Chapter 11

"Blitz, can you see anything?"

"Negative," crackled the reply through my ear piece commlink. "I've got nothing on the ground. Diana?"

There was a long pause before the magician responded. "I count one making a circuit around the catwalks above the first building. The ward is blocking me from seeing anything else."

I looked over to where Sugar crouched beside me in our rooftop perch, her eyes buried in the lenses of a pair of electronic binoculars as she peered down toward the adjacent industrial complex. "I don't see him," she grunted. "He must be on the other side."

"Hold your positions," I whispered into the commlink. "Let's give it a minute."

I sighed and tried to control my breathing. The real drek hadn't even started, and already my pulse was pounding. My hands tightened around the assault rifle I cradled in my lap, but I forced myself to be calm and focus on the scene before me.

The derelict building Sugar and I had set up on top of stood directly adjacent to the abandoned complex, giving us a commanding view of the surrounding area. The sun had set hours before, but still an incandescent pall lingered over the city, brightened by the myriad neon lights that awakened as darkness fell. But unlike the rest of the metroplex, this section of Renton was content to wallow in its squalor at night as it had during the day. Most of the squatters weren't brave or foolhardy enough to walk the streets at night, and the few gangers we saw gave us a wide berth. They could sense that we were there for bigger things than petty turf wars, and they were wise enough to leave us alone.

Sugar suddenly moved, gravel crunching underfoot as she shifted positions. "I see him," she breathed quietly. "Right side of the upper-most catwalk. He's just coming into view."

I hefted the Colt to my shoulder, bending my head over the stock to position my eye behind the scope. I followed Sugar's direction, sweeping the weapon toward the plant's uppermost catwalk—and then I saw him. I could just barely make out his outline in the gloom, so I switched over to thermographic vision, and there he was plain as day—a human-shaped splotch of red and orange slowly moving around upper portion of the building. My targeting cyberware superimposed a red dot over my vision as a targeting reticule, and I slowly let it drift across the man's chest as he strolled along the catwalk.

"I'm taking the shot," I breathed into the commlink.

Without waiting for a response, I caressed the trigger twice. The Colt barked in quick succession, and a short second later the man's body jerked as if struck by a bolt of lightning. He sprawled backward against the building, and finally lay still.

"Got him."

"Roger that," Blitz replied. "We're moving in. Meet us at the rendezvous point."

I clicked an acknowledgement and stood up, hefting the assault rifle into the crook of my arm. Sugar did likewise and scooped up the Uzi III submachine gun at her feet before we headed for the stairs. I knew the abandoned building was probably full of squatters, but as we made our way down the darkened staircase, the only sound to accompany our footfalls was the soft jingle of the multiple grenades we had clipped to our combat vests.

We hit the street outside a minute later and dashed to the sidewalk that ringed the perimeter of the complex, counting on the darkness and lingering aura of menace to keep away any unwanted attention. We soon reached the spot where Diana and Blitz had pulled the van up to the fence. The Steel Lynx was already on the ground, and I could see Diana dressed in an armored duster with a combat shotgun slung over her shoulder as she busily worked at cutting a sizable hole through the chain link. Blitz slouched near-comatose in the driver's seat of the van with a thin optical cable snaking from the dashboard to the datajack located just behind his left ear.

Among the supplies we had requested from Michelson, Blitz had requisitioned a rigging kit so that he could modify the van to accept input from his vehicle control rig and allow his mind to interface directly with the controls of the car. Right now, he was in that semi-conscious state where he and the vehicle were essentially one being.

"How we doing?" I asked as we approached.

"I'm almost done here," Diana muttered over the comm..

"Blitz, you picking up any movement in the complex?"

The Lynx moved in response, its turret twisting around toward the complex. "Negative. I don't think they've missed your boy yet."

"I'm through," Diana announced. She tossed the bolt cutters back inside the van and lowered the cut out section of fence to the ground. With the links gone, there was now a hole large enough for a troll to walk through with some room left over.

"Let's get this show on the road," I said. I jerked open the van side door and grabbed for one of the cardboard boxes that had been shoved behind the passenger side seat. I reached in and pulled out a trio of gas masks, handing one to Diana and one to Sugar, leaving one for myself.

I looked to Sugar as she fitted the mask over her face. "Are you still sure you want to do this? I'm sure Blitz would feel better with someone to watch his meat."

"Blitz will be fine," she said gruffly, "And you need another gun in there. You know that as much as I do. Two people aren't going to be able to cover every angle."

"Still," I said, pulling the gas mask down around my mouth and eyes, "this isn't exactly your thing."

Sugar worked the action on her shotgun, slamming the first shell into the breach with a piercing chick-chink. "I've watched you enough over the years. I'll manage."

I sighed and nodded. I'd known her long enough to recognize the tone in her voice. She wasn't going to be swayed. What's more, she was right. We did need that extra gun in there, but I still didn't have to like it. She took risks every time she jacked into the matrix, but when the danger was so imminent and palpable, things seemed somehow different. But none of those feelings changed the reality of the situation. We had a job to do.

I hefted the assault rifle into the crook of my arm and switched it over to automatic fire. "Let's roll."

The others followed me as I moved through the opening, gliding across the broken parking lot like a band of wraiths. The Lynx ground into motion, churning behind us as we quickly covered the ground between us and the factory building. With each pounding step I expected to hear a peal of automatic gunfire from some unseen sentry, but our headlong flight began and ended without incident. My heart leaped up into my throat as I pressed my back against the building's concrete wall. My hands were slimy with sweat inside their combat gloves, and the contents of my stomach roiled about in nervous anticipation like a spinning centrifuge.

