Neon Blood (Neon Helix Universe Book 3)

by Nik Whittaker

  Prime grunted a response.

  C’mon Prime. Wait until he loosens these restraints. We can still take him.

  The man stepped into the container, shifting his gun to one hand as he loosened the restraints on Prime’s right hand.

  “I’m Blackwater Guard seven-zero-two, but you can call me Conrad,” the man said, attaching a mag-cuff to Prime’s free hand. The cuff stuck to the arm of the chair, holding it in place. “I see here your name is Peter Henshaw, that what we’re calling you?” Conrad moved to Prime’s other hand and attached a second cuff to it. The sound of the cuffs charging hummed in the air, and Prime’s wrists were thrown together.

  “I’m not Peter Henshaw. My name is….Reilly,” Prime decided the Prime name wasn’t his safest bet anymore, with the Prime Killer tag already being associated with him.

  “Reilly, huh? Fair enough. You can be whoever you want to be on the island. Just know you ain’t gonna be leaving.

  Conrad released all the other restraints and slapped a piece of tape on Primes calf over the gunshot wound. The tape wrinkled like melting plastic, sealing the area in a tight bandage as Conrad pulled Prime to his feet and they stepped out of the container and into the open space beyond.

  Night had fallen, but Prime could see he was stood on a grassy cliff-side beside the bridge that connected to the mainland behind the transport pod. Water was lapping against the rocks far below as the breeze from the lake cooled Prime’s skin. He looked around, expecting to see a prison building. Instead, the area looked deserted. A single light in the distance indicated some sign of life, and a small dirt road extended from where the pod had arrived towards the lights.

  “Where’s the prison?” he asked.

  “Oh, you’ll be inside soon enough, don’t you worry,” Conrad laughed before spitting on the ground.

  Prime turned and looked over the lake and towards the city. The multicoloured lights of the Metro glowed in the distance like a beacon of civilisation. From here, it seemed small, almost delicate, with the entire cityscape laid out in one view.

  “Quite a sight, huh?” Conrad said as he pushed a button on the side of the large scaffolding where the pod had arrived. “Enjoy the view as it’s the last time you’ll see it.”

  Prime turned as a mechanical sound clunked from underfoot. Looking down, he saw a large metal circle that covered the floor beside him. A line began to widen, crossing it’s centre as the panel split in half, revealing a black abyss below.

  I don’t like the look of that.

  “Are you ready?” Conrad spat down into the abyss.

  “For what?”

  Conrad moved over to Prime, grabbing the mag cuffs that connected his wrists and pulled him towards the edge of the gaping hole. Prime was unsteady on his leg, the wound still stinging despite Conrad’s bandage. Gazing down, Prime saw two lines of small bright white lights running along the sides of the tunnel into the distance, but the darkness seemed to absorb the light before it could give any indication of what lay at the bottom.

  “Say your prayers to any gods you may have,” Conrad laughed, “they won’t hear you once you're down there.” He shoved Prime forwards, causing his feet to skid and catch the edge of the hatch. Stumbling headfirst, Prime fell into the abyss.

  Air rushed past his face as he began to freefall. The way he fell caused his body to spin clockwise as the speed continued to increase.

  Fuck! Peter’s voice screamed in Prime’s head. However, it faded as the fall continued. After the initial shock, Prime tried to concentrate as the lights flashed past him.

  “How deep do you think this is?”

  Deep enough that we’ll be dead as soon as we hit the ground

  “That can’t be all there is to it. This is Blackwater Prison. Didn’t you know anything about it? You nearly ended up here before?”

  I don’t know anything about it. I avoided it, remember. I had no intention of being incarcerated. I had other plans in motion to prevent it even before Julian inadvertently freed me.

  The memory of Julian’s neck-snapping flashed back into Prime’s mind. The look of satisfaction on Persephone’s face, the last breath of Julian as his life left him.

