A subtle agency omnibus, p.45
A Subtle Agency Omnibus, page 45
part #1 of The Metaframe War Series
“Time for some karma,” he whispered.
“Cut the chatter,” Juliette broadcasted over the comm links.
Absolutely, Anton thought to himself. He shifted gears, lifting the intensity of his focus and plunged into silence.
In the distance, a stray dog barked dolefully. A breeze rallied into a gust, sending a half-crumpled coke can scuttling along the laneway, and the team froze for a moment before proceeding on.
Chiara led them past the two-story building, through a stand of trees, and along a path to the far corner of the apartment block. To their left, Jay and Yvette positioned on the near corner. The van trundled toward the front of the building, disappearing past the edge of the apartment block.
* * *
Someone laughed heartily in the gloom.
Dillon Browne exulted with unrestrained bloodlust and power. He flicked a wall switch, and the overhead lights came on. He enjoyed seeing the food realize what was really happening to them. Huddled together in front of him, were a young woman wearing gold hot pants, a silvery mesh halter top and impossibly high platform shoes, and a thin young man with a waxed mustache, wearing a dark brown pin-striped suit.
Dillon blurred forward, taking the young woman by the jaw and lifting her upright. Her dark eyes were wide. Wet mascara ran in dark streaks down her cheeks. She tried to lean away, moaning with terror. The thin man, backed away, his shiny black shoes tapping on the cold linoleum of the floor, his head whipping around like a child’s toy. Caleb Moore loomed behind him; the thin man froze, his eyes darting left and right, a thin line of spit hanging from his bottom lip.
Dillon’s eyes flicked left and right toward Aaliyah Williams and Ethan Jones, he nodded toward the thin man.
He watched as Caleb’s hand lashed forward, grabbing the man on the left shoulder, holding him fast. The thin man whimpered, trembling with fear. Aaliyah grinned, baring her fangs. Ethan snarled like a wild animal, his long canines gleaming in the overhead lights.
Dillon twisted the girl around, holding her tight, forcing her to watch what was happening.
She screamed, a full-throated, high-pitched, keening wail.
Dillon clapped his left hand over her mouth. Pulling her close, he declared mockingly, “Hush now, that sort of noise could wake the dead.”
“Wait!” the thin man pleaded. “I can get you things, I can get you anything.”
Dillon laughed, and the other vampires joined in.
“I can bring you people, boys, girls, anyone you need,” he offered. His eyes darted desperately from face to face. “Please, just let me go.” Pointing at the girl, he declared enthusiastically, “There are plenty more just like her.”
Dillon’s mouth curled into a grin and he asked derisively, “Do you think we need your help?”
“Everyone needs he -”
Dillon’s free hand blurred forward. A straight razor slashed across the thin man’s mouth, cutting deeply through both cheeks. The thin man squealed; his tongue split in two wriggled obscenely. Blood began streaming down the sides of his chin to splatter in fat drops on the floor.
“I don’t like big mouths,” Dillon observed flatly and nodded again.
The three vampires attacked, tearing the thin man to pieces. Blood sprayed wildly. The vampires latched onto body parts and greedily sucked on the open arteries. The thin man’s entrails fell to the floor where they were kicked around by the vampire’s feeding frenzy.
The young woman looked on. Dillon’s hand was clasped tightly over her mouth, muffling her screams. Above his hand, a look of horror overtook her eyes, like an eclipse of the sun, all hope vanishing into eternal darkness.
Dillon could feel the young woman’s heart beating like a bird trying to escape its cage. Lust to feed rose within him. He leaned her head to one side to expose her neck, his canines descending into attack position. He started to rear back his head for the final plunge forward when he jerked to a sudden stop.
Dillon looked around for a moment, his ears wiggling as he searched for what had disturbed him.
“There’s someone out front,” he hissed.
“Huh?” Caleb grunted, dropping a leg torn off at the hip.
