by Lia Black
Sean hadn’t initially been willing, but Mercury liked that about him. He liked so much about Sean that he couldn’t bear to let him go yet. Maybe it seemed like he was being possessive by Sean’s definition, but by his own it meant he’d found someone special. Daisy Whisper Flutterby had realized her mistake when she wouldn’t let Toby Frog play with anyone but her. By pushing too hard, she’d chased him away. It had all turned out right in the end, but not before her crystal tears over-watered the flowers.
Mercury wiped his runny nose on his sleeve and raised a trembling hand, covered in blood, to feel for Sean’s breath. Sleeping; the medication had done its job. The sparkling Flutterby Fairies always pulled together the strings that frayed in his brain, and he tried to understand the messages they told him—how a beautiful, magical being should behave.
“Daisy Whisper loved Toby Frog so much that she wanted to be his only friend.” Mercury murmured and kissed Sean’s clammy forehead.
Mercury found a UDB—Universal Donor Bag—in the med kit. It was handy little invention that replaced the outdated method of blood transfusions. It worked with a small pump inside to sample, mix, and deliver blood. Ingenious, really. It should be. Sol Labs had created the device, after all. That was, of course, before they started making things like him. With it, he could deliver roughly a pint of connatural blood. He hoped it would be enough.
He ripped the packaging with his teeth and peeled away the adhesive backing that surrounded the thin injector. Applying the device to Sean’s arm, he stuck the other needle into his wrist, finding a good vein. He began to work on Sean’s shoulder while the UDB drew some of his blood and altered it enough to give it to Sean. Mercury was becoming a part of him; it might have been something to truly ponder, but that would have to wait. Although he was doing the best he could with the supplies at hand, Sean needed a hospital—someplace where they could give him regenerists to fix the damaged muscles, bones, and nerve tissues. Until then, Sean’s left arm would be useless. Although he wanted to hold and touch his precious one, necessity dictated that he got Sean someplace safe. Mercury had to patch him up and keep him stable until he located a place where Sean could receive real medical care.
The mercenaries might not be too far from their camp, and there was no telling if this group had decided to try and get rich on their own, or if they’d come with a larger contingent. The answers would come soon enough.
Once he’d donated all the blood he could give to Sean, Mercury checked the back of the vehicle—just in case somebody had been hiding—and found a decent supply of weapons and drugs. The latter was probably for personal use, since there was a bit of an assortment; not nearly enough to turn a profit.
Mercury climbed back into the driver’s side of the vehicle and checked on his patient. Sean was lying across the bench seat, still unconscious, but stable. The bleeding had stopped, and Sean’s skin was no longer so pale. Mercury covered him with a slightly blood-stained coat he’d taken from one of the dead men, and lifted Sean’s head to lay it on his thigh. He started up the crawler, absently petting Sean's hair while waiting for the navigation system to come online. He was looking for a blip on the dashboard monitor, a signal of some kind. It only took a moment for something to come up.
South, about five klicks. Mercury assumed it might be a base, but it could be anything from a large port to a tiny receiver stuck in the dirt. This was old tech, but it was all he had at this point.
Leaning down, Mercury brushed a kiss over Sean’s temple. Then he checked the cartridges in his guns, and turned the crawler around.
24
The blip was indeed the camp where the remainder of the mercenaries awaited the successful return of their companions in arms. Mercury parked the crawler just behind a little incline, making sure that Sean was settled before he grabbed a gun with each hand and began walking up the hill. He could not let the world go red, he needed to see what he was doing. His heart thudded slow and solid against his ribs, echoing through his brain, each throb was focus, control. His father had crossed a line. He’d hired thugs who had hurt his precious one so badly.
Mercury swallowed back the molten steel rising in his throat. He squeezed the grips on the guns until he couldn’t feel his hands as anything but the weapons they held. He was a monster made of flesh and metal.