  Before Peter finished, Prime felt pressure pushing back against him. It was like the feeling of trying to push a magnet against another and a smooth force against his body. The wind slowed around him as his speed reduced. Turning in the air to look down, Prime could see a large blue glow beaming up. Looking back, a single point of light was barely visible in the far distance.

  Eventually, his fall stopped, leaving him floating a meter above the blinding blue glow.

  “Prisoner 12359, welcome to Blackwater Prison. Prepare to be subdued,” a robotic voice announced.

  A gas slowly began to hiss and fog up the air around him, and before long, Prime’s was breathing in the white vapour.

  Oh, for god’s sake, not again.

  Prime’s vision blurred as he struggled in futile to fight the effects of the gas, but within seconds the darkness overpowered him.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Persephone

  Now that Koenig was ready, it was time for Persephone to move onto the next step of her plans and return to the Boulevard.

  She needed to check on Keller. He was useful but was becoming increasingly sporadic. His attack on the clinic had brought too much attention far too quickly. Persephone had not planned on Prime’s colleagues being so quick to find out about her. Hopefully, Julian's death and Prime’s incarceration would be enough of a distraction that cast a shroud of doubt over Prime. She was counting on them turning against him, believing that Peter was truly back in control, but having to rush things meant there may be some doubt, despite him being in Blackwater. As long as he was out of the way for the foreseeable future, she should be safe. Instinctively her left hand brushed the back of her scalp. Koenig’s work on repairing her had discovered that the cortex receivers that she and the other clones had and Persephone’s was still present and active. Despite his attempts to remove it, Koenig couldn’t do so without causing further damage. If Prime had even an inkling of the control he could still exert on her, then everything she was trying to accomplish could have been lost.

  Then there was the situation with Bella, who apparently hadn’t died from the gunshot wound and was another of Keller’s loose ends. She’d tasked one of her best operatives on getting rid of her. She hoped that the update would come soon.

  Persephone took a deep breath as she left Koenig’s tent, the smells of the Nexus market once again filling her lungs. As she exhaled, she felt the sense of someone following her, something she had suspected since she had arrived. They were closer now, though, only a few steps behind. Taking a turn down a busier route through the market, she navigated effortlessly through the bustling crowd, sliding between people with the grace of a ballerina. Finding a moment to glance back, she could see two men looking directly at her. Their eyes seemed to have a glow about them, something deeper and more unnatural than a basic augmentation.

  She continued hurriedly, looking for a place to take advantage. She wasn’t running, that wasn’t her style, but to be taken off guard would be stupid and she wasn’t prepared to have the lower hand. Spotting an aug repair stall, she approached and paused in front of it, casting a casual glance over the mechanical devices that were displayed across a splintered wooden table. Behind the display, a man was sat in a recliner whilst the stall’s owner sat on a stool beside him working on his metallic arm with a precision welder.

  “Ya gots to be more careful with the arm Johnny,” the elder owner was reprimanding, “Ah told you it can only carry up to two hundred kilos, don’t be overloading it ‘kay?”

  “I know, I know,” the man was nodding, though his face betrayed his lack of interest in the advice.

  As Persephone hovered around the display, the owner looked up.

  “Can I help you miss?”

  “Unlikely,” she replied coldly, glancing back to see the two
men approaching.

  “Oh,” the man blinked, “well move along, don’t want no window shoppers here,” the man waved her off with a flick of his wrist.

  Persephone stared at the man, processing the many ways she could kill him instantly, but that wouldn’t benefit her situation right now. She waited until the men were almost at the stall before pushing past the owner, moving behind the display.

  “Hey now! Where the holy hell you think ya goin’?” the man shouted, putting down the welder. The metal stool raised and rotated him as he spoke, turning him to face Persephone as she passed. She didn’t pause to look back as she ducked under the small fabric archway that led into the stall’s tent. The two men had arrived and barged past the display, the first man grabbing the owner and pushed, sliding him and the stool aside. The owner looked at their faces, his eyes widening as dreaded recognition washed over his face.

