“I suggest you all listen,” Jacob added, cocking the trigger back on the gun in his hand as he aimed from Persephone to Peter and back again. The two of them nodded slightly and carefully, slowly, lowered their attacks.
“Talk,” Ally said to Jacob as she moved to Peter to check on him.
“This man here has more in common with you all than you might realise,” Yuri explained. “He was one of the original CyBio experiments.”
Salem stared at Yuri, trying to focus on what he was saying, but it was clear the pain in his head was causing him difficulty.
“He escaped during an incident, but his mind consists of some of the original technology that you’ve been using this evening, Persephone, an early model of that which is inside your head, Peter,” Jacob replied.
“What are you talking about?” Peter said.
“He was designated Project Seven and was the first prototype of the Augmented Remote Cortex Hacking technology,” Yuri continued. We used some of your TDNA Ally, though we had no idea how advanced it was at the time. We wanted to replicate the ability to send and receive signals, a communication device directly connected to the mind, a form of telepathy if you will. During testing, it caused several anomalies that were…unpredictable. The young man became violent, delusional as he couldn’t control the signals that fed into his mind, seeing and hearing things that were both real yet not of his own making. Tormented by the voices in his head.”
Peter, whilst this is interesting, I can’t help but feel we are being distracted from something, Prime said.
I agree, but from what? Peter replied.
“You’re telling me that Salem is another clone of me?” Ally asked, staring at the man.
“Salem? A good as name as any, I suppose. He’s not really a clone. His DNA was altered by the technology found in yours, not created by it. He is, in a way, what Yuri was trying to replicate at the CyBio building,” Jacob explained.
“Why tell us this now?” Peter asked, eyeing Persephone, who seemed as surprised by the information as the rest.
“Oh, no reason really,” Jacob smiled, “other than to give Yuri time to connect with Salem’s systems so he could do this.”
Peter’s vision blacked out, and he was plunged into darkness.
*
Peter? What’s going on? I can’t see anything! Prime shouted.
Neither can I, Peter answered.
Slowly their vision began to return; only they were no longer in the Nucleus. They appeared to be standing on thin air, darkness surrounding them, but they could see each other as though a light was shining from above them.
“Where are we?” Prime said, pausing in thought as he turned, seeing Peter stood next to him. Looking down, Prime realised he was in his body, but Peter’s body was stood next to him. “Peter? What the hell?”
“I have no idea,” Peter raised a hand to his face, flexing the fingers and clutching a fist, checking his body was real.
Footsteps echoed around them as they looked through the darkness until a woman approached.
“What have you done?” Persephone demanded, making a double-take as she realised they were both present.
“We didn’t do anything,” Peter said.
“I think this is Yuri’s doing,” another voice approached the group. Ally was stood watching the three of them.
“Explain,” Persephone demanded.
“Think about it. If they were using Salem to do something, chances are it’s to do with the ARCH prototype in his mind. Couple that with the fact you have the ability to project and receive signals from your own minds, Yuri could have devised a way to redirect those signals to somewhere else.”
“You’re saying that right now. We’re all inside Salem’s mind as he’s pulled in all of our signals?” Peter asked.
They all paused. It seemed plausible.
“If that’s the case, how come you’re here?” Prime asked, looking at Ally.
“I have no idea,” she shrugged, “but if we don’t figure out a way out of here and something happens to Salem, I’m not sure we’ll ever get out.”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Xander
Xander and Quartzig made their way through the streets of the Boulevard. With the attack on the bridge, an eerie quiet had come to rest over the city, only the crackling of fires and the hum of electricity filling the air. Xander had never known the city to be quiet. It had always had a constant buzz from the residents, a city that was always alive.
As they approached the MPD precinct, it’s broken doors, and shattered windows indicated that the rioters hadn’t been afraid to target it.
“Watch your step,” Xander said to Quartzig as he shoved the remains of the doors aside. Stepping through the entrance, they saw the chaos and destruction didn’t stop at the door. The reception counter had been ripped off the wall. The glass divider shattered, its remains glistening underfoot as damaged lights flicked on and off at irregular intervals. In the strobe lighting, Xander drew his gun and stepped forwards as glass crunched with each step.
“Do you think any of the prisoners remained in the city rather than head to Blackwater?” he whispered to Quartzig.
“Unknown, but it’s possible.”
“If you didn’t like your original body, why not keep a new one-”
A bullet ricocheted off the wall next to Xander, followed by footsteps running deeper into the building.
“Damnit!” Xander sprang forward, trying to run after his attacker, but the staccato light made it impossible to see clearly.
“Xander,” Quartzig said as a door clicked closed, attracting their attention to a heavy metal door.
“That’s the holding cells,” Xander said, arriving next to Quartzig. The room held eight small cubicles normally used for holding drunks or addicts that were brought in to cool off.
Through the window, Xander could see a group of around twenty people were inside, their faces peering back wide-eyed at them. Most were dressed in regular clothes, though Xander knew that didn’t mean anything in the current situation.
“Open it,” Xander said, stepping back with his gun at the ready. “But be ready.”
