Nigel was holding on to the door handle of the van for dear life, as the rain wasn’t the only hazard on the road; no sooner had they left the interstate than all the traffic signals began malfunctioning. Blanka narrowly avoided several vehicles that appeared to not bother to stop at any of the red lights. Nigel witnessed a multitude of accidents.

“I’ve been trying to call the Bromwick since we left the interstate, and no one is picking up,” Nigel said.

“I suggest you slow your vehicle to a safe speed to avoid getting into an accident,” a skinless cyborg told Blanka.

Blanka slowed the van, but it was no use; cars appeared to be coming from every intersection. Some stopped and allowed others to go, but most of the drivers simply accelerated through the intersections with red lights.

“How far away are we from the Bromwick?” Blanka asked.

“My phone has lost signal, but I think we are about a half mile from the hotel,” Nigel said.

“It’s too dangerous to drive any further—we need to go on foot,” Blanka said.

“With the cyborgs?” Nigel said, surprised.

“We have to risk it. We need to get back to the Bromwick before Freeman launches the attack,” Blanka said.

“I think that has already happened.”

Blanka stopped the van in the middle of an intersection. All remaining intersections were blocked with accidents or traffic. Nigel grabbed his laptop bag and the metal cylinder the cyborg had given him earlier. The outside casing was cool to the touch.

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I expected it to be red hot—what’s going on? Nigel wondered.

He got out of the van started jogging through the streets of downtown Newport with his motley crew of cyborgs and teenage assassins.

What a sight we must be—but I’m sure it looks badass.

Nigel ran like the wind as rain continued to come down in rivulets; he had to slow his pace to avoid slamming into people. The passersby saw the skinless cyborgs and jumped aside, giving them plenty of room.

“Great costume, dude,” some guy said as they passed by a group of young hipsters.

“There,” Blanka said, pointing to the hotel.

“Let’s cut through the park,” Vedrana said.

“I don’t think that park looks safe.”

The park was at least a couple of city blocks wide and was the only obstacle left in their path. Nigel picked up the pace and started running toward the Bromwick as fast as his legs would take him. He looked back for a brief moment; Dahlia’s young assassins and the cyborgs were just behind him. Then the world went black. Nigel couldn’t remember what happened next. It was a blur, but something hit him. His vision blurred, but he was able to see a shape of someone trying to hit him with something heavy.

Am I being attacked? Nigel thought as his vision faded into unconsciousness.

Sometime later, Nigel awoke as splotches of rain soaked his body.

“What happened?” Nigel said, trying to get up.

The pain of getting hit with the baseball bat and landing on his bad arm incapacitated him. But after a brief rest, the pain subsided.

“You got hit with a baseball bat,” Blanka said, helping him up. “The man apologized, then ran away. He looked like a homeless person. Are you okay?”

“We will protect you from all future attacks, sir,” the skinless cyborg said.

“I’m okay, let’s just get to the Bromwick,” Nigel said.

The team shuffled toward the hotel at a slower pace. Nigel couldn’t believe the chaos he was witnessing around him. People were smashing windows and looting local stores. Some looters wore face masks to avoid detection, but others didn’t bother. Flames engulfed buildings, and vehicles were scattered about like discarded toys. Traffic lights were flashing, and roving groups of people pulled others out of cars and started beating them. Billows of smoke rose from every direction. The Bromwick was the only building that remained unharmed; the massive gathering of armed guards at the front entrance discouraged violence.

This is nuts! What has Freeman done?