by R S Penney
“Why would we do that?” Jack shouted.
“Because if we do anything to him,” Anna began, “that bloody collar will deliver a lethal shock to Keli.”
“Precisely.”
Rawlins thrust one arm out to the side, pointing his cane at the staircase near the end of the catwalk. “Now, we're going to go out the back way,” he said. “You're going to keep your distance and not cause any trouble.”
Jack's face was as red as a sunset. “Like hell we will,” he said, shaking his head in contempt. “Even if you make it out of here, you have to know we'll hunt you to the ends of the Earth and beyond.”
“Oh I don't think that will be a problem.”
On cue, the door beneath the catwalk opened, and one very large man stepped out. He was an ugly bastard with a bald head and a thick goatee, an ugly bastard who wore daggers on his hips.
A young woman with Asian features followed him. This one was slender and lithe with black hair that fell over her shoulders in waves, and for some strange reason, she carried a chain in her hands.
Up on the catwalk, Rawlins gripped the railing in both hands, leaning over to grin at them. “Rosco and Mei-Ling,” he said with amusement in his voice. “Two particularly motivated employees of mine.”
He shuffled toward the stair case, tapping his cane on the floor as he went. Keli followed without so much as a word of protest, and Anna couldn't blame her. The man was right there in front of her; she could easily take aim and hit him with a stun round, but not without killing Keli in the process.
In truth, this conflict had already been decided; she was going to let Rawlins walk out of here with his prize. The only thing left to decide was how she wanted to deal with the pair of goons he had decided to throw at her.
“Think this one through, Rawlins,” Anna replied. “There are ways of circumventing a slaver's collar. The next time we see you, we'll be ready.”
At the foot of the stairs, Rawlins wheezed, his whole body trembling as he tried to contain his amusement. “Honestly, my dear,” he said softly. “It's highly unlikely that we will ever see each other again.”
“You think these two can stop a pair of Keepers?”
He drew aside his suit jacket to reveal a bottle of pills in the inside pocket. “They can if they have access to the right tools,” he said. “Did you really think cocaine is the only drug I sell?”
Jack looked up at the man, his eyes widening. “Amps?” he bellowed. “You gave them Amps? Do you have even a vague notion of how much damage they'll do when they go full-on roid rage?”
“I'd be eager to find out.”
Amps.
Anna had only recently learned of the drug's existence; until just a few months ago, all records on the substance had been classified. If it was true that Amps gave an ordinary human being strength and agility comparable to that of a Justice Keeper…Suddenly this conflict didn't feel quite so one-sided.
Jack lifted his pistol in both hands, snarling as he took aim. “Stun rounds!” he said, his weapon responding with a beep.
He fired.
Rosco stumbled when something hit him in the chest, his dark jacket humming as it absorbed the energy. The man was shaken, but not unconscious. In fact, he seemed to be even angrier than before. Body armour! They have body armour!
A high-impact round would probably punch through that jacket, but it would mean using lethal force against these two. Anna wasn't sure if she was willing to resort to such measures. A glance over her shoulder made it clear that Jack felt the same way. She could see the calculation in his eyes. Still, he wasn't quite ready to abandon the use of firearms just yet. He fired again.
Rosco lifted one hand up in front of his face, deflecting the slug with his forearm. With the reflexes of a Justice Keeper, he would be able to keep that up until Jack went through every bullet in his clip. Stun rounds flew at a much lower velocity than standard ammunition; they were designed to carry an electric jolt toward their target, not to impact with lethal force.
“Stun rounds!” Anna barked, spinning around to fire at Mei-Ling. The other woman leaned sideways, a buzzing slug rushing past her ear to collide with the cinder-block wall behind her. “This isn't working! They're too fast!”
Rosco and Mei-Ling started forward at a slow pace, making their away around the two parked cars. The young woman began twirling her chain like a furious windmill that filled the air with a soft whistling sound.