“It’s a van pulling up outside, get your guns,” Dillon ordered with a snarl, holding the young woman tightly in front of him.
The vampires pulled out MAC-10 submachine guns and turned to face the entrance of the apartment block.
* * *
“Stow your guns, there is still one human left alive - swords only,” Francis commanded.
Grinning crookedly, Jay slung his FN P90 over his shoulder. Drawing his katana, he looked at Yvette who had done the same. They stood opposite each other at the northeast side entrance. One door hung half off its hinges, and the other was gone completely. Before them stretched a long corridor, unlit except for a pool of light close to a hundred yards away that flooded from a large room into the hall.
“Four hostiles and one civilian are still in the main room in the middle of the building,” Francis whispered over the comm links.
Jay nodded once, standing ready to enter the ground floor of the apartment block through the side entrance.
“Go!” Francis commanded.
Jay sunk into an immediate ramp, blurring through the entrance and down the long hall. Yvette ran beside him, her naked sword held above her left shoulder.
They reached the lit area and burst into the main room. Opposite them were four vampires and one terrified girl. The vampires were already whirling about, raising MAC-10 submachine guns. The girl began to shriek, thrown hard through the air toward Jay and Yvette by the vampire who had held her. They both moved to dodge her, Yvette veering left, while Jay went low. He put his left hand down and started to slide underneath the girl’s body, angling his sword away to the right to protect her.
9mm rounds started flying as the vampires opened fire. Yvette cursing in alarm as she twisted violently and blurred away.
Jay’s left foot ran into something slippery, and he lost purchase on the linoleum. He watched in sudden horror as blue and gray-white pieces of gut looped around his foot and he slid on his hip through a puddle of blood and human entrails toward a pair of vampires, one a hulking brute of a man and the other a snarling gangster.
His mind raced as he struggled to regain his balance, where the hell is everyone else?
* * *
Centurion Rawlings watched the Order van pull to a stop outside the front entrance of the apartment block. Two men leaped from the van, equipped with slung submachine guns and drawn edged weapons. They blurred toward the building as gunfire erupted inside. He checked his Panopticon feeds, the van was not visible, hazed into invisibility on his screens. The rest of the site was in view. His teams clearly marked on the screens with steady red stars.
“Gamma team reposition to cover any escape.”
“Yes, Sir,” Gamma One responded.
“Beta team, prepare to engage with crossfire on the kill zone between the van and the building. We’ll get them as they exit.”
“Yes, Sir, we’re ready!” Beta One replied enthusiastically.
“Watch my mark Beta team, I will open up with the minigun, and I want both of you firing from your position.”
“Yes, Sir,” the praetorians of Beta team chorused together.
Centurion Rawlings slid the side door of the van to the left, exposing a gap a yard wide facing the apartment block. He hefted the Dillon Aero M134D-H minigun and pointed it directly at a point halfway between the Order van and the entrance of the building. His ears twitched as gunfire stuttered in the lobby of the building. He expected the Order would soon win the little battle inside the building against the worthless trash vampires. He grinned broadly, all he had to do was wait, and a whole Order force team would soon cease to exist.
He was supremely proud to be the instrument of their execution.
* * *
A bellowing laugh split the air.
Anton rushed into the lit room. Chiara and Li fanned out to his left. In front of him, a female vampire charged toward Yvette, who was dodging 9mm gunfire from another vampire near the entrance.
He took another blurring step, twisting to his right. Looming before him was a huge vampire holding Jay a foot off the floor by his throat and his right wrist. The vampire’s shoulders bunched, preparing to tear Jay apart. Jay’s face twisted in agony and horror, his body spread-eagled, his feet thrashing as he attempted to break free of the terrible grip. His one free hand, blurring forward, again and again, to beat at the hand at his throat.
The vampire holding Jay bellowed again, his laughter booming through the room like thunder.
