LIBERTY PARK
12:27 A.M.
----------------------------------------
In the dark area of the park, under the blanket of leaves formed by that small forest, Adam heard the siren of the ambulances coming to the rescue of the victims of the car accident on the next avenue.
The shrill whistle which the firefighting robots announced their arrival with, asking passersby and drivers to make way, grew louder until they passed a street not far from them; a string of red and yellow lights flashing behind the trees, rushing toward the disaster area. Would he have liked to ask them for help!
Trying to contain the fear that squeezed his chest, that clogged his lungs, he looked at Juzo. He had no choice but to trust that his brother could defend him.
However, something told him that Juzo couldn’t do it, that things wouldn’t end well.
“Let’s put this confrontation aside,” Juzo repeated his offer to Broga.
“And now you’re trying to reason with him?!” Adam was exasperated. “We’ll end like this!” And he pointed to the park ranger Cyclops that Broga had put out of commission by smashing his head to pieces.
And then, a buzz; a hum that grew louder until it became a whistling sound like an airplane’s turbines. Jetpacks! Adam knew; that Malin girl finally arrived to join her partner. He breathed easy. Against two Grenadier soldiers, the android would not have a—
No. It wasn’t the cavalry.
Two new figures came from the sky carrying those chrome wings on their backs, piercing the roof of leaves to descend behind Broga. Judging by Juzo’s face, those must be the mercenaries the android had brought with him.
Neither of them retracted the wings of their backpack, despite being with their feet on the ground. With the silver glow of the thrusters shining behind them and the curtain of shadow blocking them from the front, it was difficult to identify them clearly, except for very general features. One of them had a mustache and disheveled hair, while the other was tall and had such a huge physique that his thrusters must have been about to stop working due to overexertion. They were both wearing some kind of yellow jumpsuit—something more like a Cyclops uniform or convict outfit than something someone would choose to wear freely—although they were equally or more gnawed than the android’s raincoat. The big man’s jumpsuit was so torn that he no longer had sleeves or pants, and the little that was attached to his body was full of tears.
From the tips of their thruster wings, the mercenaries revealed cannons, and Adam lost what little hope he had. So, he put his hands around Juzo’s waist, ready to hold on to his belt in case his brother tried to repeat the strategy from before and project himself into the sky like the devilish human cannonball in a circus. Only one of Juzo’s thruster wings remained; they wouldn’t get very far, but at least they could dodge some shots.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
However, Juzo was focused on something else. His eyes went from Broga to the mercenaries and from the mercenaries to Broga. He had his legs apart, his arms outstretched, his fingers stiff. A soldier about to duel.
“Don’t move,” he warned Adam quietly.
There was a flash from the thrusters and the cannons released haloes of light that hit the ground with a thud, causing eruptions of dirt and grass to spray over the twins. Juzo didn’t flinch. Adam was stunned; his heart was about to burst. Four large potholes had opened in the land, too close to his feet; one of them had even swallowed the limp body of the park ranger android. Not even a nearsighted man would have missed a shot at such close range; if the rings of light had not hit them, it was because the mercenaries only sought to intimidate them. A satisfying job, as far as Adam was concerned.
Juzo tensed his fingers again, activating the implant in his wrists, created a glowing Photia on each hand, and fired them. The mercenaries moved aside and let them pass. Assuming that those two were just a distraction, and Broga was the real deal, Juzo prepared more grenades.
“Stay by my side,” he warned Adam without taking his eyes off Broga.
The mercenaries spat out a stream of laser rings and Juzo fired at them. He contracted his fingers, once, twice, formed a sphere of power, and shot it. He contracted his fingers, once, twice, formed a sphere of power, and shot it. And so, he kept those two at a distance, always focused on Broga, who remained standing still, with his single eye shining like a small red star, glued to them, waiting for the first negligence to advance.
Unfortunately, Juzo made a serious mistake. He underestimated the power that panic could have on someone and thought Adam would stay behind him as he had ordered.
Adam, having seen the shots coming at them faster and faster and exploding closer and closer, wanted to move aside, but his legs took control and he suddenly found himself leaving the small grove behind, his back to his pursuers, crossing the hills of the park and fleeing toward the street. The street had become his goal. He had to get there and get into the first car that stopped or hide in the first building he could get into. He didn’t care what he did next; the important thing now was to run and not stop; not stop until he left the park and hid—Or until a shot hit him in the back and ended his life.
“Come back, you idiot!” Juzo yelled at him.
Broga turned in Adam’s direction; he had him in his scope and it was a matter of seconds before he had him under his feet. The gleam in his eye pulsed as if to say, ‘Got you!’
Juzo cursed his luck and deployed the only remaining side of the thruster. His intention was not to fly, just to jump that would allow him to get out of the wooded area, getting between the treetops so that they would act as camouflage—and as a shield, in the best of cases—and get in the way between Broga and Adam. But first, he needed to distract those two thugs to clear his way.
He condensed threads of energy in each hand to form Photias. He activated the remaining wing; the silvery halo erupted, and the hiss of the turbine sounded. He jumped, and when he was about to launch the bombs, something warm came out of his nose and a ferrous smell permeated his nostrils. Blood was dripping from his nose.