The armored SUV rattled down a dirt road west of San Pedro, Laguna. It was one of thirty Metamatics vehicles having left the Makati headquarters, with trunks full of EMP tracer rounds, Tasers, and ammunition for their company-issued Glocks.
“We’re not letting the PNP beat us there,” Ms. Reed had said. “We will take these bastards down and hang them from our headquarters if I have to do it myself.”
Her shrieks were sharp and piercing like an aswang’s, the evil shape-shifters littering Filipino horror flicks. Those cries lent energy to Bryce’s veins and every field agent in her employ. Guided by their shrieking leader, they trained their focus on a singular task: kill the Black Fire pushers.
The capture drones knew what was happening. Every model in Manila peeled away from their mundane observations and swarmed behind the SUVs, following them out of the city. One of the agents sitting to Bryce’s left rolled down the window, waved, and gave a thumbs-up to a drone. Red recording lights beeped on, studying him. The driver rolled the window up, much to the agent’s chagrin.
They weaved into the winding forests of Laguna, over the roiling hills, kicking up dust against the gates of wealthy estates. Amateur videographers followed on motorbikes and mopeds, one person driving and the other on their back with a camcorder. One got too close to Bryce’s SUV and had to crash into a ditch, but the convoy rolled on.
It didn’t take long for the PNP to see the assemblage, but when the squad cars gathered behind Bryce’s SUV, they did not raise their sirens until the traffic got too heavy and the flashing blue and reds cleared the way.
“Heightened clearance,” said Domingo Baccay to Bryce’s voice channel. Bryce hadn’t seen the cop since being rescued by him in Mandaluyong but was relieved to have him by his side again. “Gun it.”
The convoy made its way to where the dead end should have been in the albularyo’s reconstruction, but instead of a loop, the road ended at the front of a large mansion with a tall steel gate. Barbed wire snaked atop the wall, and steel panels covered the windows of the buildings beyond, including the enormous mansion that was the compound’s centerpiece.
Bryce’s skin crawled as he counted the number of places an active shooter could sight him from inside the compound.
Convergence drones separated like flies as PNP drones took their place, zooming towards the estate. Above, barrier drones began taking their place, forming a constellation before sprouting the dome of caution tape. The barrier touched the ground just after Bryce’s SUV cleared it.
Inside the vehicle, a single Q-90 perched on Bryce’s shoulder as if he were a pirate in a fantasy swashbuckler flick. “Looks like we’re here, King of Drones,” buzzed the albularyo. “No matter what happens, remember I’ve got your back. As much as I can, at least.”
It may have been the most encouraging and yet anxiety-inducing thing the albularyo said to him. “You’ll be watching everything, right?”
The slight bob of the drone could have been a nod. “But if I fail to save your ass, don’t blame me.”
That left a tinge of assurance in Bryce. The AI didn’t say it wouldn’t try.
Red lights flashed in the SUV’s cabin as something thundered far off. The driver slammed the brakes. Bryce’s cheek almost smashed into the dashboard before the airbags shot out, cushioning him.
Bryce’s wind shot out of him. He gasped for air, struggling to regain his bearings while the air popped outside.
The bulletproof glass shattered as a round punctured through to the plastic lining.
“Out the left!” screamed Bryce.
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The agents flooded out, crouching behind the vehicle. Bryce went after them, sliding over to the driver’s seat and hopping out, crouching down.
Another shot hammered from somewhere in the compound, clipping one of the vehicles in their long line now forming to their right.
Bryce was about to do the one thing you shouldn’t and poke his head out to see the shooter when five PNP drones with their Gatling attachments whizzed past him. Like hornets, they surrounded the third floor of a house inside and opened fire. The drones fluttered around the house, spraying bullets that ripped flecks of concrete from carved stone pillars.
Bryce seized the moment and ran, shielding himself behind the black winding snake that was the line of SUVs. Agents scrambled past him, crouching for cover, searching for the shooter.
A band of mopeds was just now stopping behind the line of SUVs. The amateur videographers and YouTube daredevils disembarked.
“Convergence operation!” Bryce yelled, but it was no use, for they couldn’t hear him.
Guns shouted, the shots coming from the steel-covered windows. A drone spinning its Gatling turret shuttered and bucked. It smashed to the ground, crunching into the roof of a house built against the compound walls.
One of the steel panels flew off, the wall supporting it collapsing, revealing a mess of figures inside. One held an EMP-augmented AK and pointed it in Bryce’s direction. Bryce raised his gun but fumbled and dropped it.
Shit.
The shot came.
Something whirred in front of Bryce and then, just as quickly, crashed away, smacking against the hood. Two more of the shapes took their place, then three more, and as even more of the things came and formed a protective makeshift riot shield in front of him, Bryce saw they were the albularyo’s Q-90s.
“Holy shit,” he said, ducking behind the SUV. “Something useful.”
“Just you wait,” buzzed one of the Q-90s.
Outside the front gate, a PNP stopped and opened its ramp. A dog-sized drone with four legs ran down it and turned towards the front entrance. Its mouth opened to reveal a blowtorch. It ran to the gate’s iron bars, bit down, and cut through, opening a gap.
“You’re gonna be the first one through that, Bryce!” the albularyo shouted, just as the PNP and Metamatics officers lined up against the wall to go in.
“You’re nuts,” said Bryce, just as another drone prodded his back.
“You’re the best option! Also, walk. Don’t run.”
Bryce took five seconds to consider his options. Dare he put so much faith into this artificial construction? It hadn’t steered him wrong before, and what did it want from him anyway?
He had been this AI’s pawn since the security probe, but since then, it had steered him only in the right direction. It had been providing him with valuable insight, even with Janice. Its power, too, was unrivaled. He had to trust it had its best interest at heart because the capabilities it could call forth were too strong to ignore.
As he looked up above the mansion, thousands of capture drones were now blotting the sky and casting shadows. They hovered above, capturing birds-eye views of the compound, yet a concentration of them formed into a cyclone that slowly worked its way in a line down to Bryce.
“Your armor,” the albularyo buzzed, pushing him again. “Go!”
Bryce had been handed security drones before, but they had been stripped away from him when it mattered. He'd even been entrusted with an experimental weapon once—only for it to slip from his grasp as quickly as it came. But armor? That was something he'd never been given. Not once. Maybe a little protection was all he’d ever needed. Protection for the protector. Perhaps that’s what had been missing all along.
Bryce stood, and as he did, a dozen drones shot to his sides, snapping into place, closing every gap. They weren’t just Q-90s—95s and 96s joined the formation. Bullets ricocheted off their bodies, but more drones from the swirling cloud above dove in to replace the fallen, thickening Bryce’s shield two, three layers deep. Their black, spherical bodies reflected neon pink, blue, and flashes of red.
Red, like the strand of Hannah’s hair.
His stomach twisted. Was she inside the mansion? He pictured her face, her voice, and the moment he messed up everything. Maybe, just maybe, he’d have one last conversation with her. Perhaps this time, she’d listen. Maybe this time, she wouldn’t run.
Bryce steadied his breathing, the weight of the moment pressing against his chest. He had to move, to act—there was no turning back. He walked toward the gate, using the ground as his guide. Metamatics and PNP shouted at him to move until they realized what was happening and accepted this was beyond their control.
He was the first through.