

Parasite Lost

Published by Kyle Winter at Smashwords.

Editor: Patrick Burdine

Copyright © 2019 by Kyle Winter

All rights reserved.

Cover illustration by Kyle Winter.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Corporations run the universe. The money we earn working for them is spent on their products. That feeling of safety and stability they provide means their marketing campaigns are working. Every aspect of our lives is controlled or manipulated in some way by people at the top of the corporate food chain and we are forced to live in their shadows.

Most companies are willing to conduct clandestine operations to drive their competitors into the ground. Blackmail, vandalism, thievery, kidnapping, and murder are just some of the ways companies knock each other down a peg. No self-respecting businessman would sully his hands with such a project, thus an underground network of civilian operatives fills that need.

Individuals who are brave (or insane) enough to assist in these secret missions are rewarded with either a fat check or a dirt nap. Due to the dangerous and unpredictable nature of these missions, civilian operatives are often called...

Soldiers of Misfortune

Also in this series:

Novels

Parasite Lost

Forerunners Anthology

Short Stories

Trial By Fire (Forerunners)

Cradle to the Grave (Forerunners)

The Black Maw (Forerunners)

Grudge Match (Forerunners)
Prologue

"Good evening doctor, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We have a problem," Dr. Malliny said as the holographic image of her face floated above Sirus Opulen's desk.

"How bad?" Sirus asked as he swiped through financial data hovering to his left and loosened his tie with a well-manicured finger.

"People are dying."

Sirus looked away from his bank accounts and stared into the projection of Dr. Malliny's eyes. Dr. Malliny took a moment to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Anyone important?" Sirus asked.

"Not yet, but it's only a matter of time."

"All right, I'll set up a CivOp contract right away."

"A civilian operative contract? Don't you think this is a little delicate to hire random mercenaries, sir?"

"I already have a few people in mind," Sirus admitted as he pulled up some dossiers that floated next to Dr. Malliny's head. He stood up and put his hands on the small of his back, using them for support as he leaned back and stretched out his spine.

"Is that, um, with all due respect, sir, is that legal?"

"This operation, your operation, is too important. I have to pull strings."

"Right," she nodded. "Well, I trust they are capable and discrete."

"Trust me doctor, I have everyone's best interest in mind."

"Right. Well, um, thank you sir," Dr. Malliny replied. A terrified scream pulled her attention from the conversation, "shut the doors! Don't let it-" she shouted.

Sirus Opulen waved his hand and the remaining screens floating above his desk disappeared. With his thumb and index finger he pinched the bridge of his nose. His reflection grew clearer as he walked over to a black console embedded in a glossy marble support pillar. He activated it with a swipe of his hand and a panel in the wall opened up. A cool glass of water slid toward him. He picked it up and took a sip, licking his lips for a moment. He placed the water back on the panel and pressed a few buttons hovering in front of him. The water slid back into the wall and the panel shut for only a fraction of a second before it opened once more and slid back out a few degrees cooler. He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped once more before taking a satisfying gulp.

He walked over to his desk and stood behind his massive leather chair with his face to the window. His eyes darted around the bustling city scape before him. Most vehicles were not permitted to fly as high as his penthouse office. He looked down on the few that were high enough for him to see in any detail. He surveyed the flickering advertisements and their products, many of which he had engineered or put into production himself. There was no rooftop he could not see as he looked down on the vast metropolis of hive city Vytal.
Chapter I

The cabin of the transport vessel smelled like old grease and burned oil, probably because it hadn't been serviced in too long and was designed for light vehicle transport instead of troop sorties like this one. Auxiliary lighting cast a dark red shade over the area and killed most of the shadows, making the already cramped space feel claustrophobic. The straps and crash webbing hanging from the ceiling didn't help either.

"So, Up-eight, what brings you to a backwater like this?" Bren asked with his most charming smile. They could all hear his voice clearly through the team's comm pieces despite the rumble of the transport's engines.

"It's pronounced Ah-pah-tay, and you can mind your own business," Apate replied.

"Armed with a sniper rifle and sass, I like it."

"Interesin' piece you've got there. Is that Merder hardware?" Alistair asked, pointing to Dante's shotgun.

"Yes sir, designed by Ares Merder himself," Dante replied as he turned over his weapon with pride. It was a custom job with shells like soda cans and shot like marbles.

Bren scoffed next to him.

"That old coot is dead," he said.

"His body is, yeah," Dante replied.

"When I was in th'marines they sometimes gave us those for small ship-to-ship skirmishes. Not as big and fancy as that one, but similar. They were less likely t'pierce th'hull and suck everyone out into space," Alistair said as he made small talk.

"Semper vigilo, brother," Dante said with a respectful nod. Alistair nodded back.

"Are you some kind of fisherman?" Apate asked as she gestured to the harpoons on Bren's forearms.

"Nah, my old man was though. Till he became a felon anyway," Bren replied.

"How does a fisherman become a felon?" Dante asked.

"By hunting endangered kraken and killing the coast guard," Bren said.

"How do you hunt a kraken? Do those little batteries actually do anything?" Apate asked, eyeing the shocking mechanism bolted next to the winches on his forearms.

"You latch on with the harpoons and pull yourself onto the big ugly buttheads and stick explosives into their brain," Bren said, "I added the shock batteries for funsies."

"Watch your language mate, there are ladies aboard," Alistair said with a smirk.

"I'm on probation, no potty talk for me," Bren said as he pointed to the cranial bomb grafted to the back of his skull.

"It seems the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Apate said.

The four of them sat in silence as they neared their destination. There were no windows to look out and certainly no in-flight catalog for them to peruse. They hit a pocket of turbulence and everyone double-checked their restraints. Low thumps came from outside and hundreds of tiny objects plinked against the hull as the vessel shuddered once more.

"Why d'we do this crazy shite?" Alistair asked, more to himself than anyone in particular.

"Don't know why you're here, but I'm here for the check," Dante responded before he put a penlight in his teeth to look down the ejection port of his massive shotgun. The weapon looked more like a tool for large mining operations than personal protection.

"Ok moneybags, I'm sure between your sponsorships, the box office, and your old man you need the cash," Bren said.

"A guy's gotta put food on the table," Dante shrugged.

"Yeah, but these high pay and no say missions are always more dangerous than they advertise, hence the 'no say' part. I mean, if I die then the money doesn't mean much," Bren said.

"Depends if you have somethin' worth livin' for I suppose," Alistair muttered.

"If one or more contractors are killed in action, then the money is distributed among the remaining contractors," Apate said into her headset. Her voice stood out against the small, stuffy cargo space like a subtle perfume.

"Well, I'm glad somebody read the fine print," Bren said.

"You knew the risks when you accepted the contract. At least I hope you did," Apate replied as she pulled her hair back and tied it at the base of her skull so her helmet would fit more comfortably.

"Like I had much choice," Bren muttered.

"It's just supposed t'be a bunch of militia down there, right?" Alistair asked to change the subject and get everyone focused.