Quartzig nodded, then reached forward to open the door. Xander stepped forward, gun in hand, casting it over the group that backed away from the door and into the cells that lined the walls.
“Wait!” a voice shouted out from inside, “Xander! Is that you?” Mike stood up from the crowd and walked towards him. “Thank god! Is it over?”
“Mike, it’s definitely not over, but the precinct seems secure for now.”
Behind him, the crowd of civilians seemed to collectively breathe a sigh of relief.
“I’ll do a check around the building,” Quartzig said, “just to be sure.”
“Good idea, we’ll keep everyone here for now. You see anything, you shout up,” Xander replied, receiving a nod from Quartzig before he turned and left.
Xander turned back to Mike. “What happened?”
“It was crazy, Xander,” Mike sighed, glancing back at the group behind them. “It was like a damn army of madmen. They just piled through the doors; they didn’t seem to care if they got shot or killed. They just kept coming. Didn’t take long for them to overwhelm us, there seemed to be no end to them, no matter how many we killed. Then some of the actual officers in our groups joined them like…it was like they were possessed or something. That caught us off guard. Then they seemed to stop, just turned and left. There’s only a handful of us left, but we’ve been going out on runs, finding people needing help and bringing them back here. We haven’t seen any of the crazies for a while, but we didn’t want to risk crossing them again.”
“They aren’t crazy. They just weren’t in control of themselves, Mike. It’s…complicated, but the prisoners from Blackwater, they found a way to take control of civilians, using them like puppets.”
“What?” Mike swallowed, then shook his head. “But…that would mean that the ones we killed were-. Oh, g
od.” Mike’s face went pale, the reality of the situation sinking in.
“Hey, there’s nothing else you could have done, Mike. It was them or you, and these people here probably wouldn’t be alive right now if you hadn’t done what you had to. We can mourn and beat ourselves up about it later, but right now, there’s an entire island’s worth of prisoners coming over Blackwater bridge, and we need to do everything we can to stop them, or there’ll be no city left to save.” Xander tried to redirect Mike’s attention to the immediate needs. “How many officers are left here?”
“Erm, about twelve, I think,” Mike tried to focus.
“Okay, good. We need to get a message to the other departments. Chances are they have similar situations to here; hopefully, we can rally anyone that’s left and head to the bridge to help defend it. You think you can do that?”
“Sure, yeah, I can do that,” ” Mike stood a little straighter now, having an objective bringing him back to life. “What are you going to do?”
“I need to try and find out why there’s no information, or orders, coming from higher above. The special forces at the bridge have had no contact since the riots started.”
“You’re best bet is the command room upstairs.” Mike explained.
“Thanks, get as many officers to the bridge as you can. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can,” Xander paused, keeping an eye on Mike to be sure he was okay before turning and heading up the stairs.
“There’s no-one around the building,” Quartzig said, as he arrived at the stairs.
“Good, hopefully, all the prisoners are at the bridge,”
“What’s the situation below?” Quartzig asked.
“Mike is gathering a force to assist with the bridge defence from anyone left at the other local precincts.”
“I’ll see if he needs a hand; the quicker we get them together, the better.”
“Right, I’ll catch up once I’ve managed to find out what’s going on at the top.”
“Understood,” Quartzig nodded and headed back down the stairs.
Xander jogged up the remaining stairs and headed to the communications room. Inside, desks ran along the walls, several dated computers with radio transmitters sat upon them, while most of the MPD’s tech was rarely updated, the communications systems were antique in comparison. The older tech, with less connectivity, ironically allowed for greater security. Being older, it was off the main grid that the rest of the city ran on, allowing it to maintain secure connections that were harder to intercept.
Xander had used similar equipment during his time as a Detective on the force, but only during emergency training sessions. The priority connection he was about to access was meant only to be used by a precinct’s chief. Trying to remember his training, Xander took a second to study the system before taking a seat. Putting on the system’s headset he flipped several switches and adjusted the dials to select a signal that could hopefully connect with someone at the higher levels of command.
“This is Alexander Draven requesting communication with Metropolitan Police Headquarters. This is a state of emergency; please respond,” he announced and waited for a reply.
Silence followed.
“Dammit!” he slammed his fist on the table before shifting the dials on the system. He knew that the corporation that ran the Emergency Services had several sub-corps. He tried the comms again, this time broadcasting across every corporation’s radio signal.
“This is Alexander Draven requesting communication with any corporation that can hear me. This is a state of emergency. Please respond.”
A moment later, a crackle came across the radio.
“Mr Draven, who are you, and where are you calling from,” a voice demanded.
“I’m in the MPD precinct on twenty-eighth, and I am trying to sort out the incredibly fucked-up situation down here in the city. With all due respect, who the hell am I talking to and where the hell is the support!” Xander shouted back.
“Mr Draven, we understand your concern. Honestly, it’s chaos up here too, Mr Reavers has been murdered, and we are struggling to get updates from the city.”
Xander recognised the name, Reavers was the leader of the Emergency Services Corporation.
“So, who’s in charge now?”
