Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis (32 page)

His eyebrows drew close. “What exactly do you think we’re going to do to him? The only chance you have is to catch him from a blind angle without him seeing you. If you knock him senseless, he can’t tell you to shoot yourself.” He stopped. “That is, assuming of course, you can somehow get through the dozen punks he’s enthralled.”

“This really is not the best time to do this,” said Vikram, paranoid eyes to the rear.

“I have something he’ll never expect,” added Kirsten with a wink. “I have a Dorian.”

He sighed at the clouds while Vikram gesticulated out of frustration.

“No, really. You can creep through his whole place and tell me exactly where everything is when their backs are turned. They can’t see or hear you so it’s like having perfect intel. As if I had a RD-92 overhead that can see through walls.”

Dorian blinked. “I… Yeah. It seems more than one of us let their emotion get in the way.”

Vikram grumbled. “Will you two get a room?”

Rust, chemicals, and waste tangled through the air, making Kirsten regret not bringing a rebreather. She adjusted the fit of the helmet, looking around, noticing how the faint amber tint of the visor clarified the details in the environment. Any object that moved had glowing amber lines around it within a split second, attempting to identify what it was, and classify the threat level.

Kirsten held her left forearm up, reaching for a terminal pane that did not appear. She froze, staring at the faint strip of dull grey along the gloss black armor.

“It’s in the helmet on those,” said Dorian. “Glance up to the left for utilities, up to the right for combat assist, low left for comms.”

Her eyes went up and left; a menu scrolled out in front of her, appearing as a billboard six feet tall. An unconscious arm pointed at the NavMap line, but she soon figured out it tracked her eyes rather than her hands.

Theodore had mentioned city road 2044, and she plotted a route to the spot. The hotel building in question sat on the last block before the official start of the blacked out area of the navigation system, as close as the grey got.

Seems Rene isn’t as confident as I thought. Even he won’t go into the heart of 187.

She took a left turn at the next corner, gliding among old dead cars and skittering bits of paper and drywall. Curtains fluttered, drawn by the breeze through window frames decades devoid of glass. A whisper, a chatter, and a clunk of wood hitting the ground made her spin with her E-90 out. Red letters spelled out
overpenetration
through her field of view when she stared over the bright blue dot. The armor knew what kind of weapon she had. Nothing moved.

“You’re going to get yourself killed in here, and then I’m royally boned.” Vikram walked in front of her.

She almost shot him.

“Dammit, man.” Her arms flew down as she puffed her chest out. “Watch where the hell you’re going; this thing will hurt you, too.”

Dorian pulled him back. “Easy, pal. If you’re in so much of a hurry to handle Seneschal and his friends alone, you’re free to wander off at your leisure.”

Vikram tugged his arm out of the grip, grumbling.

Infuriated, she stomped along the floating green line leading her closer to her programmed destination. Around a corner to the right, she took about ten steps before a pile of debris against the wall exploded into the air. She whirled, aiming at the spot. A man, a touch over seven feet tall, roared with a wild-eyed cry. Except for his head, the entirety of his body sparkled chrome; metal limbs and torso sculpted in the image of bulging muscles. Exposed Myofiber bundles swelled and moved, lending the appearance of a skinless man carved from silver. Thin lines separated plastisteel panels on the smooth parts, and faint grey light glowed from between a few that damage knocked askew.

The skin of his head turned red as he emerged from his bed of piled junk. His eyeballs all but popped out of his skull as he stared at her.

“Pussy time!”

Kirsten set her stance, raising the gun. “You don’t even look like you’ve got the equipment for that anymore. Get lost.”

Saliva slipped through steel teeth as his lips twisted with dark merriment. “Nice little pop gun you got, chica. Won’t scratch this.” He tapped his metal chest twice before long strips of forearm split open and folded inward. From within the gaps, four razor-thin blades slid out and locked through grooves along the back of his fingers. Taser-like sparks crawled down their length, snapping off the end with a flash. As if it were paper, the augmented arm pushed the blades through the steel wall of a dumpster. Kirsten did a good enough job hiding her terror; he bellowed at her lack of reaction.