"According to this, we need to get into a research facility under attack by local militia. Something inside is ticking them off. They probably won't take kindly to our being there, so we'll have to fight through them. Once we're in, we need to find the main server room, snag some data, then get outta dodge," Bren said as he glanced over his holo-pad to make sure they weren't forgetting anything.

"Sounds right, I was just makin' sure," Alistair said. Dante didn't want to admit he hadn't read the latest mission brief.

"Red light's flashin', we go green in ten," Dante said with an edge of anticipation in his abnormally deep voice. He thumbed the dial on his comm-piece to his personal library of music. Most people, professionals especially, would want clear radio communication with their teammates going into a hot drop zone. Dante was a fashion over function kind of guy. Bren cocked his head back and forth to stretch it a little as he got ready for his favorite part of any drop mission.

The four made sure their equipment was secure. Dante rolled his massive shoulders back and forth, relaxing them for the drop. Because of his size it was difficult for him to find armor that fit properly, and the circulation to his limbs was often lacking. He had spent a considerable amount of money on custom equipment for himself but limbering up had become a ritual from his days in the Human Liberation Army.

Seven seconds left. Apate slapped down her visor to shield her from the wind of the drop. She stood up and stretched her legs while running a quick diagnostic check on her visor to make sure the aim-assist and map display were working properly. A series of glyphs and characters organized into view and gave her their current altitude, oxygen levels and other pertinent information as the helmet calibrated. With her last few seconds before battle she tried to digest as much of the incoming information as possible.

Five seconds. "May th'flames of my wrath baptize my enemies so they suffer not in death what they are about t'suffer in life," Alistair muttered before blowing a kiss to the pantheon above. He then opened his jaw wide to stretch his face out so his dry skin wouldn't peel on the way down. Alistair thought about the children back home that were awaiting his return. If he didn't make it back, they would be lost without him and he couldn't allow that to happen. Thinking of their smiling faces steeled him for the impending chaos.

Three seconds. Bren admired his forearm-mounted harpoons and wondered if this mission would be his ticket out of the prison cell awaiting him. With any luck, he'd be absolved of his crimes and have an opportunity to confront his father about their last encounter. Then he'd impale the bastard on his own harpoons and get some much-needed answers out of him. Bren was never much of a cook, but revenge was a dish he'd perfected over the years.

A cargo light went green and a warning buzzer went off. The floor of the cargo ship swallowed them whole. A torrent of wind and shrapnel flew past them as they careened to the surface of the planet. Apart from the roaring sound of air rushing past their heads it was fairly peaceful. Bren relished the feeling of the drop and watched as plumes of smoke floated quickly toward him and filled his lungs with their sweet, sooty blackness.

They plummeted through the smoke and an all-out war revealed itself on the gray, rocky surface of the planet. The roof of a large building dominated the area and appeared to be the center of all the chaos. Civilian militia scurried around the smaller vehicles and buildings surrounding the larger complex that looked almost like an abandoned college campus. They were struggling to gain ground against the automated defenses. Armed drones and sentry turrets mowed down the disorganized forces that tried to penetrate the defenses of the complex. Piles of corpses stacked at natural choke points around the war zone. The unorganized and poorly armed militia's only tactic appeared to be drowning the automated defenses with bodies hoping to smother the facility with their numbers. Although their efforts destroyed some surrounding turrets, each victory came at great cost.

"Did somebody order a keg of kick-ass?" Dante said to catch the attention of anyone below who would notice him. He took a few useless potshots at the poor militia below and laughed at the tiny craters his gun left in the ground, although they weren't causing any real damage. He was channeling one of the testosterone-fueled meatheads he so often played in holo-films.

Alistair closed his eyes and focused. He was confident the 'auto' setting on his drop pack would do its job. Apate's eyes darted around for a good vantage point. Her visor's display was a mess of symbols, glyphs, and data as her helmet analyzed the battlefield and provided her with tactical information.

"I'm going southeast, to that garage with the red loading bays. Everyone copy?"

The three men grunted.

"We'll keep 'em busy!" Dante said as he activated his drop pack with a smack.

He flew past Bren and gave a timid, almost sheepish, wave accompanied by a big wolfish grin. The dichotomy was strangely terrifying. Bren dipped his shoulder, which enabled him to spin as he plummeted toward the earth. Alistair's 'auto' setting on his pack kicked in and thrust him toward the battle below.

Bren waited.

Apate held the switch of her drop pack, ready to activate it. One of the men below, in a furious firefight with a defensive drone, looked up. The man did a double take and then frantically warned his comrades of the drop team's presence.

"Oh shit, shoot 'em!" Dante said, speaking for the man on the ground. Dante's drop pack reached its stopping point as it got too close to the earth and repelled with great force as if he had hit a giant invisible spring. Dante waited for the rebound and discharged the device just before it shot back into the atmosphere. He fell the short distance left and landed with one knee on the ground and one knee up. He revved the bayonet-mounted chainsaw on his shotgun for effect.

Alistair landed on his feet in the middle of a small melee between the local militia and a defensive drone. He dodged a homemade grenade and rolled behind a pile of rubble. A nearby drone exploded and sent parts and shrapnel flying everywhere. The man who threw the grenade fired a single round in Alistair's direction before Alistair covered him in flaming gel from one of his inferno pistols.

Apate timed her drop pack discharge perfectly and seemed to float to the ground. Red symbols in her visor warned her that tracking sensors were attempting to lock onto her. The flowing data directed her attention to an automated turret several burned-out vehicles away that swiveled in her direction. With practiced precision she lifted her rifle and sighted up a shot before blasting the top of the turret clean off. She glanced around the area for any other immediate threats before clinging to a nearby wall as she made her way to the garage she picked only seconds earlier.

Bren peered through his goggles as wind roared past his face. He wanted to make eye contact with the first man he'd take out. Bullets flew past and ricocheted off his armor as the men on the ground turned their weapons to the new aerial threat while still attempting to defend themselves from the automated defenses around them. Bren waited until he could see the white of his first victim's eyes. Bren's grin was so big it almost looked unnatural.

"Hot darn I love this part," he said to himself, waiting a moment longer. Once he could see the man's pupils, he slapped his drop pack to turn it on. The pack rocketed him toward the man for only a fraction of a second before he discharged it. He jerked his chest back at the last moment to land on his feet and smashed into the ground like a comet, surrounded by a mushroom cloud of dust and blood. "Crap," he said as he lifted a foot to examine the mush that was left of the terrified militiaman.

"Heads down!" Alistair yelled.

Dante and Bren ducked. Alistair lifted his inferno pistols and pulled both triggers. He pivoted as huge gouts of flame sprayed over everyone who ignored his command. Many of the surrounding force became a screaming pyre as burning gel covered them.

