In the Requiem (Metahuman Files Book 5)

by Hailey Turner

  Everyone else followed Sean and Alexei down East Capitol Street NE. Despite being phased, Alexei still went for cover, using vehicles to hide their movements. The police with them followed suit, talking in low voices over comms to coordinate their movements.

  “Sir?” someone called out.

  “Wraith,” Sean replied, without looking away from the street up ahead. “I’m Wraith. This is Inferno.”

  A couple of officers swore in surprise, and one young-sounding man let out a shaky laugh. “Fuck me, we’re following members of Alpha Team.”

  Sean ignored that outburst in favor of what was happening far down the street where the Capitol Building stood. Rising over the buildings between them and the National Mall was the glowing layer of an energy shield.

  “Oh shit,” a woman said.

  “Think it’s military-grade?” Sean asked.

  “Da. Cut off access. Is what I would do,” Alexei said.

  Wraith, we need you take out the shield anchor platforms to break the energy loop and bring it down, Katie said into his mind.

  How the hell did no one see them set this thing up? Sean asked.

  They did a stealth drop from atmo to place the aerial anchor above the National Mall, Annabelle said.

  Who the fuck is manning the satellites and radar? Donovan wanted to know.

  Whoever they are, they’re getting fucking court-martialed, Madison replied.

  Where is the nearest shield anchor platform to our position? Sean asked.

  They set one up on the corner of Independence Avenue and Second Street Southeast, with what seems like a damn battalion to guard it. I’ll keep your mind shielded from their telepath, Katie said.

  What about the metahuman with the null power?

  Still haven’t found Blanchett yet, but her power is focused more where Apollo and Knight are. Her range seems limited, or she’s not using her full power.

  Find Kyle yet? Alexei abruptly asked.

  Katie was quiet for a second, but she ultimately wasn’t the one who answered.

  No, Jamie said in a clipped voice.

  Alexei swore under his breath and in his mind, the sound echoing strangely through Sean’s head. Sean didn’t want to leave him, but the impending problem of the energy shield trapping the people who ran the fucking country inside with the enemy took precedence.

  “Go,” Alexei said, turning to look at him.

  It was difficult to meet his gaze through the patchwork street light and tactical goggles, but Sean still searched out his eyes. He nodded at Alexei before making sure they were clear of any solid objects. Then he let Alexei go. “Keep your head in the game.”

  Alexei nodded once, a sharp motion that didn’t ease Sean’s worry at all. But he didn’t have time to dwell; he could only obey Katie’s order.

  They’d stopped just past Seventh Street, six blocks from the border of the National Mall. Katie overlaid the map in Sean’s mind, the street grid lit up like on a holoscreen. His target glowed bright white in his mind, the quickest way to it straight through dozens of buildings rather than by the street.

  On my way, Sean said.

  He started running and didn’t stop.

  With his phase power, it was a straight shot from their position to where the Sons of Adam guarded one of the anchor platforms keeping up the defensive energy shield. Sean passed through the ground floors of residential homes and towers, faces of frightened people sheltering in place flashing by as he kept running. His lungs felt a little tight by the time he ran through a home’s foundation and onto Fourth Street SE, skidding to a stop as he took in the situation on the ground.

  The centuries-old, red-bricked church across the way was nothing but rubble, made that way by a bomb—air-dropped or RPG, Sean couldn’t tell the difference. The destruction was the same. Taking up the center of the intersection was a group of Sons of Adam, armed with assault rifles and a few RPG launchers. Standing at the forefront of that group was an angry-looking young man who wouldn’t be out of place on a college campus somewhere, one hand raised in the direction of the people holding the line.

  The end of the street was blocked by police cars and a SWAT van, the crowd of police officers in firing position behind what cover they could find. In the midst of them, at the forefront, Sean could see the familiar uniforms worn by active MDF field agents.

  Rapier and Blaze, Katie told him.

