by David Beers
Men fell in front of him, and it sounded like Caesar was laying waste to those on the right side. More of the robotic insects filled the air, latching onto Alistair in places he didn't know were wounded. A MechPulse blasted from behind him, and he saw Faitrin step forward with her two knives to join in the violence.
Insects were everywhere, a cloud practically covering Prometheus as he slashed and cut. Someone went for his lower legs and he leaped over the man, puncturing his torso with his Whip.
A piece of artillery flew through the air, nearly taking off Pro's head, then smashed into the wall and shattered. He turned to the right and saw Caesar picking up another plasma blaster and tossing it the opposite way. All the while, nanotech flooded out of his palms, the bugs searching for their injured.
The battle lasted a little over four minutes, and after Prometheus killed the last man, he fell to his knees.
Holes covered his body, and he'd never felt so weak in his life. He didn't try to stand up but rolled to his side and then onto his back. He tried to stare at the ceiling, but a cloud of insects moved across him and blocked his vision.
"If you can hear me," he said, "say something."
He didn't have the strength to look.
He heard the voices come back to him: Servia, Faitrin, and Relm.
"Caesar?" Alistair looked in the giant's direction, using his uninjured arm to try to clear the insects away. Some had fallen to the ground, dying as their job was finished. The gigante lay on his back, cuts all over his massive body despite his armor. Insects covered him too, though not as many. It appeared that more had gone to the others, but Caesar's chest was moving up and down.
Alistair asked again. "Caesar, are you with us?"
The giant raised a hand and pointed the thumb up. Alistair smiled and turned back to the ceiling. They'd survived. Somehow.
Now all they had to do was attack a group of giants who could heal themselves.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Death must be easier than life.”
—Thoreaux
Manius wondered what he'd gotten himself into. He watched as five people cut down a group of thirty men plus artillery.
He understood that Kane had known the attack at the hotel was coming; one of his rivals had tipped him off. Still, Manius hadn't ever heard of anyone turning a gigante. The investment in one of those creatures was so much, any buyer went to great lengths to ensure the monsters thought their owner was godlike.
Now, though, after watching this man brutalize an entire battalion, Manius understood. This was no ordinary human. Even the gigantes’ level of violence couldn't match this Kane fellow's.
Now this barely human creature was inside his fortress.
Manius might be prone to violence, but he wasn't stupid. He understood that what was happening now could not be contained, only ended with finality. He could not keep people from talking about what had occurred. It would spread throughout the underworld, and his fortress would end up fair game for any up-and-comer who wanted to make a name for himself. Or at least, that was what they would think, but none had the abilities of the person Manius was watching.
He hadn't sent more men to fight yet because he wasn't sure he wanted to waste the resources. The men and women who lived in this fortress were more valuable than the ones on the street doing his bidding. They had been vetted and tested, and their deaths were a sum he didn't want to count right now.
He ran his right hand through his thick dark hair. This wasn't good. He knew what the man wanted: that poor soul who was almost dead. Manius couldn't simply give the Subversive to him, though, not after all this. Not after accepting the credits from that Hel bitch. He had gotten himself into something bad here, and the only way out was to unleash the gigantes.
He gritted his teeth. It was a risk—a big one. The dumb animals would switch sides if they saw this man fight. Nothing Manius had ever done could compare to someone who moved so fast and was so deadly.
Yet if he didn't release them, this killer would carve his way through the fortress. Could he get out, though? That was the question.
As Manius pondered that, he watched as Alistair Kane, former Titan, rose to his feet. Dead nanotech littered the floor, but his body had healed. He moved to the others in his group, all of them weak in Manius' estimation, and helped them up. Even the gigante rose to his huge feet, though he looked worse than the rest. That healing tech had taken it out of the creature.
"No," Manius whispered as understanding dawned on him. He cursed himself for not seeing it earlier; he'd been blinded by his belief in the gigantes’ stupidity. He had never thought such betrayal possible—their minds simply weren't made for it. Kane and his crew were walking toward the gigantes' lair. The killer had come for his friend, but first, he would steal Manius' army.
The decision had been made.
He had to unleash everything, all at once. Every man, every creature. He could not allow Kane to take the gigantes. The whole fortress would fall.
Manius stood and left the room, attendants rushing to his side. He told them what to do. He would lose every man in this fortress before he lost his empire.
Alistair grabbed Caesar, who was worse off than anyone else. Alistair, for his part, felt only tingles where he'd been injured. The giant had no obvious wounds since the insects had healed him as well, but he looked a lot weaker than Alistair.
"Are you okay?" the Fallen Titan asked.
The giant stopped walking and looked at Alistair. He dropped his eyes to his feet after a moment, appearing to think, then answered, "It is like when you lose blood. It weakens the body."
Alistair nodded, understanding. "Can you go on?"
The giant chuckled. It sounded like two metal barrels banging together in the bottom of a well. "You are strong but not very smart, master. I serve. I must go on. I have no choice. I cannot let you go and remain here."
