Jackpot
In the night, the Hex blazed in tarnished gold, a malevolent hive with a hundred eyes glaring at the world. In the Heads Up Display of the rented gravtruck, the navigational computer struggled to lock on to a landing zone. Karim switched to manual control, flying entirely by fusion vision, bringing the gravtruck around to swoop down on the Hex like a bird of prey.
“ETA thirty seconds,” Karim said.
The past thirty-six hours had passed in a blur. Equipment prep. Test fires and zeroing. Planning. Observing. Most importantly, figuring out whether Finn was actually on site.
Peter and Zen had commandeered the cameras surrounding the Hex. All through the day, they’d glued their eyes to their screens, watching for signs of movement. There’d been no sign of Finn all morning. At two in the afternoon, his gravcar pulled out of the underground parking lot and took to the skies. It had returned only twelve hours later.
In the interim, the hackers steadily infiltrated the Hex’s networks. The elevators, the cameras, the security system, they systematically compromised everything connected to a computer. When the gravcar returned to its assigned lot, a surveillance camera captured the occupants coming out.
Two of them. Tom Ryan, the live-in driver and bodyguard, and Jack Finn.
Telling the men apart was easy. Ryan was the muscle, an ambulatory hunk of beef dressed in an off-the-rack suit. Finn was the big boss, soft and pudgy, his long-sleeved shirt and pants shimmering in the way only genuine silk would. Zen recorded imagery of the men as they crossed the parking lot, then fed the video into a gait analysis software and compared it against Finn’s gait signature as captured by the Void Collective.
91.6% match probability.
Ryan and Finn took the elevator up to their floor. The camera in the lift lobby showed them walking to Finn’s apartment. Ryan opened the door, both men entered, and that was the last anyone saw of them.
Yuri gave the men an hour to settle down. At 0308 exactly, the team rolled out.
“Aerial warning system shut down,” ZT reported into the radio.
“Roger,” Karim grunted.
Like most gated communities, the Hex had its own sensor network. When it detected an unauthorized gravcar, the aerial warning system took control of the vehicle, displayed warnings on the HUD, and forced it to land outside the property. More sophisticated systems would alert the police as well.
There would be no cops coming tonight. The hackers had seen to that.
The gravtruck flared up, killing its velocity and momentum in an instant, coming to a halt above the roof. As the proximity sensors protested, Karim edged forward a few inches, slowly reducing altitude.
There was a time when Karim could have confidently set the vehicle in place without making fine adjustments. Or, at least, there was a time when they had access to software that could do that. Not anymore. The tech was gone, their skills had rusted, and there was no way to recapture the edge.
But they were still the finest gunfighters in the city.
The rear doors popped open. The gravtruck bobbled in mid-air as the operators jumped off. Yuri undid his safety harness and cradled his carbine to the chest. The moment the doors swung shut, Yuri popped his own door open and stepped out. In a single, fluid movement, he lowered himself into a crouch.
The team formed a rough circle around the gravtruck, covering every arc of fire. A five-story pod towered over him, slanted to face him at an oblique angle. Yuri glanced at the few illuminated windows along its face, scanned the edge of the roof, then closed his door and hit his push-to-talk switch.
“Move,” he whispered.
As one, the six gunfighters rose to their feet and set off. Yuri maneuvered around the bulk of the gravtruck, following the shooter in front of him. In the darkness, he needed a moment to recognize Zen’s silhouette. As they crossed the concrete roof, they formed up into a wedge, every shooter covering a predefined angle.
A concrete block served as a combination of room and mechanical room, fashionably oriented to face the pod at the other end of the roof. The team formed up in single file, squeezed past it on the left, and headed down an open stairwell. Three floors down, they peeled off to flow into a common corridor.
Doors to the left. Doors to the right. An elevator shaft behind them. Another elevator shaft at the far end. Two apartment units hiding behind each elevator, accessible only through minor hallways. The corridor itself was barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast. Just trying to figure out how the architects made the design work gave Yuri a headache.
Taking point, James clicked on a pen light, checking the unit numbers. At 04-08, he stopped by the door. Behind him, Will crossed to the other side. Karim stepped up to the door. As the tail end Charlie, Yuri turned around to guard the team’s backs.
“Samurai, the door has an iris recognition system. There’s a backup key slot. What’s the call?” Karim asked.
Yuri had anticipated that. The surveillance video had showed the bodyguard leaning over the lock, then turning the handle. They were prepared to go dynamic, but he preferred to keep things quiet. Ideally, it would be as if Mr. One had simply disappeared into thin air.
“Pick the lock,” Yuri whispered.
“Roger.”
Karim dropped to knee and dug out his lock pick set. With delicate movements, he inserted the pick and the torsion wrench, then raked the pins—
An ear-splitting alarm shrieked.
Yuri twitched. His earpro dialed the noise way down, but he still felt the sound rattling his teeth and organs. Above the sonic assault, Will screamed, “Going dynamic!”