I looked over to Diana and gave her a terse nod. She nodded in kind and reached into her pack, pulling forth the shaped explosive we had gotten from Michelson. She advanced forward and placed the charge on the wall, carefully priming the explosives before rigging up the detonator. As she went to work, I slung the assault rifle across my back and plucked a pair of gas grenades from my combat vest, holding one in either hand in nervous anticipation.

Finally Diana finished and retreated back from the charge a safe distance so that we were positioned on either side of the future doorway. She held the detonator aloft, slowly counting down on her fingers. First five, then four. I watched in tense silence as three became two, and then one. I held my breath as she clenched her fist, and her thumb hit the button.

The factory wall blew apart in a shower of cinder block and rebar, throwing up a massive cloud of dust and debris. We were moving before the dust even began to settle. I popped the pins on the grenades I had in hand and blindly chucked them through the newly opened hole. I'd barely cleared the opening before Blitz had the Steel Lynx in motion. I heard a couple loud pops from inside as the grenades went off, spewing green nerostun gas about the factory interior as the lynx churned over the rubble and barreled into the spreading wall of greenish gas. A short second later, a long string of autofire erupted from within as the lynx's paired Ingram Valiants went to work.

The colt once again found its way into the crook of my arm, and I was in motion. As the adrenaline began to surge and the pulse of battle began to thrum, I forgot about all of my previous fears. I forgot all of my worries and anxieties, and instead pushed it all into that dark little corner of my being where extraneous emotions go when reason goes to drek and instincts take over. At that moment, I was no longer a man. I was a junkyard dog with no fear, no remorse, and above all no mercy.

With Diana and Sugar on my heels, I swept through the veil of greenish gas onto the factory floor like an avenging phantom. My finger twitched over the trigger, but as I scanned the smoky interior, I found that the Lynx had already done its job. Several bodies lay strewn about our newly formed entryway, and the drone had advanced fifty feet forward through the cavernous chamber. The room was easily large enough to hold a pair of basketball arenas side by side. It contained a collection of rusted machinery and fallen girders at the center, while a pair of decrepit catwalks ran the length of the interior. A pair of gunmen with assault rifles had perched themselves upon one of them, spraying bullets down at the Lynx. At the moment, the drone was busy trading shots with several figures sheltered within a doorway across the room, so it was largely undefended against the aerial barrage.

"Drek, I'm loosing turret pressure on one of the guns," Blitz said into the comm. "They must have hit one of the hydraulic lines. I could use some help here, P."

"You keep the ones across the way pinned down. We'll take care of the boys up top."

He didn't say anything in response, but the drone opened up with its remaining gun, spewing a thick barrage of high-velocity of shells at the doorway. The men beyond quickly pulled back behind cover, but Blitz kept up the attack, blazing ineffectual fire into the cinderblock walls around them.

I raised the Colt to my shoulder and opened up on the men above. The rounds ricocheted off of the railing and underside of the catwalk, forcing the goons to retreat back from the rail.

"Diana," I shouted aloud, "Gimme a little help here!"

She gave me a grim nod and began to make a series of complex gestures with her hands. As the sequence of motions terminated, she thrust her palms outward toward the catwalk as if trying to push something of immeasurable weight. There was a slight shimmering in the air, and then a wall of invisible force slammed into the walk. The blow flung a shower of dust into the air as the metal bent and shrieked under the immense force. The yabos above gave fearful shouts and clung to the railing for dear life as the walk swayed dangerously to the side.

I used the distraction to close the gap between us and the walk, plucking another grenade from my vest as I went. I popped the pin and baked the grenade for a couple seconds before tossing it upward. The goons above watched in horror as the grenade arced downward, landing with a clatter on the grating at their feet. They tried to dive away, but a split second later the space around them erupted in a roiling blast of high explosive force. The concussion flung the gunmen off of the catwalk like a pair of rag dolls as the blackened metal shrieked and split apart. A huge rent tore through the middle of the catwalk, and the two separate pieces canted downward, crashing to the factory floor with a horrendous clang.

"Alright, you're clear," I shouted into the comm. "Move in!"

Without hesitation, the Lynx lurched into motion. The drone moved past the wreckage of the fallen catwalk, skirting the rusted machinery at the center of the factory floor on its way to the last pocket of resistance. Sugar hefted her shotgun and headed off after the drone. I started to follow as well, but a shout from Diana stopped me in my tracks.

"Look out!" she cried, pointing toward the mound of rusted machinery at the center of the factory floor.

At first I thought she meant more sec-goons were lurking around the rusted hulks, but then it moved—not something moved, it moved. The machines actually moved, shuddering and quaking like palsied mental patients. The derelict machinery began to move, but not as they had in their working lives. They moved as if possessed by some magical force, coalescing into a quivering, pulsating mass that looked somehow alive. Then a form began to rise from the mound. It stood easily twenty feet tall and was vaguely humanoid in shape with girders for arms and legs, and a huge antiquated furnace for a head. The front grill of the boiler yawned open, blazing with a spectral fire like the maw of some frenzied demon.

Before Blitz could move the Lynx away, the rusted monstrosity lashed out with one of its arms. The blow struck the drone with a metallic clang, lifting the half a ton of machinery off the ground and tossing it several yards away. A shower of sparks spewed from the turret as the drone landed roughly on its side, and I heard Blitz scream over the commlink as a massive load of dumpshock surged through his neural pathways.

I started to ask if he was okay, but the words died on my tongue. The corroded behemoth had already turned away from the drone and its baleful gaze was now focused upon me.