Chapter 42

McCreed's voice cut through the fog in my brain like a blade drawn across smooth velvet.

"It seems you've become a bit of a nuisance, Mr. Price."

Behind us, on the Corpo side, a six-man team of combat-armored Enforcers took up position. Their carapace-like suits reminded me of warrior bugs, with insectoid-like protrusions which blistered from helmets like glossy, lifeless eyes.

With their arrival, McCreed's face brimmed with absolute certainty he had the advantage.

And he was probably right.

He stood just in front of the halfway point, near the split where the two sides, the Leafs, would separate once the purge commenced.

Mythology was filled with sentries who guarded thresholds like these.

Yama. Heimdall. Cerberus. Pick one. Pick all. Pick none.

The point was that McCreed was between us and the divide. Our separation from freedom and The Glow.

We were so close.

Sam remained positioned with her rifle aimed toward the Corpo side, but her head was turned back toward McCreed. Her barrel stayed fixated at targets beyond Rob, who was too busy to notice our predicament.

Then, on an unseen cue, Sam and McCreed burst into motion. McCreed's feet devoured the gap between them at a terrifying rate.

Sam had already pivoted her barrel up and around to reverse her original point of aim as she aligned her sights on McCreed's frighteningly fast advance.

Like packets of fragmented data, the rain broke apart to the echo of gunfire.

She struggled to score a hit. McCreed's eyes spun wildly like golden rings, no longer camouflaged to seem natural. He moved like an agile prize-fighter, always just off angle from a lethal shot; he ducked and weaved as he closed in.

Before either of us realized, he was there.

McCreed's shoulder slammed into Sam's grip, and she immediately abandoned all attempts to fire as he bounced her barrel up and away.

Sparks flew as the sharpened alloy of her talons scraped against his APM-hardened skin.

I managed to yank the magazine free just as they separated. Sam retracted her talons to grip her rifle again as McCreed dove for cover.

With an annoyed grunt, she surged forward and shoved her barrel toward him.

At the same moment, my finger found the lever to release the empty magazine. It clattered hollowly to the ground just as McCreed sprang back into motion.

Sam cried out in surprise. He flipped her across his hip and slammed her into the gate's metal surface with a tooth-rattling thud.
My fingers fumbled as I tried, and failed, to insert the magazine properly. My curse drew McCreed's attention as he stepped back lightly to narrow his eyes in my direction.

Jaw clenched, he bent down, grabbed a fistful of Sam's jacket, and with a single, clean jerk, sent her rocketing toward me.

Without a thought to the consequences, I braced myself and instinctively reached out with the full intent to catch her. I nearly blacked out when we collided.

Even through the effects of the injector, the pain was enormous. A meaty pop came from my left shoulder as we collapsed into a formless heap. My back and side slammed into the encasement behind me, and Sam's body unfolded across my legs.

I felt pinned, like a bug under a glass slide, as she rolled off of me. The sharp clatter of rounds pinged and ricocheted around us, but I barely registered it through the pain.

The sound of boots hammered into the ground from behind.

It was Rob.

In a fury of movement, he rushed McCreed's position and vaulted straight over to the next encasement with his revolver extended.

One Boom.

Then another.

And another.

McCreed's head, chest, and face took the hits as he stumbled back, wounded.

Blood streamed from his temple. His jacket, shirt, and tie were torn to ribbons and threads.

But he looked nowhere near as rough as I thought he should've.

Rob's weapon clicked empty.

Smoothly and mechanically, McCreed uncoiled to reach for the neckline of his ruined attire. In a single, fluid motion, he flexed his arm and tore away the shredded fabric to expose hidden, synthetic flesh.

Warning notice after warning notice overlapped in diagonal rows. Too many to count. Each alert catalogued a different combat mod, and the sheer volume was overwhelming.

One of the final entries registered something called an SDP mod, but I cleared the interface before I could get further detail.

Steam began to curl from McCreed's body. Tendrils of waste heat spiraled into the crisp morning air.

His APMs pulsed, contracted, and expanded as he lunged.

Rob reacted instantly.

