“—I told you we shoulda gone with them!”
My indignant shout was drowned out by two very loud noises; the sharp BANG! of my high-ex grenade detonating, which temporarily muffled the dull KRUMPFS! from Megazard’s massive Krime Cannon as he laid down suppressive fire.
“Stay with me ’til we hit the door, Azimuth!” the enormous troll shouted.
“Like I got a choice?!”
All this happened as we charged straight at the latest cluster of sec men spilling out of a nondescript, white, ten-story building twenty-five meters away. In their matching corp body armor and helmets, they looked like angry, grey-clad ants.
My mystic armor took a few hits as two opened fire with their Ares assault rifles. Correction: heavily armed and seriously pissed-off ants.
Still, we barreled forward. I launched another aerodynamic grenade as I ran, dropping it exactly where I wanted: behind a huge plascrete garden container near the front of the building. It held several artfully sculpted evergreen trees providing cover for three rent-a-cops.
The grenade fell out of sight, and the sharp report that followed sprayed pine needles, branches, and sec guard bodies everywhere. We both clomped into the cloud of smoke laid down by our chosen weapons, taking advantage of the temporary cover as we reloaded. I plucked two more grenades off my belt while Megazard slapped another circular magazine into the ever-hungry maw of his assault cannon. And all the while, we kept running toward the building.
You got it, chummer—we were heading in, not out.
It was not one of my better runs—or days, for that matter. But an empty credstick and looming rent, not to mention a constantly growling stomach, makes for one hungry dwarf—in more ways than one. So, when my supposed friend Megazard pinged me about what sounded like a simple cover-and-carry mission, I didn’t look too closely at the particulars.
Big mistake.
The leaders of the team—a couple run-and-gun studs who’d been sleazing the Seattle shadows for all of six months—were cocky even at the initial meet. But their money was good—and real—for what was supposed to be an easy job: overwatch on the street while they swapped places with a maintenance crew and infiltrated during the end-of-day shift change. One false fire alarm later, and they would get whatever they’d come to get and scoot. If anything went bad, that’s where we came in, guns and grens booming, to extract them.
And of course, somebody tripped something, leading us to make our spectacular entrance. The target was some offthe-main-drag corp building in Ravenna, so I’d packed fairly light—only twenty grenades instead of my normal compliment of thirty-six. But judging how fast I was burning through ’em, I was starting to think I’d underpacked. And judging by the tenacity of the security we faced, the team leaders had seriously underestimated the static on this run.
“Ready?” Megazard asked as he sighted through his smartlinked cannon. I nodded, and he pulled the trigger twice. I didn’t see the explosion through the smoke, but the blast noise and resulting shockwave told me the doors were no more. The shrapnel was still falling around us when we took the entrance.
I love everything about throwing grenades. I love the cold, heavy feel of them in my hand. I love finding the perfect arc through the air to the target. I especially love the looks on the faces of my targets when they see what’s coming their way. And I love the way I feel the mana in the air bending to help the grenade land at its proper destination.
I know plenty of street brawlers who like to do their work in close, but that’s not my style. As my sensei said: “Why shoot or stab someone when you can reduce them to tiny pieces from far away?” Sound advice then, sound advice today.
I’ve been working on and off with Megazard for the past couple years. Lotsa people like to crack jokes about the trolldwarf combo when they first meet us. Then they see what we can do, and the wisecracks stop dead—sometimes along with the people making them. We may not be pretty, and we’re the last people you’d call for a sneak-and-peek, but when something or someone absolutely, positively needs to be destroyed ASAP, we’re the people you should call.
Of course, there are advantages and disadvantages to our M.O.D. For example, that many loud, concentrated explosions typically draws every on-site guard and drone to where they’re going off. While it lets the rest of the team work undisturbed, it also brings every Knight Errant pawn within a ten-kilometer radius screaming toward the fireworks. So, from the second we hit the ground popping our very big caps, time is of the essence.
Megazard hit the wall on the left side of the entryway, and I hit the right. He stuck his weapon muzzle out for a peek and almost got it shot off.
“Allow me.” I clutched one high-ex in my left hand and one frag in my right; my metal storm combo. I focused for a moment, and then watched the world slow down around me as my adept reflexes kicked in. “Cover!”
The huge troll stuck his KC around the corner again and let two more rounds fly. In the one-point-three seconds between launch and detonation, I stepped into the ruined entrance and picked out where the guards—and one tracked security drone— were located in the cavernous main hall.
The flesh-and-blood was crouched on the left, the ceramic-and-plasteel was tracking me on the right. No matter. Adjusting on the fly, I cross-tossed, sending the frag toward the goons, and the HE arcing toward the drone. The second the grens left my hands, I stepped out of the line of fire and took cover behind Megazard, mouth open and looking away from the soon-to-be very large fire in the hole.
The thunderous blast of all four munitions practically went off at the same time, shaking the entire building. We gave it a few seconds for everything to stop falling, then peeked inside.
