Seek and Destroy
- Infie
494 squinted in the early morning sunlight as they stepped out of the door. He was only a little surprised to find himself on the street directly opposite the Dancing Hussar. 511 handed him a pair of sunglasses, which he put on without comment.
"What time are we supposed to be there, again?" 511 asked.
"0900." 494 answered, then stretched hugely. "We'll be asked to provide a demonstration for al-Nassan, then we'll be in. We should be able to hunt up the weapons system fairly quickly once we're accepted as permitted in the compound." He rolled his shoulders, then turned to look at 511's profile as he stared at the Dancing Hussar. "Everything is proceeding as planned." 511's brow was furrowed. "What is it?"
"There is something not right here." 511 shrugged, then shook himself slightly. "I can't quite put my finger on it."
494 grinned. "Maybe your hands are tired after having such a busy night."
511 laughed halfheartedly. "I don't think so." He turned to face 494 directly. "We're overlooking something."
494 sighed, then started to walk along the street "Ok. Let's go over it, then."
511 fell into step beside him. "The mission is straightforward. Go to Astana, verify al-Nassan has the weapons system, obtain the prototype, destroy the compound."
494 nodded. "So far, no problem."
511 shook his head. "Except for the transmitters." He glanced at 494 sideways. "Doesn't that seem strange to you?"
494 blinked behind his sunglasses. "A little." He frowned thoughtfully. "OK... a lot. It's been bothering me." He stopped walking. "But I just can't believe that they're both out by accident. Lydecker must be trying to tell us something."
511 tilted his head back to look at the sky. "I don't like the transmitters thing, either. I mean, I get that Lydecker plays games, but leaving himself out of the loop? That is just not the Colonel I know."
494 rubbed his forehead. "There is something else going on here." He chewed the edge of his thumb as he thought. "So, lets say the transmitters weren't some bizarre message from the Colonel. That takes us back to it being accidental. Maybe Manticore is breaking in a new doctor or something."
511 nodded, still looking at the sky. "Or, it could be we're walking into a trap."
494 turned and started walking again, back to the Dancing Hussar. "That doesn't really make sense, though. If someone wanted us, they could have taken us last night, at the fights."
"Or after." 511 said wryly.
"Unless they're waiting for something else to happen first." 494 frowned again.
"Don't matter." 511 waved his hand dissmissively. "We can handle anything they can come up with, anyway."
"Huh," 494 grunted. "At least if it's an accident or a trap, there's one good thing about it."
"Oh?" 511's eyebrows rose. "What would that be?"
"Lydecker can't stand not knowing what's going on," 494 said. "He'll send reinforcement."
511 grinned. "I can't wait."
494 smiled back, then skipped up the steps to their temporary home. "In the meantime, there's a mission to accomplish."
They hit al-Nassan's compound promptly at 0855. The guards looked them up and down, then nodded reluctantly and pressed the button to open the gates. The guard stopped them just inside, by the simple method of levelling a MKM-765 semi-automatic rifle at their chests.
"What's the passphrase?" he grunted at them in Russian.
"Do svidanya, babushka." 494 replied evenly, eyeing the gun cautiously.
The guard lowered the gun and laughed, shaking his head and putting out his hand in greeting. "That makes me laugh every time I hear it." he said, in English this time. He had an American accent. "What really kills me is the straight face everyone wears when they say it."
511 shook the guard's hand and jerked his head towards the main building, two hundred yards distant. "We head there?"
The guard nodded and hit the button to close the gates. "Go inside. They'll be waiting for you guys."
494 nodded curtly and started for the main door.
"Hold on." The guard stopped him. "I need to search you two for weapons." 494 and 511 shared an amused look, but obediently turned and assumed the position against the wall. The guard frisked them thoroughly and efficiently. He paused at a suspicious bulge in 494's jacket pocket, but continued quickly enough when it was smooshy under his hand. He stepped back and gestured for them to continue.
511 gave a quick grin. "Thanks, pal. Appreciate the welcome." He and 494 walked toward the steps to the door.
The guard's eyes were cold and flat as he stared at their departing backs. "You won't."