In a sudden show of agility, he flipped himself backward to drive his knee into McCreed's chin, which snapped shut as empty shells clattered to the surface of the gate like metal rain.

Already mid-reload, Rob bounced back to activate his own APMs.

They collided in the center as the steam enveloped them like a shroud.

Rob skidded to a halt, reversed direction, and locked the revolver closed with a snap of his wrist. McCreed advanced.

A gout of red flame erupted from the barrel. McCreed twisted to narrowly avoid the first shot. The round ricocheted somewhere behind him as Rob kept the weapon tight to his body.

They circled.

The fight became a scramble as Rob fired and McCreed dodged or pounced.

The pace of the battle ramped up as the gun clicked empty.

They immediately closed the distance. Impacts thundered. Limbs became a furious rampage of presses, blocks, and counters in an eye-watering display of skill.

Rob seized the upper hand after two particularly brutal strikes landed on McCreed's neck and face. It snapped McCreed's head back.

There was a lull. McCreed shook his head as he tried to shake off the hits. Without hesitation, Rob ducked under one of McCreed's arms, heaved, and dumped McCreed onto the top of an encasement with a loud clang.

Our path was open.

My ribs screamed in protest as I was hauled up by my pack.

"Move-Move-Move!" Sam shouted. She half dragged, half guided me as we ran.

...or rather, Sam ran. I limped.

A set of yellow hazard lines framed a reinforced seam over the gate's separation point.

Behind, Rob pressed the advantage. He launched into the air and drove his knee into McCreed's abdomen with inhuman force.

The strike could've crumpled a tank. The metal of the casing buckled from the impact.

Yet even as Rob drove an elbow into McCreed's jaw, the blow didn't seem to faze McCreed in the slightest.

My optics flared to life as they tracked and visualized two pencil-thin beams that emitted from McCreed's eyes.

[WARNING]
[OTM: Class One] IDENTIFIED! [Effects: Target Identification]
[STATUS: LICENSED]
[WARNING]

Rob turned his head to avoid eye contact, then slammed another elbow into McCreed's side.

Without a flinch or other outward sign of injury, McCreed only blocked Rob's next strike with brute precision, then smirked as the twin beams from his optics locked onto Rob's chest.

Sam yanked me past her. "Now that's just pointless," she muttered. "Unless—"

A sizzling sound, like a live wire torn loose in the rain, followed a sharp, very metallic ping as it plowed through the air.

Rob was hurled forward, face-first, and off of McCreed as he fell to the gate's surface.

Sam's eyes went wide. She dropped into a crouch. I had to let out a startled yelp as her grip pulled me onto the ground beside her.

"A Sentinel! Are you kidding me?!"

From the direction of the Spires came a short, high-pitched clap of thunder a full three seconds after the sizzle's pass.

I turned and caught the flicker of a blue flash, no larger than a pinprick at this distance.

Another sizzle.

Rob was driven to the ground with brutal force once more. Three seconds later, another delayed rumble of thunder rolled past us.

It had come from one of the towers.

While we'd been distracted, the six-man team had moved. The combat team quickly approached the midway point where we were held up.

I had to ask. "What the hell is a Sentinel?"

A bead of sweat trickled down Sam's face as she peered above the line of cover and cursed.

"Automated Suppression System," she said. "Rob explained it to me once when we..." She shook her head. "Never mind that. What matters right now is the targeting, and those goons."

Rob's back was flayed.

My optics flared to life.

[WARNING]
[SDP: Class Five] IDENTIFIED! [Effects: Vital Point Projectile Deflection]
[STATUS: UNLICENSED]
[WARNING]

As Rob struggled to rise, strips of his skin peeled away like pieces of cheap paint on a dirty wall.

I was given my first-ever, unobstructed view of flesh-colored subdermal plating beneath. Matte and dull, it contrasted lightly against the living tissue it had once hidden beneath.

Whoever, or whatever, had locked onto him increased the pace. The shots continued.

McCreed was back on his feet, his eyes still designated where the volleys would land with a high precision.

Rob, unable to identify the origin of the shots, tried to stand but failed. Through punched holes, I could see at least two places near his spine that bled a rich, darkened red through his jacket, and his breathing was rough.