  “Ah…Ah’m sorry, please,” he stuttered. The men ignored him and followed Persephone.

  The back of the stall was a large room of spare parts and equipment. Shelves containing various augments, limbs and wiring spanned several meters along both sides of the tent, ending with a workbench at the far end. Persephone turned back to the entrance as she waited for her followers to arrive.

  “What can I do for you?” she smiled as they entered.

  “Our boss would like a word,” the first said, his voice was deep, almost growling from beneath a scarf that covered his mouth.

  Persephone studied the two men. They were both dressed smarter than most of the Underpass residents, the smooth fabrics of tailored shirts covered with long crimson coats of leather. A uniform of sorts, part of a gang, but not the usual small-timers the Underpass usually bred, they looked more organised, more official. They both wore a scarf covering their mouths up to their noses.

  “And why would I want to speak to your boss?” Persephone replied, curious enough to see where this was going.

  The first man looked at her, his eyes beginning to flare up. A red light began to emit from them, coming from deep behind the retina. It wasn’t an augmentation. It was something more natural to the man's body, inside his body rather than attached to it. His colleague’s eyes followed suit, and the deep crimson glow began to become all she could see. The first man raised his hand to the scarf covering his mouth, pulling it aside to reveal his mouth. Lines crossed his cheeks like scars coming from the corners of his mouth. A second line ran from the centre of his lips down his chin.

  “What are you?” Persephone said, trying to sound impatient despite her curiosity.

  The man smiled as the panels of his face started to move. His jaw split at the intersection along his chin, the two sides sliding back around his neck, leaving an open space exposing his throat where his jaw had been. His tongue, still present, ran along his upper line of teeth, which began to extend into needle-like points, pushing out of the flesh of his gums.

  “You’re kidding me?” Persephone leaned forwards to examine the man’s face. She had heard stories and recalled Peter’s memories of articles and report of the Underpass being controlled by a gang of what had been described as vampires, though she had never believed them.

  “Oh, this is far from a joke,” the man’s voice seemed to come from a speaker now rather than spoken.

  “Vampires?” Persephone laughed, shaking her head.

  “Our leader has heard you are looking to take over the Boulevard. He wants to know if you’re plans extend to the Underpass and clash with his own,” the voice spoke again.

  “I see,” Persephone stepped close enough to the man that she could smell the metallic tang of dried blood on the man's fangs. “Tell your leader that he doesn’t frighten me, and if he wants to speak with me, he can come to me himself rather than send some lackeys to try and scare me off.”

  She raised her hand and with it a battery she had picked up from one of the shelves beside her. Plunging the battery into the centre of the man’s gaping jaw, an electrical charge burst out as it connected to metal. His face instantly spasmed, the panels of the jaw began to glitch, moving back and forth. The second man leapt forwards, his hands reaching for Persephone. She grabbed the jerking body of his comrade and threw him into the other man, causing them both to crash to the floor. Stepping past as the two men clambered to separate, Persephone exited the stall, making a mental note to get more research on the vampire gang as soon as she could.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Salem

  Salem had run out of the apartment. Ally and Quartzig trailing behind him. The others had stayed behind to start looking into how they might be able to help Prime.

  “Which medical facility is Bella at?” Ally shouted as they jumped down the metal stairs towards the ground floor.

  “Regen Facility, on the Zeta border,” Salem replied, skipping several steps and landing hard on the next floor.

  “Quartzig, can you check on it?”

  “Already searching,” he replied.

  “What does he mean?” Salem paused momentarily, realising that he didn’t even know these people, only that they had common interests at the moment.

  “Quartzig is…what are we calling you now?”

  “An artificially intelligent nanorobotic construct, I suppose,” Quartzig puzzled.

  “A what now?” Salem glanced back at him, brow furrowed.

  “It’s a long story, but basically, he’s an advanced AI in a robot body,” Ally gave a shrug.