  Miriam Keyes and Neal Lambert were two members of Beta Team, one a telekinetic and the other with the power to absorb kinetic energy and throw it back out in the form of energy blasts. Sean eyed their position, taking note of the damaged news van that had crashed into a parking paypoint kiosk. The reporter’s drone camera hovered in the air, broadcasting the standoff live, because the media would never walk away from a story like this.

  Rapier is holding back their telekinetic. They know you’ve arrived.

  Sean nodded, even though Katie couldn’t see him. She sounded distracted and he had no doubt her attention was probably split between too many different problems right now. Taking a couple of deep breaths to get his breathing under control, Sean started forward, phasing through low garden walls, vehicles, and people, who startled badly at his appearance.

  “He’s on our side!” Neal shouted from up front.

  Nobody shot at Sean, but the amount of double-takes he got wasn’t unusual. His passage through some of the people who didn’t get out of his way fast enough fried their bioware and comms, leaving them muttering in confusion at their suddenly dead electronics.

  “Wraith,” Miriam ground out as he finally reached her and her partner’s side.

  “Rapier.” Sean looked across the space between them and the enemy and the invisible telekinetic forces vying for control of the intersection. “Need a hand?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Keep your shields up and get ready to make some firing holes.”

  Sean checked the amount of bullets left in his tactical pistol—seven, according to the tiny electronic screen on the slide—and walked forward through Miriam’s telekinetic shield.

  He locked eyes with the enemy telekinetic, watching as the young man sneered at him for a couple of seconds before realizing that telekinesis couldn’t stop Sean. Those dark eyes went wide, mouth forming a surprised “O,” before he started yelling.

  “Shoot him! Shoot him!” the guy shrieked, waving a frantic hand at the gunman to his left to obey his order.

  Guns went off with a roar dulled by Sean’s hard helmet. The bullets passed harmlessly through his body, hitting and ricocheting against the telekinetic barrier behind him as Miriam and the enemy metahuman grappled for control.

  Sean kept coming, and when the guy realized that nothing could stop him—not bullets, not telekinesis—he tried to run, but was hemmed in by his fellow fighters. Sean took advantage of his panic to get close and thrust his arm forward. Sean’s hand and gun phased through the guy’s arm, the gun sinking into his chest.

  Sean pulled the trigger.

  The guy’s body convulsed, ribcage expanding outward as if he’d taken a deep breath, when it was the bullet exploding through his body causing the motion. Sean kept the gun phased, but the moment the bullet left the chamber and his phase field it became solid, cutting through deep muscle and organ, fatally wounding the telekinetic from the inside out.

  It exited with a bloody spray out the man’s back as he collapsed to his knees, blood oozing out of his mouth and nose, eyes unseeing. Sean didn’t stick around to watch Miriam and Neal take care of the remaining Sons of Adam fighters in the intersection. He had a job to do, and it waited for him down Independence Avenue SE.

  Katie was right. That is like a damn battalion, Sean thought to himself as he started running again.

  At the far end of the street where the perimeter of the National Mall began, the Sons of Adam had parked a driverless semi-truck across one of the streets feeding into the five-street intersection near the Library of Congress. It acted as a partial barr
icade, while armored SUVs and an MRAP ringed the anchor platform in a defensive position. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder two layers deep were Sons of Adam fighters interspersed with the heavier armed and outfitted ex-special forces operatives loyal to Declan.

  With actual military-trained fighters giving out orders, the initial attack against Sean started with a neuro-jammer mounted on top of the MRAP in the form of a laser cannon.

  Motherfucking shit! Sean yelled through the mental links tying him to the rest of the team. They have a fucking neuro-jammer cannon!

  The bolt of crackling energy cut through the air like a rocket, passing harmlessly through Sean’s body before slamming into the ground behind him. In his phased state, the neuro-jammer energy bolt couldn’t harm him, but it would incapacitate any other metahuman by disrupting their central nervous system.

  Acknowledged. We need that energy shield down, Wraith, Jamie told him.

