“Hostile unit,” boomed a voice too perfect to be human. “Surrender. Surrender. Surrender.”
The call went on in a continuous loop, interspersed with arrhythmic, pumping music that served to confuse and overwhelm the target. Dante had seen it all before. It had never worked on him. Only one thing did—electricity. Fortunately, only the good doctors of the Grid’s human-vault program knew about the flaw. They had sought to make him a maximum-security vault, but had instead turned him into a human weapon capable of killing with a simple thought. Not long before he fled the insanity of the Grid’s laboratories, he had overheard one of the doctors, the kindly looking older man Dr. Sharpe, mention the potential of others like him. Armies of him. Biodegradable, disposable weapons. So far, Dante had seen or heard no sign of that.
Some of the responders were more resilient to his mental attack and opened fire. Bullets grazed him. One ricocheted off the wall and pierced his upper arm. Snarling, he pulled both guns out and let the charges fly. Blue pulses cut a clear swath right down to the end of the corridor. Running still, Dante kicked the metal door open. A rainstorm raged outside, lashing buildings with ropes of water. Discharging his gun in twin streams, Dante jumped up the observatory’s indoor staircase. Its spiral armature shook and rattled when he landed. Security responders followed him into the circular room. Plaster and concrete flew in large chunks. A pair of hovercraft thundered down near the empty dome and opened fire. Small eruptions followed Dante’s ascent barely a few centimeters behind his heels.
To his frustration, a red light in a wide semicircle swept the area. A scan. He could almost feel his body being gauged, weighed, measured and parsed into numbers the Grid could assimilate. As abruptly as it had begun, the music stopped.
“Specimen MS-070125, surrender to security units and prepare for processing.” The Grid’s unmistakable voice froze the blood in Dante’s veins. Not male or female, young or old. Just…universal, eternal. How he loathed that voice. How had it known it was him? He had been a child the last time it scanned him, but then again, the thing had access to every age-progression algorithm there ever was since the inception of the old internet centuries earlier.
Dante sent another few pulses plus a mental barrage at the men spilling into the observatory. Above his head, the partly demolished roof offered a perfect view of the surroundings. Between the hovercraft, an unoccupied sliver would prove his best chances of jumping to safety. He snarled in pain when a bullet hit the sole of his boot, and returned fire. His mental attacks were leaving him dizzy and nauseated, but he had enough still in him to make it to safety. Then he would do something he should have done years before. End it all.
Up another level he climbed. One of his guns fired its last charge then hissed impotently. He threw it down. Hopefully it would hit a responder in the head. While keeping his focus on not missing one of the rickety, wrought-iron steps, Dante sent another deadly barrage, forcing his consciousness to its maximum. A headache pounded with the ferocity of a jackhammer. It made him dizzy, but he pushed on.
His mental attack shredded his enemy’s willpower. Back when he had been little more than a lab rat, no one had withstood the barbed intrusions into their mind. They did not now. The slicing and crushing of their minds, the physical consequences, they could not stop any of it. Every person had a unique set of neural waves. He had been trained to isolate those, pluck them, agitate them until the body, unable to recognize its own impulses, attacked itself like a fast-acting, brain-hemorrhaging virus. It was undoubtedly a horrendous death. He had not been trained to care, something he had learned and developed on his own, when he had the choice not to be a monster. Unlike then, Dante never prolonged his victims’ pain. His last pulse silenced the remaining security responders, who collapsed and lay still. A timely victory because his last gun had just fired its very last charge. He dropped that one too.
Dante reached the top landing and leaped the ten-meter divide between the final step and the highest part of the observatory’s domed roof. He landed running. Rain mixed with snow and wind pelted and whipped him, turning his crimson garment into a felt flag. Beyond the glistening underbellies of the hovercraft, the sliver of freedom shrank by the second.
He would have to start over. Again. Dante leaped.