So, was Anna willing to kill them? A high-impact round would be much harder to dodge without a Nassai's ability to craft a Bending. She could still avoid a fistfight if she simply decided to pull the trigger.
But criminals were people, not targets to be gunned down like enemies in a combat simulation. It wasn't as though killing these two would do anything to increase the odds of recovering Keli – that was all but impossible so long as she wore the slaver's collar – and no matter what choices they may have made, Rosco and Mei-Ling deserved a chance at redemption.
Anna slid her gun into its holster, locking it in place with the safety on. “No lethal force,” she ordered with a glance in Jack's direction. It was a relief to see that he'd done the same. “We take them in alive unless they give us no other options.”
Rawlins laughed as he guided Keli through the door underneath the catwalk. “Do enjoy yourself, my dear,” he said, gesturing with his cane. “It's a shame I won't be able to stay and watch the show.”
Rosco made his way toward Jack.
Mei-Ling flowed across the room on nimble feet, twirling the chain above her head like a propeller blade. “Wait a minute!” Anna protested. “How come Jack gets to fight the ugly Russian guy? I wanna fight the ugly Russian guy!”
The other woman smiled as she paced a line in front of the passenger side of an old gray car. “Let the boys have their fun, dear,” she mocked before flinging the chain with all her might. Glittering links of steel flew through the air.
Anna leaned back, reaching up with both hands to trap the chain between clapped palms. She gave a sharp tug and pulled her opponent off balance. The other woman came stumbling forward.
Anna kicked her in the stomach.
Mei-Ling fell backward, dropping the chain as she went skidding across the floor. She was down but not defeated. Curling her legs against her chest, the woman sprang up into a fighting stance.
She jumped and kicked out.
Anna ducked and felt a black steel-toed boot pass over her head. She waited for her opponent to land, then rose to drive a punch into the woman's face.
Mei-Ling used the momentum, falling back to slap both hands on the floor. With a grunt, she hooked both legs around Anna's waist. Oh no! The world seemed to topple just before concrete rose up to hit Anna's body.
As clarity returned, she saw Mei-Ling standing over her with blood dripping from her nostrils. The other woman hoofed Anna right in the chest, delivering a swift kick that would break the ribs of anyone who wasn't a Justice Keeper.
Anna went rolling like a log over the rough, dirty floor. Flopping onto her back, she wheezed and tried to sit up. “All right,” she whispered, getting to her feet. “That was not the best start I could have hoped for.”
When her vision cleared, she saw Mei-Ling striding forward like a wraith. The young woman was strikingly beautiful, her long dark hair bouncing with every step. And I must be getting lightheaded… Companion help me, the things you notice when you're stuck in the middle of a fight for your life.
Anna charged her opponent.
She leaped and flew through the air with her arms outstretched, passing right over the other woman's head. Slamming her hands down on the floor, she thrust her feet into the air, then flipped upright.
Mei-Ling jumped, wrapping legs around Anna's waist and slipping arms around her neck. The sudden pressure against her throat was painful, and the lack of oxygen would soon knock her unconscious.
Anna doubled over.
The other woman flew off her, turning upside-down as she collid
ed with the side of a car. She bounced off to land hard on all fours, groaning in pain from the impact to her spine. Of course, Amps meant she'd be up again in no time.
True to form, Mei-Ling got to her feet in one lithe motion, hissing and spitting. Bleakness take me, she's tough. The amped-up woman screamed as she closed the distance between them.
Anna punched her in the chest with one fist, then the other. She spun like a cyclone, one arm lashing out for a backhand strike. Unfortunately, the only thing that she felt was someone grabbing her wrist.
A boot struck the back of Anna's legs, and she toppled over. Cold concrete slammed into her backside before she could even think. When she regained her wits, she saw Mei-Ling standing over her with one knee lifted to stomp her head.
Anna rolled aside.
