Nighthawks (Children of Nostradamus Book 1) (10 page)

The man in the suit cleared his throat. “She is one of you. This is not humans versus powers, this is us versus the world. Do you read me, Sims?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Report to lockup. We’ll see how thirty days in solitary treats you.”

Sims nodded without question, more fearful of the man in the suit than anything he could encounter in lockup. The businessman eyed the next soldier in line. “See to it that the rest of your platoon is ready for departure. Some of you are in dire need of skin grafts. Make sure everybody has been cleared by the Body Shop.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison with a salute.

Jasmine grit her teeth at the mention of the monster-maker’s lab. Once upon a time, it had been a resource to save wounded soldiers and repair damage from the field. Over time they had taken a more aggressive approach, removing limbs and replacing them with “enhancements.” The soldiers in her squad were some of the most heavily modified people on the planet. Muscles were laced with nanotechnology increasing strength and speed. Parts of their brains were modified with circuitry and chipboards, allowing them to react quicker, access the military networks, and process data at uncanny speeds. She couldn’t help but look at most of them and see there were barely souls contained in the electronic husks.

The suit walked closer. He kneeled next to her on the floor, smiling at her grimace. “Jasmine,” he said with a flat tone, “you’re coming with me. Something has come to our attention.”

She coughed as she got onto her hands and knees. She took a deep breath and tried to focus her thoughts. The pain radiating from the base of her skull made it impossible for her to turn off her abilities. For the moment she was trapped inside her metallic skin.

“Yes, sir,” she hacked, spitting onto the ground.

The man waited for her to pull herself to her feet. She was several inches shorter than him, but he understood he did nothing to intimidate her. He reached out and touched her cheek, pressing hard enough it should have hurt. He ran his hand along her neck, giving her throat a push as well. She tried to hide her disgust at him treating her like an oddity, but she understood he was a scientist and consumed with the Children of Nostradamus.

“You are quite remarkable.”

She didn’t reply to his musings. She was busy trying to control her breathing and forget the searing pain that had rendered her a pile of mush on the ground. She didn’t blink as he poked at her.

“I would have so much fun with you in my lab, Jasmine.”

“I’m sure you would,” she hissed, making sure her annoyance was obvious.

He reached into his breast pocket and took out his pocket square. He held it out for her. “Perhaps another time. Right now, the general would like to meet with you. We have something that we need to review. It could be a rogue Class I.”

Her eyebrow rose while she wiped her face clean. A pyro and now a Class I? She couldn’t hide her surprise. She turned back to the man lying on the floor in a heap. She examined the rest of her squad, still standing at attention, to see if anybody was giving her wayward glances. She respected them as much as she could. She didn’t like this arrangement, but if she was going to do it, she was going to do it right.

She followed the man down the hall. Despite his business suit, she knew him as the head researcher in the Body Shop, a subsidiary of the Genesis Division. The Genesis Division oversaw all aspects of super humans. From researching them, to detaining them, to finding ways to fight them, it was the marriage of the military and a civilian company trying to right the wrongs of the world.

He stopped walking but didn’t turn to address her face to face. “Still feeling pain while you transform?”

She knew it wasn’t concern; it was scientific curiosity. “Yes.”

“I’m sure we could find a way to enhance your abilities. Perhaps dampen your pain receptors. I’m sure we could also find a way to speed up your transformation.”

“No,” she said flatly. “I won’t be a cyborg.”

He turned. The smile across his face disturbed her more than if he was angry. “What humanity do you have to lose, Jasmine?” he asked, walking down the hall. “You’re not even human.”

She bit her tongue as she followed the man. She hated him, loathed his very being, but she knew not to piss him off. He had no problem flipping the switch and frying her brain. To him, she was nothing more than a genetic abnormality to study.

She stopped for a moment to see through a set of glass doors leading into the Body Shop. She shivered as she saw the technicians poking at one of the soldiers. She valued her humanity too much to undergo modifications. She watched as a shirtless man held up his mechanical hand and flexed his fingers. She could see the look of power flash across his face.

Years ago the Body Shop had been part of a relief fund giving wounded veterans access to artificial limbs. When the charity was taken over by a private company and partnered with the Genesis Division, the program jumped leaps and bounds. Limbs became computerized, leading to nanotechnology being infused into parts of the body. The rich and powerful began to treat them like minor body modifications.

When the military involved themselves, the focus turned from helping wounded veterans to preventing them from being wounded. Now it was common for eyes and eardrums to be augmented to make a better soldier. Military who rose through the ranks became frequent visitors of the Body Shop, enhancing their muscles and replacing entire limbs.

Jasmine shivered at the thought.

Through several more corridors, they reached the war room. There were a dozen techs sitting at computers surrounding a massive table in the middle of the room. Every tech paused at her entrance. She may be in charge of the squadron, but nobody let her forget she wasn’t one of them.

“Jasmine,” came the general’s booming voice, “we have a job for you.” She watched the large man’s face as she walked closer to the massive table. In the entire complex, only the portly man was capable of intimidating her. His sheer size was impressive. Coming in just shy of seven feet, he must have weighed somewhere near four hundred pounds. He was not somebody who blended into a crowd. She had watched him school veteran soldiers on the mats before. He might be large, but he was muscular and in control of his body. If she hadn’t known better, she might mistake him for a Child of Nostradamus.

“Reporting, sir,” she said, clicking her heels together and saluting.

“Jasmine,” he said with a tone that instantly told her the severity of the situation. “Your squad has a job.”

“Details, sir?”