The mercenaries had erected a satellite tower, which sent a buzz through his jaw with a low, steady signal and electrical charge. Had any of them been wearing communicators he could have overloaded them, blowing out their ears and sending a nasty jolt through their skulls, but that was finesse. He didn’t feel like finesse. He felt like swift, sure revenge. They had broken something that belonged to him, and he was taking it very personally.
He had some idea how many were here, typically a large scouting party like the one he’d just gotten rid of meant that there were at least that many more waiting at the base. It wouldn’t matter if there were a hundred. He would take every one of them apart. Judging from the military-strength barricades erected around the perimeter, they had dug in for the long haul, and someone had paid for them to do so.
The first sentry spotted Mercury coming up the rise, calling to him to demand he stop, which was ridiculous. A man striding purposefully and brandishing powerful energy weapons was not going to stop for anything. Mercury charged forward as the sentry began shooting. Aimed low, the projectiles kicked up small bursts of sand as Mercury dodged the warning gunfire, answering with his own. His was not a warning. The guard opened his mouth but was silenced as Mercury sent a shot from his pulse gun that blew his midsection into burning bits of meat. The others were shouting to one another, he could just hear them past the roar and crackle in his ears. He pulled at the streams of electricity leaking from the transmission mast, drawing them in and absorbing the charge. Blue streaks writhed and crackled from his body, striking like snakes, reaching out and dancing off of every surface. Two men tried to close the front gates, hoping to shut him out, but nothing could delay the certainty of death. He sent a burst from his rifle that struck one man and the electricity he’d sent with it tied him to the other, connecting them like a jerking, smoking marionette and its dead puppeteer. He walked between them, through the open gate, pulling at the crackling webs that broke like spider’s silk as he passed. There were three, large portable bunkers set up as temporary housing with scaffolding and barriers set up between them and along the back side. In the case of an ambush, they’d be well prepared. But nothing could have prepared them for Mercury’s solitary wrath.
The sharp flavor of charcoal and tin filled his mouth as flesh and synthetics burned around him. The remaining soldiers came out to meet him. They made no demands, rushing out with a ferocity reserved for war as he brought the battle to them. Any contracts they may have made with Sol Labs meant nothing. Hesitating, trying to bring him in alive, was no longer an option.
Five in the desert, ten at the base.
Three dead, seven to go.
Child’s play.
Two were fool enough to use energy weapons. The electrical charges sent harmless ribbons of blue light over the surface of Mercury’s armor. Mercury absorbed the current through his hands, molding and mutating it, and sent the voltage back to its point of origin, overheating and exploding the weapons in the solders’ hands. One died immediately as the scope shot out the back of his skull, the other screamed, falling onto his back, his arms reduced to smoking stumps at the elbows. Mercury strode past him, not even bothering to look down, and sent a burst from his gun through the man’s chest, silencing him permanently.
Five left.
Two more mercenaries switched out their weapons, smart enough to realize their dead comrades’ mistake. Hard projectiles came towards him. Time slowed as Mercury’s brain sped up. He could see the white-hot trails of the slugs, hear the high squeal as they split the air. He leaned backwards, curling his spine, cartwheeling and spinning between bursts of gunfire. A few bullets skimmed his flesh, cracking the armor and scrapin
g at him like heated blades, but he ignored the small flashes of pain.
The sparkling ammunition of a needle gun came at him like bits of tinsel and were dealt with just as easily, glancing off the thin layer of electricity moving over his skin. The charge sent the metal fanning out out in every direction, creating a hollow sunburst. He somersaulted forward through the opening, landing on his feet in front of the shooter. His hand shot out, grabbing the man around the throat and squeezing, turning his body into a jerking doll as he was strangled and electrocuted at the same time. The man with the projectile weapon tried to lunge at Mercury but Mercury shot him through the chest with the gun in his other hand.
Three.