Rosco stood a good fifteen feet away with a dagger in each hand. At first, Jack was tempted to wonder what he had done to earn the man's hatred, but then he remembered. Amps. The other man was very likely beyond all reason.
Rosco strode forward with a dagger clutched tightly in each fist. “Look, we don't have to do this,” Jack began. “Your boss is gone; you've done your job. Fighting me will only result in a lot of pain.” The other man ignored him, closing the distance, slashing in a wide horizontal arc.
Leaning back, Jack watched the blade pass right in front of his face. His opponent tried to stab with the other knife.
Jack caught his wrist.
He gave a twist and forced the big brute to double over. A swift kick to Rosco's belly brought a gasp of pain, and then the dumb ass went stumbling backward. All the way to the far wall.
“I kill you!” Rosco spun in a blur, one hand lashing out to fling the knife he carried. It flew point-first through the air on a course that would take it straight into Jack's throat.
Jack leaned back.
He caught the knife as it passed, the hilt leaving a sting against his palm. “Just a bit of advice, Zangief,” he said. “When a Keeper offers you a chance to avoid getting your ass kicked, take it. Your insurance premiums will thank you.”
The other man bared his teeth, his bald head turning redder and redder. Why did Amps always find its way into the hands of maniacs? In a heartbeat, Rosco was sprinting forward, lifting his blade and slashing downward in a vertical arc.
Jack raised his knife horizontally, intercepting the downward stroke. With a flick of his wrist, he tore the weapon from his opponent's grip. He spun and back-kicked, driving a foot into the other man's chest.
Rosco fell over backward, pressing both hands to the dirty floor. He grabbed the fallen knife while upside-down, then flipped upright. Quick as a blink, he rushed in to slash at Jack's belly.
Jack hopped back, the tip of the blade scraping a line across his armoured vest. He snap-kicked to slam a foot into the other man's stomach.
Doubling over with a hand pressed to his midsection, the oaf stumbled away. “No one does that to me.” He turned his head and spat a big wad of phlegm onto the garage's grimy floor.
Jack closed his eyes, sweat running over his face in rivers. “I would rather not have to do it again,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But, you know, if you insist on going all street fighter on me…”
Rosco lifted the knife up in front of his face, squinting as he studied the blade. “I admit it,” he said. “You Keepers are pretty good.” Then he was charging forward like a bull who had seen a red cape.
Jack danced out of the way.
Rosco ran past him, stabbing his knife into the concrete wall and breaking its blade in half. That oughtta give him pause, Jack thought. Then again, this bastard was probably a berserker.
“Jack!” Anna shouted. “Switch!”
He turned toward her and dove, somersaulting across the concrete floor to come up on one knee. When he looked up, he saw Anna coming his way like a freight train ready to mow him down.
She leaped and sailed right over his head, dropping to the ground behind him. That left him face to face with a startled Mei-Ling who stood still as a statue with long black hair falling over her shoulders, blood dripping from her nose.
Jack got to his feet.
He lifted the knife up in front of his face and smiled. “So, how does this work?” he asked, striding toward her. “Is this more of an anything goes fight, or should I discard any weapons I-”
Mei-Ling kicked the knife out of his hand, then whirled around with a shriek, one hand striking Jack across the face. Bright silver stars filled his vision, making it hard to focus.
In his mind's eye, he saw the woman throw a punch.
Jack caught her wrist in one hand, arresting the motion. He used the other to punch her face once, twice, three times.
Mei-Ling planted a foot in his chest. She pushed off and back-flipped through the air, uncurling to land just a few feet away. Hungry for more, she ran straight for him.
Jack moved to his left, thrusting one arm to the side to intercept her as she tried to run past. As soon as she made physical contact, he called upon Summer to Bend gravity. Doing so made his skin tingle.
Mei-Ling went flying backward as though caught up in a powerful wind. She collided with the heavy garage door, then bounced off to land flat on her face. A soft groan told him that she had had enough.
