The Price of Freedom

by Chris Kennedy

This wasn’t the Obsidian base.

  Rather than walk past it, I went north another block, then turned back to the east. Within a block, I found myself walking across the street from what had been the Pennsylvania Convention Center. Now it was…something else entirely. The windows had all been blacked out, so it was impossible to see what was going on inside it, but it didn’t take me long to figure out who was inside. The guards at each of the doors made it very clear. Whether it was a pointy ear here, or the bulge of a tail in a guy’s pants over there, it was easy to see that this was the local home of the Geno Freaks.

  Based on the size of the building—four blocks long by two blocks wide—there were potentially a lot of them inside. I had no idea what it took to feed them, but I had a bad feeling about the people who went inside and were never heard from again. Maybe they joined the Freaks; more likely, though, they were eaten by them.

  As I had learned from the Blue Zone, I didn’t stare; I kept my head down, stayed on my side of the street, and continued walking.

  I was able to breathe a little easier once I passed the convention center—not that I was particularly worried, but a pack, working together, might have been able to take me down—and I could look around a little more. I wasn’t sure how much further Jefferson had meant when he’d mentioned the group further east, but it didn’t take long to notice them.

  Four blocks past the convention center, I saw the first of them; he was standing on the street corner, looking like a sentry. While he mostly looked down toward the convention center, he also watched north and south. I looked to the north as I passed him and saw another person at the door to the building, then another at the next block.

  Clowns.

  There were three clowns on that block, and to the north, it looked like a whole Circus had been set up in one of the park areas. I kept my head down as I passed the sentry. At the next intersection, I saw a large number of them in front of the former U.S. Mint building.

  A shiver went down my back, and it wasn’t because I hated clowns or because they were creepy—they were, but that was beside the point—some of these Clowns acted the same. If you’ve ever seen a school of fish swimming, and they all of a sudden changed direction, this was the same thing. Not all of them—there were some who were dressed the same, but not the same person, yet there were a number of them who were the same.

  No matter how good your training, you couldn’t make people this similar. Only one thing could—an imprinter. I’d found the Obsidian base.

  And some things never change—clowns are still the creepiest things in this Fallen World.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Forty-Three

  I walked past, even though every fiber of my being wanted to charge into battle with them. I wanted to rend and destroy, then go kill their bosses and be finished with my mission.

  Unfortunately, there were a lot of them in front of the mint, and I had no idea what their skill set was. If they were just augmented troopers, I might be able to take them, but the fact that they’d been imprinted led me to believe they were more than mere troopers. I suspected they were Agents of some kind, but it was hard to tell what kind.

  And what kind of sick bastard makes an imprint of a Clown?

  I had no idea, but I hoped he was waiting in the mint for me to come and kill him, because I was absolutely going to do so. There were two questions I needed answered—well, there were a lot more than that, but two that were starters for the rest—how many Clowns were there, and what was their skill set?

  Although the second question would be difficult to answer, I figured the first one wouldn’t; all I needed to do was to find a good place to watch and count. I looped back around, away from the mint, and saw a large skyscraper diagonally across the street from it. I risked a glance up and smiled to myself. From the 9th floor, I would have a great view of everything going on in the streets below. I laughed as I walked past the building—it was the Federal Building, and the former home of the city’s branch of the FBI.

  I could tell what everyone in the city thought about it as I walked past; the windows had all been broken out, and the place smelled like piss. And worse. I kept walking and went around to the back of the building, out of sight of the Clowns.

  Getting in was easy—someone had ripped off the fire door. Going up the stairs, on the other hand, wasn’t, as I had to endure a foul miasma of smells. If it came out of a human orifice, it was in the stairwell, somewhere. I probably stepped in it, too; it was physically impossible not to, in some places. I climbed to the 9th floor and opened the door. Not surprisingly, a cube farm waited for me on the other side, and cubicle after cubical stretched out in all directions.

  I walked over to where I could see the mint and found I wasn’t the first to have this idea—someone had scraped an observation post clear of glass in the best spot to look down at the mint. I set my rifle against the wall as I inspected it.

  I shook my head, seriously creeped out. Even though it looked like it had been a little time since it had been used—and the moldy carpet didn’t have footprints in it, confirming that it wasn’t recent—someone had been here before me. It may have been an Obsidian sniper on overwatch…or maybe a fellow Teledyne rep. As it would have been post-war, the odds of it being a Teledyne Specialist were small; it was far more likely that an Obsidian operative had been up here.

  Because I was creeped out, I heard the rubbing of glass on glass as a padded shoe stepped on it. It was so quiet, nearly anyone else would have missed it. I didn’t, and I spun around and found a Clown sneaking up behind me. His hands were up, holding two wooden handles with a length of wire suspended between them. As I spun, he threw the wire over my head.

  Had I been facing the window still, the wire would have gone over my carotids, strangling me; as it was, when he pulled, it hurt, but all the wire did was cross my throat, choking me. And, happily, I was facing him with my hands free. I threw an upward palm heel strike to break his nose, but he released the garrote, boosted, and jumped backward like a snake getting ready to strike.