Anton drove the Blue Dragon through a short, deep arc. The big vampire’s head toppled forward as bright red blood fountained into the air. His body crumpling to the ground, dragging Jay with him in a tangle of arms, legs and spraying blood.
Snarling, the second gangster vampire leaped forward, somersaulting over Anton’s head, striding momentarily along the ceiling as he lined his MAC-10 up on Anton’s head.
Anton’s Ramp went wild, he twisted, blurring to the left, as the vampire’s MAC-10 billowed gray smoke just above him and a line of bullets raked the floor. Linoleum puffed upward, and blood splashed as stray bullets ripped into the headless body of the huge vampire.
The vampire landed, his gun running dry. Turning, he fled.
Anton started to run after him. A gleaming axe tumbled past his shoulder, shearing through the back of the vampire’s head before embedding in the wall. The vampire flopped to the ground, twitching, and jerking. He pulled to a halt, twisting back to face the room. Peter and Francis rushed through the open front doors.
To his left, the female vampire wailed once, falling silently to the floor.
Yvette stepped past her body, flicking her katana clean.
Everyone evaded as another volley of bullets raked the room. The final vampire’s MAC-10 clicked on empty, and he cursed loudly, “Fuck you -”
Francis beheaded him from behind with the White Dragon. His body slumped to the floor, his head rolling to the nearest wall. Blood gushed forth in a spreading red pool from his neck.
In the sudden silence, Jay pushed the big vampire aside and stood up, vampire blood dripping down his face. Breathing heavily, rubbing the red, raw marks on his throat, he declared in disgust, “I’m covered in this shit!”
Jay stared at Anton for a long moment. His face clouded with strong emotion, then he broke eye contact and looked away.
* * *
“Less than ten minutes of Panopticon cover left,” Juliette broadcast over the earbud comms.
“Quickly now, clear the dead,” Francis commanded. “Li keep watch, Yvette help Jay clean himself up, and Chiara, check the girl.”
Peter caught Anton’s attention, nodding his head at the gangster vampire he’d killed with a throwing axe. They went to grab the body, and it twitched violently, starting to push itself upright.
“Damn!” Peter growled, twisting the skull and snapping the spine. His muscles bunched again, and he tore the head free of the body. Blood fountained from the headless body onto the floor.
“Make sure that you’ve got a true kill,” Francis warned. He started dragging the huge beheaded vampire by his boots toward the front doors.
In less than a minute, Francis, Peter, and Anton cleared the room of the various vampire body parts. They lined them up on the ground, a handful of yards outside the main entrance to the apartment block. The south facing entrance would be flooded by sunlight at dawn, and the bodies would flame to ash in seconds.
They returned to the main room. Chiara was helping the girl stand on unsteady feet. She began hyperventilating and shivering, Francis stepped forward and waved a thimble sized vial under her nose. She immediately collapsed, Chiara, guiding her gently to the floor.
Francis picked her up like he was carrying a sick child and commanded, “Back to the van now! We can run past an emergency room and drop her off on the way home.”
“Won’t she remember everything that has happened?” Anton asked.
Chiara remarked, “No way. Not with a dose of ‘Lethe.’ She won’t remember anything from the last twenty-four hours.”
“Focus everyone, guns back on, keep your eyes open until exfiltration is complete,” Francis instructed, striding through the doorway with the limp young woman in his arms. Jay a step behind him, his FN P90 held up, scanning the environment. Anton, Li, Chiara, Yvette, and Peter followed them, weapons up and on the lookout for any more hostiles.
The team exited the apartment block. They descended the front stairs where the bodies of the four dead vampires lay and headed for their waiting van.
* * *
The praetorian, call sign Beta One, sighted along his .50 caliber sniper rifle. The magazine held six rounds of high velocity, hollow point ammunition. He targeted the lead Order member carrying a young woman in his arms. He focused the crosshairs onto the center of the man’s chest, a single round would blow a hole through the man’s body that he could push his fist through without touching the sides.