511 narrowed his eyes, but otherwise didn't do anything to indicate that he had overheard the comment. "You know, I'm getting the feeling that there's more going on here than meets the eye," he muttered wryly out of the side of his mouth. 494 snorted.
"What was your first clue?" They trotted up the steps. The door swung open as they approached.
"I don't remember." 511 looked at the door warily but didn't slow down. "But that's the lastest one."
A man was waiting for them just inside. The hallway was dark, and the man was robed in a dark brown silk that attempted to hide his distinctly American features. The two transgenics could make him out as clearly as if he'd been standing outside in the sun. "I am Khaleeq. I will take you to al-Nassan." Khaleeq's arabic accent was passable, but still obviously fake. He walked away, leading the way deeper into the structure.
They followed him to a heavy wooden door set into the wall. He knocked once and pushed the door open, gesturing for them to enter. As they did, he closed the door behind them.
They stood in a beautifully appointed office. Dark wood furniture dominated the room, which was otherwise decorated like an old English study. Heavy dark wainscoating lined the room, and the rest of the walls were painted a rich red, the colour of fresh blood. Bookcases lined two of the walls, full of leather bound, gold etched books. 494 bit back a soft whistle of appreciation.
Apparently, crime did pay, and damned well.
The room was L-shaped, he realized, and stepped forward to see the rest. It opened up to their right. A beautifully carved wooden desk faced them, with a long cream-coloured couch against the wall beside it. Both were occupied. One man, with dark good looks and cold eyes, sat behind the desk. al-Nassan, likely. On the couch were two others. The first had was plainly American, with sandy hair, empty light eyes, and a smirk. The second was another American, with dark brown hair just growing out of a military cut and friendly blue eyes. He was staring at 494 with an expression close to shock on his face.
511 felt 494 stiffen minutely as his gaze swept over the dark-haired American. He turned slightly to look at 494 out of the corner of his eye. An expression of dismay flitted across his partner's face, so quickly that a blink would have missed it. It was followed by a look of ice-cold calculation, a look 511 hadn't seen on 494's face before. An instant later, 494's face came alive with friendly good humour. His eyes sparkled, and he gave a wide grin to all of the men. The change was so drastic that 511 wondered if he'd imagined the flash of emotion.
"Hey. I'm Dmitry." 494 extended his hand to the man at the desk. The Americans rose.
"Sabih." al-Nassan stood too, and gripped 494's hand warmly. "This is Johanssen. He is the captain of my guards." He gestured at the sandy-haired smirker, who nodded, "And Thomas, who is his right hand." He indicated the other fellow, who still looked a little shaken.
"I'm Viktor." 511 shook hands all around. "So... what can my brother and I do for you, Mr. al-Nassan?"
al-Nassan smiled tightly. "Cutting right to the chase, Viktor. Yes. I have heard that about you." 511's shoulders tightened. "Very well. I have a proposition for you."
"We're all ears." 494 fell into a relaxed stance. The Americans resumed their seats, moving with the easy grace of the professional soldier. 494 watched Thomas sit, a tiny frown between his brows.
"I am always looking for new talent to bolster the ranks of my guards." al-Nassan started smoothly. "I have a high turn-over rate, you see. I engage in activities that some might consider dangerous," he lowered his eyes modestly. "And a man of my considerable means does make an occasional enemy here or there."
"I can see how that would be the case." 494 nodded with a charming smile.
"We only sign our guards on for a year." al-Nassan continued, warming to his subject. "But, for that year, everything they desire is made available to them."
"A year?" 511 asked, a fine thread of laughter in his voice. "Or less, I imagine." Thomas covered a smile with a cough.
al-Nassan shot him a look of dislike. "As I said, I have a high turn-over rate. But I pay extremely well." He named a figure that had both transgenics whistling softly.
"So how do we join your band of merry men?" 494 shifted slightly on his feet. His eyes slid to Thomas, who was once again biting back a grin. Johanssen's smirk had disappeared. Now he looked like a shark who had just nabbed himself a big, juicy seal.
"A simple matter of proving your suitability!" al-Nassan spread his hands expansively. "Based on your demonstration last night, you should have no probem."
511 looked at the three men. Thomas was no longer smiling. Instead, his face was blank, and he was staring at 494 intently. Johanssen's smirk was back in place, and his eyes glittered ominously as they awaited 494's response. al-Nassan had only a look of polite interest.