Karim jerked out of the way. Will swung up his Witness. It was a cut-down pump-action shotgun, perfectly sized for low-pro firepower or ballistic breaches. Will racked the pump, chambering a shell, then mashed the muzzle into the gap between the handle and the frame and fired.
The shotgun roared. Dust spewed into the air. The alarm continued to wail.
The door didn’t budge.
“Failed breach! Failed breach! Security door! Going explosive!” Will yelled.
They’d planned for that contingency too. But with every passing second, the op hurtled closer to Hell. Yuri exhaled sharply, resetting his heart rate, willing himself to become, once again, a pool of still water.
Karim circled around Will, unzipped his pack and pulled out a water impulse charge. It was a length of detcord sandwiched between two bladders filled with water, secured with a mass of duct tape. Will retrieved a roll of breacher’s tape from a pouch, then taped the charge to the door.
“BACK UP!” Will ordered.
Yuri led the retreat. He returned to the stairwell, then positioned himself by the entryway. The rest of the team stacked up behind him, pressing themselves up against the wall.
“FIRE IN THE HOLE! FIRE IN THE HOLE! FIRE IN THE HOLE!”
The charge erupted with a thundering boom. Windows and doors rattled in their frames. The shockwave roared past Yuri, a palpable force buffeting his face and shooting arm. He rushed through a thin cloud of dust, returning to the door.
Strangely, incredibly, the damned door was still shut. The knob side had buckled inwards, exposing broken heavy-duty bolts and a damaged strike plate. The hidden hinges had survived the shock wave. They’d have to force the door in the rest of the way.
Shaking his head, Yuri positioned himself by the hinge side. Zen crossed over to take the knob side, then released his carbine and drew a flash-bang. With his left hand, Yuri pointed at the knob.
Karim stepped out of the stack.
And changed.
Inky blackness spilled out of his pores, enshrouding him in a thick cloud. His helmet disintegrated. His fingers elongated. His boots dissolved, and in their place appeared lupine paws. Long, sharp claws burst from his digits. White fur covered his exposed skin. His face lengthened and sharpened, skin and bone melting and reforming, taking on the aspect of a wolf. The cloud dissipated, revealing the werewolf.
Here was Karim in his true form, an Elect of Galen the White.
Karim-Galen rushed the door. Spinning around, he delivered a powerful back kick. The jammed door blasted open.
Deep inside the room, someone yelled a warning. Karim fell back. Zen peeked out and tossed a stun grenade through the entryway.
Yuri extended his awareness into the room beyond.
All at once, he knew. He knew there were two people in the apartment. He knew they were off to his eleven o’clock, barricaded in their rooms. He knew they were waiting for them.
And the stun grenade exploded.
Light pulsed. Thunder boomed. People shrieked. Yuri rushed through the door, carbine high, thumbing on his weapon light.
And in the middle of the living room, a third being materialized.
It was a living shadow, a fog of swirling darkness. It drank in the blinding white light, revealing itself only as a growing pitch-black cloud. It sucked heat and life into itself, chilling the very air, billowing outwards to touch the ceiling and the floor. In the depths of that malign darkness, Yuri sensed the cold gaze of a malign intelligence, a being that had no place in a sane and ordered universe.
He reached under his collar with his left hand and held out his silver cross.
“YAHWEH!” he cried.
He spoke from his hara, his belly, his center of being, willing the Word to grow and expand to fill all of Creation. Bathed in the purity of the Name, the world brightened, the air crackled, the universe trembled. The thing trembled, flowing away from the cross.
“YAHWEH!” he roared again, plunging deeper into the room.
Into the darkness.
A high-pitched howl filled his ears. Invisible tentacles slammed into his eyes. Claws scratched at his throat. Shadows engulfed him, stealing heat from his blood, life from his body, strength from his soul. He saw nothing, he felt nothing, there was nothing but darkness and death. As he sucked in a breath, knives raked his lungs.
“YAHWEH! Bring thy light into this world! Carry forth this demon into your presence, then it might know your glory and be redeemed!”
A pure white light blazed in the dark. The demon shrieked. Ten thousand blades ripped out of Yuri’s being. All at once, the shadows lifted. His eyes cleared. The light resolved into the spotlight of his carbine.
And the demon vanished.
Suppressed carbines spat in steady, unrelenting cadences. Yuri brought up his own weapon in both hands, hurriedly scanning left to right. Past the living room, a half-naked man curled up on the marble floor, a pistol clutched in his hands, spilling blood from a half-dozen A-zone hits. A final shot, and his head exploded in red.
Zen stepped over him and plunged into an open doorway to his left. Karim joined him. Yuri headed past the body, down the hallway, rushing to another door. The last target was here. He could feel it.
He stopped at the hinge side of the frame. The door was closed. The hinges were recessed. It looked like any ordinary door, but for that one detail, he guessed that it was another security door, like the one at the entrance.