"Catch!" Dante plugged the closest man in the chest with his shotgun. The man practically exploded. A drone flew off the edge of a nearby rooftop firing energy bolts at a group of militiamen across the rubble-strewn path Dante walked down. "Pull!" he shouted as he shot the drone out of the air. "Damn I'm good." Dante fired from the hip into the group of militia the drone was after, pumping between shots to eject the shells from his weapon. His shouted taunts mixed with the bark of his gun shook the very earth and loosened the bowels of any enemy that still had them.

Bren armed the firing mechanism of his gauntlets and charged the aftermarket shock battery, ready to skewer a nearby enemy. He planted his feet, engaged his boot hooks to secure himself firmly in the ground, and shot a harpoon at the nearest non-crispy enemy. The harpoon soared through the air and bit into the shoulder meat of his target. The man was busy shooting through broken car windows at a turret ahead of him before his attention was interrupted by pain. One hundred milliamps of electricity arced through the length of chain a microsecond after it made contact. The man's grip on his cheap assault rifle tightened as his body went rigid from the jolt of electricity and bullets spewed out of his weapon uncontrollably. As far as Bren could tell, his aim hadn't gotten any worse. Bren jerked him off his feet with a brutal tug and activated the winch on his forearm to drag his paralyzed opponent in and finish the job. He staggered forward as several shots hit him between the shoulders but did not penetrate his armor. He turned his head and launched his free harpoon at the new assailant. It latched into the man's gut with a meaty thump. Bren cracked the length of the chain like a whip and ripped the man's innards from his body.

He felt a tug and then no tension at all on his first harpoon. Bren looked back over his shoulder to see Dante blasting anything that moved to a pulp, and that included the writhing man impaled on his first harpoon. Dante shot from the hip and shouted at the top of his lungs like a hero in a bad war movie. Bren was glad this hulking psycho was on his side. He engaged the small winches in the arms of his armor and the harpoons slid back into their housings. Bits of meat sprinkled the area as he shook his harpoons clean like a wet dog drying itself.

Alistair was busy torching people who thought in blissful ignorance that he didn't know where they were. Dante hid behind a smoldering car and slid a fresh magazine into his weapon. He stood up and then jerked his head toward Alistair, gesturing for Bren to follow. All three of them trudged through the smoke, picking off each poorly armed enemy they confronted while Apate sniped threats around them.

"Don't you think they're a little outmatched?" Bren asked over the comm.

"Don't ask, don't tell I always say," Dante shouted unnecessarily, probably trying to be heard over the sound of the hardcore music in his ears.

"No, y'have a point. Apart from th'fact that we're outnumbered a hundred t'one, they have no real advantage. These guys look like regular civilians with sporting weapons... look, that guy has a frakkin' bow. Think there's somethin' the contract holders didn't tell us?" Alistair asked.

A nearby chest exploded as Apate picked off militiamen attempting to flank her comrades. "No, you think?" she said.

"I'm just saying," Bren continued, launching his deadly harpoons around with effortless precision or punching people that got too close, "we're here to stop an attack on this area and retrieve information from a lab but these men aren't properly armed to be even amateur mercenaries, let alone professionals."

"Maybe they're terrorists," Apate suggested.

"What're you getting at?" Alistair asked as he tossed a grenade into a nearby building as though he were disposing of an apple core.

"He thinks there's a catch, it's too easy," Apate said.

"We should be thankful this is turning out to be easy," Dante said before hacking a defensive drone into several messy parts with his chainsaw.

"I dunno maybe I'm paranoid," Bren conceded.

The three men walked through a smoke cloud into the middle of a vicious firefight between some poorly armed civilians and a pair of automated turrets outside the large complex. The machines were tearing them apart. Bren, Alistair, and Dante ran to a crumbled wall and avoided the jutting rebar as best they could.

"Let the turrets do the work on the civvies and then bomb them?" Bren asked.

"Hold on. Lass, what can y'see?" Alistair asked.

"Bunches of people getting mauled by sentry turrets. Why, what do you see?"

"Not helpful," Bren replied as turret rounds tore apart the already damaged concrete wall they hid behind in pursuit of a civilian that ran past them.

"You expect me to see anything else? I see three idiots hiding behind a wall if that helps."

"I say we blow them to hell and back," Dante suggested, still channeling his macho movie persona.

Two men ran out of the complex, directly into the middle of the firefight. Their hands and faces were covered in blood, as if they had been eating raw meat. Both men were quickly torn apart as sentry gunfire deemed them a greater threat than the armed men in the area.

"Sucks to be them," Bren said.

"I'm guessin' that's the building we need t'get in to?" Alistair asked.

"Looks about right," Dante said before poking his head out of cover and tossing a frag grenade at the attacking force.

"Apate, we're going in, We'll wait for you," Alistair said.

"Roger, on my w... oh no."

On a hill overlooking the complex, Apate laid prone next to a line of empty barrels beside a small garage. A large rusty door squealed open next to her and smoke poured out as if the whole building were on fire. Until now she had ignored the flashing lights and shrill cry of alarms, but they grew significantly louder as the door opened and beams of light pierced through the smoke. Whirring servos and the deafening roar of a chain gun polluted the air as a hail of bullets sprayed out from inside the smoky garage and tore into the attacking forces like a sledgehammer to gelatin.
Chapter II

Askaro was a terrible planet. It wasn't even a planet by most standards; there were no naturally occurring life forms anywhere to speak of and you could drive around the circumference at a leisurely pace in just under two days. The fact they had colonized it at all was because of its unique orbit, which kept the same side of the planet away from the sun it lazily floated around. This caused a constant state of bitter cold darkness on one side of the barren rock. The opposite side of Askaro, constantly bombarded by its nearby sun, was all but uninhabitable without proper enclosures but made a great location for solar energy harvesting.

Because of this unique orbit, some of the more practical and utilitarian minds in law enforcement thought it would be a great place to house the especially nasty lot of criminals that turned up in society from time to time. It wasn't long before a maze-like facility was built to house these criminals and between the complete darkness and a very zealous warden, Askaro prison became known as an inescapable facility.

Bren sat on the floor, hunched over and breathing deeply as he tried not to make eye contact with the other inmates while they were shuttled from orbit to the surface of the planet. One man to his right spat racial slurs to the man across from him. A man to Bren's left defecated himself from fear, causing a pungent odor to invade the already musty space. It had been a long thirty hours that anyone not destined for a cell would be relieved was almost over. The shuttle began to bump and shake as it hit the planet's atmosphere. The shuttering intensified as they careened closer to the surface. Everyone who was used to an orbital entry like this quickly pushed up against a wall for stability, a necessary precaution when proper restraints weren't available.

Bren clenched his jaw tight and breathed through his nose. The shuttle rocked the inmates violently and many of them stumbled around with no padding or safety gear to ease the turbulence of the drop. One man tried to hold back a rush of blood from his mouth after biting the tip of his tongue off. It was affecting his ability to breathe, so he spat it out across the hold into a nearby prisoner's lap. Another man went unconscious after his head slammed against the wall. His limp body rolled around like a lifeless doll from the shuttles violent entry. He probably wouldn't survive the landing.