She took a step back.

This thing has a mind… almost.

“Why don’t you
put those claws away
.”

He shuddered, his body twitched.

“Just shoot him,” said Vikram. “The man’s obviously out of his mind. You’ll be doing him a mercy.”

“Aaaaaagh!” The silver behemoth screamed, as one by one the blades came loose from the finger locks and vanished back into their protective doors. “I’m gonna twist your freak head off!”

The aug lunged forward one step before she shot him in the chest. The beam hesitated on the polished plastisteel for a fraction of a second before it burned all the way through him. Hand clamped over the glowing hole, he stumbled to one knee. A few seconds passed in silence; her little “pop gun” was not the ballistic nuisance he expected. Roaring, he staggered his way standing. Kirsten fired again, her second shot split off the chromed chest, smoking a trace through the traction coating between Dorian and Vikram.

They both leapt to the side, yelling.

“Narrow your angle,” shouted Dorian.

Vikram gestured at the cyborg. “Shoot him in the damn face.”

“
Stop,
” she ordered, light dancing through her eyes.

Quaking to a halt, the enormous man’s anger turned his face darker. So angry he cried, his fingers fluttered in pantomime strangulation as his body protested whatever compulsion kept him from getting his hands around her throat.

The glow in her eyes lingered brighter for a few seconds. “You’re going to
surrender at the perimeter,
now.”

Agony roared into the sky as he clenched his hands to his head, the entire shining body warped and convulsed in his effort to resist. Plodding, step by step, he trudged back the way they entered from.

“They’re just going to shoot him, you know.” Dorian stood next to her. “As soon as they see that thing come around the corner, they’re going to light him up with the 30 millimeter.”

“That might be interesting to watch,” said Vikram, wandering off to follow.

“So what, you want
me
to kill him instead?” She gawked.

“You could mind blast him a little bit, leave him loopy.” Dorian tapped his head. “Of course, who knows how much damage he’ll do to other innocent people?”

Kirsten walked backwards for several paces until she was sure he would not break the psionic coercion and come running. As soon as she faced forward, she moved up to a jog. “I had him under control with suggestion. You know I can’t just execute someone. If he comes after me again I’ll shoot him.”

“What about Rene?”

She smirked. “I can resist him; I have a rating in suggestion.”

“Don’t kid yourself. That’s his primary focus, like you and astral sense. Compared to him, you dabble.”

“Now’s not the time to undermine my confidence.” She stopped to give him a mournful glare.

“I’m just being realistic. Too much confidence is as bad as none.”

Kirsten offered an apologetic stare.

Whatever Dorian said next was lost to the distant thunder of a heavy automatic cannon and a rumbling series of explosions.

“Guess he didn’t hold his hands up.” Dorian faced to the rear.

About a dozen gangers filtered out of the buildings up ahead, coming to check out the noise. In the middle of the street, Kirsten’s police armor stood out like a “kick me” sign… a ten-foot-tall, bright pink neon
kill
me sign.

“Oh, shit.”

Kirsten sprinted to the side and dove to the ground on her chest below a light drizzle of bullets. Her sleek, armored body skittered over the traction coating without friction and she went headfirst into the side of a rusting car. Gathering her legs under herself, she leaned into the old metal hulk. The visor heads-up display drew amber ghosts, approximate outlines of men moving to cover on the other side.

She popped up, holding her E-90 in both hands, and shot one right through the chest. A spritz of red vapor burped out around the bright azure line, front and back; he dropped in place. Kirsten ducked down as the others returned fire; one slug burst through the quarter panel and bounced off her thigh.

“Ow, fuck.” She rubbed the spot.

“If you get winged again, hand me the stun rod,” joked Dorian.

Vikram appeared around the corner, still laughing from the sight of the cyborg’s encounter with a Division 5 assault vehicle. At the sight of Kirsten hiding behind the car, he sauntered up to her.

