Got You, Bastard
"Got you, you bastard. 'What the hell is this guy?' I kept moving, pondering the unknown figure who'd popped up out of nowhere. The fact that I hadn't noticed him closing in so close meant he was no ordinary punk, for sure. Come to think of it, I'd been way too casual assuming Exose had been thrown in solo. If Anastasis really wanted me dead, common sense said they'd have backup ready, right? But if there'd been coordination, when Exose and I both went down, they should've just lopped off my head.... Ah, shit, then who the hell is it."
Swoosh. While on the move, I kept glancing up at the gaping upper levels of the buildings. The over-augmented freaks and my bodyguards were still locked in a tense standoff. Looked like my worrying had been overkill. Just moments ago, a blue laser had zeroed in on Master with pinpoint accuracy—watching it, my heart had lurched. But she'd batted the beam aside with her greatsword like it was nothing, then barreled into the knight with a flurry of savage slashes, forcing Exose to spew flames and hightail it again.
Huh. So you just deflect lasers with a sword. Guess I need to brush up on physics if I wanna live long.
'Anyway, can't call her over right now.' No point messing up the flow of that fight. Besides, this side wasn't beyond me. It wasn't pointless bravado post-blackout; once I'd pinged the intruder's signal, I could track his position nonstop. His augments were top-tier, sure, but compared to abominations like Climidocampus or Exose, he was still human enough. If I weren't feeling that metallic sludge in my veins instead of blood, I might've tried taking him barehanded. But right now, playing it safe beat stoking my ego.
'That said, no need to just rabbit around.' I had his position in real-time, and this department store's systems were my playground. My eyes locked on the security robots starting to appear on the third floor. Flipping the script—making the guy who thought he was hunting me into the prey—sounded like one hell of an experience.
Demir Karahan glanced around in confusion. William had vanished from his sight in an instant—not the leap from the first-floor lobby to the third; his optic implants had tracked that fine. No, the target had slipped every detection for a split second, like he'd teleported into thin air.
'Should've bolted after him right away.' He'd been too wary of the spec-ops agents and bodyguards, missing his window. Either way, he vaulted to the third floor via a different route, keeping noise low. The hem of his stealth cloak fluttered, but the material muffled any rustle.
"Looks like the Earl's onto me, but those fuckers send me in blind." He cursed Anastasis's Strategic Intelligence Division again. The briefing had painted the target as helpless, but this guy had spotted Demir's stealth approach and packed enough punch to cripple a spec-op.
If William hadn't looked drained, Demir might've seriously considered pulling back. Family as hostages left no options, though.
First priority: relocate the target who'd slipped his sights.
Beep? As he prowled the corridor, wary of lasers and debris, a dog-shaped guard robot popped up ahead. Turret-mounted machine gun on its back. He'd brushed past a few on entry; the stealth cloak and recognition-jamming hologram had them just tilting their heads, no aggression.
Until now.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!
"What the—damn it...!" The robot's lens locked on Demir dead-on and hosed him with bullets. He panicked but stayed cool, firing up his neural accelerator.
Whirrr—
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh! The neural accel turned the world into thick, waterless syrup—everyone else slogging through molasses while he moved free and fast. He slipped outside the bullet trajectories like dodging a slow softball, impacts pinging off his ballistic vest and evasion gauntlets.
Pistol whipped out, he lit up the lens.
Bang!
"Yelp!" One shot blinded the robo-dog; it staggered back, smashed through a concession stand's glass wall, and toppled. Well-trained—not spraying wildly as it flailed. Small mercies.
But Demir couldn't relax. From every corner between shops, robo-dogs and rail-mounted guards poked out, "welcoming" him. And behind—no warning—thunk! A blast door slammed down, sealing retreat.
"Fuck—"
Before the curse finished, a storm of metal and fire engulfed him.
****
Bullets, grenades, even rockets scorching the air to kill him. Even in neural accel's bubble, dodging that firepower while dismantling the bots was impossible.
Whoosh! Silver lining: the barrage funneled one-way down the narrow hall. Instead of trading shots head-on, he hurled himself down to the first-floor lobby.
But as if anticipated—right at his drop point, a robo-dog stood with gun trained vertically.
Rat-a-tat-a-tat!
7.62mm rounds shredded his ballistic weave to rags. Exposed to the onslaught, he fretted more about the tri-color sensor lights on his cloakless form getting a lock midair. The gunfire and blasts had already tipped everyone off, sure.
His gear held—no penetration—but the hammer blows twisted his face as he landed, boot slamming the dog's mug.
Thud! Sizzle—
Head-cratered into the floor, twitching. Demir capped its leg joints to immobilize, then bolted to cover behind a pillar ten meters off.
The aerial monsters ignored him; no bot pursuit. He finally caught his breath, heaving.
"Hah... hah... what the hell is this...."
Not random guard duty—these targeted him specifically. Demir sensed someone's hand—probably William's—in this. 'How?'
The Earl wasn't a hacker, no bot control auth. But somehow he'd detected him and waged electronic warfare.
'Wireless control leaves traces—follow 'em!' Better to chase facts than deny. He switched optic modes to spectrum analysis.
Sure enough, bots from floors one to four were repositioning beyond patrols. All commands sourced from one spot: third floor, elevator corner.
Suspicious—the signals broadcast but no emitter pings through any filter. Target there, gut said.
'Found you. Clever tricks just rope your own neck.'
Neural accel to max. If William knew his spot, blitz and grab fast.
He sprinted the lobby, closed on the source, leaped to third. Weapons drawn mid-jump, expecting William amid bots or gear.
Nothing. No William, no bots, not even trap gear.
'What? Why nothing...?'
Demir scanned, flustered. Just dead elevator, rest sofas, gilded niches.
Something off. Backpedaling to platform entrance, he glanced up—instinct, unease.
There: target. Limbs splayed on pillar and ceiling, William's blue eyes glaring down.
Demir got it: EM waves distorted, reflected, masking the Earl. Like he orchestrated it.
"Got you."
Splat—!!!
William dropped knee-first into Demir's face. Stance crumbled, skull cracked on floor; ex-intel agent felt hot gush front and back.
Even then, left hand with dagger stabbed for ribs. William snatched the wrist, crushed it; knife clattered free.
Demir thrashed to shake him, but futile. Earl's hand clamped crown; spasms hit, vision blacked, consciousness fled, body slumped.