Speed and height made air whistle in his ears. His cloak flapped like wings. The sting of freezing snow bombarded what portions of skin were exposed. He soared, high, higher than he had ever jumped before—the landing would probably break both his legs—but he would crawl to safety. As he had once done. He was used to it by now.
From the corner of his eye, he saw blue lightning strike the portion of dome he had occupied a second before. Teasingly close to his apogee, the whip of light touched him, almost gently, as would a kiss from a static-charged angel. Blinding radiance. Sense-numbing energy.
A snarl tore from him. Intense burn then numbness. He plummeted to the ground, hit once in a sickening crack, rebounded once, twice, a third time to roll to a stop a mere step from the alley at which he had aimed.
Agony lanced up his legs and back, along his neck. Dante somehow managed to flop onto his back. Rain congealed into icy pellets, which landed on his face, in his eyes, but he could not blink. The drops reminded him of Steel’s piercings. Tiny silvery tears. He wondered why she had betrayed him, even if intellectually he had suspected she would. Necessity, desperation. The Grid had turned man against man.
Dante smiled when he tasted blood. He would not survive this time. His only regret was not to have seen her again. He would have liked knowing her better, the fiercely guarded loner.
He realized with shock that even though he could feel his back and the cold wet of the pavement through his felt cloak, he could not detect the old familiar pain of his infected data port. Steel had rid him of the ache, his constant companion of the last several years. Perhaps the woman had taken his pain along with his virginity. Such wasted potential, such poignantly bad timing on the eve of his downfall. A busy night indeed.
Above him, one of the hovercraft lowered to a few meters from him, which created vortices of wind and ice pellets. A bright blue light, circular and striated like a giant iris, gaped in its underbelly.
“Unit number MS-070125, prepare for processing.”
Dante gurgled blood when he chuckled. “N-not…this…” His voice failed. Consciousness slipped beyond the precipice. Not this time.
Chapter Five
Steel couldn’t go back home because Dante had compromised her security system. She couldn’t stay outdoors and just roam as she usually did—moving targets were harder to hit, everyone knew that—because of the rain. So instead of sitting on her hands and fuming against Dante, that hypocritical, lying bastard, she showed up at Leech’s place. More like a lair, dug as it was underneath an old underground train station. A trio of thugs reeking of adrenaline boosters stood surly guard but let her pass as soon as she pulled her hood back from her face. One of them nodded. She replied in kind. As eloquent an exchange as any she’d shared with them.
The interior resembled in no point the humble exterior to Leech’s place. Real marble and actual plants. Live plants. The only place she’d ever seen any. She brushed a tentative finger against one of the long, tongue-shaped leaves as she crossed the entrance hall and made her way to his private chambers. He’d given her a pass the last time she’d been here and must have told his gang she was allowed since she met no one. When she emerged into the plush chambers, after a quick knock with the tip of her boot, she found Leech in his bathtub, surprisingly alone. No pet girl rubbing oil on his tattooed back or braiding his hair.
“My contact tells me you’re a joy to work with.”
Steel shrugged. She still hadn’t found a good place to stash her credits and hated walking around with three thousand in her pockets. It made her bitchy. Bitchier.
Leech smiled, showing perfect teeth in a face that had undergone several enhancements. Full lips carved to perfection, pointy ears and snake-lik
e eyes complete with elongated pupils. “When did you see Six last?”
Her first reaction was to lie. But not to Leech. No one lied to that one.
“A couple of days ago. He cornered me in the metro.”
“What do you know about him?”
“He’s an asshole.”
“Besides that.”
“I didn’t get much chance to know more than that.”
“Would he flip, if properly motivated?” Leech asked.
Steel snorted a laugh. “He hates the system. I doubt he’d turn to working for them.”
Why the fuck was he asking about Six and his loyalties? She didn’t like the way the conversation was headed. At all.
Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, Leech stood from the mountain of foam, clusters of bubbles sliding down his powerful body, and approached. He left behind wet—huge—footprints on the spotless marble floor. Steel had to consciously force herself to ignore the flight instinct to run from the big, dangerous man. Run hard and fast and never look back.
“Then how do you explain him posing as someone else and blowing up a building that had no value to his boss?”
“He doesn’t have the brains to blow up…” An image flashed in Steel’s mind. The building exploding, the figure in red rushing out just as a press bot flew by and captured the footage.
“Ah, I see it means something to you. Would you care to enlighten me?” Leech asked gently. He never raised his voice. He didn’t need to.
Steel nervously shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. Could it have been…? Who had she seen running out of that building, Dante or Six?
“Six,” she began, unsure just how much truth she should share. “When he got me in the metro, there was this man. He helped me get away.”
“A man in a red cloak, one who they call the Cardinal and who has a price on his head? That one?”
She let the mocking barb pass. “I’d never heard of him.”
“He’s all over the news. The Grid wants him. Badly.”
Steel cursed. “Six blew up the building to make it look like Dante did it.”
“Dante, hmm?” Leech’s derisive grin rounded one of his perfect cheeks. “Never underestimate the power of a man’s bruised ego or the depth of his thirst for revenge.”
She’d never, ever let a big one slip like this. Leech now knew Dante’s name. Shit, shit, shit. She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus, not with the building exploding over and over again in her head while Dante—no, Six—ran out. All because Dante had kicked his ass in the metro. She should have killed the brute in his sleep back when she’d had the chance.
Dante hadn’t done that horrible thing. He hadn’t lied, wasn’t the hypocritical bastard she’d thought. She brightened considerably. She’d go to him. She’d rebuild that bridge, that connection. She’d wanted to stay anyway, well, part of her had. Plus, his house was the perfect place to stash her credits.
“I don’t know what this Dante character meant to you, but you should hurry because according to the newscast, they found him.”
She froze. Steel’s elation turned to horror and abject fear. The words landed like bricks. “They’re there now?”
“They were an hour or so ago. I find it eminently funny that the Cardinal hid right under their noses all that time. If they hadn’t found him first, I would have enjoyed having a drink with the man.” Leech’s dark eyes narrowed dangerously. “So, about our problem with Six.”
Horror and fear gave way to white-hot rage. That bastard. “Do you have guns?”
“I do.”
“How much for one?”
Leech wiped the remaining ribbons of soap from his massive shoulders, which made muscles ripple and twitch on his chest. “Six has outlived his amusement value. His boss should have taken care of him a long time ago. So, because you offer to clean up a mess that has the potential to splatter me and fuck with my territory, I’ll give you what you need. Free.”
Steel fought to relax her shoulders, but the thought of Dante’s home being raided kept replaying over and over like a mad carousel. “Nothing’s ever free, Leech.”
His teeth flashed against his dark skin. “Sometimes they are. But not often, I agree. You may not keep it, of course. When you’re done, I want it back.”
Frustration and regret made a shaking mess of her. Rage, anger, disappointment, guilt. A lot of that. She should have stayed. She would have seen them coming. She…
Six shouldn’t have fucked with Dante.
For the first time in her life, Steel was going to stick her neck out for someone. Dante had done it for her, even trusting her with his ID and location, knowing she could lead them right back to him. Yet he’d trusted her. No one ever had. Maybe he even thought she was the one who had given him away.
Leech disappeared behind a frosted glass panel. His home was the most luxurious place she’d ever seen. Real glass mirrors, furniture made of actual wood, rugs made by hands and not machines, and an aquarium filled with lifelike fish. Maybe they were real. He emerged wearing a shimmering robe open wide. In his massive hand gleamed a silvery gun.
“The safety is here.” He thumbed the small lever. “You have about two hundred shots. Don’t get it wet, don’t get blood on it, and charge it before you give it back to me.”