A few long moments passed, and the shaking came to an abrupt halt that forced balance to waver and knees to buckle. Bren heard the muffled noises of someone on a loudspeaker outside. It was always the same welcome message. Some of the men filed toward the exit ramp, stepping on or over the men who fell during the landing and hadn't yet stood up. Bren headed to the back of the crowd and took one final deep breath, held it, and closed his eyes to prepare for the next phase of the transfer.

A locking mechanism clanged open and smoke poured in as pistons lowered the boarding ramp with a hiss. Other inmates squinted against the artificial light pouring into the cargo hold in narrow shafts. Everyone froze as the faint sound of grenade launchers thumped in the distance. A cacophony of loud metal impacts filled the cargo hold, followed by terrified and confused shouts. As the door to the holding area opened, a volley of grenades flew into the confined space. They were all trapped inside as the grenades went off.

Bren held his breath and kept his eyes shut tight as panic erupted around him. Flash grenades exploded inside the cargo hold and caused their heads to throb in agony and their senses to waver. Tear gas followed. Some inmates choked and fell to the ground while others did their best to squeeze through the crowd and escape through the growing gap to the outside world. The men that left the suffocating confines of the cargo hold were met with a swift boot to the teeth. Armed and armored men waited outside, subduing the exiting inmates with brutal, practiced efficiency, like farmers harvesting a row of livestock. Bren did his best to keep calm and hold his breath as the violence ensued.

Once the inmates realized the beating that awaited them outside of the cargo hold there was a mix of reluctant surrender and outraged rebellion. Some men put their hands above their head and dropped to their knees while others charged at the guards blindly, usually just tripping over themselves or others because of the multitude of inhibitions that plagued them.

As the gas dissipated, and the inmates outside the cargo hold were taken care of, a few guards entered and cleared out the transport. Bren couldn't hold his breath any longer. He gasped for air, inhaled a moderate dose of the gas and started coughing. Bren cracked open his left eye in time to see an electro-baton wielding guard walking directly toward him.

"Bren, good to see you again!" the guard said, his gas mask muffling the words.

Bren nodded at the guard in faux respect a second before the electro-baton jammed into his stomach and dropped him to the floor.

"Feel good to be back?" the guard asked. He dragged Bren by the back of his jumpsuit down the ramp and onto the dark and desolate prison planet. Bren squinted against the headlights of several vehicles as he looked for Warden Hoskins, who he was sure would be in the crowd chewing on a cigar.

The guard dropped Bren face first into the hard dirt and goaded him to sit up with a shock from his baton. Bren got to his knees and rubbed the tears from his eyes with a dirty shoulder. When they were clear, he looked up into Warden Hoskins' face.

"Well, look who we have here," Warden Hoskins said in mock surprise. He flicked ash from his cigar onto Bren's cheek. "I believe we have some unfinished business to take care of, Mr. Beltrami."

Bren coughed up a ball of phlegm and spat it on Warden Hoskins's pant leg, only to be beaten into unconsciousness with a combination of bludgeons and electro-shocks.

Bren awoke in a familiar cell. He recognized the smell. He felt around for the markings he had made with a shiv years before to sharpen the tool. They had put him in his old cell, his father's old cell. Bren groaned. He sat up and peered into the darkness, noticing with a probing hand they took away his mattress, pillow and toilet paper.

"Bastards," he muttered. He really had to go too. Bren hauled himself up, grimacing in pain, and sat on the toilet. He took care of business before leaning over to turn on the sink. There was a nauseating chug followed by a few spurts of air. No liquid came out.

"Bastards."

Bren squinted around his cell for something to clean himself with, the dim glow of his jumpsuit the only source of light. The cell was empty save for the rusty metal slab that was supposed to be his bed. Bren chewed off a strip of his sleeve and used it to wipe before flushing. Instead of the normal whoosh of a flush, Bren was greeted with silence.

"Bastards."

Bren sat in complete darkness. In a place like Askaro, minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like days. Time became irrelevant. It didn't matter how long he waited, all he could ever see was darkness or the dull green glow from his jumpsuit. Each cell was insulated to prevent any noise from entering or escaping. The sensory deprivation was maddening.

"Mr. Beltrami?" a metallic voice said. Bren jumped.

The voice was from an intercom in the cell that allowed the 'correctional officers' the ability rehabilitate inmates and confirm compliance before entering for routine cleanings. Or routine beatings.

"Mr. Beltrami, I know you've awoken. I'm sending in Frank to escort you to my office. You know the routine. It would be prudent of you not to do anything stupid."

Bren sighed and reached out to find the wall with the toilet. He put his hands high above his head and flat against the wall before spreading his legs two shoulder-widths apart. A moment later he heard the locking mechanism deactivate and his cell door creaked open. Multiple footsteps closed in behind him. Bren grunted as a pair of bionic hands crushed his forearms and forced his hands behind his back. He felt the thin, cold steel of razorcuffs tighten around his wrists. He couldn't see, but Bren was positive that Frank had entered with at least two other guards, who were presumably armed. Despite his overwhelming desire to cause a ruckus, Bren knew it was best to comply peacefully. That didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun though.

"Damn Frank, quite a grip you got there. Get some new hardware since I was here?"

"Shut up B-B-Beltrami, get your ass moving b-b-before I collapse your throat."

"Jaw implants too? Cheap ones by the sound of it. Having trouble with your 'B's there, champ?"

Like a padded vice, a pair of noise canceling earmuffs gripped his head to prevent him from discerning any map of the prison via the aural reflection of footfalls. Bren groaned as a cold hand clamped around the back of his neck and lead him out of the cell. He tried not to squirm. Frank had tightened the razorcuffs too much for his liking and he wanted to play it safe given their history. At the same time, Bren didn't want Frank to forget who was winning their personal vendetta.

Frank led Bren through the maze of hallways and doors. They doubled back and made unnecessary turns so that Bren couldn't figure out exactly where they were headed, or how to get there. It didn't much matter because he was 'muffed and not wearing the fancy darkvision contacts that Frank and his two armed associates had. All officials within the prison wore darkvision contacts, specially designed for their individual eyes. That ensured that it was more difficult for any inmate to get a hold of them, as opposed to goggles that could be stolen or obtained rather easily. It was also a minimally invasive option compared to eye implants that allowed the user to see in no light situations. Only the warden and a few enthusiastic guards had that procedure done.

Frank shoved Bren forward, and he fell to his knees. The cold steel of the razorcuffs cut into Bren's wrists at the sudden motion. He grimaced and stood up as they ripped the earmuffs from his head. He waited for the warden to speak so he could figure out if he was facing the right way.

"Before we begin," a voice said to his left. He turned to face the voice. "You did not escape. I want to make that very clear. I gave you an opportunity and you, foolishly I might add, took advantage of that opportunity in the most suicidal way I can think of. You crossed me."

