Chapter Fifty-Six

The next four hours passed in a blur. We all used medikits, the worst of us triaged by Lion, Luna being sent to a clinic for some work after all, along with Sync. The pair of them were more significantly injured than he was comfortable working with.

“I can replace their kit, but I can’t heal them,” he’d explained. “For Sync? Half her organs are on the verge of collapse, twelve to eighteen hours in a decent clinic with tissue regen and directed nanites? She’ll be doing cartwheels, never felt better, as it is though? All I could do was rip them out and rebuild. That’s a full day’s job, just on her, that’s nobody else I can help.”

Luna had half a dozen flechettes driven deep into her, and while the medikits were numbing the pain, the longer they were inside, the more damage they’d do. The regrowth was a hell of a lot cheaper and could be done today.

She already had new legs on order—they came as a pair, even for replacements, the bastards—but that’d be tomorrow before they could be fitted.

Richie was keeping himself going with medikits and stims, as well as coffee, cigars and rage, and I was with him on that last one, he was also seriously fucked thanks to the spinal damage, but being an operator, he refused to give in.

Lion had numbed the entire body below mid-way down his back, and as soon as the rebuild of my suit was done, he was heading back to Lion’s chop-shop, ready for a new spinal tap install.

Dondo had survived as well, although he’d been with Oshbob the last few hours, he’d arrived back about twenty minutes ago, and started to work alongside us.

Liolet had shut down. His entire squad, a group as close as any family, had been cut down like animals, and he couldn’t deal with it, he’d collapsed and was unresponsive. We’d moved him to a section of the building that was more or less safe, and wrapped him in a blanket, leaving him be.

Todds had returned home, the kids needing him for a little, and needing some rest himself, and I’d sent him on his way with our thanks, as well as apologies, as we’d basically taken over his life since rescuing him.

Julius had come through for us, and in a big way. The armorers, weaponsmiths and anyone that wanted to look good before the Guildmaster had responded to his call ‘to help one of our own’.

We had seventeen people here now, and we were making headway with the building.

The first thing we’d done, was register the fight as an attack upon the guild. With the guild being an official entity, and currently a rising star in the vid circuit, that shut down any unofficial attempts from assholes like ACE to grab the suits and wreckage.

As a guild property—it’d taken some seriously fast talking to Oshbob to get him to agree to it being classified publicly as that—it meant that this had been classified as a guild raid .

Essentially, while these things were frowned upon, they happened, and while the attackers, if we filed formal complaints, would get a hefty fine and a bill for our repairs, that wasn’t the important thing.

That important side was that the suits were classed as equipment used in the raid, and that meant they belonged to the victors. We had all the parts we needed to fix up at least one suit, and several older generation suits for sure.

The transport was also classed as a spoil of war, though due to the level of damage we were probably going to have to sell that for parts and scrap.

We’d also need a dedicated pilot if we tried to fix it, but that was a problem for another day. We hired an air-lift, and had it dragged onto our boundary so we weren’t getting fined from the city for blocking the roads, then promptly raided it for parts and intel.

Oshbob and his pet assassin ‘discussed’ the raid with the survivors of the enemy force as well, and Dondo told me that they’d be wanting a ‘chat’ later, once they were finished, but that I could leave the details to them.

That just left the suits.

They’d tried to steal Sync’s suit, and that was more or less intact, but she wasn’t. Richie was much the same, his suit was in good condition, his body, not so much.

I was the only one that was really combat-capable, and my suit was fucked.

That, of course, left us with two options. We could ‘blank’ one of their suits, so that I could use it, but it’d cost a fortune in nanites, then need to be done again so they got their suit back, or…

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Richie grumbled, disconnecting sections of the left arm, as I worked on releasing the corresponding kit on my own suit.

Seven of us were working on my suit right then, with four more under Richie working on Sync’s suit.

“She’s going… to fucking kill us… both, you know that, right?” he said, grunting as he shifted, dragging himself forwards to see where a guy was tugging on a stubborn connector. It popped loose on the third heave, sending him staggering as the makeshift crane took the weight of the limb.

“That’s on you,” I said, shifting around inside my suit, freeing the next section. “Right, can you pull now Santos?”

“Whadda you mean it’s on me?” Richie asked, glaring over from where he was sprawled.

“Sync,” I said as if it was obvious. “Fuck’s sake, Richie, I’d literally just gotten you both to fuck off to a hotel for a few days to screw each other’s brains out. I was even paying for it, I think the least you could do was take one for the team and break the news to her.”

“You think paying for a hotel—one I didn’t even get to use—means I owe you this? My spine’s fucked, you think I’m getting my end away any time soon?” He shook his head. “The only way we survive this, is if we kill that fuckhead Marcial.”

“Well, yeah, he’s been gunning for us…” I responded, only to be cut off.

“I mean Sync!” Richie snapped. “We’re stripping her suit for parts, she’s gonna fucking murder us both!”