"Ok." 494 shrugged. "Let's go."
An expression of jubilation crossed Johanssen's face. al-Nassan gave a wide smile and shook 494's hand again. Thomas closed his eyes.
{Shit, meet fan,} thought 511.
Another cage. This one was in good shape, though the chain mesh bulged in various places, and there were specks of blood in the wire. One panel was bright and shiny. The one they had seen being brought through the gates, 494 supposed. A couple of fighters stood at the door opening into the cage from the other side, and as 494 rolled his shoulders to loosen the muscles, more men began to file into the room, taking seats in the plain wooden bleachers. Light from some dangling bare bulbs cast bizarre shadows across the room. 511 looked at the blank faces of the silent watchers, and his feeling of foreboding grew even stronger.
494 made as if to step into the cage, and al-Nassan stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Let Viktor go first," he said. 494 shrugged and stepped away, giving 511 room to pass. He took off his jacket and handed it to 494, then stepped through the door into the cage. It clanged shut behind him. His opponent entered from the other side and faced him.
"This is not a request for a display." al-Nassan told 511. "I want to see how quickly you can take Grigori down." He paused. "If you can take him down."
511 nodded his understanding and turned to face his opponent.
Unlike the fighters the night before, this fellow was slightly built. He was short too, but wiry. 511 knew that for him to be here at all meant that he was an exceptional fighter, but it was still a little hard to credit. Then the man attacked, and all of 511's doubt disappeared as he concentrated on blocking the flurry of blows.
The man was incredibly fast. Inhumanly fast, in fact. 511 barely managed to avoid the fist aiming for his head. He dodged to the side as the punch passed his ear, intending to hit his opponent with an elbow to the base of the neck, but Grigori slid sideways in step with him, as smoothly as an eel, and 511 had no room to deliver his counter. Grigori lashed out with his other fist and caught 511 under the short ribs. The power in the strike exploded 511's breath from his lungs, and he sprang into a backflip to give himself some room. Grigori followed, but this time 511 was ready for him.
He kicked the smaller man in the chest, then levered himself around his foot and followed through with a boot to the other man's temple. Grigori dropped onto his stomach, and 511 was on him in a flash of movement, one knee on his neck, snugged under his chin and compressing his carotid. Both of 511's hands anchored one of his opponent's arms straight up, pinning him in place. Grigori fought him grimly, but 511 countered each move, using his greater weight to his advantage. After about a minute, Grigori's struggles slowed, and he finally lay still. 511 pinched the web of flesh between the other man's thumb and forefinger to be sure he was out, and when there was no reaction slowly released him. He stood.
The instant 511 was on his feet, Grigori struck, sweeping his leg. 511 reacted instinctively, leaping into a roll to avoid the strike. He punched the still prone Grigori at the base of the neck. Grigori dropped. This time he stayed down.
511 stared at him, then backed to the cage door, never taking his eyes from the unconscious man. The door opened behind him and he stepped through, taking his jacket back from 494, who clapped him on the back. 511 muttered a thanks, glancing at 494's profile briefly. A minute tightness around 494's mouth told him that 494 had seen, and more importantly, had understood. These fighters were no chumps.
"Very good! Very good." al-Nassan pumped 511's hand enthusiastically, but his eyes were grim. The audience hadn't made a single noise during the fight. 511 was starting to find the whole thing a little unnerving. "And now, for Dmitry."
494 stripped off his jacket. He handed it to 511, who took the opportunity to lean close. "There is something really, really wrong here," he hissed just loud enough for 494 to hear him. "That guy was no ordinary guard." He put just enough emphasis on 'ordinary' for 494 to catch his meaning clearly. 494 nodded, eyes a little troubled. He entered the cage. Thomas gave a tiny, abortive movement as if to stop him, then shook his head firmly and strode with jerky steps over to the bleachers. 511 watched him go, then turned back to the cage. He crossed his arms and tried to look unconcerned.
494 gave himself an all-over shake to loosen muscles humming with tension. He flexed his hands a couple of times, waiting for his opponent to enter the cage. The cage door opposite him opened, and not one but two guards stepped through into the circle.