She took the gun. Much lighter than she would have expected. She slipped it into her backpack, now empty of her run. She turned and grabbed the handle. Her emotions rioted, battling between hope and despair. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you didn’t bitch when my contact screwed you out of your fair share. I loathe whiners and thieves most of all. You’re neither.”
How had he known about his contact keeping some of her credits? However he had gained his information, she didn’t have the time to sit around and ponder the meaning of things. She had something important to do. Someone needed her help.
Heartbeat.
Weak. Faint. Arrhythmic.
A machine bleeped demandingly then sounded in a long, uninterrupted chime.
Touching, prodding, cold things and a sharp poke in the side. Stimuli reception doubled, tripled. Smells and sounds—human and machine—reached him. He opened his eyes and remembered. Everything. Too much. Dante heard the voice that had accompanied his nightmares for as long as he could remember.
“Unit number MS-070125 is awake and conscious. Proceed.”
Freezing rain greeted Steel as she rushed out of Leech’s home. As if they knew what she intended to do—not that she was sure herself—the thugs nodded to her with grim determination, making their rough faces even more brutish. Despite the slick pavement, Steel began to run. She couldn’t help it. Nerves made her hypersensitive and jumpy. Everyone looked suspicious. That woman sitting on the sidewalk, staring at Steel with hard eyes. Or that pair of young men walking on the same side of the street as her.
She chose to remain in the relative safety of large, crowded streets. Merchants called to her with their stupid slogans and crappy wares, all of it shit barely holding together. After she had crossed a wide boulevard that once bore a row of majestic trees now reduced to calcified stumps, Steel spotted a column of smoke rising from a spot near the foot of the mount. Her heart sank. Damn him, Six had fucked with her for the last time. When she got her hands on him… She didn’t know exactly what she’d do to him, but she had a pulse gun and she was going to use it. No cynicism, no turning the other way because it wasn’t any of her business. Not this time. This time, she cared.
Streets became sparse of people then deserted altogether. Steel was sprinting by the time she cleared the old park, jumping over the broken benches lining the edge. She was running up the exact same street she’d walked down not that long ago. She should have looked back. Had he been there, up at his window? Had he cared enough for that? Had he cared period?
Smoke rose in twin columns, one from the main building and one from the ruined observatory, which she could see above the rooftop.
“Shit,” she
snarled. Steam from her breath rose in the freezing rain. The distant sound of hovercraft made her follow the broken brick wall as she approached the stone porch. No hum from an electricity field, no faint glow emanating from the metal parts. Steel stopped to pull out Leech’s pricey gun. With hands that shook only out of anger—fear was gone—she crept forward.
Rain turned to snow. Tiny crystalline flakes stuck to her sleeves. She slowly pushed in one of the doors and peeked inside. Not as much damage as she would have feared. It didn’t mean Dante was all right though. She padded inside the foyer, swept side to side with the gun. Scanned the hall leading to the kitchen. Nothing but rubble. Remnants from explosions. Dust and particles still floated down. She was just minutes late, an hour or two at most. Where was he?
She passed by the kitchen and turned into a corridor she remembered well. She’d stumbled upon Dante, just out of the shower, trying to patch his infected data port. And what had happened afterward, sex without strings attached, without expectations or some sick reward and punishment scheme. She’d been his first. How special was that. But now it was all gone. She gritted her teeth.
A sound caught her ears. Clattering, things landing and breaking. Heart pounding fast, she rushed to the lavatory. He must have been wounded, must have been trying to find bandages or meds. Maybe he was bleeding all over the place. She was there now, she had a gun, she’d make it work. Steel finally reached the doorway. She froze there.
Bits of broken porcelain lavabos littered the floor, as did shards of mirror. Water dripped from busted showerheads in the ceiling. A man stood in the middle of the room, examining something he held in his hands. All so déjà vu. She would have recognized that silhouette anywhere.
Gridlock: A Cybershock Story Page 6
