by T. C. Edge
Inside is a large space, mostly open, with benches running down each side of the plane. A number of highly trained soldiers have already boarded, sitting in a line and getting themselves mentally prepared for battle. Jackson moves in to speak with them as Cyra takes us off to one side.
She opens up a large trunk, inside of which are specialist outfits.
“These are for you. They will expand to your size and fit well. Professor Lane has been working on them specially for us.”
She picks one out, a black bodysuit that looks like it offers full body protection.
“The material is bulletproof, and will deflect just about anything unless it comes from point blank range. It’s infused with a special absorption technology that will take the brunt of any round that hits you, so you won’t be knocked back unless by a very heavy duty weapon or explosive round. The only weak points are at the joints. Be aware, however, that high powered guns from close range can still do serious damage. These are a failsafe, and nothing more. They are not a free pass to be reckless. Understand?”
We nod as she passes them around, Professor Lane having once more proven her considerable worth. The twins and Cyra move off into a private area to strip down to their undergarments, before dressing and reappearing, dressed in pure black. Soon, we’re all clothed in the fabric, lightweight and surprisingly comfortable as it hugs the body tight. Jackson, too, gets a set, needing it far more than we do, while the rest of the soldiers make do with their more traditional body armour.
I forget, sometimes, that my father has no such ability to see into the Void or dodge bullets. He merely relies on his superior weaponry skills and military experience, leading his strike force right into the fray. Of everyone, it’s he who I should be worried about most, more vulnerable as he is. And yet, there’s something in his eyes that calms me.
It’s a look that says: don’t worry, I’ve done this a hundred times before.
As the plane begins rumbling its way out of the city, accompanied by several others, we sit down on the benches as Jackson hands us all our weapons. They’re highly advanced, with the ability to fire various types of rounds, from regular high velocity bullets, to incendiaries and explosive rounds. Thankfully, we’ve all had ample opportunity to train with them in the Grid, so need no further instruction.
We sit together in a line, shooting through the sky at a tremendous speed. Outside, the world is dark and covered in black cloud, the stars and moon hidden from view. Down the plane, Jackson stands ahead of his soldiers, issuing a rousing speech designed to psyche them up for battle.
Ahead of us, Cyra stands, clothed in black and carrying her gun, blonde hair tied back and blue eyes half hidden behind a tight glare. She’s worlds away from the quiet woman from Lignum. Before us stands the warrior from the stories of the past.
“I don’t want any of you doing anything stupid out there,” she says. “You have all trained well, and are all supremely gifted. But you won’t have faced anything like this before. Danger can come from anywhere at any time. We will move together as a team, and take down whatever threats we face. We are the tip of the sword. These people are relying on us.”
We all nod and set our jaws.
“We’ll do whatever it takes,” says Ajax.
“Good,” says Cyra. “And if we should come across one of these Seekers, we fight together. That will be our only chance.”
The plane rumbles, shaking as it passes through a thick band of cloud. Outside, rain begins falling, the heavens crying down as bloodshed once more spreads through the world below.
His speech over, Jackson moves towards the cockpit at the front of the plane, Cyra joining him. I look over at the soldiers, all of them older than the four of us, and consider how brave they must be. Out there, they won’t see danger as we do. They won’t be able to avoid a stray bullet, or a shard of shrapnel. If an explosion rips apart the ground at their feet, they’ll be dead before they know it. They won’t have a chance to change that fate, to run and duck and dodge from the perils that bombard them on the battlefield.
And as I look at them, I know that I will do everything I can to save as many as possible. Not just these brave soldiers, but the innocent people down in the streets. Men and women have been sent here to kill and maim and slaughter. To cause the sort of carnage and chaos that Knight’s legacy promises.
And our job is to break that legacy down. To stop it before it even gets started.
From the front, a call comes out: “Three minutes to contact.”
Faces firm up even more. Eyes grow more intense. Grips tighten around guns, fingers lingering on triggers. I look through the small window behind me and see nothing but black, the odd strike of lightning now storming from above and giving momentary shape to the clouds.
Another call comes: “Two minutes to contact.”
I feel my heart surging inside me, but my breathing remains calm. I look over to Ajax, staring straight ahead in complete focus. My eyes swing to the twins, their youthful, pretty faces in start contrast to where they’re going, what they’re about to do. Anyone else would think they don’t belong. But they do. They were born for this like Athena was.
“One minute to contact.”
I turn and look towards the front of the plane, and stand to my feet. Through the open door to the cockpit, I see my parents looking out ahead. Still, there’s nothing to see but black clouds beyond the windows.
I find myself walking towards them, needing to get a closer look. And soon, among the black, the hues of red and dark orange begin to glow.
And when we emerge from the clouds, I see the reason.
The city of New Atlantis is already burning.
21
Face to Face
“Right, get ready!” shouts Jackson, marching back into the belly of the plane. “We’re landing right in the action. Helmets on!”
I see the soldiers place protective helmets over their heads. Quickly, Cyra passes out some of our own, lightweight like our bodysuits and fitted with radios so we can communicate.
