by Cameron, TR
She’d been part of developing the scenario. All of them had. Diana had described the various threats they’d potentially face, and the team had brainstormed options together.
After they developed them, they rehearsed the ones that seemed most promising and finally set twenty-six of them in stone, Alpha through Zulu. Of those that involved base defense, the one the boss had selected was the most extreme. For Diana to call for it indicated she must have some extra knowledge about what might be coming against them. Probably from the information we decoded. It’s a good thing Deacon is so amazing at his work.
A small bell sounded as Alfred activated full lockdown on the base. Heavy doors descended to seal off corridors at twelve-foot intervals, which would significantly impede the attackers’ movement through the building. The area outside the labs had its own main door, and even with the best cutting gear, it would take them a while to get through it.
Deacon bustled into the room, shrugging a backpack onto his shoulders. “Okay, I’m good. How can I help?”
“I thought two bags would be enough, but three would be better. Maybe four. Grab some, will you? The lockdown should give us plenty of time to fill them up.”
He complied, but she lost track of him as a camera feed in her glasses drew her attention. It showed a differently suited person moving forward at a calm pace. His body armor seemed more advanced than those around him, and instead of carrying a weapon, he had a large case with him. He set it down and opened it, revealing several strange-looking objects of varying shapes.
She frowned, not understanding what she was seeing but feeling like it wasn’t good. “Alfred, feed this to the boss.” She activated a channel directly to Diana and said, “We’ve got something weird here.”
Diana replied, “I see it. Any guesses?”
Kayleigh shook her head. “No, although those things look a lot like some of the vimana’s strange metal.”
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”
The person on the screen placed one of the objects against the wall next to a lowered door, and it immediately slid open. Then, to her horror, the cameras in her display showed the defensive barricades opening up throughout the facility.
Diana said, “Shit,” then her voice came over the channel that fed everyone. “They have access to the vimana’s control systems. Throw physical latches immediately and get the hell out. Right damn now.”
Kayleigh turned to Deacon and growled, with a grumbled curse. “Figures. Okay, one and a half bags will have to do. Open the portal.”
He obeyed, and she saw the small apartment she’d rented through a series of cutouts and false names on the opposite side. It looked appropriately disused, as she hadn’t been there in a month or so and dust accumulated with no apparent cause.
She pushed one bag through and slung the other over her shoulder. She crossed the threshold, then turned to face Deacon. “You know, we could break the rules here. You could come with me.”
He shook his head. “No, they’re there for a reason. Even you need to follow these.”
She tried to ignore the sensation of her heart sinking into her stomach. “Be careful, Deke.”
He gave her a confident grin. “You know it, Kitana. See you online.”
The portal closed, leaving Kayleigh truly alone for the first time in more than a year. She sat on the edge of the bed and fought back the tears that wanted to come.
* * *
After portaling his girlfriend away, Deacon ran into his workspace. The self-destruct required both virtual commands and physical switches. He’d already accomplished the former, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do the latter, somehow hoping things would work out so he didn’t need to. Clearly, though, that was no longer a possibility.
He’d worked with Anik to lace the server racks with explosives, a particular setup that wouldn’t be affected by heat, or static, or anything. He opened the first protective panel on the right wall and hit the button underneath, then crossed to the left wall and repeated the process with the trigger there.
In several locations, liquids formerly kept separate started to mix, creating an explosive compound that flowed through transparent tubes wrapped along the frames of the server racks. He ran from the room, closing the heavy door five seconds before the system added the catalyst. Sounds of many moderate explosions came through the closed barrier, signaling the destruction of his prized gear.
He growled, “I’m going to make it my life’s work, dedicating all my free time to it, to getting revenge on the people who made me do that. Count on it. I declare a vendetta.”
With one last look back, he opened the portal to his safe house and strode through.
* * *
Diana threw the heavy bolts that protected the inward swinging door of the vault. Once they’d discovered that certain rooms had doors that didn’t lift into the ceiling, those had become locations for important things like the vault, the armory, and their gathering place for several other scenarios. Rath, who had arrived with Max on his heels mere seconds before, asked, “Do we know who they are?”
She replied, “I have a pretty good guess. That’s a problem for another day. Start filling bags.”
Over the next five minutes, a six-foot-tall Rath managed to fill two duffels while Diana and Cara unlocked the safes holding the most valuable items. Their packing time ended as Alfred warned, “Enemies approaching the vault.” She focused her eyes on the camera windows in her glasses and saw that indeed, they were getting close, and they carried heavy tools, plus explosives. Given what they’d accomplished so far, she couldn’t trust that their defenses would hold for long. “Guess we’re done here.”
Cara shook her head sadly. “You know, I really like this place. There was something cool about the purity of living the job. Haven’t felt that since early days in the Army.”
She managed a smile. “I get that. I agree. It was pretty idyllic. That alone should have told us it was too good to be true.”
Rath, now returned to his three-foot form, laughed. “It’s a new adventure. Look forward, not back.”