McCreed tilted his head as he looked down to Rob.

"What was it you said, Mr. Franklin?" He asked, maliciously amused. "'I have assets to call upon you could only dream of?'"

On cue, shots came our way.

Sam and I dove for cover as the six-man team rushed forward and positioned themselves on either side of McCreed with a practiced ease.

With a single hand gesture, McCreed halted the armored unit behind him. They slipped behind cover like obedient dogs.

With one muscular arm, he looped Rob's neck into a rear-choke.

Rob gasped, his airway sealed off as McCreed leaned back and applied pressure.

"Still playing the hero, Mr. Franklin?" McCreed said, his voice smooth and dangerous. "You're bleeding out, and I'm afraid you've got nowhere else to go. But it doesn't have to end here. I could still use a man of your strength and ability."

Rob's boot soles left the ground as he struggled to free himself. McCreed tucked his face in low behind Rob's neck and avoided Rob's desperate attempt to claw for leverage.

Sam's shoulders were tense. She gripped her rifle with a white-knuckled fury and held it aloft, ready to fire.

Like a serpent with promises of forbidden knowledge, McCreed hissed an offer into Rob's ear.

"You think you've tricked me once. But this is your only real chance. Now. No negotiations. Come to my side, and I can assure you'll be well compensated. Just like the others."

Sam's eyes widened in an admittedly "me" sort of way as she blurted out, "Others?!"

Rob's face turned red; his expression darkened.

In an exaggerated stage performance, McCreed's eyes flicked over to us in a mockery of surprise.

"Ah!" he said playfully.

Rob's shade deepened to an ugly scarlet-purple.

"How could I ever forget?" McCreed's tone was laced with venom. The targeting beams from his optics ignited like miniature suns, and I felt them bore into my skull as they locked in.

"I believe your services are no longer fit," he said with finality, "nor any longer required. Goodbye, Mr. Price."

Rob’s boots scraped against the ground again as he fought for breath. His body trembled under McCreed’s grip.

"Big—hhnng—mistake!" He croaked, voice strained and raw.

"NOW!"

In a sudden burst of movement, Rob caught McCreed, and the entire team of goons, off their guard. He kipped his body upward and jackknifed his legs straight into the air to flop them back down with all his strength.

The momentum peeled him out of McCreed's hold as McCreed fought to stabilize himself as Rob rolled free to spring to the side.

In perfect sync, Sam snapped off two precisely drilled shots.

The first caught an armored goon under his helmet, right at a vulnerable section where the neck cover and mask met. With an electric warble, he stumbled past the gate's edge and vanished from sight. A muted splash marked his disappearance.

The second round hit one of McCreed's perfect, stormy-grey eyes, the right one. The pencil-thin beam flickered and died as blood spurted out. It coated his cheek, neck, and chest.

A seismic bellow was released by the klaxon, while his cries of pain were swallowed by the thunderous roar of water.

The distraction proved fatal for two more guards, dispatched wordlessly by Sam's precision and ruthless efficiency.

A stitch of gunfire chased Rob as he dove for cover beside us.

Pain speared through my ribs and back as I flattened myself to the ground as best I could.

Blindly, I reached down and slapped my rifle's lever, just as Rob had demonstrated. Movement flickered at the edge of my vision as the internals slammed forward with a satisfying clank.

An armored goon's barrel swung around the corner, aimed directly at me.

I fired.

My sternum screamed in pure agony as the rifle kicked into it, and the goon dropped out of sight with a wet gurgle. The round had struck his neck.

McCreed's menacing form appeared above me as I gasped for breath. His right eye socket was a mangled ruin, but the lone iris ring in the remaining eye blazed like a lighthouse.

He kicked Rob aside to stare down at us in furious imposition.

“We're not done,” he growled. Tight with anger. He reached down to hoist Sam out of sight as she screamed, and I shoved the barrel of my rifle forward to pull the trigger three times.

The weapon bucked violently as the heavy rounds slammed into his leg. Sam dropped, shoulder-first, onto the encasement, and she rolled away with a pained grunt.

McCreed slowly turned his mauled face toward me as bullets zipped past.