“Follow me, straight out,” she says. “On your feet.”
We rise and turn to face the rear door to the aircraft as it swings into position, hovering over the landing pads in the docking area of the city. Below, flames glow outside of the windows, the sound of gunfire and explosions already audible above the roar of the storm.
We descend fast, hitting the ground with a thud. To our left and right, other transports land, turrets firing as we go, clearing a path for us to safely get down to the ground.
A second after we settle, the rear door opens and extends down, creating a ramp into the carnage. Immediately, a view of the city in the distance is revealed, the high towers of New Atlantis wreathed in flame and belching smoke into the black sky.
“Go, go, go,” calls Jackson from the front, stepping off the plane first with his strike force following behind. At the back, Cyra leads our own team of Watchers, her eyes narrow and focused as we exit the plane. On the ground, the other soldiers move in tight formation, quickly taking up covering positions as their commanders converge on Jackson. We move in too, hidden behind the blockade of the external city wall amid the docks, the city beyond being ravaged by an unknown number of assailants.
“We move in our units,” shouts Jackson, giving orders to the officers. “Left and right, we sweep through the city and eliminate all threats.”
“We’re leading,” I hear my mother say. “We’re going straight down the middle.”
Jackson looks as if he wants to deny her. Prevent his wife and son from going headfirst into battle. But he can’t. Together, we’re worth more than all these soldiers put together.
Instead, he merely nods.
“Clear a path,” he says. “I trust you.”
Their eyes meet for a second longer, before Cyra turns to us: “We’re moving in. Follow me. Search the Void and watch each other’s backs.”
Leaving the other soldiers hidden behind the barricades, we pass
through the main gate and begin moving towards the city. The clattering sound of gunfire rattles from all parts of it, left and right and way into the distance, the soldiers and guards stationed here doing their best to fight off the attackers.
Around us, the tall towers, known as seascrapers, rise high and plunge low. Some reach so high into the heavens they tickle the clouds, and dive right down to the depths of the ocean floor. It’s a city I’ve always wanted to see.
But not like this.
I look over the side of the roads and streets as we go, and see the shadows of the towers extending deep into the ocean. Above us, other platforms connect the buildings on various levels, possible danger coming from on high as well as ahead of us. Looking forward, I see the flashes of barrels bursting with bullets, some at street level, others glowing across platforms, cutting down people as they escape from the chaos.
We move deeper, heading for the thick of the action, but quickly realise that it’s widely dispersed. This city was never considered to be under great threat, and with so few soldiers stationed here to protect it, the attackers have had free reign to spread their havoc throughout without much resistance.
Until now.
As we move in towards the sound of gunfire, I turn back to see our own troops now spreading out from the docks, sweeping through the city to make it safe. Soon enough, their weapons join the chorus, making the world ever more deafening.
We push straight on, hunting down the highest concentration of vermin we can find, following our ears as we pass over bodies of innocent people littering the path. Every one of them sends a shard of anger through me, causing us to gallop that little bit faster.
Soon, we’re in sight of our first targets. Ahead, I see a group of a dozen mercenaries, garbed in the same dress that I saw in my visions. Soldiers of the Baron. Soldiers of Knight. Here to carry out his legacy.
Over the radio in my helmet, I hear my mum growl: “Show no mercy. Kill them all.”
They’re words I never expected to hear from her. From the stories of the past, I know she always found it hard to kill when fighting her enemies in the war. Back then, though, the people were deceived by Knight, and all of them were innocent. Not so now. These men deserve everything that’s coming to them, and she knows it.
They turn to see us charge towards them, confused perhaps that we’re not taking cover. Hidden within our black bodysuits and masks, they can’t possibly see the face of The Golden Girl coming at them. They can’t possibly know what they’re about to face.
They find out too late.
Sending a hail of bullets at us, they hit nothing but air. Hundreds of rounds fill the air, but few hinder our step. Realising what we are, they quickly disband, rushing for cover as we return fire. But we’re too quick on the draw, and all twelve soon join the corpses that litter the earth.
I stand over a couple of them, cut down by my own hand, and see the grizzled faces of these guns for hire. And on their uniforms, I see a badge, an insignia to show their allegiance: a flaming shield, with a mask in its centre, and the fiery handles of four swords sprouting from its corners. The mask must signify Knight; the four swords his Seekers; and the flames, the chaos they’re set to bring to this world.
I have little time to stand and analyse the badge, though. Ahead, Cyra calls us on, another grouping of mercenaries appearing from a side street. They move in formation, guns raised, taking cover as they advance. Above us, on the platforms, we see others doing the same. All appear to see us at once, the air once more filling with the white trails of deadly bullets.
Again, we take advantage of these soldiers’ temporary ignorance, not knowing who we are or what we can do. Blasting high and low, we decimate them in no time, utilising all the tricks our guns provide.
When a soldier steps into the open, a quick shot to any exposed areas between their armour is enough to take them down. When they take cover behind the carcasses of cars or behind walls, we flick to explosive rounds and clear whatever object they’re hiding behind out of our way. We march through the street, exterminating these vermin, each downed enemy marking revenge for the many innocents caught up in the bloodshed.