“She really that dangerous?” one of the armorers asked, helping to carry some of the arm away.

“She’s an APS elite sniper with over a thousand confirmed kills,” Riche said flatly. “What do you think?”

“Sucks to be you guys.”

“You think you’re not in the line of fire?” Richie said. “You’re helping us loot and strip her suit. I’m alright, I’m already injured, if I play this right—and believe me, I will—she might forgive me. Him? He’s the boss. She might forgive him too, more or less. Eventually anyway, if he provides her with the fuckers head on a stick as a bathroom ornament. You?”

Richie shook his head sadly. “You guys just send us a message when they do the whip around for the funerals, okay? We’ll chuck a few creds in the pot.”

“Oh thanks man, I love giving my day off up to get threatened.” one of them grumbled.

“Hey, you’re married,” another of the team called over, grinning. “It was threats at home or here, at least here there’s no kids demanding creds!”

“True that…” the first said, shaking his head as he stuck it into the open chest of the APS trying to trace a cable.

The conversation went on and on, the group working well together as we stripped and rebuilt, frantically working, while Richie got slower and slower, until I finally managed to pack him off for medical as well.

The sun was going back down, and I was slumped in an exhausted half doze, when Dondo came to get me hours later, my suit complete and doing recalibrations and integration workups.

“Oshbob wants to see you,” he said. “They’ve talked.”

I winced, forcing myself up and yawning hugely. I’d spent the day roaming between the heights of rage inducing adrenaline—those fuckers had come after me in my home, they’d nearly killed my friends, and he had been responsible for killing Fergie and Scott—and barely being able to focus as I’d still not slept properly after the job last night, or for more than a couple of hours here and there since departing for the Fingers of God days ago.

“Did you lose many people?” I asked Dondo as we walked across the street.

“Not really.”

“Really?”

“You soldier-boy types forget what it’s like in the slums, you stick your head up and make a noise? You get fucked up.” He snorted. “Besides the damage done to the warehouse—I’d make a point of apologizing for that if I was you, by the way—we got off pretty light. Most of them were focused on you, and the ones that weren’t? They saw street rats, while looking for soldiers and waved us off.”

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“How’d that work out for them?”

“Unara slit their throats.” He grunted. “That’s my second bit of advice for you in all this, don’t piss her off. She’s the boss’s right hand, and he trusts her. If she decided to gut you because she didn’t like your haircut he’d be more pissed at the mess on his floor than you being dead. Don’t fuck with her.”

“The assassin?” I asked, and he nodded.

“Assassin, bodyguard, friend, she’s like his sadistic little sister, so while she’s beautiful? Seriously watch your step. She’d rather stab your eyes out than kiss you.”

“I’ve got Reign,” I said pointedly.

“And I’ve got Luna and Gessh, which is why I’m telling you this, not letting you fuck up and getting someone to mop up what’s left of you.” He shrugged. “You can listen or you cannot, that’s your choice. I’ll tell them that I warned you though, and that’s my hands clean.”

“I’ll do my best,” I promised, actually meaning it, and surprising myself as I realized I actually did trust him. Maybe I was more tired than I’d realized.

“Kabutt, you fucking asshole.” That was how Oshbob greeted me as I was led into the warehouse as he stared at the damage done to the building, and I avoided the conspicuous blood stains on the floor.

“Oshbob,” I greeted him, determined to be respectful, as much as I could, we were allies after all and—

“Give me one fucking reason I shouldn’t have you dipped into boiling acid by your dick!” He snarled, and I blinked.

“Because I’d kill all the useless fucks that tried it, then I’d leave you as a greasy fucking smear on the floor?” I snapped back at him.

“You know how much damage your little fight did to my shit?” he asked, his voice a hiss of fury.

“I know how much damage it did to me and my fucking friends when I was trying to grab a pizza and a fucking beer!” I snarled. “We agreed that we’d be allies, that I’d back you up if you got hit, and you’d do the same, now you’re fucking complaining that you actually had to do it?”

“That was a handful of hours ago!” He practically screamed at me. “Literally!”

“You didn’t set a time.” I shrugged. “Listen, as much as I love these little chats—and I really don’t, to be clear—I need to know where that asshole’s going and when.”

“You think you can just stroll in here and—”

“No,” I snapped. “I came here because you wanted to see me, alright? I’ve not slept in fucking days ! I’ve spent the entire day rebuilding my suit so I can fucking fight tonight, so I can ruin the plans of the asshole that caused all of this! We get one chance Oshbob, one!”

He was glaring at me and I went on, ignoring the sudden feeling that someone was right behind me, breathing down my neck.

“If we miss this chance? He fucks off back to wherever he’s been hiding, probably in the middle of the most secure areas of the fucking army! We’ve taken down most of his forces, all of his APS, and he’s gonna have to do this with just his normal troops, he’s going after new suits…”

“APS?” Oshbob grunted.