There was a pause. Bren heard a metallic ping as a small flame appeared in the darkness. Warden Hoskins took a deep puff of his cigar as he lit it; the glow cast harsh shadows across the scarred crags of his face. Once the cigar was lit, the world plunged back to darkness, save for the glow of the ash. Warden Hoskins exhaled.

"I'm sure at the time you thought you were the smartest son of a bitch to walk into these halls. I think given your current situation we can both agree that you're not." The warden let that sink in, as if it were a fine wine worth savoring. "And the way I see it, you owe me a very, very large sum of money to replace the lives you took and the property you destroyed. A sum that for most people in my position could only be paid for in blood."

Warden Hoskins took another deep drag of his cigar. Leather squeaked as he stood up from his chair and walked over to the corner of the room. Bren heard the clank of metal objects in the darkness. Warden Hoskins had a reputation for torture and an even more notorious reputation for being good at it.

"I would love nothing more than to keep you locked up here and watch you slowly waste away in the confines of your cell. But you have a debt to pay. Fortunately for you, I am a generous man. I'm willing to overlook our differences. I'm willing to overlook our... our history. I'm willing to give you a second chance. Unfortunately, you have already proven yourself untrustworthy despite my generosity and as such I need to invoke an insurance policy."

Bren felt a horrible stabbing pain in the back of his neck as four barbs dug their way into the base of his skull. A cold, rusty hand covered his face and held him still as the barbs sunk deeper into the skin, penetrating almost to the bone. Bren felt a searing hot pain as the barbs heated and singed his flesh. The hand on his face almost suffocated him. He instinctively tried to reach up with his hands only to have the razorcuffs dig into his wrists. Warm blood trickled down his numb fingers.

"What you just felt is a device that has grafted itself into your cranium and cauterized the flesh so you don't get infected," the hand released from Bren's mouth, allowing him to gain his bearings on the situation. "That device is rigged to explode if certain conditions are met. Or not met, as the case may be."

Bren wanted to yell. Bren wanted to scream and curse and give these men a piece of his mind but he knew it would only end poorly for him. Instead, he bit his tongue and listened.

"If you do not complete the request I have for you, it will explode," Hoskins continued, "If my heart stops beating for any reason, it will explode. If you go to any planet other than those I have given you permission to visit, it will explode. If you attempt to remove it, it explodes. You get the idea."

Bren kept silent for a moment. A long, awkward moment.

"Well?" the warden asked.

"Well, what?"

"Don't you want to know what my request is?"

"Like I frakking care."

Bren heard the beep of a bomb arming itself. Warden Hoskins' grin widened in the glow of his ash.

"I forgot to mention I've taken it upon myself to clean up your mouth, Mr. Beltrami. I am in the rehabilitation business after all," he said.

The crazy bastard had armed the cranial bomb to explode if Bren swore. That was annoying. Saying frak was second only to actually frakking on a list of his favorite things.

"I was hoping you would have the decency to ask, I had a good rhythm going."

"Never been very good at rhythm. You should see me try to dance," Bren replied, trying to get a hold of the situation again despite his verbal castration. Warden Hoskins was not amused, and chewed on his cigar for a moment.

"There is something on a nearby planet that has piqued my interest. A research facility to be specific, harboring very sensitive information worth a lot of money to someone in the higher echelons of the govern-"

"Get to the point," Bren sighed. The beeping noise started again. He tensed, instinctively wanting to run despite how pointless it would be. The beeping stopped.

"Never interrupt me, Mr. Beltrami," Warden Hoskins growled, "My point is that you will accompany a team of individuals to complete a bounty that will net you enough money to pay off your significant debt to me. It's a private CivOps contract, with standard CivOps fine print. Nothing you haven't dealt with before."

Warden Hoskins waited. Bren wasn't sure if it was for dramatic effect or because he was, in fact, waiting for something. "You may speak," he said.

"What, exactly, is the contract?"

"The research facility I mentioned earlier has undergone some... stress from local miners. Some of the scientists have been publicly executed for their research and the facility's automated defenses have been activated. They have successfully defended the facility for the past few days but things are spiraling out of control. The contract states whoever can enter the facility, disarm the defenses, and obtain any and all information on the research being done will split a fat check with the rest of the team. I happen to know the owner of the contract and they wanted a highly capable yet expendable asset. I suggested you."

Bren considered commenting on how flattered he was but figured it was in his best interest to keep his mouth shut. He wasn't thrilled about the idea of going on a private mission where he was considered an expendable asset. Unfortunately, with the new piece of hardware clamped to the back of his skull, he didn't have a choice.

"When you return," Warden Hoskins continued, "we will discuss your future, or lack thereof, here in my beloved facility. Your father's gear will be waiting for you in the transport. I've kept it clean and operational out of respect for him and the arrangement between us. You leave in one hour."

"Eat shit and die," Bren snapped, confident that his cranial bomb wouldn't explode with Hoskins in the room.

The ominous beeping started again.

Bren gritted his teeth and waited for the bomb to disarm.

"You leave in one hour."
Chapter III

Bren, Dante, and Alistair dove for cover as the mobile defense sentry's chain gun chewed apart their already sparse protection. Dirt flew in all directions as the mobile sentry's treads tore up the earth and showered Apate in grime. The civilian resistance put up a weak fight with their small arms only to be countered by a hail of bullets. Two nearby stationary turrets swiveled from target to target spitting out death in every direction as the new mobile defense platform flanked the battle. Bullets sawed twelve men in half in less than three seconds. The remaining resistance fled into nearby ruins.

"Well this sucks," Bren said.

"Does anyone have an idea, or what?" Dante asked over his comm, the situation dire enough to have turned off his music.

"Does crapping my pants count?" Bren replied. Alistair was busy digging through his armored vest. He pulled out an oddly shaped grenade painted red and detailed with a smiling mushroom cloud.

"I need t'get behind it," Alistair said. He gave Bren and Dante a look as if he had just given them an order. They turned to each other, shrugged, and steeled themselves. Dante shoved his shoulder into a pile of cinder blocks and debris to hollow out the area and offer a direct firing line to the mobile sentry.

Motion sensors triggered in the sentry's scan range. Its turret whipped around and fired a burst of heavy caliber rounds toward the wall the three men used as cover. Before the turret could complete its rotation, Bren burst from cover and sprinted toward another pile of rubble a short distance away. His flight tripped the sentry's motion sensors again and caused it to change direction mid rotation.

Clods of dirt and debris shot up as bullets chased after Bren.

"What the hell are you doing?" Apate asked over the comm unit.

"Shoot the sensors!" Alistair yelled as he ran from cover and towards a shelled out building.

Once again the sentry's motion sensors picked up movement and the turret spun to follow. Dante ducked back into cover as bullets raked across the wall he hid behind as the sentry pursued its new target.

Apate peered through her rifle scope and sighted up an expensive-looking piece of equipment at the top of the sentry. Glyphs on her visor centered on the equipment and a read-out gave her the model number, manufacturer, and installation procedure for the sensory array. She pulled the trigger.