Typical corp entrance lobbies have a big main desk or counter of some kind next to a security scanner and guard station, a few chairs, maybe some plants, stuff like that.
Whatever had been in this room was gone. Completely. Totally. Gone. All that was left was rubble, smears of blood, and smoke.
“Three minutes,” Megazard said. I nodded as we hoofed it inside, combat boots crunching over broken bullet-but-not explosion-resistant glass, bits of metal and motherboard, and other, less identifiable bits of what was once the sec team.
Our comms chirped. “What the hell’s going on down there?” It was SliceNDice, the so-called leader of these so-called runners. In the background, I could hear gunfire both nearby and further from him.
“You called for an extraction,” I answered as we hit the stairway. “We’re extracting.”
“Sounds like you’re blowing the whole goddamn building up!”
I exchanged a tired look with Megazard. “Yeah, there was some slight collateral damage upon entry,” I replied. “You guys still where you said you were?”
“Yeah, fourth floor, pinned down by a squad near the elevator. Slycer’s hit. Where are you?”
“We’re comin’,” I said, trying to remember which one was Slycer. Then it came to me: he was the team’s decker—the other dwarf. Even cockier than their leader. “Remember, once we get there, everyone’s leaving.”
“Yeah—”
“And you’re exactly where you told us you were?”
“Yes, goddamnit, just hurry! More security’s coming!”
My eyebrows raised—apparently these security goons were more disciplined than most—or they were smart enough to not risk getting blown up by us. “We’re moving as fast as we can.”
When we reached the third floor, we hit the door and stepped out into the deserted hallway, thanks to the fire alarm—the one thing that had gone right so far. Megazard took the lead, following the building schematics. When we got to the right place, he looked up and nodded. Loud assault rifle fire could be heard overhead—the sec men pinning down our meal tickets.
I’d already pulled a double dose of high-ex. Holding both in one hand, I pulled a small bottle of quick-dry spray adhesive from a belt pouch. “Boost me.”
Keeping an eye on both directions, the troll knelt down, grabbed me under the arms, and placed me on his shoulders, allowing me to reach the ceiling with ease. I sprayed each grenade, stuck ’em right overhead, then hit the motion sensor switch. As soon as they were moved, they would go off. And boy, were they about to get moved.
“Ready,” I said. Megazard extended a long, bulging arm, and I ran down it to the floor.
“Ninety seconds,” he replied as we both ran for the nearest corner. Once there, I huddled in a ball and contacted the rest of the team while making sure my mystic armor was tight. <Extraction beginning in five-count. Hunker down, eyes shut, mouths open, ears covered.> I texted to the group.
“What—” he started to say as Megazard swapped magazines, then aimed at my homemade care package down the hall.
<Do it NOW!> I sent, then followed my own orders.
A moment later, the world exploded. I felt a brief wash of heat lick over me, which was gone as quickly as it arrived. I gave it a two count, then opened my eyes.
The ceiling halfway down the corridor was now a large, jagged hole. Blood, shattered weapons, and body parts littered the walls, ceiling, and floor in a five-meter radius in all directions.
I got back on the comm while following Megazard to our improvised exit. “Extraction site is open. Time to go, sixty seconds and counting.”
SliceNDice’s head peeked over the uneven lip of the hole. He pointed to his ears and shook his head. I sighed. “Stubborn adepts.” I texted the evac message, but hadn’t finished typing as the rest of the team scrambled down into the troll’s waiting arms. There were four of them—the human leader, swords still in their scabbards, the wounded decker, and a pair of elves, brother and sister. The guy was a third adept named Khase, the woman a combat mage called Sindje. She was leaning heavily on her sibling—musta burned a lot of mana to be that drained.
Once we had everyone, with Megazard carrying the injured decker, we beat feet back to the stairway. “Is the evac plan still green?” I asked between pants.
“Yeah…as far as I know,” SliceNDice replied.
Stifling the response that sprang to mind, I concentrated on hitting those stairs as fast as I could. With every step, the seconds ticked away.
On the second floor landing, my combat senses twitched an alarm, and I held up my fist. All of us froze in our tracks as I pointed at the floor below. We all listened, then heard it—the squeak of a combat boot, the shallow exhalation of breath as someone—or several someones—waited to ambush us.
<Probably at least a squad down there.> the troll texted me.
SliceNDice got that odd look on his face—there, but not there—and returned to consciousness a few seconds later. <Four on main floor landing, covering stairwell.>
Guess he was good for something after all. I pulled two frags from my belt while resending a command to the rest. <Eyes shut, mouths open, ears covered. This’ll be even louder than the floor.>
Pulling the pins, I let the grens drop into the narrow space between the stairs. The sec quartet had just enough time to realize death had dropped in on ’em from above before the frags reduced them to shredded red meat. I slapped Megazard’s leg as the echoes away. “Let’s roll.”
Covering the stairwell with his assault cannon, dwarf slung over his other shoulder, Megazard took the steps three at a time. The rest of us scrambled to catch up.