Occasionally, when we find an enemy or two alone, we flick our weapons to non-lethal rounds in a bid to disable them. If we can take one alive, and make him talk, we might just discover more of the Baron’s plan, and get confirmation of the location of his new base of operations.
Each time we manage to subdue an enemy, however, they turn to their failsafe, sucking down a poison capsule safely hidden within their mouth. Before we can extract any information at all, they’re foaming at the lips and joining the rest of their fallen comrades in the dirt.
Around us, the buildings continue to burn bright, and the inhabitants of the city continue to rush here and there, seeking cover or searching for missing loved ones. Some come up to us, begging for help, and we’re forced to escort them to safety before another mercenary troop stumbles upon us.
Our focus remains total, though, any sign of danger seen by one of us or another. Mostly, we all see the main threats coming, some a little earlier than others. We form an impenetrable circle as we advance, no enemy able to catch us off guard. When they try, they invariable fail, the sting of our weapons bringing them down.
Deep in the city now, we move down a narrow side street, the larger central platform in the city’s centre ahead. I can see the glow of the flames that populate it at the end of the alley, smell the burning smoke and hear the screaming of women and children. We rush on, desperate to offer aid to anyone who needs it, Cyra leading us at the front.
Suddenly, she pulls to a stop, and raises her hand. And just as she does so, I see it too, the narrow streets around us turning white, flames about to fill the space and cremate us where we stand.
“Inside!” shouts Cyra. “Anywhere!”
The others see it now, our leader giving us just enough warning. Immediately, Ajax kicks open a door and pours in, Velia and Vesuvia following. A little further down the street, Cyra does the same, disappearing inside another building. On the other side of the road, I send my full weight at a large glass window, shattering it and spilling into a dusty room. I see people cowering in corners, hiding in shadow, finding refuge behind any solid objects and furniture they can find.
“GET DOWN!” I shout.
Immediately, I hit the deck, and as I do the air appears to boil and rush around me. Just outside, fire spreads down the alleyway, its tendrils sneaking into any spare space it can find. Above me, it bursts through the window I’ve just smashed, shattering others with the force of its charge. I coil my body into a protective position as the fire darts inside the building, hungrily chasing people down.
What Cyra forgot to tell us, however, is that our suits are flame resistant. The fire attempts to catch light around me, but my suit won’t allow it. For a few moments I feel the burning heat, before suddenly the fiery fingers retreat once more outside. I look to the far end of the room to see that the people are safe, hidden away from the flames.
Immediately, I’m back to my feet and rushing into the alley, now cleared once more but carrying a heavy shroud of smoke. I look to the doors that were broken in by my companions, and shout out their names.
I hear responses coming from within, their voices coughing as they set about offering aid to those caught in the sudden blaze.
I make a move to go inside and help, but something catches my eye. To my right, down at the end of the alley in the city square, I see the shape of a dark figure standing amid the mist of swirling smoke. The hues of orange and red flame glow around him, buildings crumbling as they break down and burst. But he just stands there, looking down the alley in my direction.
I turn to him, and see that there’s a young woman at his feet, cowering beneath the heavy blanket of smog. From his cloak, a hand extends holding a gun, pointing it straight at the girl’s head. And beneath his black hood, I see the pale face I’ve seen so many times in my visions, shining
out from the shadow.
Rooted in place, I watch as his thin lips curl into a smile. And a split second later, a single shot fills the air.
“NO!” I shout, watching as the bullet cuts through the innocent woman’s head. Her cowering body slumps into the dust, her life stolen. And in that moment, my body swells with a furious dose of anger, and without thinking, I begin running straight down the alley.
Charging for the open space ahead, I set my eyes on the cloaked man who I know to be a Seeker. I don’t think, I just act, drawn in by the callous murder of an innocent girl. The clone stands there calmly as debris falls from above, some of the buildings crumbling as they burn. Here and there, large clumps of stone and brick come clattering down, some behind me, some ahead. But nothing fazes the man in my sight, nothing causes him to stir.
Soon I’m bursting out of the narrow street and into the open square, surrounded by flame and covered in smoke. But the shadow of the Seeker is clearly visible, standing and waiting for me, drawing me in. I move straight towards him, raising my weapon to my shoulder and letting loose with a ferocious barrage of fire. Finally he moves, gliding left and right, flowing like the wind as he avoids the bullets with ease.
I continue to shoot as I get closer and closer, but nothing has an impact on him. With a grace and fluidity, he dances around the attack, refusing to return fire as he goes. Soon, my gun is chattering loudly, empty now of rounds. I drop it to the floor and reach to my belt, pulling out my extendable knife. With a quick click it slices into the smoky air, my grip tight as I reach my quarry.
I slash and roar, panting hard, desperately trying to inflict some damage. The smoke churns around his cloak as he avoids my attacks, his face still hidden under his hood. Frantic now, my movements grow more erratic, less focused, not a single blow threatening to get close to its mark.