His eye flashed once, then vanished as he was knocked asunder. Rob roared in fury and tackled him up and over to the other side of the encasement.

The impact of McCreed's back echoed as it was brutally slammed into the ground. An unseen fight erupted beyond to the sound of grunts, thumps, and the grating screech of scraped subdermal plating as it filled the air.

"GO!" Rob screamed, ragged and urgent.

The armored guards closed in like opportunistic hyenas. Their movements were cautious as they circled, too afraid to hit McCreed as they converged.

I hesitated for a half-breath, but Sam scrambled to her feet to limp beside me. My rifle was kept tight to my chest as I hobbled forward. Shots rang out from multiple rifles behind us. Bullets whizzed past, and I ducked instinctively.

Sam turned; her wounded shoulder was limp, but she raised her rifle and fired. We made it past the separation line once more as the sounds of Rob's fight grew more savage.

Flesh struck metal, impacts crunched, and a scream twisted into a gurgle as I finally limped behind cover. Rob had one of the goons in his grasp as he forced the goon to unload his rifle into another.

A round from behind smashed into the back of Rob's skull and caused him to stumble. He turned and threw up an arm toward another guard to barely deflect a round that skittered off and into the water.

The next came from a different direction and knocked his arm askew. I was close enough to see the solid projectile separate into shards of shrapnel that pinged off of the encasement beside him.

Sam's eyes widened as Rob screamed.

He was trapped in the middle of the group. His left wrist dangled uselessly. Several fingers were gone. Like an egg in a holoball match, he was thrown off balance again and again, bouncing between shooters as they targeted his joints and head.

His agony snapped Sam back into action as she raised her rifle and fired. Another guard was hit but didn't go down as one of the others locked onto us.

We ducked and narrowly avoided the rounds as I landed awkwardly.

It was a close call, as my pack nearly kept me from lying flat. With a wince, I slowly undid the shoulder straps. Whatever was about to go down, I sure as hell didn't want to be encumbered.

As my arms were freed, I caught sight of McCreed.

He'd changed.

His frame looked compacted, his musculature tightened into something almost skeletal. His subdermal plates now protruded like armor, fused into a grotesque exoskeleton.

No optical flags appeared as he slammed a V-shaped hand under Rob's chin and lifted him bodily into the air. Rob's legs shook weakly. He clawed at McCreed's wrist with his one remaining good hand as he tried to relieve the pressure on his throat.

Sam tried to stand, but a burst of gunfire forced her down. She cursed as a near hit sent a spray of molten fragments toward us.

I felt, rather than saw, my leg kick the discarded pack aside. It tumbled sideways as if propelled and came to rest just on the edge of the gate. In slow motion, my mind watched it slowly begin to tilt...then fall out of sight.

Beside me, Sam's rifle clicked empty.

"We're coming, Rob! Hang on!" she shouted.

I tore my gaze away from the loss and focused on the two people who mattered the most now.

Sam's face was resolute but terrified. She extracted a fresh magazine with fingers that trembled and slammed it into the rifle with a snap. Her movements had a manic edge as she pulled back on the lever to make it ready to fire.

She stood again, just as McCreed put on a burst of speed to turn Rob to face us. Sam froze mid-aim.

"Wait," McCreed ordered.

Only two guards remained. At his command, they froze unnaturally.

Whether through training, protocol, or the same compulsion he'd done to Golrich...I wasn't sure. But they'd reacted instantly and without question.

Their rifles and insectoid-like optics were locked onto Sam, yet their trigger fingers were motionless.

Sam didn't shoot either, too afraid to risk a hit on Rob.

We entered a stilted ceasefire.

Rob's clenched fist smashed into McCreed's face but did nothing.

McCreed laughed, low and cruel, as Rob's panic-filled expression turned red. He unleashed a series of solid kicks, knee strikes, and punches into McCreed's abdomen, chest, and jaw.

McCreed only remained amused.

He tightened his grip and cast Rob an indulgent, evil smile, like a schoolyard bully in a playfight, untouched and unfazed.

"Come now," McCreed said with a mocking tisk. "Perhaps a lesson in why it's a bad idea to strike your superiors is in order?"