The first floor landing looked like it’d been sprayed with a crimson water cannon. I left a little surprise for anyone entering the stairwell from the main hall, and kept moving. Careful not to slip in the muck coating the floor, we descended to the basement, then even further, to the parking levels below that.
In the small room just before the garage, SliceNDice sagged again, then straightened up with a jerk. “No sign of KE or any security. We’re out the door, get the truck, and get the hell out of here.”
Grenades in hand, I nodded at Megazard. “Go.” Not that I didn’t trust the other adept’s recon, but … okay, I didn’t trust the other adept’s recon.
The troll cautiously opened the door, and I peeked out, ready to frag anything that moved. The plascrete floor was quiet, littered with parked cars and nothing else. Not even a peep from my combat senses.
“Clear.” I took point as we headed toward the nondescript, battered panel truck that had gotten them inside, and which I hoped was sturdy enough to get us all back out again—especially with an additional five hundred kilograms of troll and dwarf aboard.
The rest of the runners followed, Megazard bringing up the rear. We had just reached the truck when the hacker jerked and raised his head with a snort.
“Where the hell’re we?”
“Evac’ing, that’s where,” SliceNDice told him. “We booked when you went down from the IC.”
“Sheeit, I may have been down, but I wasn’t out,” the hacker protested. “Besides, I almost got what we came for. Just need another one, two minutes, tops.” He glanced down at his troll ride. “Mind putting me down, treetop?”
“But Slycer, we gotta stay onsite for you to complete the download,” the human adept said as the hacker was lowered to the ground.
“No shit,” the dwarf replied as he climbed into the back of the truck. “Bet I can do it in ninety seconds, easy.”
“No paydirt, no payday,” the guy elf said.
“Yeah. Don’t know about you, but I’d rather not go back to Mr. Johnson empty-handed,” his sister said with a frown.
SliceNDice glanced at them, then at us. “All right then, you four buy Slycer the time he needs. I’ll stay with him and the truck, each of you take a position where you can cause a distraction. Once he’s got the stuff, I’ll pick you all up, and we’re out of here. Move out.”
Megazard and I split up to cover the right side of the parking structure. I ducked behind behind a glossy, midnight blue BMW X89 parked near the down ramp from the upper level. The huge troll found his own hiding place, managing to squeeze between two company panel trucks.
I was about to needle him on his hiding spot when my combat senses pinged as I heard the squeak of rubber on plascrete. <Vehicle coming.>
<You got LOS?>
<Yup.> I watched a classic GMC Bulldog in corp security colors, with a heavy-duty ram bar and run-flat tires, come down the ramp. Here’s where it got a bit tricky—I had to disable the van without blocking our exit. I texted Megazard. <Gonna take them at your corner. Need an extra push when I do.>
<Got it.>
I popped two hi-ex ball grenades and calc’ed fuses, distance to target, and travel time. A few meters before the vehicle reached a safe distance, I stepped out from between the cars, popped both pins, and bowled the pair of grens toward the left rear corner of the armored van. Again, the little round bombs went exactly where I wanted them to, and I clued Megazard in as they went. <Boom in three, two, one—NOW.>
At the precise moment my grenades exploded under the Bulldog’s left rear axle, Megazard also stepped out and fired his Krime Cannon at the upper driver’s side of the GMC’s roof. He wasn’t using armor-piercing rounds, however—that wouldn’t have accomplished what we wanted.
The twin sets of high explosions, set off at the right time and impacting the right places, knocked the van over on its side, making it skid to a stop in a shriek of overstressed metal and plastic.
As the smoke and noise died away, we got the call. <Package acquired. Be ready for pick-up.> That was accompanied by the shriek of complaining wheels on the garage floor. Seconds later, the panel truck slewed around the corner, almost sideswiping the overturned van. It corrected, and I broke into a run when I saw the back door open, with both elves waving us forward.
Megazard was right beside me, and grabbed me in one huge hand as he lunged for the truck’s back door. The suspension shrieked in protest, but held as we scrambled aboard. I looked back to see two dazed sec men struggling out of the bulldog, and popped a pair of smoke grenades to cover us.
“Slycer, get that gate open!”
“Working on it … there!”
The mesh metal security gate squealed up as we rounded the last corner and sped toward the exit. Megazard pulled the back doors shut and sat against the groaning wall to catch his breath.
“Hey, slow down there, Andretti,” I called to the adept behind the wheel. “Maintenance has no reason to speed outta here.”
He shook his head but did as I said. We drove up the ramp, out the maintenance exit, and into the late afternoon sunshine. Two right turns later, we were leaving the rear of the building grounds as a small army of Knight Errant security converged on its still-smoking front. Two klicks later, we pulled onto an onramp and merged with the rest of the traffic on I5. Just another maintenance van on its way back from a job.
Blowing out a relaxed breath, I exchanged a satisfied glance with Megazard as the rest of the team celebrated their successful run. That’s the other advantage of making a big boom going in—no one ever expects you to be quiet coming back out.