Alistair took a deep breath. "If we survive this little rendezvous with your old pals, I've got a lot of teaching to do." He took his hand off the giant. All he could do was command him to stay here, but he needed the beast. They had survived this far only because of him. "I want you to conserve that nanotech when we start fighting again. You can't use it indiscriminately anymore, not if you want to live."
"Yes, master," the gigante said as he turned to look down the hall.
The lights had been shut off, and the SkinSuits were practically useless now. They'd taken so much damage during the last firefight that the night vision no longer worked. Alistair's hood wouldn't even retract, so he'd used the Whip to cut it off. His eyes could see a bit in this darkness, and it appeared Caesar might be able to as well. Those behind them couldn't, however. Alistair’s Whip and Servia's laser blade provided enough light to keep moving.
Caesar was winding through the corridors, leading them to the next battle. Alistair's senses were on point, and he didn't have time to consider what had happened to him. If he lived, there'd be time.
"Elevator is further down." The giant pointed, then knocked on a door to his right. "Stairs here. Which way?"
"Stairs," Alistair replied.
The group headed into the stairwell, which was also dark. They moved cautiously, but Alistair heard nothing. He didn't understand what was happening or why there was no attack coming. Whoever governed this fortress knew what was occurring, but they were silent.
Alistair kept descending as he spoke. "I think they're pooling their resources. It's the smart move to simply overwhelm us with everything they've got."
Faitrin spoke from the rear. "I’m still owed a lot, and when we get Thoreaux back, I plan on collecting, Pro."
He couldn't see her face, but he heard the mirth in her voice. "If we get Thoreaux back, you can be in charge of this whole damn thing."
"Not what I want, boss," she shot back.
Two more levels down, Alistair froze. What had once been a door was a melted heap on the floor, still holding some of its heat. A still burning Whip lay on top of it,
keeping the metal warm. The color told Alistair who owned it, and he scanned the landing area for her.
There she was, lying on the floor with her head turned almost all the way around. Her eyes were open, and her face looked shocked. Hel vi Thraxus was dead. Alistair didn't know who had killed her, but it took great strength to turn her neck a hundred and eighty degrees.
I’ve got to find Thoreaux, Alistair thought, but he had to calm down. He couldn't go searching for Thoreaux yet. He would die and do no one any good, plus they’d lose the gigantes.
Relm walked over to the corpse and spat on it. "Good-fucking-riddance."
"Stay focused," Alistair said. "Caesar, where are the rest of your kind? They behind that door?"
In one motion, Caesar stepped over the melted door. He didn't say anything for a second but stared down the darkened hall. After a moment, he said, "They're not here."
"What was that, broth?" Relm asked. "You're saying your buddies aren't here? The ones we almost died trying to find? Am I hearing you right?"
The giant took a step into the hallway. He shook his head. "They've been moved."
Alistair hopped over the door and stared down the corridor. He could see doors on either side, though they probably led to cages rather than rooms. All of them were open. Caesar wasn't lying, which changed things drastically. Alistair understood. They were pooling all their resources, including the gigantes.
They'd figured out what Alistair was trying to do.
Anger rose in him. He had felt that emotion only rarely in his life, but this time it threatened to take him over, this rage at everything that had happened to him so far. Not self-pity but fury because what he wanted was very simple: to see his wife again. Yet every step he took toward her, something knocked him back.
"Fuck it." His voice was almost a growl, the rage propelling him forward. "Where are they, Caesar?"
The rest of the group stepped into the hall, concerned about the anger they saw on Alistair's face.
Lights flashed on, causing everyone to shield their eyes for a moment. Alistair turned and faced the other side of the hall. He knew what was coming.
A voice spoke from unseen speakers. "You'll find what's left of your friend in the yard."
The lights at the far end of the hall where the cages were located went out. Only the opposite side remained lit. Alistair didn't look around as he spoke. "Do you know where the yard is, Caesar?"
"I do," the giant answered. There was no fear in his voice, just resolution.
"Take me to it."
"Yes, master."
Alistair no longer cared about the odds they were facing. He no longer cared about death or even those around him. Anger fueled him, rage like a supernova. His only thought was that someone had to pay for him losing his wife and his life and being out here in a cold universe fighting the cruelest humans he'd ever met.
Anger moved him down that hallway. Someone would pay.
The yard was a quarter-kilometer away, and a set of double doors stood open. Alistair had figured this was a training center beneath the ground, to keep unwanted eyes from seeing these massive creatures while keeping them in shape.
Alistair stopped before he reached the doors.
The crimson of the MechSuit told him all he needed to know. His protégé stood on the other side of the open doorway, not in the yard, but in the hall. His Whip was at his side, the three strands twirling.
His helmet retracted into his neck, revealing his face. He had retained the boyish looks he'd been famed for as a young man with a gift.
"Everyone else stay here." Alistair walked to the doorway but did not step through. "Are you ready to die?"
"Can I be honest with you, Odin?"
"That's no longer my name," Alistair responded, his anger unabated.
"It's what I know you as. If I’m honest, I'm tired. I stole your kill back there; I'm sure you saw her. She deserved worse, but I'm not the man who can do it. Once you see all she did, I think you may hate me for stealing that death from your hands, but maybe you're tired too." The young man looked at his metal-booted feet. "I don't know. I don't know much of anything anymore, Odin. My father told me years ago that if I had the choice between being the best at something and being a good man, I should choose the latter. I remembered much of what he told me for so long, but I forgot that."