  I boosted, too, so when he struck, I was ready, and I slapped his punch away, turning him slightly so I could punch him in the kidney. I hit him hard enough that a normal person would be pissing blood for a week. Even for an Agent, it was a staggering blow, and I could see him wince.

  He tried to turn back to me, but his momentary wince had given me all the time I needed, and I jumped onto his back and threw an arm around his throat. He fought like a madman, throwing elbows and punches, then he flipped to the side and threw himself backward onto me. I hit the floor on my back with him on top, and the impact knocked a lot of the air from my lungs. He’d obviously been modded, too, and weighed upward of 400 pounds.

  The fall loosened my grip, allowing him to hit me with a couple of elbows in the ribs and stomach that broke my hold on him. Like a flash, he was up and out of my grasp. He reached into his sleeves, and his hands came out holding long, pointed daggers.

  I scooped up my rifle, but he was on me before I could point it at him, and I had to use it two-handed as a club to block strike after strike. He threw one strike that landed on my arm, but I jabbed out with the rifle, smashing him in the eye with the barrel. His hands came up involuntarily, and I released the rifle, dropping it, so I could grab him by his clown robe. I pushed him back onto his heels before he could get his balance, then drove him backward. He swung with the knives, still trying to open his eye, and succeeded in slicing my cheek and shoulder. Then his back hit the broken window, and I bent him backward through it.

  He dropped his knives to try to grab the window sill, but it was too late; with a strong push, he went through.

  He screamed as he fell, and I looked up and saw a number of other Clowns looking in my direction. The Clown’s scream ended as he hit the pavement below, and, in slow motion, all of them began running toward me.

  And then it was time to run in this Fallen World.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Forty-Four


  If even half the Clowns running toward the building were Agents, I was screwed. Worse, based on my circuit of the building, I knew there were only two entrances—no matter which way I went out, I was going to be mobbed. While it would be marginally better to fight them in the stairwell, where they couldn’t get behind me, at least for a while, I wouldn’t be able to get past them, and eventually they’d bring me down. The mission would be a failure, and I couldn’t allow that to happen.

  I ran for the roof.

  A grassy field awaited me as I burst through the door. What the fuck? Who grew grass on the roof?

  I looked at my options. To the east and south, there was nothing to jump to. There was a 150-foot drop. While it was probably survivable, the risk of damage and capture was significant. The building to the west—the direction I wanted to go—was the same height as the one I was on, with about a 60-foot gap. The building to the north was several floors shorter, but the distance to it was over 100 feet. West it was.

  It would be close. I had enough boost for one more jump, maybe two. I boosted and sprinted for the edge, and put everything I had into the leap up and out. Unfortunately, my foot slipped ever so slightly on the grass on the next-to-last step, and I saw I wasn’t going to make it. I hit the roof at chest level, with my arms extended in front of me, and immediately started sliding down. My fingers scrabbled for purchase as I dropped, then hung momentarily, as the inside of my elbows reached the edge, providing a brace to arrest my slide.

  Holding up 400 pounds, however, wasn’t easy for long periods, even for someone who’s been modified for strength, and I could feel my muscles twitch under the strain. With a grunt, I kicked the wall as hard as I could and drove my steel-toed boot into the side of the building. Although that helped, the force of the kick pushed me away from the building, and my fingers clutched the roof again, looking for purchase to pull me back against it. I kicked with my other foot—although not quite so hard—and was able to get purchase and force myself up and onto the roof.

  I rolled onto my back, breathing hard. I could have stayed there all day, looking up at the sun, but a voice yelled, “There he is!”

  A quick glance showed three Clowns on the roof of the FBI building, so I jumped to my feet and raced off. The next building over was shorter, but a little farther away. While I thought I could do it without boosting, I didn’t want to chance it, and I used the last of the boost to rocket across the gap. Unlike the first two buildings, though, which were flat-roofed, this one had a peaked roof, and as I hit, I began sliding down. Frantic, I clawed with both hands and feet, trying to gain purchase, but was unable. I continued sliding…until I hit the foot-high concrete lip that ran around the edge.

  Breathing heavily, I got my balance back and started up the roof.

  Slam!

  The Clown landed heavily on the roof next to me and immediately started scrambling for purchase, like I had done. I grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him upright, then back over. He was still trying to catch his balance when his feet hit the lip around the roof, and he went over backward.

  I looked back to see if anyone else was following me, but the rooftop was empty. Either the others hadn’t made the first jump, or they hadn’t tried. Still, I knew they’d be following me on the ground, so I raced off again. I went up and over the peak, then down the other edge, pushed off the lip, and soared across the street below to land on the four-story parking deck that was next in line. The leap was the easiest so far, and I only picked up a few abrasions as I hit and rolled.

  As I stood, I realized that was the end of my cat burglar days—all the buildings surrounding the parking deck were taller, so there was nowhere to go but down. I started toward the exit ramp, but then heard voices from the street below. Judging by their questions, they didn’t know where I was, but they knew I was somewhere close by. I couldn’t go down and let them see me; I needed another option.