Alistair heard the roar of the shell firing and a plink as the casing ejected, followed by a low whistle modified by a Doppler effect as the bullet whizzed over his head and hit the sensitive equipment at the top of the mobile sentry all in a fraction of a second. Thick glass shattered and sparks erupted from the sensor housing. The sentry ceased firing, as if it had been slapped and was thinking of how to react.

Alistair vaulted over a large pile of cinder blocks, careful to avoid jutting rebar, as he took advantage of the sentry's disorientation and closed the distance between them. In one smooth motion, Alistair removed the pin from his grenade and threw the explosive under the chassis of the sentry. He jumped behind a destroyed car for safety as the facility's stationary turrets shot at him while avoiding their mobile counterpart. Once safely hidden behind the bombed out car, Alistair pulled the pins on two other grenades and threw them blindly over his shoulders with surprising accuracy. One landed next to each stationary turret and a beeping noise from each grenade swelled to a crescendo.

Blinding light and scalding heat poured over the area, quickly followed by a deafening explosion. Any dirt that wasn't thrown into the air melted to glass. Windows that hadn't already been broken shattered to dust. Ripples of heat and debris cascaded out from the three consecutive explosions like a tidal wave of destruction in all directions.

Bren, Dante, and Alistair took a moment to regain their senses. Apate recovered faster since she wasn't anywhere near the blast. A cloud of smoke enveloped the area, covering the stationary turrets and mobile sentry in a thick haze. A nearby car had collapsed in on itself, the heat nearly melting it into a blob of misshapen metal.

Alistair swatted his leg to put out a fire that had ignited from the pocket containing his spare gauze. That happened once in a while if he got too close to his own toys. He lifted himself up from the rubble and walked over to Bren and Dante, waving smoke out of his way as he went.

"Is it dead?" Bren coughed.

"The hell was that?" Dante asked after an impressed whistle.

"I call 'em nova grenades. Special recipe I picked up. If it's not dead I'd be very impressed."

Whether it was a testament to the creator of the sentry, or simply bad luck, something stirred within the smoke and debris. The whine of damaged servos cut through the air.

"Guys, get out of there!" Apate shouted over the comm a split second before bullets ripped toward their position from the smoldering ashes.

All three men scattered like roaches from a light and scrambled for cover.

Bullets tore into a car near Bren and ruptured the fuel tank. What little fuel was left ignited and exploded. The blast threw glass and metal shards across the area and several pieces ripped through the seams of Bren's armor and into his leg. He staggered and fell shoulder first onto the ground clutching the seeping wound. Dante and Alistair both found new cover before they noticed Bren had fallen.

The firing stopped.

There was silence on the battlefield. Bren let out a frustrated and painful groan as he crawled to cover, one hand gripping his wounded leg. The mobile sentry turret snapped toward the noise and fired a burst of rounds in front of him. Dirt and debris flew into his eyes. He screamed from surprise, pain, and the frustration of being debilitated once more. He rubbed his eyes with a torn sleeve.

"Bren, be quiet," Apate said over the comm.

"It flopping hurts!" Bren growled. The turret adjusted and fired again, this time only missing Bren by an arm's length. Bren spat out dirt and bit back a frustrated howl.

"Flopping?" Dante asked.

"Not the time," Bren hissed. The turret made another quick adjustment.

"You tellin' me that thing can hear us?" Alistair whispered over the comm. To test the theory, Dante smacked the butt of his shotgun against the concrete wall he and Alistair used as cover. Servos whined and creaked but the turret spun and fired in Dante's direction.

"It certainly seems that way."

Dante glanced over his cover and checked on Bren. A pool of blood formed next to his leg. "How you hangin' in there brotha?" Dante asked via comm, adopting his movie persona again to try to release some tension.

"I've got a hunk of metal and several shards of glass stuck in my leg, I can feel it going cold and numb from blood loss, and if I move or make too much noise, this darn robot is going to shoot me. Other than that my life sucks," Bren replied.

"That darn robot," Dante smirked.

"We have to get him out of there," Apate said.

"I agree, hurry the heck up and figure something out. I'm losing blood and my medi-gel got damaged," Bren said, dabbing some green gel leaking from his pocket onto his many wounds.

Alistair looked around for something that could help them, maybe a vehicle that could still move and act as cover or something left behind by the civilian forces. There was nothing useful in the immediate area. Bren didn't have long before blood loss would make him useless, or possibly dead.

The three men were pinned down only about fifty meters from the research facility door, where they needed to enter. It was significantly farther for Apate, but it was their only hope. "Do you guys see that door to the lab? To your right." Alistair and Dante looked and acknowledged over the comm. "Do you think you can make it?"

"Hell yeah I can," Dante said, rolling his shoulders to loosen up.

"Ok. Alistair, you help me distract the sentry. Dante, you grab Bren and run for that door. Don't stop till you're inside."

"How do you know we can get inside?" Dante asked.

"I can get us in," Apate said.

"How?" Alistair asked.

"Digi-key. Skeleton class."

"How did you get your hands on-" The sentry's chain gun started spinning. "Never mind, go, go, go!"

Alistair took a deep breath and ran from cover. He smacked the butts of his inferno pistols on oil drums and broke car windows while shouting incoherently to get the sentry's attention. Bullets chased after him. Apate pressed a button on her rifle and sprinted down the slope toward the battlefield while her weapon changed from a long-range rifle to a compact assault variant. Dante broke from cover and ran to Bren, careful to stay as light on his feet as his considerable muscle would allow. Bren was turning pale.

Alistair stopped behind a cracked wall and waited a moment to catch his breath. Apate had covered a good distance but was still about twenty seconds from any real action. The firing stopped as soon as Alistair was behind cover and Dante skidded to a halt to make sure the sentry couldn't hear him. There was silence. Their hearts beat hard, as if trying to forcibly escape from their chests.

With another deep breath, Alistair broke cover again and continued his cacophony. Apate came down a slight incline in his direction and ran toward Alistair as the sentry's turret opened up and followed him in erratic bursts. Dante sprinted toward Bren, speeding up as he got closer. He finally reached Bren just as Apate and Alistair sought cover together. Again the turret stopped. Alistair and Apate took a moment to catch their breath while the turret hunted for a target.

Dante grabbed Bren's arm and slung it over his shoulder. He licked his lips and could taste the mobile sentry's exhaust. Bren gritted his teeth as Dante lifted him up and rested him on a shoulder like a sack of grain. He turned to the door and carried Bren toward it, careful not to step on anything that would make excess noise. Bren looked up to keep an eye on the turret, which had almost completed its rotation in their direction. He was looking straight down the barrel when the turret stopped.

"Dante, stop. Stop!" he hissed. Dante halted mid-step and looked over his shoulder. The turret pointed directly at them. Both Bren and Dante swallowed hard.

"Guys," Bren whispered over the comm.

Alistair and Apate peeked out from behind cover and squinted through the smoke to determine what was going on. Alistair barely registered that the turret had rotated toward his two comrades when they heard the whir of the chain gun warming up. It was now or never. Alistair and Apate burst from cover.

