SILAS

I open my eyes. It's like I've been dead for hours, and just now someone's flipped a switch, sparking me back to life. I'm the Frankenstein monster Gavin didn't count on.

He's the first thing I see, standing on the other side of that table littered with equipment and electronics. He looks a lot like the first time I saw him, minus the mask, and with considerably less confidence. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's terrified. His rifle is slung over his shoulder, but he has a pistol drawn. In the corner, Cade—I can only assume it’s him—is on his side on the floor with a hand over his nose, blood running down his chin in a slick curtain, likely thanks to a pistol-whip from Mr. Tough Guy himself.

I don’t know what I expected, but it turns out Cade's just a kid. Maybe fifteen. Skinny, almost gangly. Certainly no match for Gavin, even without bringing firearms into the mix.

There are two other members of Gavin's crew in the room. One of them has Shiloh by the arm, with a pistol pressed hard to her neck, practically gouging her with it. One of them has his rifle out, pointed at me.

Everything's happening fast, now. But somehow slow at the same time.

Gavin sees I'm awake. He's not happy about it. He turns, raising his sidearm in my direction.

The one with the rifle seems to take that as a sign to open fire. I can see his finger clenching inside the trigger well. The other guy, the one holding Shiloh, pushes her to the ground, raising his sidearm to point at me instead.

The words 'OS ACTIVE' appear in my vision, in a bar up in the corner.

And just like that, control has been returned to me. In the mirror Gavin set up for me, I can see myself, pried open, suspended, vulnerable, my interior parts open and visible.

That's enough of that.

I will myself back together. And it is so.

Plates slide. Pistons reattach. Mechanisms alter themselves, shifting back into their intended place. The entire process takes a fraction of a second.

I am whole again.

And then the shooting starts.

Some of the bullets whiz by, sounding like abnormally large flies, before smacking into the concrete wall behind me. Others ping off my armor plates in bright flashes and sparks. The shots echo tremendously in the enclosed space, like sparklers in a tin can.

I have to move. Fight back. I'm durable, but not invincible. I have weak points, exploits. I know this intuitively, like a warning flare shooting up out of my subconscious.

Still, instead of being focused on my assailants, I'm more interested in something behind them. The chip Sal left behind when she disintegrated. Gavin hung it up on the wall when he brought me here. And it's still there. But there's something different about it, now. It's bright green. And...glowing.

'PROTOCOL DETECTED. ASSIMILATING...'

As if pulled by an intense magnetic force, the chip flies off the wall and shoots toward me. Instinctively, I reach out to grab it. As I bring my right arm forward, I snap the cable attached to it, and begin to fall sideways, still attached to the wall by the other cable, toward the garage pit below me. Still, mid-fall, I manage to grab the brightly glowing object flying toward me.

It bursts as soon as I have it in my fingers, splitting out into glowing specks, like fireflies, which are then sucked into the gaps between my armor plates. I've...absorbed it.

Two messages appear in my vision.

The first:

'Gate(1) open.'

Then, separately:

'INITIATING PROTOCOL: SALVO'.

My body emits glowing particles, originating somewhere I can't see, gathering at specific points. The tops of my shoulders. My palms. As the particles dissipate, bits of matter form in their place, as if by some magic. Extensions of metal jutting up on my shoulders, oval-shaped bumps—slightly off-color, but still seeming like they’re supposed to be there, like they’re originally part of my design.

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In my hands, I see the shapes of two black handguns forming. They solidify, and I catch them, feeling their tangible weight in my hands.

I yank with my left arm, snapping the cable attached to that wrist. I kick off the back lip of the pit, landing in front of it. I bring up the two handguns. As if reacting to my intent, the two oval-shaped bumps on my shoulders extend up a couples inches, revealing short gun barrels underneath. Little, personal turrets.

Nice.

I aim, pulling back on the triggers. At the same time, I hear the mechanical buzz of my turrets adjusting themselves, engaging some automatic aiming system, responding to my thoughts.

The recoil pulses, reverberating in my hands and arms, but it’s barely noticeable, and perfectly manageable—being a ‘Blast Model’, I guess impact absorption is one of my things. There’s some recoil from the shoulder cannons as well, but my body seems to adjust to it automatically, and I don’t feel the slightest bit off-kilter because of it.

I don’t aim for the bodies of my assailants. My bullets strike various weak points on the firearms themselves, splintering them apart in my enemies’ hands, in miniature explosions of springs, pins, bullet casings, and other shards of metal. Black gunpowder grains spray out from the impact.

Two of the gunmen flinch and step back, dropping the carcasses of their guns. So does Gavin, but in his case it’s more of a deliberate toss. He’s furious. Already reaching for the automatic rifle slung over his shoulder.