  Give me a minute.

  Sean kept his eyes on the anchor platform behind the crowd of fighters, running straight toward it. The bullets, the energy bolts, the goddamn RPG shell that exploded around him wouldn’t deter him from his target. He kept expecting mental interference from the enemy to kick in at some point, but it never did. Katie’s promise to keep his mind clear and safe never broke during his mad-dash run toward the anchor platform.

  People were yelling and still shooting, still wasting ammunition, which was fine with Sean. They couldn’t stop him, and he ran through the enemy at full speed, careening straight for the heavy anchor platform of the energy shield. The machine had a round base resting on a tripod, with nanotech filaments fanning out over a flat surface at whatever angle the shield required to hold its shape.

  Sean didn’t hesitate as he ran right through it, arms outstretched and dipping down to catch as much of the machine in his body and phase power as he could. Bright explosive sparks erupted around him, nearly blinding him as he came out on the other side. As in Montana last summer, the backlash of his power through the machinery was more than enough to destroy it, the cascading failure something not even an external override could reverse.

  When it exploded, Sean looked up at the sky, watching as part of the energy shield began to disintegrate. One section was down, but that didn’t mean the Sons of Adam wouldn’t try to rebuild it.

  Show me the next one, Viper, Sean said.

  In his mind, the map appeared again, his second target glowing brightly. Sean pointed himself in that direction and started running.

  15

  Memories Left By the Wayside

  Kyle looked up from the tactical pistol he’d just finished loading as the sound of a distant explosion reached his ears. He got to his feet, ignoring the news stream on the television in favor of his comms.

  “Reaper to base, how copy?” Kyle said as he holstered the handgun on his hip.

  The director came on the line seconds later. “All teams, gear up.”

  Kyle reached for his Barrett M293A sniper rifle lying on the coffee table at the same time the condo’s security alarm began to shriek. His head snapped up as the dull thrum of a jet’s engines easily reached his ears since he’d disabled the condo’s soundproofing. Kyle wrapped his fingers around the body of the rifle right as the stealth skin on a compact troop transport jet hovering outside the living area’s window-wall melted away.

  Kyle saw the heavy-caliber machine gun mounted at the jet’s nose aimed directly at the condo and he moved without thinking.

  The front door was closer, but the emergency stairwell exit was located on the side of the building the transport jet was hovering near. Kyle’s mind calculated the angle of the machine gun in a split second and he didn’t hesitate in launching himself over the couch as the first line of bullets ripped through the condo with devastating speed and force.

  Kyle ran for his life out of the living area and down the hallway, the deafening sound of the machine gun nearly making his ears pop as the plas-glass window walls on both sides of the condo shattered beneath the attack.

  “Reaper to base, do you copy? I’m under attack!” Kyle yelled as he skidded into Jamie’s office.

  The static whine in his ears told him whoever was on that transport jet was deploying targeted, military-grade electronic jammers, ones powerful enough to interfere with personal bioware.

  Kyle swore as he slammed his hand on a sensor panel embedded in the wall. The computer read his print and two panels slid apart, revealing racked weapons ranging from long guns to hand grenades with portable detonators. Kyle dropped his sniper rifle on Jamie’s desk and grabbed an AKR-75 assault rifle from the weapons closet along with a combat knife, extra magazines, and two hand grenades.

  He positioned himself by the office door for cover, ignoring the pounding of his heart with long practice. He didn’t bother barricading himself inside the office since there was no viable exit out of the condo now that the enemy had control of half his home.

  Kyle was only half-dressed for a fight in his combat uniform, tactical body armor left behind in the living area. He’d swapped out his sniper rifle for the AKR-75 because it was a better weapon for close-quarters combat.

  “You got nowhere to run, Brannigan,” someone said in a voice Kyle recognized from briefing files and one heart-stopping moment on a Boston street last November.

  Viper, Declan is at the condo. My position is compromised, Kyle thought, trying desperately to be heard.