Their silence meant they were collaborating, using the delay of their comrades’ deaths to come up with a plan to stop him. Pity such strategy was wasted on dead men. He heard the thoomph of air popping in a cylinder as a missile-launcher was discharged. The projectile roared towards him, emitting a shimmering, wet aura. Mercury dodged it easily with a quick backwards step, though the heat from it sliding past singed the armor plating across his stomach. He spotted the shooters crouching behind a military barricade. The missile launcher took two men to make it efficient, one to load, the other to point and shoot. That extra bit of effort created enough of a delay for him to run at them. His foot hit the top of the barricade and with the other he kicked back the heavy weapon, knocking the man holding it to the ground. Mercury landed on the man’s chest, cracking his ribs. Mercury caught the missile launcher in that second it went vertical and bought it down on the man’s skull.
Two.
His partner tried to run, kicking up sand as he struggled to get his footing. Mercury could smell the ammonia from the soldiers’ urine leaking through his pants. It smelled like fear. Fear wasn’t an apology. Fear was an emotional response to self-preservation. It was a selfish thing that made men foolish. His precious Sean had been afraid but innocent. This stench was the fear of the guilty.
And Mercury was justice.
His mind slipped to the edge of red momentarily, causing his next actions to occur without him as he cornered the man who pulled a knife. When the world came back into focus, Mercury’s hands were cut and the man had been reduced to a red smear on the walls of the base and the knife was at his feet. He picked it up and went looking for the last man.
One.
He found him on top of a scaffolding, which served as the base’s north-facing guard tower. The man was crouched, fighting with a jammed gun as Mercury put the knife in the gun holster on his thigh and climbed the railing to get to him. Drawing closer, Mercury recognized him.
“You. A lieutenant now, I see?” Mercury asked, crouching so he was eye-level to the man. This one had been part of the crew he’d hired. The man had ranked as a private back then, which meant he’d probably taken part in killing at least a hundred people by now, many with his bare hands. One gained ranks in a mercenary unit not by being smart or talented, but ruthless.
The man’s blotchy face had gone pale, his blue eyes wide as he sputtered out his name. “M-Mer-Mercury—”
“Oh you do remember me. The stripe is new, yes?” Mercury said, running his fingers over the crisp fabric of the red stripe that went from shoulder to wrist on his uniform. He could feel the man shaking under his touch. “How many babies did you kill for this? Old women? Decrepit and broken unarmed men, hm?”
The lieutenant opened and closed his mouth, gulping like a fish, but no sounds came out.
“Now I understand. I wondered why my father would stoop to using a mercenary unit. It’s something he never would have considered if someone hadn’t mentioned that they knew me. Someone who got a big boost in rank for such a lucrative contract.” He continued to stroke the red stripe, his mind gone calm; the kind he often achieved after very satisfying sex, or extreme violence. “Did you get all the money up front?”
“H-half,” the lieutenant stammered, maybe relaxing just the tiniest bit.
Mercury’s other hand slipped down until his fist tightened around the bloody knife. “But you didn’t tell them about that, did you? No sense in sharing your hard work with ungrateful dregs, am I right?”
“Y-yeah.” He returned a nervous version of Mercury’s smile.
“Tell me, darling, what was your name again? Wells? Walt?”
“Waltz,” the lieutenant answered.
“Waltz. Right. You know, Waltz, I respect your conniving. I would have done the very same thing.” Mercury knew he’d lost him somewhere around conniving, but the rest Waltz seemed to pick up and take as a compliment.
“S-so you’re going to let me go?” Waltz asked.
Mercury could see the hope in his eyes, lighting up like rainbows. He offered a pout and shook his head. “Mm, no.” He jammed the knife into Waltz’s stomach, leaning close and murmuring in his ear. “You hurt someone very precious to me, Waltz. You don’t get to walk away after that.” He twisted the knife, feeling the hot rush of blood pouring out over his hand as Waltz sputtered and babbled, his eyes wide with shock. Mercury waited until the life within them faded and Waltz’s body went limp before he stopped twisting.
Mercury stood up, leaving the blade stuck in Waltz’s gut. He wobbled on his feet. His body felt heavy, weighted down and slow. He’d taken a few bullets here and there—nothing life-threatening, just bothersome, and his muscles felt shredded. Taking up electricity got the job done when he faced such odds, but it always took its toll. “I’ve just saved you some money, father!” Mercury yelled up at the sky. He glanced down at the cuts on his hands. “You owe me,” he murmured under his breath.
