword, the superior close-in weapon. As I near, her rifle spits a final round, and the last of the fighting dies.
Bad for me and my surprise.
I sprint the final distance.
Pebbles crunch under my foot as I take the last step.
Samantha’s rifle whips skyward.
I twist mid-leap, just avoiding a sniper round that cracks something overhead. Instead of landing, I kick off an exposed steel beam and reverse direction.
Her second shot goes wide.
I land behind her and swing the blade.
She’s too fast. With a flick, she draws her Kali stick and deflects the attack.
It’s too late to retreat, and I jump at her, firing more strikes.
With lightning reactions, she dodges and blocks everything. Suddenly, a kick shoots past the storm of clashing weapons and stomps into my chest.
I fly into drywall with a loud crunch.
“You should have run, Mary,” she says, leaping at me.
Gritting my teeth to choke off a reply, I tumble to the side, getting tangled with electrical wiring.
An overhand strike from the Kali stick grazes my arm and cleaves through a hunk of wall. Instantly, the reverse strike whips at my head.
I duck, and the composite rod clangs into a support strut. I twist myself free and hack with the sword, which slices nothing but air.
A punch drills my chest. As I step back, grimacing, a side kick glances off my thigh. Her mesh-driven blows are better than my mesh defenses, and I backpedal to gain space.
She follows with a flying kick, which breaks through a wall as I sidestep. Before I can do anything, she flips backward, swinging the stick and sending a throwing star at my face.
I jerk sideways, the edged weapon barely missing my ear.
After a quick reset, she leaps, whirling the Kali stick in a wide blurring arc, which is too sloppy to be anything but a feint.
I pretend to take the bait by stepping in and punching.
When she moves to grapple my fist, I pull back and launch an overhand swing with my blade. She blocks and I drive a kick into her chest.
Her silvery form plows through the already broken wall.
Shocked that I landed a clean hit on my nemesis, I blink.
Within that time, she’s back on her feet, renewing the assault.
My confidence grows as I battle her to a standstill, blocking blow for blow, landing punch for punch.
A shadow sweeps over us, and I dive away.
Ekton lands, brandishing a battle ax.
As Samantha jumps aside, I roll into the next room and leap to the second floor, sheathing my sword. As I run, I draw my carbine and fire random shots behind me.
They’re too smart to do the obvious, and I hit nothing.
When I hop onto the street, shadows move on a bowed terrace. I twist and launch a few rounds, taking out a couple of black knights, who are coming to join the exclusive get together.
When nobody follows, I scan the side streets. Finally, the fifteen minutes expire, and I engage the optical camouflage and change direction.
Seconds pass as I navigate from the vicinity, putting several hobbled cyborgs out of their misery. With everyone using EMP weapons, anything containing micro-circuitry is at a gigantic disadvantage. After slaughtering a few more augments of various types, I break away, just glad to be alive and out of danger from ten sigmas.
Sixty
No signs of pursuit come as I sneak across a quiet backstreet. Once again, the translucence has gotten me out of danger.
Moments later, my sense of invincibility fades when the silvery battle-mesh reappears.
I bound down a narrow alley, fighting a chill running down my spine. After I cross the next street and get into the safety of the shadows, I frown. Feeling impervious when my optical camouflage is operating and vulnerable when it’s not is weak. I never had the advantage in the program and won against better opponents.
When I reach a secluded area, I use reinforcing rods protruding from a broken wall to clamber up and enter a hotel. A missile has carved a maw through the once lavish interior, leaving partially collapsed floors and hanging wires. After I locate an open stairwell, I charge upstairs.
A minute later, I step onto a flat rooftop.
Smoky air rolls past as I pull off my mask and roll my shoulder.
Despite the bruises and stress of combat, my body feels good. Even better than good.
The notion frightens me.
I wipe sweat from my brow, unsure of why being happy with my passable-for-human, real-world form should mean anything compared to my bigger issues.
Like the two eight-hundred-pound gorillas rampaging across the battlefield.
Although the outcome
of the fight with Samantha was mixed, I’m not disappointed.
But…
Did I want to win or just prove I could stand up to her?
I bite my lip.
No matter what I was hoping, surviving an onslaught from two ten sigmas isn’t enough. In the end, I’ll need to do much better. I’ll not only have to beat Samantha, but Ekton as well, and probably both at once.
Although the tall order doesn’t inspire me with confidence, I take solace from the direction of the results. The first time, Samantha kicked my ass. This time, the clash was even, and if Ekton hadn’t arrived…
Distant crackles echo from fresh fighting.
I edge to a better vantage point near the corner of the roof and wrap the camo-cloak over myself.
Across the ruined cityscape, the thumps from explosions and chatters of lighter weapons are fewer and farther between. Only ghostly columns rise from the lessening glows of the fires. Above, the half-moon brightens the thinning haze, which is empty of drones and, more importantly, huge troop carriers.
The contestants have emptied their rapid-reaction quivers, and now, the pieces roaming over the multi-sided chessboard are fixed.
This is the endgame.
While the other nations have their elite troops, they came to learn about why the products of the Ten Sigma Program perform so much better.
It’s not just in the cutting-edge science for creating passable-for-human bodies or the martial knowledge embedded in the threads. Nor is it solely in the unforgiving nature of the endless scenarios that can only happen in a virtual environment where death or worse is the penalty for losing.
Although much rests on the skill of the individual to conquer all the tests, in the end, it’s the combination of everything that produces someone worthy of being a ten sigma.
I give kudos to the man in the broad-brimmed hat and the rest of the overlords for making the greatest warriors the world has ever seen.
Unconvinced of my own worthiness for that moniker, I return my attention to the sea of orange glows and ravaged buildings and assess the dwindling chaos. Besides stragglers, most of the shooting is coming from two main groups vying for supremacy: German Stoßtruppen and Russian Spetsnaz.