  No response.

  Cold sweat broke out along his spine. He really fucking hoped a telepath wasn’t in his head.

  Kyle armed the grenade in his hand and didn’t hesitate to throw it down the hallway. The resulting explosion reverberated through the entire condo, heat from the blast blowing down the hallway. Kyle braced his weapon against his shoulder and ducked out of the office, staying crouched low to the ground as he squinted through the smoke and dim emergency lighting. The smoke stung his nose and made his eyes water a little, but it wasn’t enough to deter Kyle from attacking.

  He saw a figure coming down the hallway, half their body obscured by smoke. Kyle took aim and fired, taking the man down with a headshot that his facemask and tactical goggles couldn’t protect against. He went down, and Kyle darted forward to the next doorway, taking cover just inside one of the condo’s guest rooms.

  Bullets cut through the air where he’d just been, and Kyle listened hard for movement in the damaged condo. The fact that the transport jet was no longer targeting the condo left a cold knot in his belly. Being hunted always left a sour taste in his mouth.

  “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Personally, I hope you put up a fight.”

  Declan sounded as if he were standing near the kitchen and dining area rather than closer to Kyle’s position. How many fighters were between them was the more pressing problem. Kyle soundlessly moved away from the doorway, giving himself room to maneuver. Space was a luxury Jamie could easily afford, and every room in the condo was built to show off the dimensions of the home. Kyle mentally placed every piece of furniture in the room as he listened to the enemy’s approach.

  If they wanted him dead, they could have easily shot through the condo walls at him with their weapons. Kyle had no doubt they were tracking him through infrared, because it’s what he would do if he were in charge of bringing someone back alive in a situation like this. One of the lessons he’d learned during his years with Strike Force was that there were many different definitions of alive. If they didn’t want him dead, they wanted him for something else.

  But Kyle, like any good soldier, wouldn’t abandon his post without a fight.

  Two fighters darted into the room, sighting down their weapons. Rather than wait for them to come to him, Kyle threw himself at the pair, diving under their weapons to slam his combat knife in the back of one man’s knee at an angle. The serrated blade slipped through between the knee-guard straps to sink into flesh, grating over bone. The man screamed and half-collapsed, raising his rifle and bringing it down like a
club into empty air because Kyle was gone, already moving onto his next target.

  Kyle got behind the man’s partner, getting an arm around his throat and gripping his tactical vest by a strap to swing him around. The man elbowed Kyle hard in his side, pain blossoming for a few seconds before rapidly fading. Bullets flew through the air, hitting the bed, the dresser, and the man’s kneeling partner in the face and throat. Blood sprayed into the air like a dark mist as the kneeling man’s face was torn apart. Kyle let go of the man’s vest, took hold of his head in both hands, and yanked it to the side with enough force to break his neck.

  A black cylinder was tossed into the room. Kyle closed his eyes and held his breath, suffering through the flash-bang because he had no other choice. Ears ringing, hearing shot, Kyle blinked fading spots out of his eyes as he kept his back to the wall, letting several more enemy soldiers into the room.

  The next few seconds were a blur of blows that Kyle accepted and pushed through, his rapid healing ability making the pain disappear before he could really process it. The fight was short and vicious, because Kyle’s first goal wasn’t to kill, it was to distract.

  Four men had walked into the guest room, intent on disarming Kyle. None of them survived when Kyle dropped his last grenade at their feet and dove for the doorway, rolling into the hall and staying low as the explosion ripped through the room. He felt the heat of the explosion along his back as he scrambled to his feet—

  —and the punch to the gut of a high-velocity bullet that threw him backward to the floor.

  His vision went black at the edges, the roar in his ears so loud it was almost quiet as his entire body shuddered through the hit, organs tearing deep inside. Kyle blinked rapidly as he coughed up blood, white-hot pain radiating out from his middle overriding everything else. He pressed his left hand to his torso, fingers sliding into a ragged hole that shouldn’t be there.