25
Sean woke with a start. As he jerked awake, his muscles spasmed and an invisible sword cleaved him from shoulder to sternum. “Ow...fuck...” Tears squeezed from his eyes. Something smooth and cool pressed against his cheek and he realized it was a hand. In the delirium of his pain, he murmured the first name that came to mind. “Evan...”
A voice, not Evan’s, answered him, and everything came rushing back. “Shh, Precious; I’m here.”
“Mercury?” Sean’s brain righted itself in his skull, his world temporarily swinging around and locking back into current time and space. He was lying on his right side at a level which felt like a bed. The blue glow from a small alcohol lamp nearby stretched shadows up unfamiliar walls. His pillow, he realized, was Mercury’s thigh, and Mercury’s fingers were carded though his hair. “Where—?”
“Mercenary camp,” Mercury answered, his fingers moving across Sean’s scalp. His voice sounded strange, but Sean wasn’t entirely sure if it was only because of the ringing in his ears.
Sean reached up with his right hand, heading for his left shoulder to check the damage, but Mercury’s hand caught his, linking their fingers.
“It’s bad.”
Sean sighed. The throbbing was dull; he tasted metal on his tongue. “Did you give me something?”
“Back when I found you,” Mercury answered.
Painkillers. That explained it, though he could tell they’d nearly run their course. “Why?” He croaked, then tried again. “Why did you come after me?” His throat tightened around each word as they scratched their way out.
Mercury drew in a sharp breath, blowing it through his teeth like a hiss. “I...missed you, Precious. I’ve never missed anyone like that.”
Pain began to grow with the throbbing, like he’d been punched overtop of a bruise. Sean squeezed Mercury’s hand, wincing as the movement caused tension to pull through his arm.
“We’re even now, I suppose,” Mercury said. “Although if I care for you much longer, you’ll owe me again.”
“I’m sure,” Sean said.
“I’ll probably want sex,” Mercury added; his fingers resumed petting Sean’s head.
“No surprise there.” At this point, he’d make a deal with the devil if it meant a limit to pain.
“You need more drugs,” Mercury said softly. “Me too.” Leaning down, he kissed Sean’s t
emple. He was gentle, careful, as he slid out from underneath him, releasing his hand and replacing the pillow of his thigh with a regular pillow.
Sean watched Mercury’s back, lit up by the blue glow of the small lamp. He was wearing black tactical-type pants which were the kind the mercenaries wore. They were slung low on his narrow hips, tied with rope instead of a belt. The leg of one was rolled up and Sean could see bandages. He was shirtless, bruises making patterns down his back, across his arms. In the heavy shadows, he looked emaciated, although Sean was pretty certain he looked no better. He’d started with a lot more weight on his bones than Mercury, yet Mercury’s movements were as precise as he’d ever seen them. Likely, just like with the lack of a need for sleep, this feature had been spliced in. His claims of being engineered as the perfect assassin were holding true. But it was destroying him. Sean wanted to ask him what had happened, why he was bandaged and bruised, but he all ready knew the answer. A mercenary camp with no mercenaries—well, not anymore. Later, when he wasn’t in so much pain that he wanted to cry, he’d have to process that along with every other thing he’d set aside, but for now his only thought was to put a cap back on his burning nerve endings.
Mercury fiddled with something on a table for a few moments before turning around. He held an auto-syringe with a cartridge full of what was, no doubt, narcotics. Unless they had found the one band of medically-trained mercenaries, that was the only explanation. The law-abiding side of him wanted to protest. If they did a random scan back at the department, whatever illegal drug he had in his system would show up and he’d be let go from the police force. He’d lose his retirement pension, and everything he’d worked so hard for in the last thirteen years…
Another, more insistent pulse of pain brought a stop to those thoughts and a sound from his throat. The sensation was like someone carving into him with a frozen metal spoon and scooping out muscle and bone.