  “And you’re basically an organic matter in a skin bag, but I don’t go around calling you that, do I,” Quartzig said, speeding past the others.

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Ally laughed for the first time since Julian died.

  “I have located the facility. It appears that there is a lockdown on the twenty-fourth floor,” Quartzig reported.

  “That’s the floor Bella’s on!” They burst out onto the Boulevard, Ally already raising an arm to hail an AutoCab.

  “Is there anything faster?” Salem said, seeing a cab pull up.

  “It’s okay. I can override the restrictions on these things. Q send me the location,” Ally said, ducking into the cab.

  Once inside the cab, she placed her hand on the display panel between the front of the cab and the passenger seating, then closed her eyes.

  “What the hell’s she doing?” Salem looked at Quartzig. He was starting to get irritated by his lack of information. He was usually the one in charge.

  “Another long story,” Quartzig shrugged, “perhaps for another time.”

  The AutoCab took off at speed. It’s nav-system planning a route that bypassed obstacles and hacked traffic lights to create the fastest path directly towards the Regen Facility.

  “How long?” Salem asked.

  “Five minutes, maybe faster if the Cab can find more shortcuts on the route,” Quartzig said. He was sat facing Ally and Salem, his eyes scanning Salem’s face.

  “So, who are you exactly?” Quartzig asked.

  “Salem, like I said, I work for Silverstone Corp,” Salem flashed a quick smile at Quartzig.

  “I see. It’s just there’s very little information about you on any databases.”

  “You’re doing a fucking background check on me?”

  “Hey, calm down!” Ally stepped in. “You’ve got to understand. We don’t even know who the hell you are.”

  “Is the art of asking questions a forgotten practice? Do we not talk to people anymore?” Salem shook his head and pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocket.

  “We’re asking now?” Quartzig replied.

  Salem lit the cigarette and inhaled. The glow at the end of the synthetic stick glowed.

  “Let’s just say, I’m an interested party, and we have aligned goals. Bella seems to have got caught up with this Prime guy and I’m here to make sure she gets back out of it again. I have no agenda here, just looking out for my compadre.”

  Before the conversation could continue, the AutoCab pulled up to the Regen facili
ty. The building was looming above them as they stepped onto the street. A giant green holographic letter ‘H’ rotated halfway up the building. Salem’s eyes trailed up, scanning each of the floors. They all had open windows and lights illuminating them, all apart from one which had been sealed off with metallic shutters, creating a break in the pattern of the building.

  “Which floor is that?” Ally asked, knowing the answer anyway.

  “Twenty-fourth,” Quartzig replied.

  “Come on!” Salem was already halfway through the entrance, glancing back at the others.

  Inside the facility was a large reception stretching across from left to right, splitting the room in two, preventing people from walking into the main area of the hospital. Multiple barriers were spaced between check-in terminals that looked similar to a transport hub’s ticket booth. Behind each terminal sat a receptionist waiting to assist arrivals. Salem stormed up to the nearest free terminal.

  “Hi, I'm in a hurry here. Question, the floor twenty-four, were all the patients evacuated before the lockdown? I had a friend there.”

  “Good evening, sir,” the receptionist smiled, her voice sickly sweet as she flashing her teeth in an exaggerated expression. “Let me check for that for you.”

  Salem drummed his fingers on the countertop as the receptionist tapped on the screen in front of her. He watched her closely, trying to figure out if she was a synth or a human. They were getting so damn good at making them these days.

  “Good news, sir, it appears that 99% of all patients were evacuated. Can I take the name of the person you are here to see?” the receptionist beamed back.

  “Annabella Risinski,” Salem replied, one percent was one too many for his liking. Quartzig and Ally were now stood beside him, waiting to hear the response.

  “Oh,” the reception replied, her face and tone maintaining its sweetness. “It appears that Miss Risinski was the 1%, unfortunately.”