The turret spun and opened fire in their direction. Dante hustled for the door, carrying Bren on his shoulder without bothering to look back. Alistair and Apate dove for cover in different directions. The sentry's targeting program struggled to process which direction they had gone. It shot at Alistair's hiding spot. Apate poked out from cover and took a few pot-shots at the sentry to distract it, allowing Alistair to escape and run toward the door.

Dante ran down a shallow ramp and arrived at the door. He ran his fingers over a small panel on the wall and it lit up to display a number pad. "You wouldn't happen to know the code would you?" Dante asked Bren over his shoulder. He got no reply. He put a knee to the ground and rested Bren up against the wall. He was unconscious. Alistair arrived a second later and hit the numpad to try to open the door. ACCESS DENIED. PLEASE INPUT SECURITY CODE.

"Of course."

Alistair glanced over his shoulder as Apate sprinted toward them, bullets nipping at her heels. Alistair turned back around when he heard a grunt of exertion followed by a loud clang. Dante tried to kick the door open. He failed, but left an impressive dent for his effort.

"It's no use, those doors are made to wit'stand a blast from a tank. Lass, y'better be quick with that device o'yours."

Dante stepped back and drove his foot into the door again. This time it bent a little further and gave him enough room to fit his meaty hands inside. Dante curled his fingers around the edge of the door and pulled. His veins swelled and looked like thick ropes snaking up his arms. "Give it up mate, we're fish in a barrel!" Alistair said.

Dante grit his teeth and ripped the door out of its frame with a savage cry. He grabbed the hunk of metal that used to be the door, held it against his shoulder, and braced for impact.

"Get in there!" Dante shouted as Apate ran past him. Alistair was speechless. Bullets collided into the slab of metal he used as a shield. Each impact sounded like an angry gong and pushed the behemoth of a man back into the dirt a little further. They didn't have much time.

"A little help here?" Apate shouted as she tried to haul Bren into the facility. With all his armor and gear she could barely move him. Alistair shook away his disbelief, grabbed under Bren's arm, and helped Apate drag him into the facility and around a corner. The oncoming bullets pushed Dante further into the doorway as they ricocheted off his makeshift shield.

With a grunt of effort, Dante wedged the metal slab that used to be the door into the frame. It didn't quite fit anymore, but at least it offered enough protection to duck around the corner in safety. The sentry stopped firing, and they finally had a moment to recover.

Bren was unconscious and bleeding profusely. Apate grabbed a medi-gel tube from her kit and pumped green viscous goo into Bren's open wound. The gel thickened and expanded, pushing glass shards and debris out of his leg as it simultaneously clotted the wound with a mixture of painkillers and regenerative stimulants.

Apate pulled out a small tube with a short needle on the end. She stuck it into Bren's neck and activated a tiny button on the side. The contents of the tube emptied into his bloodstream. They waited. Less than thirty seconds later Bren was awake. "Did we win?" he asked.

"Well, we didn't lose. Have a nice nap?" Apate said.

"What d'you remember?" Alistair asked.

"I remember getting shot at by a really big robot. And I think you dropped a nuke on it. That's about it."

"Yeah, you lost a little bit of blood, your head might be foggy. Those stims should take effect soon enough and you'll feel fine," Dante said.

Their ears rang in the near perfect silence. It was almost as awkward and disorienting as a flash-bang grenade. Apate tossed the spent medi-gel cartridges into a nearby waste container and lifted her weapon.

"I thought you brought a rifle?" Dante said, looking at the compact assault weapon.

"I did, this is both. Watch."

She flipped open a panel on the side of the weapon and pushed a button underneath. The barrel split into two halves and slid out of the fore stock while the butt pushed back to extend the length of the weapon. Both barrel halves reconnected at their full length and the fore grip split to form a bipod. She pushed the button again, and it condensed back to its compact assault variant.

"Automated conversion? I'm feeling tingly in strange places," Bren said as he admired the craftsmanship of her weapon.

"That's probably related to the blood loss," she said.

"What does it turn into, a carbine?" Dante asked.

"Basically. Easier to handle in small spaces."

"It uses the same ammo too?"

"Yeah, I carry some discarding sabot rounds and hollow points that I can swap out for armor penetration or crowd control, whatever I need at the time."

"You are a terrifying woman and I love it," Bren said.

"Can we focus?" Alistair said.

They made their way into the lobby area of the facility. They stayed close to the wall and used intermittent pillars as cover. Papers and office supplies were strewn around the area and panels on the walls displayed public service announcements and shout outs from upper management to the staff. Streaks of blood from around the lobby converged at a set of doors ahead of them, as if someone had dragged a bloody sack to the facility beyond. A vending machine flickered and clicked as the machinations inside spun in an endless loop to deliver a product it no longer had. The only computers that weren't still on were the ones in pieces on the floor. The blood streak continued beyond the sliding glass doors at the back of the lobby and they followed it to an intersection. A sign on the wall informed them that the security bay and research labs were to the left while the cafeteria and first hundred offices were to the right.

"You think th'data we need is toward th'research bays?" Alistair asked.

"Well, we are looking for research data so I'd put my money on that, "Bren said.

They turned left toward the research bays and stopped. A man lay sprawled on the ground before them like a morbid doll. The surrounding floor was covered in blood. Multiple lacerations to his chest appeared to be the cause of death and his face was covered in blood, as if someone had poured it over him.

"Lovely," Alistair muttered.

"He's having a bad day," Bren said.

"Well, it's not like he's getting up. Let's keep going," Dante said, with a tinge of reluctance. They continued down the hall and encountered more bodies, similarly mangled with their faces doused in blood. No one wanted to look like they were worried but in the back of everyone's minds they knew something was definitely wrong. Up ahead they heard a terrified scream, followed by a hideous gurgling noise and a splash of liquid. A loud metal clang echoed down the hall.

Bren motioned everyone to back up against the wall as he pulled out a well-polished knife. He edged along the wall and stopped at the corner, using the knife to peek around without exposing himself. All he saw was a body in the middle of a hallway freshly painted scarlet. At the end of the hallway was a door.

"Nothing," he said, putting away the knife and walking around the corner. The rest of the team followed, walking to the end of the hallway to examine the door. Drops of blood trailed up the wall and into nearby air duct. Like the first door they encountered to enter the facility, this one didn't open when they walked up to it. The keypad to the right of it read LOCKED in blocky green letters.

"Convenient," Alistair said.

"Can we hack it?" Bren asked before pressing buttons as if he knew what he was doing. He had little to no technical expertise but wanted to look useful.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Alistair asked.

Bren focused on the keypad, pretending not to notice his bluff being called.

"Hold on, I can take care of it," Apate said as she searched for her digi-key.

"What's this?" Dante said, hunching over the body of a scientist. He picked up a small card and wiped it off on his thigh, curling his lip a little as blood smeared over the fabric.