A heavy hand thumped Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri rapped the knuckles of his left hand against his helmet. James stepped out around him and retrieved a doorknob charge. It was a small explosive charge with a loop of detcord at one end. James hung the charge over the knob, positioning it over the lock, then yanked the pins on the fuses.
The team backed up. All the way to the living room. Zen and Karim stayed put. Bracing himself, Yuri opened his mouth and—
The charge detonated. The walls reflected the energy of the blast, pummeling Yuri from every direction. The windows spiderwebbed, threatening to fall apart. The door flung open. As Yuri approached the doorway, a soft hand pulled him back. A second brought a flash-bang in front of his face.
He nodded.
Kayla primed the flash-bang and lobbed it into the room. The moment it went off, Yuri burst in, sweeping to the right.
Finn pounced.
Blinded, deafened, the operative screamed at the top of his lungs, flailing at Yuri with his bare hands. Yuri pivoted counterclockwise, drawing his carbine through a tight circle, parrying Finn’s right arm to the side. Instantly Yuri lunged forward, driving the muzzle of his suppressor into Finn’s sternum. With a loud gasp, Finn doubled over. Yuri drilled his left hand out, turning his palm towards his left, grabbed Finn’s fingers, then corkscrewed his hand down and back.
Where his hand went, the rest of Finn’s body obeyed. He crashed unceremoniously to the floor, barely catching himself with his free hand.
“Covering!” Kayla called.
Yuri slung his carbine behind his back, then forced his knee on Finn’s spine and twisted his arm around his back. Finn yelped in pain. Yuri grabbed at his other hand. Finn snatched it away. Yuri dug his knuckles into the mastoid, just under his ear. Finn yelped again. Yuri grabbed his free wrist and brought it to his back. Kneeling on Finn’s hands, Yuri brought out a set of zip-ties and cuffed his wrists together.
“Jackpot secure,” Yuri reported. “SSE, five minutes.”
Yuri hauled the still-dazed prisoner to the living room. All around him, the team tore the house apart, seizing everything that might have a modicum of intelligence value.
“You’re fucking with the wrong man,” Finn growled.
A buzzing filled Yuri’s earpieces. A window flashed across the bottom of his smartglasses. Peter had sent him a message.
BPD Dispatch reports Dustoff International is en route. Evac now.
Yuri sucked down a breath. Nothing in their intel suggested that Finn had a contract with the nation’s premier private military and security company. Bad enough if the cops come. Dustoff didn’t care about anyone except their client.
“Abort, abort, abort!” Yuri called. “QRF incoming! We are out of here!”
Finn laughed. Yuri ignored him.
Inside ten seconds, the team reassembled at the door. They flowed out into the corridor, retracing their footsteps. In a swirling cloud of smoke, Karim returned to his human form. In the distance, sirens howled and lights flashed.
Up on the roof, the gravtruck was still waiting for them, floating placidly above the roof. Lights spilled from every window in the adjacent pod. As the team pulled security around the truck, Will and James opened the rear doors and flung the captive inside.
One by one, the shooters piled into the vehicle. Karim and Yuri returned to the cab. As Yuri buckled in, he spotted lights flashing in the night, rapidly closing in, blinking in the distinct white-red-green pattern of Dustoff International.
Yuri had no qualms shooting down mercs if he had to. But most of Dustoff International weren’t soldiers of the New Gods. Not directly. They just happened to hold contracts with some of the Elect of the New Gods. More importantly, the team didn’t have anything that could scratch the armor of a Dustoff gravtruck, and Dustoff always ran their gravtrucks with heavy weapons.
“ZT, we’ve got a Dustoff gravtruck incoming. Any way to shut them down?”
“Wait one.”
The door doors closed. The gravity mirrors hummed. As the team’s gravtruck lifted off, the Dustoff vehicle shone a spotlight on them. A loudspeaker blared.
“This is Dustoff International! Land your vehicle or we will open fire!”
“What the fuck…” Karim muttered.
Dustoff was infamous for playing hardball. This was taking things to the next level. That or…
“Check the jackpot for a tracker implant!” Yuri said.
“This is your final warning! Land now or we will shoot!”
“ZT, any time now,” Yuri said softly.
The spotlight switched off.
The Dustoff gravtruck spun around.
And the vehicle plunged towards the earth.
“What the hell…?” Karim wondered.
“They seem to have run afoul of the aerial warning system. How careless,” Zen remarked.
“Does the jackpot have a tracker?” Yuri demanded.
“I shot him up with counter-nano. If he had one, it’s not working now.”
“Good work. Lycan, get us out of here.”
“Acknowledged,” Karim said.
The gravtruck blasted off into the air.
Behind them, the Hex buzzed like an angry hive. Lights flashed on. Sirens screamed. Voices echoed off strange geometries to fill the night. Sirens howled in competing choruses, a harbinger of the chaos to come.
Yuri settled into his seat, leaned back, and tried to relax. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d just lit the fuse to the biggest powder keg in the world. No matter what happened, he knew, the city was going to explode.
All they could do was try to outrun the blast. 