With his free hand, McCreed grabbed Rob's calf and slowly squeezed.

Rob thrashed and screamed.

McCreed's sick smile only twisted further as the joint popped.

Sinew split. Muscles stretched to separation as the lower leg tore away in a twisted arc of red. He held the severed limb in casual indifference as he examined it.

"Non-reinforced joints? How disappointing..." McCreed muttered darkly.

The leg was dropped with a wet thud.

Rob's mutilated arm was next.

Sam's teeth were bared in rage and frustration as Rob's screams continued, raw and wretched.

She leaned into her weapon, her eyes locked on McCreed. A gash just over her left eyebrow bled freely. Her optics cast a pale glow across her bloodied cheek as she seethed toward him.

"Let him go! Or I'll take out more than just your eye."

McCreed covered his face with Rob's body. "Eye? Ah. Thank you for the idea..."

Lowering Rob's head, he twisted his wrists slightly to examine and admire Rob's face like a trophy. McCreed's sole remaining eye glinted in malicious delight as he looked up at Sam. "My, what a fine piece of tech, Mr. Franklin. A hidden data processor and an echolocator? What other secrets might your body possess?"

Too fast for anyone to react, he extended two fingers and a thumb as he continued to stare at Sam.

I averted my gaze, only a moment too late. Rob's remaining leg convulsed as the hand pressed forward with doomed certainty.

The scream that followed was a soul-wrenching wail as McCreed extracted Rob's right eye with a gleeful grin. Blood poured out similarly to when Sam had taken out his own.

McCreed's expression was one of mock fascination as he examined the freshly plucked optical suite above Rob's mutilated face as it lay dormant in his hand.

Sam’s breath hitched beside me; her rifle trembled in her grip as she remained frozen on the spot, uncertain what to do as I looked on in horror.

He's enjoying every second.

The goons looked unsteady now. McCreed's face was spread into a sadistic grin, too far into his enjoyment to realize they seemed suddenly uncertain of where they were and what they were doing.

I stood and pointed my gun at McCreed. He cast a mocking look my way.

"Mr. Price? How foolish. Do you of all people believe you can hurt me?"

I thought for a minute.

He's right...

I lowered my aim and shot toward his foot.

My intention was to...well, I wasn't actually sure, but I'd had hopes I'd cause him to flinch or jump.

Believe me when I say, no one was more surprised than I was when McCreed's pinky toe flew off and plunked into the water.

The unexpected loss of balance and stability caused McCreed to tilt. This triggered a chain of events where Rob shifted his weight to throw off McCreed's grip as he was slammed into the gate's surface.

McCreed shouted out, "Kill him!"

Both goons snapped back into unwillful obedience as their rifles snapped up and toward me. Painfully I dropped prone as Sam poured shots into the thorax armor of one of them. He collapsed but almost immediately stood back up and continued to shoot toward me as they broke from cover to advance, laser focused to obey McCreed's kill command.

Rob bled and shook on the ground as Sam continued to pump rounds into their armor to slow them.

Something wet and heavy hit the top of my head and skittered beyond me: Rob's implant.

Sam's face went pale.

"No!" He screamed from the ground beyond the other side. "Remember your promise!"

But she was too far gone. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she lost herself in whatever bloodlust rage had taken over. She was shot but shrugged it off as I half-crawled, half-dragged myself over to where the implant sat, wet and grimy on the ground.

Above, her gunfire rang out until her rifle was fully expended. The chamber locked open.

I shoved the eye into a pocket and sealed it shut as the sound of talons extending told me she'd kill herself in a last charge if I didn't stop her. I stood and wrapped my arms around her from behind as she screamed and tried to shake me loose.

"Owen, let me go! He can't! He can't be alone!"

Beyond, McCreed lifted Rob's motionless form, now sans most of one arm and lower leg, as a wicked look crossed his face. In an act of final defiance, Rob kicked him. A flash of irritation passed over McCreed's once handsome face as they stared into each other's only remaining eye.

"I've grown bored of you and our games," he said with an air of fatalistic finality. "Goodbye, Mr. Franklin."

A memory flashed over me then, cold and sharp.