“Natives seem restless, kiddo.”

“Who’re you calling kiddo? You’re only twenty-five.” She glared at him.

Spotting an opening via the holographic apparitions, she jumped up and aimed over the roof. Two quick shots at two reloading gangers; one caught it in the face and died on his feet, the other had a three-inch trench cored through his right bicep. A slug hit her in the left breast. She fell like a sack of wheat, crumpling to the ground.

Dorian raised both eyebrows. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear that much before.”

Wet eyes turned red around the edges. One hand and an E-90 cradled her chest. “Feels like a cyborg punched me in the tit. Figures he hit the same side the wraith got.” She grunted, forcing herself to sit up. “Think you could help out a little?”

Seriousness returned to his face, he nodded once and walked through the car. The endless peppering of bullets into the husk slowed as one by one, as he drained their weapons’ power cells. Kirsten’s sigh of relief came short lived as a screaming idiot with a pair of blades leapt the car. He landed a few feet past her and whirled.

Vikram stepped toward him, surrounded by a wisp of ethereal vapor. The ganger’s bloodlust melted away to panic as he gaped at the apparition grinning at him. As he turned to flee, Vikram lunged. Blind with induced panic, the man in the Sons of Charon jacket sprinted into the debris-strewn street. Three steps later, Vikram herded him into a tangled mass of concrete and rebar.

Kirsten turned away from the sight of six steel rods lifting the painted grim reaper away from the now-dead man’s back. Blood saturated his camouflage pants as the body jerked about, twitching and gurgling before going still.

The aura of energy around Vikram disappeared, and with it, so did his reflection in a nearby window. He clapped his hands as if wiping off dirt.

“Got one.”

“What the fuck is wrong with my guns?” A voice echoed, on the edge of inebriation.

Kirsten stared at Vikram.
He didn’t think anything of killing that man. No hesitation at all.

“Vik, I know you’re dead and all but… If you just kill people,
they
will come after you.”

He waved her off. “Defense of an innocent girl.”

He enjoyed that too much.

“Lousy piece of shit.” A gun clattered to the ground. A blade scraped out of a sheath.

Kirsten popped up, firing at random through the approaching gangers. All but two broke and ran.
They’re killers. They want to kill me.

A scintillating stripe of azure light connected the tip of her pistol to another man’s chest. A split second later, the beam burst out of his back. His cheek squealed to a halt on the plastisteel ground, dead before he could scream. She jumped away from loud crumpling metal as the second man leapt onto the car. Her boot found something that shot out from under her and rolled away with a metallic ringing, causing her to flail her arms to the side to keep balance. With her aim ruined, the man tore a shortened rifle with a pipe-thick barrel over his shoulder. Kirsten’s mind flared with the desire for protection. The armor responded; the dull grey strips lit up violet, surrounding her with an amethyst field of energy just at the edge of being visible.

Boom
.

The impact to her chest smashed her flat, sending her into a sliding rearward spin. Her brain felt the hit as much as her chest did, the mental exertion similar to that of using mind blast. Laughing, the Son of Charon flipped the breech-loaded weapon open and slipped in another round the size of a hen’s egg. As he went to jump to the ground, Vikram swiped at his foot. He went over forward. Vikram palmed his skull and flung him down, ensuring his neck broke upon impact.

Kirsten sat up, pounding a fist into her chest in an effort to get air back into her lungs. Concentration waned, the luminous violet stripes faded. Dorian ran over, brushing a hundred flechettes from her.

She blinked. “You moved something.”

He offered a mirthful wink. “They don’t weigh much.”

Kirsten let gravity pull her flat on her back, taking a few breaths before struggling to stand and putting a hand over her helmet. “Yeah, I’m fine. Little woozy, not used to this armor. It’s kind of tiring.”

Dorian locked eyes with her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. It’s just another block over.” Her voice fell to a whisper; she squinted at Vikram. “Watch him.”