“At the moment, no one. Most of the other corp leaders have gone into hiding. Mr Reavers was killed in his private bunker by some sort of remote detonation. Everyone is running scared.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? The leaders of this city are all hiding when it needs them the most?”
“I’m…I’m afraid so,” the voice said.
“Who am I speaking to? At least you seem to be still trying to hold up communication?”
“My name is Dramarti Silverstone. I run one of the sub-corps for food and produce. I have friends out there in the city, and I want to do anything I can to help. I might not be one of the four leading CEOs, but I’ve got some contacts and resources that might be able to help.”
“Well, Mr Silverstone, it looks like it’s you and me running this show. Let me give you the lowdown on what’s going on here and see what we can do,” Xander pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and began relaying the information.
Chapter Seventy
Mollie
The attack had begun as soon as the missile had hit the MPD barricade.
The initial explosion had killed a group of officers who had been unfortunate enough to have been too close to the impact site. Immediately following the blast, the mass of prisoners who had been lined up further down the bridge began to swarm across and charge towards the MPD’s barricade. The troops on the front line were using standard issues rifles propped up on the metallic barriers. The barricade was twenty meters from the end of the bridge, and Irving and the Krovoz were another twenty meters behind the barricade.
On Irving’s command, his troops had opened fire, bullets tearing into the first wave of attackers, but through sheer numbers, they kept coming.
“Come on,” Gregor said to Mollie with a grin while pulling out a long claymore sword from a sheath on his back. “Let’s win this battle!”
Mollie couldn’t help but smile at his infectious enthusiasm as he charged forwards. Vladimir was already at the front and centre of the group, leading his people by example. The Krovoz marched forward, triggered by Vladamir, moving as one unit towards the barricade. Mollie moved with them, taking her place beside Gregor. She knew that she was one of them now, something inside had changed when Vladimir had made her a Bloodhound and, despite her reservations, these people were her family, just as they had been in the past.
“If you’re with us,” Irving turned, seemingly unphased by the large group of vampires now beside his men, “then you follow my orders.”
Vladamir took a moment to consider his words. Mollie knew he needed to play it cautiously if he was to keep the respect of those around him.
“We do what we want; these people are lucky we’re on their side!” Issak spat out, his voice low enough so it wouldn’t reach Vladamir.
“Shush Issak, you know little of warfare,” Gregor reprimanded. Issak.
“I understand,” Vladamir replied to Irving, “my people will follow my command, but I believe our goals are aligned, and we have little time for discussion. I will use your lead to inform our actions. You will need to tell your men to a ceasefire along the flanks and open a path for us.” Vladamir motioned towards the bridge; the crowd of prisoners had almost reached the barricade, overcoming the barrage of bullets from the troops. The return fire from the inmates beginning to have an effect.
Irving nodded at Vladamir before moving forward to update his men.
The Krovaz didn’t use many firearms, preferring closer combat with handheld weaponry that allow them to convert injured enemies to the clan with blood transfers. At Vladamir’s signal, the group moved ahead of the barriers on either side where the barricade had been opened to allow them access. Vladamir had taken the right flank with two other Blo
odhounds, whilst Issak, Gregor and Mollie led the left.
“Mollie, take these,” Gregor shouted as they passed the barricade and threw her pair of daggers that he had been strapped to his belt. The curved twin-daggers were eight inches long with curved wooden handles. A strip of neon illuminated their edge.
“Thanks,” Mollie shouted back as she caught the daggers. Whilst they weren’t a weapon she was overly familiar with, she had enough experience with them to defend herself.
The prisoners, seeing the opening in the barricade, ran towards the vampires. Some were armed with guns, but many had melee weapons such as police batons which Mollie assumed were more common in prison armoury. The groups collided. The crunch and impact of flesh and bone filled the air, mingled with screams of anger and pain.
Mollie ducked as a prisoner swung a baton towards her head, he was around her height, but his prison-issue augmented legs seemed shorter than they should be, giving him unnatural proportions. She rose up, swiping the daggers, slicing them across his stomach, moving on pure instinct. Blood flooded onto her hands as the fabric of the man’s shirt ripped along with the flesh underneath, spilling the contents of his stomach. The man screamed as he fell to the ground wrapping his arms around his leaking gut.
The warmth of the blood and the screams of the man caused Mollie to pause for a moment. She had forgotten the anger that came with the Krovoz blood inside her when it was fully engaged. A feeling of power that burned through her veins, but also of anger and desire for violence, a primal rage. Around her, she saw the other Krovoz absorbed in their attacks. The MPD soldiers continued firing, but their eyes shifted nervously at the raw violence. Limbs were being ripped and torn from bodies as blood spilled across the bridge from both prisoner and vampire alike. Issak was screaming in glee at the top of his lungs, blood pouring down his face as he threw the drained body of a prisoner to the ground, its neck barely intact. Another Krovoz was being riddled with bullets from a prisoner’s rifle. Despite their power, the Krovoz were not invulnerable. Too much blood loss would reduce the synthetic blood’s ability to heal them and cause their bodies to shut down, just like any other human.
Neon Blood (Neon Helix Universe Book 3) Page 28