"Changing the rules, al-Nassan?" he heard 511 ask sharply from behind him.
"Not at all, Viktor. Johanssen requested a demonstration of your worth, and a thorough demonstration he will get." al-Nassan's voice was oily. "I don't recall that there were rules, anyway." He laughed. "Your goal, Dmitry, is to beat Jeff and Ace, here."
494 ignored them both, though he clearly heard 511 gritting his teeth. Instead he focussed on his opponents. Both were larger and more heavily built than himself. A blond, and a fellow with a shaved head. The blond had a large tatoo of an ace of spades on his right bicep. 494 raised an eyebrow. How original.
Jeff rushed him. 494 took the direct approach and greeted him with a punch that lifted him right off his feet. Jeff fell to the mat, his shaved head bouncing twice. Ace didn't wait for his partner to get up. He came at 494 in a movement that was wickedly fast. 494 threw himself to one side, and Ace missed him by inches. 494 responded with three quick punches into Ace's body, that would have dropped an ordinary man. Ace barely grunted, instead grabbing 494's fist and wrenching it around, trying to pull him close enough to clutch. 494 twisted away, only to be grabbed by Jeff, who was once again on his feet.
494 struggled against the restraining arms pinning his hands to his sides. To his shock, Jeff held him easily. 494 met 511's troubled gaze through the mesh. 511 nodded curtly, his mouth compressed in a grim line. There was no point in trying to be subtle with these guys. The nature of the trap was becoming clear.
494 growled deep in his throat, starting to get pissed. They were agreed.
It was time to take off the gloves.
Lydecker paced the comms room in jerky, tense steps. 529 and 303 should have reached Astana by now, but they hadn't checked in yet. There hadn't been time to give them the subcutaneous transmitters, so he was stuck with more traditional means of communications. He didn't like not knowing where his kids were.
He didn't like it at all.
He stopped at the shoulder of the unfortunate private who had drawn duty today. "Squelch them again, Private."
"Yes, sir." The private replied dutifully, glancing heavenward. He flipped the switch that would send a brief burst of tone to the earpieces worn by 529 and 303. "Done, sir."
"Good." Lydecker resumed pacing. A few minutes later, his cell phone rang. He took it out and looked at the number on the call display. "What the hell?" He flipped it open. "Lydecker here."
[Sir. It's Jason.] 303's voice barely came through the burst of static on the line. Lydecker winced. [Our com unit was destroyed on impact. We... ah... convinced someone to lend us their telephone.]
"Good work, Jason." Lydecker replied, allowing approval to colour his tone. "Any news on our friends?"
[It seems they're with the contact, sir.] 303 said cautiously. [Something about a demonstration being arranged? The proprietor of their inn was most eager to talk, sir. But he doesn't seem able to hold his wine.]
So the fellow had passed out during questioning. Amateur. Lydecker frowned and rubbed his chin. "All right, Jason. Do you know where their full location?"
[I believe so, sir.]
"Fine. Go get them." Lydecker snapped shut his phone. Phase Two was right on schedule.
Renfro leaned back in her leather chair and ran a hand through her hair. She glanced at the slim silver watch on her wrist. The demonstration had been scheduled to start forty minutes ago.
She smiled viciously.
It should just be getting interesting.
494 went absolutely, perfectly still as he saw Ace draw back his fist. He felt the arms around him relax minutely, and immediately exploited the advantage by dropping straight down through the circle of Jeff's arms. His shirt caught a little, hampering the movement and preventing 494 from breaking free. Ace's fist caught Jeff in the throat, and the bald man choked briefly. His arms loosened further, and 494 wrenched himself loose. There would be no limiting himself to human abilities now. He blurred across the cage, buying himself room. The crowd made its first noise, a low mutter, and 511 clenched his fists, a fierce grin on his face. al-Nassan and Johanssen stood beside him, faces blank.
The three combatants stared at each other, annoyance written clearly on each face. Then, as if choreographed, they all exploded into violence.
494 fought for his life. These two men were as fast, as strong as he, and they seemed to feel no pain at all. He had no counter for that except willpower and his training. As the fight continued, he made another alarming discovery. The bastards didn't seem to tire, either.