He waved his hand over the table and half a dozen screens appeared, hovering in midair. She reached out and pulled one closer to her. “What am I seeing?”

“A Corps Soldier was killed last night, shot by his own gun.”

“Suicide?”

“Somebody else shot him.”

“Sir, our guns are genetically programmed…”

“I know,” he said, gritting his teeth. “If this case wasn’t peculiar, you wouldn’t be standing here.”

She closed her mouth, worried she was already on the verge of aggravating the massive man.

She stayed quiet, waiting for the general to give her a better clue of what they were dealing with. He flipped his wrist and a screen began playing back a low-quality video. From the angle of the film, she knew it was taken with the soldier’s ocular implants. “His implant recorded this.”

She watched as the soldier’s gun pointed at a man wearing an inhibitor collar. The gun projected a narrow laser and dropped the Child. Before she could make out anything more, the implant seemed to go on the fritz and the video feed became static.

“That was a powered,” she stated.

“Registered,” he said. “Jed Zappens, barely a Class III. His powers involved auditory mimicking. There is no way he could have stopped a Corps soldier.”

“The other man?”

The general looked at her with a serious expression. “We believe he is a Class I threat. Unfortunately we can’t give you many more details than that. His powers could involve telekinesis or spatial relocation,” he said.

Jasmine examined the static image. She had been a member of the Corps for years and she could count on one hand how many Class I’s they had encountered. She saw a glimpse of panic on the perp’s face and wondered if it had been an accident.

She stiffened her muscles and eyed the general. “What do we know of him?”

“I’m downloading all available information to you now. You’ll be heading out to the Danger Zone to intercept him.”

“The Danger Zone?”

The general gave a stifled laugh. “He kills a Corps soldier and then he takes the only bus from New York to the Danger Zone. Either something is about to go down, or we have one seriously stupid shit on our hands.”

Jasmine checked the image of the kid again. He could only be in his twenties, and barely so. He looked like any other young man, nothing special sticking out other than the hint of a tattoo creeping up his neck. “We’re on it, sir.”

“Jasmine.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “We will be providing two synthetics to accompany you into the Danger Zone along with your squad. Your squad undertook a beating earlier. I will be making sure the Body Shop outfits them with some new enhancements.”

She wondered why the extra firepower. While she was considered to be in charge of the squad, she oftentimes felt they were there to watch her as well. At any moment, if the general ordered it, they would turn on her. She knew that even at the top of the food chain, she was still less than them.

“Jasmine.” He stopped her. “One more thing. We put you in charge of this squad because you’re ruthless and effective at your command. But have no doubts, you’re a powered, and killing humans is not condoned.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Do you have the situation under control?”

“It’s five by five, sir,” she said. “Had to take care of some obedience issues.”

“Good,” he said. “You’re a valuable asset, but do not question that I will terminate you if you become a liability.”

She grit her teeth and nodded.

She put her hand over the table and watched the meter of his wristband fill as it began downloading all the information. Time for the final question. “Apprehend or terminate, sir?”

The general paused at the question and looked at the scientist. She knew without a doubt the head of the labs would love to get his hands on a Class I. It was rumored he conducted experiments on the powered far beyond simple exploration. She had begun to suspect the military allowed him access to powered people she acquired, but it was the private company in charge of the Genesis Division that allowed him to delve into his darker sciences.

The general’s face was vacant, showing no emotion as he spoke. “If he is deemed containable, apprehend.”

Otherwise terminate, she thought.

She turned and walked up the steps, aware every person in the room was staring at her. She exited, trying not to grumble out loud. She may respect the general, but she didn’t have to like him.

“Another one sent to his grave,” she whispered as she headed toward her squad.

***

The
complex was visible from more than a mile away. It was a fortress, a giant cube within forty-foot-tall walls. Every so often along the wall, a tower rose in the air, housing massive guns following the bus as it neared its destination. The land around the facility was flat and barren, making it impossible to surprise the guards.

A monitor hanging over Conthan’s seat displayed the feed from the cameras mounted on the roof of the bus. He had been here once before, long before the wall and towers had been erected. The facility seemed ominous before, even a bit frightening, but now it was a military infested fortress. Soldiers walked along the wall, guns strapped around their shoulders. In front of the gate, two large humanoid mechs scanned the area while holding their weapons directly at the bus.

“Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath.

The bus pulled to a stop and the driver flipped on the intercom. “Exit one at a time. You will be searched and scanned. Please be aware that the Corps will terminate any threat from this moment until your departure.”

Conthan gulped. He looked down at his hands and prayed there wasn’t some sort of technology capable of explaining what he was. He stood and filed out of the bus with the others. Several guards carrying assault rifles greeted them. He knew he wasn’t in the civilized world anymore. They were on the edge of the Danger Zone, a desolate area void of human inhabitants. Any further toward Boston they would begin to experience symptoms of radiation poisoning. Off in the distance, he could almost see the fence separating them from the Danger Zone. The fence seemed puny in comparison to the defenses surrounding the facility.

One of the guards held up a small orb and it began to hover in midair. A red laser emerged, working its way up a newly arrived employee. Conthan watched as the guards looked to the computers mounted on their wrists. The readouts were flashing so fast he was shocked they could keep up with the information.

He watched the guard with the orb closely and could see his eyes were more silver than brown in color. It gave away the bionic implants, and the small exposed circuit behind his ear was most likely a radio receiver, which meant he had some sort of auditory augmentation. Conthan could only guess he had some sort of muscle enhancement, and by the look of his hands, they were also robotic.