Diana sighed at the troll’s giddiness. “How about you take him with you, Cara?”
The other woman had already opened a portal but paused before stepping through to reply, “Oh, hell no. I’ll watch the dog, though.”
Rath patted Max and said, “No chance, no way, no. We’re a package deal.”
The other woman grinned at them, seeming more emotional than usual. “Be careful. Be well. See you soon.” Then she stepped through and was gone.
Diana looked down at her magical life partner. “You ready, buddy?” He nodded. “Alfred, anyone on our side left but us?”
The AI replied, “Negative.”
Then she gave the command she’d hoped never to have to give. “Okay, Alfred, Clean Slate. Execute.”
The AI’s neutral tone answered, “Confirmation code?”
Diana intoned the poorly rearranged words of the philosopher Camus. “I believe in nothing, and everything is absurd.”
“Acknowledged.” The instruction would release a computer worm Deacon had developed into all the base’s connected systems. It would go through everything they’d created before coming to Antarctica and everything they’d added since getting here, months and months before. Codes, records, data from their daily calendars to remote piloting functions for their vehicles. All of it, gone. Poof.
Diana shook herself out of her haze. “All right, Rath. New adventure it is.”
Chapter Thirteen
Bryant’s watch woke him from a sound sleep, the alarm a pattern he didn’t recognize. He sat up and pulled his glasses on, eyes widening at the sight of the red dots on the base schematic. He jumped out of bed and gave the commands to join the comm channels, listening in as Diana initiated scenario Zulu.
He released a guttural snarl of frustration as he ran for his closet. Didn’t take the bastards much time to move. Our information came a beat too late. I wonder if
Finley is compromised.
He didn’t entertain any suspicion that the senator would actively work against him. They’d been allies too long for that. However, it was entirely possible the man was being fed misinformation or denied access to things he should have the ability to see. “Emma, building surveillance, please.”
A lush British accent approximating the voice of Emma Peel from the old Avengers television show replied, “Acknowledged,” and the display in his glasses changed. The left side showed feeds from several tiny cameras he’d positioned throughout the structure. The right provided images from the building’s security systems.
He lived on one of the middle floors of a thirty-story apartment tower, figuring that assured him the greatest possible anonymity and the most protection. He couldn’t wall himself in or hide in the suburbs, given his role as a pseudo-politician. Really, I guess what I am is a very focused lobbyist working for all the ARES bureaus.
He finished pulling on his suit, having slid a low-profile bulletproof vest on under his shirt and laced up his heavy-duty boots. They were steel-toed and heeled, in case he needed to kick someone, and held a knife and a holster, respectively. He opened the large gun safe at the rear of the room, the first turn of the wheel coinciding with the appearance of a tactical team on one of his cameras.
By the time he had the container open, he’d spotted several more teams moving in from both the lobby and the roof toward his floor. “Emma, lock down the elevators.”
She replied, “Done, Bryant.”
He had multiple countermeasures in place to activate in his defense, but that was the easiest one. The people coming up from below wouldn’t enjoy the entrapment, nor would they appreciate having to walk up the many flights of stairs to get to him. He snapped on his equipment belt, which looked normal from the front but had several useful devices that hid under his suit coat.
His 10mm Glock 40 pistol went into a holster at his lower back, and he stuffed his Sig Sauer P238 pistol into his boot. Finally, he grabbed a pair of heavy-duty black Tasers and headed for the door.
The camera showed the hallway outside his apartment was clean, so he exited quietly and headed toward the stairs going up. Logic suggested there would be fewer enemies in that direction. He’d considered simply portaling out, strictly following the rules of the scenario, but he was furious at his lack of forewarning.
He didn’t blame himself entirely for the situation in the vimana. Still, he felt that if he’d been better at navigating the weird political currents that always swirled around Washington, he might’ve been able to give them more time to prepare. Now I’m going to find someone who will tell me exactly what the hell is going on, so I’m more on the ball if something like this is ever in the works again.
He ascended several flights, then heard a tactical team advancing from above. He stepped out into the empty hallway ahead of their arrival. His camera showed plainclothes agents knocking on doors on his floor, apparently asking his neighbors about him. They really put on a full-court press here. I wonder if they’ll go to the other levels?
His initial plan had been to take down one of the four-person units and interrogate whoever was still conscious at the end of it, but he liked these odds better. He watched from his cameras as a tactical team broke into his apartment. When they didn’t find him there, new orders went out because the agents questioning his neighbors moved directly to the stairwells. The fact that tactical teams went with them put a crimp in his revised plan to capture one of the non-armored opposition.
Damn, damn, damn. Okay. Time to get out of here. He summoned his magic to create a portal and blinked in surprise when it failed to materialize. His brain added two and two together, remembered the armored troops had been wearing backpacks and further recalled Kayleigh's warning about anti-magic emitters in the base. Oh, you want to do it the hard way, then? Okay, I’m game.