He blocked a wickedly fast punch, spun away from a kick to the ribs, whirled into a strike at Ace's temple. It connected, and Ace rocked back a little, but kept coming. His opponents' ability to take punishment was a real problem; they saw no need to avoid his attacks. They simply took the hit and moved on.
494 grunted as a fist caught him in the short ribs, doubling up over Jeff's fist. He collapsed into a backwards somersault, barely escaping Jeff's follow up uppercut, or Ace's stomp where his head had been an instant before. Oh... this was not good. This was not good at all. He risked a glance at his partner.
511 was pacing the chain link now, his eyes fixed on the action. The others had edged back away from him, responding to the aura of menace that was growing by the second. He ignored them. 494's eyes flicked to meet his, and 511 growled low in his throat at the alarmed look in them. 494's face and posture were calm, centred, but that glance betrayed his thoughts to 511.
Ace and Jeff rushed him again, and he slipped away as gracefully as a cat, but the fight had been going on for a long time, and even his enhanced body was starting to feel the fatigue. He was slowing ever so slightly. 511 winced as 494 was caught by another punch, then by a kick that opened the skin over his cheekbone. All three of them were bruised and bleeding from the beating they were taking, but so far 494 was holding his own.
Barely.
511 clenched his fists in the chain mesh of the cage and squeezed. The pain barely registered, and blood started to trickle down his wrists as he fought his nature. Everything in him was urging him to go to 494's aid. But he couldn't.
Damnit.
Then everything went wrong.
494 staggered as he took yet another hit to the ribs. He fell to one knee, gasping at the splintering pain that announced a broken bone. Ace and Jeff were on him in a rush. Jeff kicked him full force under the chin, wrenching him upright and over, laying him out full length on his back. Ace gave him a vicious kick to the side at the same spot. He rolled desperately to the side, only to take Jeff's next kick in the face. 494's breath left him in a gasping puff of blood. Face distorted by anger, Ace lifted his foot to stomp the back of 494's neck.
511 swarmed up the side of the cage in a barely visible blur of movement, almost missing Thomas' blurt of protest. He was over the top and on Ace so fast he hardly remembered getting there, and he threw the blond across the ring, then punched Jeff full in the face. He reached down and offered 494 a hand. 494 took it silently, rising without even wincing. He and 511 wore identically impassive expressions.
"What a soldier a combination of these technologies would make..." Johanssen breathed. al-Nassan shot him an irritated look. Jeff and Ace moved to rush the two transgenics, but Johanssen stopped them with a raised hand.
"You broke the rules, Viktor." al-Nassan's voice was chiding.
"The ARE no rules, remember, Sabih?" 511 replied flippantly, though his eyes were icy with rage.
"Except staying alive." 494 added softly. "If Ace here had connected, I'd be dead."
"We would have brought you back, 494." al-Nassan told him, an arrogant grin curving his lips. "We just would have.. improved you a little."
"Thanks for the thought. But all the 'improving' I need I can get in the Self-Help aisle of my friendly neighborhood bookstore." 494 looked around. "All of your guards are like them?" 494 gestured at Ace and Jeff, now standing at attention.
Johanssen's wave took in the entire silently watching audience. "All of them."
511 and 494 exchanged a look. 511 reached into the pocket of 494's jacket and withdrew a sock. al-Nassan and Johanssen were startled. Johanssen began to laugh. "What is that for? Party tricks?"
"No." 494 smiled grimly, took the sock, and turned it inside out. Two tiny, glittering pieces of silver fell to the floor. "This is the most powerful weapon you're likely to ever see."
511 tossed the jacket to the side. "We call it... Phase Two."
494 shouted. "Mayday, mayday, mayday! Soldier requiring assistance. Mayday, mayday, mayday..."
Johanssen glared at the tiny metallic shards in a sudden rage. "Transmitters! Get them!"
As Ace and Jeff lunged, the audience rose as one and surged towards the cage. 494 and 511 fought back to back, fending off the enraged attack from the two guards. The cage walls bulged as the other soldiers climbed them. They began to buckle. 494 and 511 braced themselves for the first few additional guards to reach them.
Even as they did, the lights went out.