I rush forward, maintaining my momentum. I bring an arm up over my face, like a shield. I leap, diving over the table, and strike the barrel of Gavin's rifle, bending it at a sharp right angle.

The guy to the right of Gavin reaches for something in his belt holster. It looks like a taser, like the projectile Gavin used on me back in the canal, only this one's handheld. He whips it out and turns it on, causing blue electricity to fizzle and crackle on the end. A notification blips in my vision, something about a hazard proximity warning.

Wow, thanks for the heads-up.

He lunges toward me with the weapon.

Should I shoot it out of his hand, like a cowboy? Honestly, this would be easier if I didn't-

As if responding to my thoughts, the handguns disappear in a flash of green, glowing particles.

I sidestep the attack, using my free hands to throw him off-balance, twisting his arm so the weapon is pointed toward himself. He falls on the shock-stick, zapping himself, and collapses.

Another proximity warning.

I pivot in time to see Gavin coming at me with a very big, very sharp-looking knife, aiming for my vulnerable face.

It's close. It's so close.

Maybe I should have just shot them, instead of getting in close, trying to take them alive. Maybe-

Wait. I raise my hand. The motion is fast. So much faster than I can remember being able to move. I really am stronger with the OS turned on. It's like I've leveled up several times in a row.

I catch the blade with my palm, stopping it completely in its tracks, even with all of Gavin's weight and strength behind it.

The knife blade bursts, exploding into a dozen shards of metal shrapnel. I can feel them bouncing off my arm and torso. One of them flies up and past my head, nicking the side of my upper cheek.

Shock colors Gavin's face, as if he still doesn't understand what just happened.

I shove him. Not too hard. It's a controlled shove. Like pushing a little kid out of the way of something on a playground so he doesn't get hurt.

He skitters back, unable to stop the momentum, and his back slams into the shelving on the back wall. He falls to his knees.

I step toward him. I feel hot, energized, pulsing with adrenaline. My artificial heart is pounding so fucking fast. These guys, they tried to kill me. And I stopped them.

That's the exciting part. Fighting and winning. The fury, the red-hot feeling, comes from the fact that they were threatening to kill others, and literally tried to kill me. That's a first for me. School fights don't count.

Take it easy. Stay in control. Breathe. Loosen up, this isn't over yet.

"I told you what would happen," I say, peering down at him.

He shakes his head, staring up at me.

I have to wonder why he didn't just kill me. He should have. Hell, he shouldn't have let Shiloh use Jacktech in the first place. I have to wonder why, what his intent was.

Maybe he really thought she'd find something important, something that might be crucial to humanity's safety. Maybe he didn't actually want to hurt anyone. He threatened Cade with a bullet, but never gave it to him. He didn't follow through with the threat.

"Silas!" Shiloh yells, standing, pointing past me.

I turn in time to see the other crew member, briefly forgotten, holding some new handgun he'd just produced. Aiming at my head.

I bring up an outstretched, open hand, instinctually.

I feel the pressure of the bullet hitting my palm, then bouncing off one of my fingers.

It ricochets back, hitting the guy in the shoulder, throwing him back against the far wall. He slides down onto his butt, painting a long, bloody smear down the wall.

Shit. He could die from that.

Part of me wants to go to him, administer some kind of help. But what can I do, here, now that Gavin's been pacified? I need to get out of here. I need to stop this Daimon guy.

Still.

I step over to the redheaded kid with the bloody nose. I hold out my hand to him. "Cade?"

He nods. Taking my hand.

I help pull him up to his feet.

"I'm going to go do what I can," I say. "I'm assuming you guy's have some kind of escape plan?"

I find myself turning to Shiloh, for some reason, to see what answers she might have. But she's not listening. She's crouched down in front of Gavin, trying to pull open one side of the jacket he's wearing. The problem is the big shard of broken blade embedded in his abdomen, holding the fabric in place.

"Oh, Gavin," she says, solemnly. Sorrowfully. With a tenderness I would not have expected, considering what I know of their history.

He smiles at her, bleakly. "I really did it, didn't I?"

"Gavin..." She peels back the fabric, peering underneath. She gives him another shocked look, then looks up at me, wide-eyed.

"What?" I say.

In answer, Shiloh pulls up on the fabric, carefully tearing at the hole so she can bring the jacket up the length of the blade.

What's underneath is some kind of electronic chip, tucked between the hem of his pants and his undershirt. The blade shard is impaled directly through it.

"What is that?" I say, querying Shiloh with my eyes.

Cade sighs, next to me. "Our escape plan."