If he were running the op, he’d have those on every floor. He would also plant surveillance and traps in case the quarry evaded the perimeter. Interesting that they brought anti-magic for me. Not everyone knows I’m a magical.
He wore polished wooden rings on his fingers that served as his wands, one that had been with him forever and another more recent creation that he was still in the process of fully bonding with. Their carvings were different enough that no one should immediately assume they were a matched set, only that he liked elegant wooden rings.
He descended quietly to the floor above his, which held a dispersed tactical team and an agent. He walked boldly through the door from the stairwell, approaching the single guard watching the hallway. Each floor had four corridors arranged in a rectangle, so the four-person team had logically deployed one to each. The guard’s armor meant that any shot from a distance with the Taser probably wouldn’t hit anywhere it could do any damage, and he didn’t want to start gunfighting quite yet if he could help it.
The man lifted his rifle and shouted for Bryant to stop, but he shook his head and put a hand to his ear, then threw the device he’d palmed before leaving the stairwell. A small gas grenade bounced once, then went off at the man’s feet. He’d gambled that the helmet wouldn’t also be a gas mask, and the way his opponent collapsed confirmed the notion.
He peeled off the other man’s helmet and took his headset, pressing the earpiece against his head to listen. No alarm sounded, and the chatter was all tactical, offering nothing useful.
He sighed and dropped the communication gear on the guard’s body. Then he dragged the fallen man to the stairwell, stripped him out of his armor, and put it on over his suit. Zip ties would keep his foe from moving when he woke up, and the stairs had good soundproofing.
He descended the staircase into the lobby and casually exited the building. Outside, they’d parked a command post trailer along the curb and positioned several police department cars for backup and to block the street. He shook his head at the idea that they’d gone through all that effort to catch him and angled toward the command trailer. He pounded on the door, and when someone opened it from within, he pushed his way inside and latched it again behind him.
The long vehicle held two guards, four technicians, and a guy in a suit giving orders. He threw a stun grenade at the group clustered around the instrument panel, and its detonation wreathed the techs and their boss in electricity. It was enough to daze them, which would give him all the time he needed. He charged the nearest guard, ramming his knee up between the man’s legs and slamming an armored elbow into his helmet. He repeated the strike three times, and finally, the man went down.
Bryant spun toward the other guard, who was at the far end of the trailer. His opponent had gotten his gun out of its holster. Bryant grabbed another disc from the back of his belt and hurled it across the space between them. This one was an Emerson special, a powerful magnet that activated when it struck.
It hit the gun, latched on, and yanked the weapon and the arm that refused to release it toward the side of the truck. During the ensuing confusion, Bryant pushed his way through the techs and kicked the guard in the leg, forcing him down to a knee, then delivered several blows to his head from above.
The man collapsed, and Bryant turned and tased two technicians, the sensory overload rendering them instantly unconscious. He ejected the cartridges, quickly replaced them, and took out the other pair before they were fully functional again.
Calls were coming over the speakers in the truck, asking questions that no one except the guy in the suit would be able to answer. Bryant grabbed the boss and slapped him, then yanked off his helmet. The other man’s eyes widened, and he nodded. “Yeah. It’s me. Here’s the thing. Going after my team was a bad move. Tell me who’s in charge, and you get to live through this.”
The other man shook his head, and Bryant slapped him a second time with enough force to open his lip and redden his face. “Try again. Seriously. There’s no reason for you to die because you’re too stupid at this critical moment to give me the information I’m going to find o
ut anyway.”
Without releasing his captive, he reached under his pant leg, pulled out the hidden knife, and pushed it up under the man’s chin. “My options are diminishing second by second. I need to get out of here before you folks force me to kill a lot of people. Last chance to get to go home tonight.”
The man swallowed and tried to stretch his throat away from the blade’s point. “Serrano. It’s his op. Not sure why. Said you and your people are traitors.”
Bryant smashed an elbow into the man’s face before fully realizing he intended to do it, then rammed his helmet back on and stomped out of the trailer, shoving the door closed behind him. Traitor? We’ll see who’s a traitor and who’s not.
No one tried to stop the uniformed man striding with a purpose toward the perimeter. He dropped the anti-magic emitter backpack as soon as he turned the corner, then continued walking, testing his magic with small things every few seconds. When it finally returned, he opened a portal and crossed the threshold to safety.
Chapter Fourteen
Kevin Serrano replaced his pistol in its shoulder holster and zipped up the leather jacket designed to conceal it with a nod to the security guards at the checkpoint. He had special dispensation to carry his weapon anywhere he went, short of the White House. Big responsibilities, big privileges. I’ll need every one of them to get this job done.
Sometimes when he visited the Senate building, he played the game, wore the suit, left the gun at home, generally tried to fit in. Today, the day after things had finally gotten rolling, he wasn’t interested in pretending to be anyone other than who he was. His close-cropped black hair was shorter than he’d worn it in the Special Forces, a sacrifice to his time being too valuable to spend it worrying about his looks.