  Frantically, I looked around the top of the parking deck. On one side, an office or apartment building butted up against the deck, with a row of windows that were within reach. It wouldn’t be as quiet as I wanted, but it would have to do. Each of the windows had an old-school air conditioner in it; I grabbed the closest one and yanked it out.

  Unfortunately, it abutted the glass above it, which was also yanked out, and it shattered and clattered to the deck. Several shouts rose up from below. Realizing they had marked my progress, I pitched the A/C unit to the side, took two steps, and dove through the opening. Happily, all the broken glass was on the outside, and I went through without picking up any more cuts.

  As I stood, I saw that the room was an apartment, and it had been thoroughly ransacked. Everything was torn up and in pieces. I ran through the apartment, not meeting its owner, and out into the hall. Spotting the exit, I was off again. I knew the Clowns were down on the street, so I headed up to the roof, four stories up. As I reached the eighth floor, I heard a door slam open below me and people mounting the stairs. I went up the last flight as quietly as I could and out onto the roof.

  The cat burglar was back in action.

  I ran to the end of the building and dropped down five feet onto the roof of the next building. Unfortunately, there was only one way off that building—a 50-foot jump across the street below to the next roof, which was several stories shorter. I took a couple of deep breaths. I didn’t have a lot left, but I could do this. I took a few quicker breaths, then raced forward. The building had a two-foot-high lip around it, which I used as a springboard to push myself up and out.

  Despite growing tired, it was my best jump of the day, and I easily cleared the distance and came down on the roof. At which point the structure completely collapsed, and I plummeted through one floor, then a second. When all motion ceased, I took stock. I hurt everywhere. Worse, something had sliced down my arm, and it was bleeding profusely. Although the cuts had mostly closed, I had already lost some blood from the first Clown’s knives, and I really wanted to keep the remainder. One leg of my pants had been shredded, taking both the pistol and the ammo that were in the pocket, but it made a nice bandage once I tore off a hunk.

  Overall, I was a mess of bruises, cuts, and scrapes, and I was down to one pistol and the diving knife I had picked up what seemed like ages ago. I was, however, still in one piece and ahead of the chase, although I was tired and my nanobots would have a lot of work to do to fix me up. I thought I had finally broken free from the pursuit.

  “He’s on the roof of this building!” someone yelled from inside.

  I wasn’t free of the pursuit, after all.

  I got up and looked around. Having already fallen through two floors, I realized the structure was somewhat less than stable. Along with the floors, a lot of the interior walls were down…although maybe it was because the interior walls were down that the floors were compromised. Engineering buildings to stand up wasn’t my specialty; bringing them down was.

  After a couple of seconds looking around, I saw the stairwell and worked my way carefully to it. When the floor started creaking ominously, I laid down gently to spread my weight out over a larger area. It seemed to work, as I made it safely to the stairwell, which was concrete and—I hoped—made of stronger stuff than the floors.

  Unfortunately, I could hear Clowns in the stairwell, too, so I ran up to the top, up a ladder, and out onto the roof. I smiled as I exited—this was the easiest one yet. It was only a two-story drop to an intermediate roof, then another two-story drop to the next building over. I was down both of them and running in less than 10 seconds. I looked over my shoulder and saw three Clowns come out onto the roof. They walked to the edge, saw me, and waved. One of them blew me a kiss, then they all turned and walked back to the staircase. I stopped and stared, my mouth open.

  What the hell? They’d chased me across what? Seven buildings? Only to stop at the eighth?

  I shook my head, not comprehending. It couldn’t be because they had men coming up from below or that I was trapped; I was sure th
ey would have participated in my capture. And it didn’t matter what kind of Agents they were—it was only a couple of two-story drops. Even non-augmented people could easily do that!

  I shrugged and turned. The roof spread out in front of me for almost three blocks, and it was easily two blocks wide. A sinking feeling came over me as I realized where I was and what I’d been told.

  Avoid the Philadelphia Convention Center in this Fallen World.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Well shit.

  The Clowns went back to the stairwell and turned back to watch me. Although they didn’t want to follow, they certainly wanted to see me get…whatever they thought was going to happen to me. I gave them the finger, then turned and mooned them, too. With my pants as beat up as they were, it didn’t take much to accomplish it.

  With that taken care of, I surveyed the way forward and frowned. The roof wasn’t a flat surface like I would have thought—some parts of the building had additional levels that poked up here and there.

  I shrugged and started off, going in the opposite direction from the Clowns. While I didn’t particularly want to be on the roof, I thought they might still try to mob me if I dropped to the street. I would be just fine up here, thank you very much. At least until I wasn’t anymore, I guessed.

  A row of skylights ran down the length of the building; I avoided it like the plague. While I was curious to know what was going on inside, I didn’t want them to know I was on the roof. Perhaps I could make it to the end of the roof, drop down, and continue on my way. I didn’t figure that would happen with the way my luck had been running, but a man could hope, couldn’t he?

  In order to avoid the skylights, I had to jump up onto a section that was a story higher, and then a second level an additional story up.