“Yeah, and no, you can’t use them, nor can you sell them, they’re fucking prototypes, and you’d need years of training. Me and mine can though, we hit that fucker as he goes for the suits, and we replace our damaged suits, we fuck his plans up, AND we get to kill him, all in one go!”

“Why do you think he’ll be there?” he asked and I shook my head.

“I don’t think he’s got a choice,” I said. “We took out his ghost squad, he must have been setting this hit up for ages, he was confident enough to say that he was killing anyone that would even know the suits existed, so they’re that top secret.”

“And why’d he tell you this?”

“He actually thought he could recruit me.”

“And you don’t think it’s an elaborate trap? What, he just did a full evil villain monologue with all his plans for you?”

I froze, not at the suggestion, it’d occurred to me as well, but that he’d seen it the same way I had, and finally I realized why Oshbob pissed me off so much.

We were far too fucking alike.

“He thought I was at his mercy, and he was about to kill me.”

“And you believe him?”

“Flip it around,” I said. “I took out most of his elite ghost squad only a few weeks ago, taking down half of the M-Corp ghost squad. Now he’s gone from a full team of APS to literally two, and one of those has a fucked weapon. He needs replacements, he can’t just transfer them from the army, it probably took him years to recruit and slip them out.”

“And you’re just so special he’d forget all your past?” Oshbob asked sarcastically.

“He’s the winner so far, for him it’d be easy to see, I could have learned my place, bow my head, take a knee, whatever. He clearly has no loyalty to anyone, so why would I? If I’m too stupid to see the chance, he kills me, if I behave? He has a dangerous pet, and he’d have put a bomb on me just in case.”

“And what’s your plan?”

“Honestly?” I said. “It depends on what and where they’re going. They need suits, so they’ll have to pull out all the stops tonight, instead of gaining ours in what they expected to be a fast smash and grab, as well as wiping me and my team off the board, they lost their suits and gave us spare parts and damaged suits to work with.

“They have one chance to come out of this ahead still, and then come after us. That’s the prototype suits. Grab those, get them turned around, then hit us, and goddamn hard. Wipe us out, recover the damaged suits and kill anyone that knows. That’s the only way he comes out of this safe. You got some minor damage here…”

“You fucked my walls, shot up my goddamn roof and fucked off!” Oshbob snarled.

“ Minor damage,” I repeated. “You remember that tactical weapon he used on the M-Corp facility? He wanted the suits, or he’d have used something like that on us. Until now? You weren’t even a boil on the ass of his concerns. You just managed to show up, and he’s gonna have to squash you. Give me the data, protect my people and my gear, and I’ll finish this myself, tonight.”

He glared at me for a long series of heartbeats, before pulling out a battered half smoked cigar and jamming it in his mouth, relighting the end and taking a deep drag.

The fucker was toying with me, I knew he was toying with me, but still, I forced myself to wait, patiently.

“Outside the city, tonight,” he said eventually. “There’s already a team protecting the protypes, blues or something, and they’re taking the suits out to a remote location that asshole set up as a ‘secret route’. Fucking idiots, if they can’t see there’s something wrong with that then they deserve what’s coming.”

“What’s coming?” I growled.

“Some rock thing, they were going to use it to grab the blues. Soldiers didn’t seem to know how though.”

“A rock… an AROC?” I asked, gritting my teeth. “They said they have the AROC?”

“Yeah, sounds about right. What is it?”

“It’s fucking classified, and its designed to fuck up an APS!” I snarled. “Where are they, who said about the AROC?”

“That one.” Oshbob shrugged, pointing at the third nearest of the bloody stains on the floor.

“That… you killed him?”

“He fucked up my shit,” the big orc growled. “So did you… so fucking watch yourself! And of course I killed him, what would you have done? Bought him dinner? You need to grow a backbone! They came for you, and fucked with me because you were weak, and you’re making me look weak. Keep this up? We’ll be breaking this little alliance off, you get that? Tonight’s on you, Kabutt. You fucked this, you fix it!” Oshbob ground out, jabbing a meaty finger at me as he spoke, glaring down and filling the air with foul smoke as he puffed on his death stick.

“Give me the time and location,” I growled. “Like I said, you keep an eye on this end, I’ll finish this.”

“You better, you mouthy little fuck,” the big orc snapped, before gesturing at someone out of sight. “They’re using some underground passages, from the old bastions, they said the transporters were told the tunnels have been cleared.” I received a knock a second later.

Accepting it, I saw an abandoned town about fifteen miles out from the walls of Artem, and a timer counting down, as well as a locational marker for the convoy. Close enough that the guards would feel secure, far enough away the locals and wall guards wouldn’t be able to help, nor see anything specific.

Fuckers picked a good place, I acknowledged to myself, nodding once in grim thanks to Oshbob as I spun around, marching for the door.

There were four hours left until the intercept, and I needed to make the most of that time, if I was going alone—and I was—then I needed a few tricks to even the fight up, especially if Blue team was going to be the defenders.

‎