Of stories. Myth. Aesop's, and books read long into the night when a young me should've slept. Memories of my mother. Of tales of woe and torment and the heroes she wanted me to understand. The ones who fought till the bitter end. In those stories, the heroes often climbed or crawled through horrendous conditions, always to emerge victorious because the world could be a cold, dark place.

Rob was one such hero.

The stories were good. The stories gave me hope. But I'd learned hope could still be taken.

Especially when I knew it was coming.

If this were one of those stories. The kind where the hero always saves the day or has someone or something to swoop in at the last moment and save them. I would've wished for it in this moment.

As McCreed pulled back his arm to shove it through Rob's ribcage and into his chest. It felt like my own heart had been ruptured.

I watched in dread as Rob's entire body became like a machine with its hydraulic lines cut.

McCreed's fist squeezed.

It was I, too, who felt drained as Rob went slack.

His head dipped and rolled listlessly to the side, and, on one dark morning, perched atop a gate that served as a path between two worlds I'd never realized existed...

I watched Robin P. Franklin die before my very eyes.

Sam's voice was half strangled.

A pitiful cry beside me as her hope, just like mine, was taken then and there.

"ROB!" she screamed in a banshee wail of absolute torment.

With all my strength, I had to fight to restrain her. My ribs and side screamed painfully alongside her. Her talons retracted. She stared ahead in muted disbelief, shoulders slumped in defeat. She stopped pushing. Stopped pulling.

Just...stopped.

The voice inside my own head spoke.

My fault he's dead.

I'd made the choice.

Because I'd sought him out. Accepted his offer. His friendship. His protection.

McCreed stared at us, his face a gloating mask as he dropped Rob's lifeless body to the ground. Any spark of who he was...gone. His shell empty.

Klaxons blared as our gate began to move.

A sharp sting to my left arm snapped me back to the present. I'd been grazed, but it was enough to remind me of the danger we were in. I shoved everything aside. The gate’s shifting angle would only worsen our situation.

Sam grunted as a round hit her rifle, now empty and useless as it swung on its sling.

I cataloged quickly.

More goons on opposite shores. Ahead. Behind.

No way forward.

No way back.

Sam's eyes were lowered, and I couldn't tell what she was thinking. She had once seemed larger than life, a giant in form and action. But now, with Rob gone, she felt diminished. Smaller and hollow, very likely to fight to the death like a cornered animal.

Bullets zipped by, too close for comfort, but still too wild to be accurate. I felt that would change once the lock's leaf fully opened, and we'd be pressed to the sides and exposed.

In the distance, as it bobbed along the surface, I spotted an object with a ragged hole torn by a bullet. Just barely visible.

My pack.

Like dwarves in a barrel...where the stream meets the river.

The line was from a book filled with dragons, legends, and lost homes.

"No other choices," I whispered to myself.

Sam stirred then.

I saw the fear inside her eyes as she looked up and met my gaze. She understood. She knew what we had to do. Her look hardened, but she nodded once, then closed her eyes.

A single ray of light broke through the cloud cover and illuminated the gate in a column of golden sunlight. It was almost poetic. Rob's fallen body was the last thing I saw as I leaned.

"STOP THEM!" McCreed screamed, his marred features twisted into sudden realization. "Don't hit the implant!"

Sam was pulled with me this time.

The roar of rushing air filled my ears as we fell, just as the leaves of the lock parted to allow the water to rush out.

I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath until the hammerblow of the water's surface battered my head and shoulders. Another pop echoed through my body. Icy blades stabbed at my sides, face, and arms.

My skin puckered and went numb. Sam's grip clung to me desperately, and mine to her, until the water and waves separated us. Her nails scraped against my skin as we were thrown over a second edge. Churned, smashed, and rolled.

Battered, tugged, and pulled like the lost souls cast into the River Styx, the river between worlds, I gasped as water entered my lungs and fell again, suddenly in freefall.

Just how far, I wasn't certain.

It felt like an eternity.

And in that descent, my final thoughts echoed out. Fully meant for Rob and Sam:

I'm sorry...

[END OF BOOK ONE]
[TO BE CONTINUED]