Breathing slowly, he mastered his excitement. His spotter lined his M249 light machine gun on the center of the group of Order operatives behind the first two. The kill zone was only 150 yards away from the top of the water tower, almost point-blank range for the weapons being used.
“This will be a turkey shoot,” Beta One whispered.
His spotter chuckled softly before whispering back, “Fucking A.”
Beta One tapped his tactical communications link and broadcast, “Sir, I have the lead Order operative in my sights right now, ready to take the shot, waiting for your mark.”
…
“Sir?”
* * *
Ramin Kain stared through his Order night glasses at the Mirovar force team as they exited the apartment block and made their way to the van.
Any second now, he thought, his mind seething with expectation, his fists clenching spasmodically.
One of the team members toward the back of the group looked up, directly at the top of the water tower, as if they had seen something that grabbed their attention.
Hell, one of them has seen the praetorians above me!
Hell, fucking hell, when will someone start shooting?!
Ramin’s eyes widened as he watched the Mirovar force team walk into the sweet spot in the middle of the kill zone between the van and the entrance to the building. The one who had looked up, glowed in his amplified night vision, their body temperature rising rapidly.
They’re ramping!
“C’mon!” he whispered with desperate urgency. “Kill them!”
* * *
Beta One sighted along his sniper rifle, let his breath out, waiting for the pause between heartbeats. The shot would be perfect; the lead Order operative was about to die. Beside him, his spotter was ready to simultaneously fire his M249 light machine gun into the mass of Order operatives in the middle of the kill zone.
Where’s Centurion Rawlings? They’re smack in the middle of the zone right now. Must be a communications failure, more Order cyberwarfare, his mind raced. I’ll have to take the shot.
Beta One started to squeeze the trigger.
A searing pain burst from the base of his skull. A blood-drenched blade rammed out through the space between the bottom of his nose and his top lip. He shuddered, his nerveless finger trembling uselessly next to the trigger. The blade twisted to the right, before whipping down to the left, carving its way through his jaw, spine and a mass of blood vessels in his neck.
Whoever attacked him blurred away toward the spotter.
Beta One’s body slumped forward, his helmeted forehead bouncing off the parapet before settling back down upon it.
A wet gurgle came from his right. Facing the parapet, he could just see the sole of one of Beta Two’s boots. The boot twitched twice and then became still.
He rested there, unable to move, his head barely connected to his body. Blood flooding from his throat pooled at his knees. Locked in a pose that resembled someone praying, he began the final death.
Before the eternal darkness claimed him, a vast regret for the failed mission washed through him. Behind the emotion rolled a wave of all-consuming nothingness.
* * *
Flicking the two Red Empire swords clear of blood, general Chloe Armitage shrank back into the shadows on top of the water tower.
She surveyed the area around her. The nondescript black van parked three hundred yards away on the southeast expressway brooded with a ghostly silence. Its interior painted with the blood of Centurion Rawlings and the Alpha Team praetorians. Recent memory flooded her mind. Flashing blades, punctured metal, and bloody flesh. The praetorians had died in silence. Their deaths so quick, they had no time to draw breath, let alone scream.
From where she crouched, she could see the squat two-story building between the apartment block and the street to the north. On its roof, lay the broken remains of the praetorians of Gamma Team. They had been the first to fall to her blades before she’d swung around the far side of the apartment block to take the vampires in the van from behind.
Chloe sheathed her short swords in their scabbards at her hip, pulling a dark Red Empire cloak around her. An assassin’s hood covered her hair. A dark veil covered her face from the bridge of her nose down. Only her vivid blue eyes and pale complexion showed in a thin strip above the veil.
She sidled up to the parapet, glancing down at the Order van, the last door closed and it started to pull away. She watched it pass beneath her, rolling out into the street and disappearing from view. She waited until she could no longer hear the engine of the van, and the entire site was reduced to the background noises of nature and the mechanical sounds of the pumps beneath her boots.