He stopped talking but didn't look up.
"What are you saying, Ares? You and your government have chased me to the ends of the universe. I'm here because of you. My friend is in that yard with giants and the gods know what else. Do you want me to kill you now before I go in there and get my friend back? If you're not here to die, then I have no idea what you're doing."
Ares blinked. "Maybe I could have been better than you in some other universe, one where all this didn't happen." He didn't sound like he was talking to Alistair but to himself. " I wonder if I would have been a good man? I don't know. I'm tired of doing the bidding of evil men. Of men who would let something like that bitch down there loose. There's no honor in that. I was a part of burning a planet to ash in my search to be the best, and there was certainly no honor in that."
Alistair was frozen in shock. The tears in Ares' eyes welled, sparkling in the artificial light.
"Have you seen what's in there?" Ares asked, meaning the yard.
"No." Alistair didn't know what was happening, but he watched as Ares picked up a DataTrack leaning against the wall. He touched the screen and a holocam came up, showing what they were about to face.
Alistair heard someone gasp behind him, then Relm's voice reached his and the giant's ears. "Caesar, broth, how good are you at math? You said there were twenty of you. What I'm looking at is multiplied by ten."
Alistair's mind immediately counted. There were over two hundred gigantes standing shoulder to shoulder in the yard, holding dual laser blades.
To the sides and behind them were another hundred men and women, each holding some kind of weapon, from MechPulses to those webs he'd seen at the hotel.
Floating above it all, chained to a chair, was Thoreaux.
His head lolled on his chest. His eyes were swollen shut, and he was missing flesh across his broken body. A bone was sticking out of his arm. Alistair couldn't tell if he was awake, only that he wasn't dead. Not quite.
He raised his head and looked at Ares. The tears were gone, but he still showed sadness.
"You asked if I came here to die, Odin. Maybe I did, but I'd rather not die at your hands if it's all the same to you." Ares put the DataTrack back down. "I was there when all that happened to your friend. Not in the room, but I heard his screams. The person who did it is dead, but that's not good enough for me. I'd like to go in there and die trying to free him."
Alistair didn't know if he was being lied to. There was no one around Ares, no one behind him that Alistair could see. "If I walk through first, are you going to cut me down?"
Ares gave a soft laugh. "You aren't in any position to walk through first. You're lacking the armor. I and that beast behind you should probably go first, then you burst through us while we take the brunt of the action. The rest of the crew should spread out on the wall and fire into the crowd. There's not a whole lot we can do anyway."
A voice shouted from the yard. "COME, ALISTAIR KANE!"
He didn't take his eyes away from Ares as he spoke. "Caesar, you got all that? If he looks like he's going to betray us, kill him."
"Yes, master," the giant agreed.
Ares raised an eyebrow. "That's true? He switched sides after seeing you fight?" He pointed to his right. "All those in there, if they see what you're capable of, they're going to turn as well?"
"That was the original plan," Alistair responded. "It hasn't gone as we'd hoped, as you can see."
Ares nodded, then let his helmet cover his head. He was a Titan in full MechGear, his crimson Whip at his side. "Let's show them what you're capable of, then." His metal head turned slightly to look at Caesar. "You ready, big man? I'm g
oing to go high while you go low, and in the confusion, Alistair is going to rip into them. Sound good?"
Caesar looked at Alistair, who was considering this. They needed Ares, but if he turned on them? They would most likely die without him. Caesar couldn't heal them as he had before, and they were facing multiple enemies. Ares could give them a needed distraction since his gear could take a lot more damage than anyone else’s in the crew.
"Servia," Alistair asked, "what do you think?"
She laughed. "Pro, I've been wrong about almost everything, or at least at odds with you. I'll follow you with whatever you decide. Ave, Prometheus."
"Come on," Ares said through the suit's speaker. "Let's fight one last time together." He flashed on his HUD.
Alistair looked at the floor, then closed his eyes and saw Luna's face. All of this was for her, or at least it had been. Now, his friend floated above a crowd of warriors, disfigured and probably dying. It wasn't just for Luna anymore because part of it was helping Thoreaux. Getting him off that godsdamn chair and into a medbay.
He looked up. "Ave, Ares."
Hail, Ares.
"Ave, Odin."
"Caesar," Alistair instructed, "you and Ares go bring them death. I'll be right behind you."
The AllMother sat kilometers away with her eyes closed. Obs was at her feet, his heavy body against her leg for comfort and support. She was draining herself quickly, but she couldn't look away. She knew if something happened, she wouldn't be able to help, but she had to watch.
She'd seen the insane flight into the tower. She'd watch the massacre of those in the tunnel, the floor still lined with the dead. She'd watched the shootout that should have killed those she loved, and now she saw this reunion in her mind's eye.
She tried to see inside the Titan's mind, to see if he would betray Alistair. It was too much, though. She was too old and weak to see from so far away.
She would have to trust Prometheus’ instincts.