As she passed over Jack's head, Anna landed on the hard concrete floor and brought up her fists in a guarded stance. “Much better,” she said. “I like my opponent's big, dumb and slow.”
Rosco, the three-hundred pound brute of a man with a bald head and a dark goatee, sneered at her. “You think this is game, little girl?” he said, striding forward. “I rip you in half.”
Anna forced a smile, bowing her head to him. “You mean like you just ripped apart that sentence?” she asked, eyebrows rising. “Honestly, I grew up five hundred light-years away, and I speak better English.”
Mocking him seemed to have an effect. Rosco's face turned several different shades of crimson, and sweat began to glisten on his brow. The man broke into a sprint, no doubt intending to trample her to death.
Anna fell backward.
Slamming hands down on the floor, she brought one foot up to kick the underside of his chin. That sent him stumbling away, blood dripping from his open mouth as he tried to keep his balance.
Anna snapped herself upright.
She charged forward and leaped, turning in midair to fly like a log rolling down a hillside. Her body collided with his, and Rosco went down, dropping to the floor to land on his back. Anna rolled off him.
When she got up, she saw the man flip over onto his stomach, then push himself up on extended arms. He looked up at her with blood staining his mouth, blinking slowly in confusion.
Anna kicked his face.
The man collapsed, knocked unconscious by the hit. When she looked around, Anna saw that her former opponent was now lying flat on her stomach next to the garage door. Jack stood between them with his back turned, watching the fallen woman. This fight was finally over.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Anna shut her eyes tight. “Call Station Twelve,” she said, surprised at the weariness in her own voice. “Let's get a team down here. I want these two lovely individuals in a holding cell before they wake up.”
She turned to the door underneath the catwalk, a door that now hung open to reveal a supply room on the other side. It was dark in there, but she could make out large metal shelves and boxes with spatial awareness. There must have been another exit back there. By this point, Rawlins could be anywhere. For a few brief moments, she had genuinely believed that they could recover Keli before things got further out of hand.
She should have known better.
Chapter 23
“So you weren't involved.”
Raynar sat on the edge of his bed with his hands folded in his lap, huddling up on himself like a five-year-old enduring a lecture from a disapproving parent. “If I had been part of Keli's plan, why didn't she take me with her?”
The small cel
l was well lit by lamps that would mimic the wavelengths of actual sunlight. From what Harry could see, the young man had been busy. A tablet was sitting on the wooden table with the pages of some Leyrian book clearly visible on the screen. He had to admit that he felt a little odd about this.
Anyone who spent any amount of time in law enforcement eventually learned a thing or two about the prison system – and all of the research on this subject pointed to the same conclusion; harsh prison conditions did not facilitate reformation – but actually standing in a cell with furniture still felt unnatural. It was one of the many things that he would have to get used to if he intended to work with the Leyrians.
Harry stood by the door with arms folded, frowning at the wall. “Maybe she wasn't the best partner in the world,” he shot back. “She wouldn't be the first criminal to betray one of her own.”
A flash of emotion passed over Raynar's face, one that he smothered in half a second. The kid had learned quite a bit of control. “And that's how you see us,” he muttered. “As criminals. Dangerous individuals who need to be locked up.”
Tossing his head back, Harry rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “This isn't about how I see you,” he said, pacing across the room. “For all I know, you've done nothing wrong. If that's the case, you'll be released.”
Harry stood over the boy with fists on his hips, shaking his head. “But the woman who came on board this station with you assaulted an officer.” It was difficult not to fall back into the old habit of cop-speech. “You can't blame us for being cautious.”
“Do you have any evidence of my involvement?”
Harry paused. “No.”
Craning his neck, the young man squinted at him. “Is it customary in your system to imprison people on suspicion alone?” He got to his feet slowly. “Or do you generally wait until you have solid evidence?”
“It's not that simple.” Harry turned his back on the kid, pacing across the room to work off some of his excess anxiety. “This isn't exactly your run of the mill case of petty theft.”