He walked over to the keypad and swiped it through.

SUCCESS.

"Hell, that wasn't hard," he said with a big oafish grin.

Bren glared as the door slid open.

"Sweet mother o' gods," Alistair coughed.

It was a laboratory, or at least what was left of one. Some twenty odd scientists lay about the floor in the same condition as every other human they had found thus far. The entire floor was a sticky carpet of red. Laboratory equipment was still running. Liquids were still boiling. Computers were humming. The air stank with the rusty tinge of blood.

"Look alive. Whatever did this is close, and I'd hate to disappoint it with a modest greeting," Bren said as he armed his harpoons and walked into the room and to his left.

Dante walked right and Alistair went up the middle. Apate crossed the room and turned the corner to examine a nearby hallway in case someone was, indeed, close. Their feet made sickly squeaks as they walked through the lab on the carpet of human fluids. They searched through lockers, cabinets, and under desks for anything that might be useful or at least clue them in to what was going on.

Dante pumped his shotgun and an un-fired shell fell hit the ground. It was for effect. "Move a muscle and you're dead."
Chapter IV

Dante sat in the glossy waiting lobby of the penthouse office of MediSyn headquarters, a corporation devoted to advanced pharmaceutical and biological pursuits. The largest of its kind in human-controlled space, MediSyn held a virtual monopoly on all pharmaceutical drugs and synthetic / biological components such as cosmetic and performance enhancing surgical procedures. This included lab grown organs, genetic modifications, and even cybernetic hardware and software. They also trained and 'leased' the best medical professionals money could buy.

A fairly new practice, MediSyn trained willing participants in advanced medical procedures for free under the stipulation that they work privately for the company a certain number of years at a reduced pay rate. This allowed companies like MediSyn to access a wide variety of professionals and advance their own research for drastically reduced costs. MediSyn pioneered this program, dubbing it the Aceso Initiative, and gained a reputation for having the best medical staff money could buy. A large team of loan officers, lawyers and other gatekeepers were employed around the clock to judge who is worthy of this staff, an unfortunate reality for those less privileged. Despite the high barrier for entry, MediSyn continued to be the leading company for any medical solution imaginable. It also was the company that Dante's father, Sirus Opulen, built from the ground up.

An attractive woman dressed in a way that suggested she was very comfortable with her figure approached Dante with a tray of refreshments. "Excuse me sir, would you like a drink?" she asked. Glowing purple eyes and the soothing metallic timber in voice identified her as an android.

"No, thank you Sia," Dante said with a dismissive wave.

"Let me know if there is anything I can-"

"I know, I know, go away."

Sia, incapable of taking offense, bowed her head and went back to the desk in the corner of the room, that doubled as a charging panel, and entered standby mode. Dante tapped his foot while he waited. He was uncomfortable for a multitude of reasons. The fact that his father's waiting chairs weren't made for men of his substantial height and brawn was somehow more irritating than the fact he was called to be there in the first place.

Sirus and Dante never had a very good relationship and as a result Dante avoided contact with his father whenever possible. As a teenager his father's response to making the winning point of the planetary youth gravball division was that the sport was for 'worthless, brain-dead meatheads with no future'. When Dante earned his first medal of honor, his father told him 'good men had died to make sure he could get home safe and collect that trinket'. It was hard to impress a man who became a multi-trillionaire by the time he was twenty-five standard years old.

Dante squirmed and shifted his weight while playing out various conversations in his head. He thought of what he would say and how his father would react. He tried to come up with a response or reaction to every possible outcome because he knew his father was an experienced negotiator and diplomat. He had to be prepared.

The office door slid open with a hiss. Dante's father sat at a large bloodmaple desk at the back of the room beyond.

"Come in," Sirus said as he stared into the eyes of a hologram floating above his desk. Dante stood up, much to the relief of the chair he was in, and walked into his father's office. Dante tried to sit down but was promptly reminded that this chair was specially designed to be uncomfortable for people that fit in it, let alone people twice their size. Sirus enjoyed making anyone who met with him physically uncomfortable so he had a psychological advantage over them before the meeting even began. Dante abandoned the idea of sitting and stood up, waiting for his father to finish his conversation.

"You have company?" the disembodied head of a craggy-faced older man chewing on a cigar asked.

"No, it's fine. I told you if you want tickets to the gravball finals you just had to ask!"

"I know, it just feels weird asking you for favors."

"I'm asking you for one aren't I? Send me your guy and I'll send you the tickets."

"Much appreciated Mr. Opulen," the man smiled and the scars on his face stretched.

"Keep in touch," Sirus said as he ended the transmission, "What do you want?" he asked Dante.

"You were the one who called me," Dante replied.

"Oh, right." Sirus looked at his tablet and navigated through some files. Dante forced himself to remain calm.

"Could you at least look at me?"

Sirus looked up from his tablet with a scowl. Dante cleared his throat.

"I run a pretty tight ship Dante. I pride myself on that. Honestly, I'm surprised it went unnoticed this long," Sirus began, a note of disgust in his voice. Dante already knew what he was going to talk about and his heart sank.

"I should have suspected as much. You never could accomplish anything without my help."

"What do you want?" Dante asked, anticipating some kind of blackmail.

"I want to maintain your spotless reputation in the public's eye, that's all. I would hate for the five-time Holo-film Academy award winner and decorated war hero to be shamed throughout the system. I'm sure stealing billions of dollars worth of synthetic performance enhancing organs, genehancements, and bionics wouldn't look good for you. That also means you not only stole from me but also that you used my company resources to grow said organs and probably bribed one of my surgeons to implant them. Those are all planetary offenses. Ones that normally I would hire a hit squad for."

"What do you want?" Dante asked again.

Sirus glared with such intensity that Dante thought he might have to physically defend himself. Sirus looked back down at his tablet and a moment later the lights in the office dimmed, followed by the materialization of a hologram from the desk.

The floating digital screen had several windows open including a map of a research facility, a satellite photo of the facility, a few news feeds, and a contract. "One of my remote research facilities is having some technical difficulties. They asked for help recently but have been silent since and the media coverage on their planet is making the situation very ugly."

"Technical difficulties?"

It was normal for Sirus to speak cryptically. He had honed that skill from years of business and political arguments. Dante was used to reading between the lines.

"If you want me to forget about you stealing from me, forget about you bribing my staff, and forget about the company property that is implanted within you then I suggest you do as I ask and visit my facility to sort things out."

"Why not just set up a CivOp contract and get some professionals to take care of it?"

"I already have. I've found some candidates that would be good for the mission and I want you to accompany them."

"Why?"

"Because you are free. And you have a history. If you solve this problem, you will no doubt get some positive media coverage, which means I will get positive media coverage. I know you have the special skills required for this mission, and I want someone I can trust to protect my interests around such a sensitive facility."

Dante wanted to ask why his father thought he could be trusted since they had never been on good terms but Sirus continued before Dante could speak. "If you don't do this, I will freeze your assets and expose your theft of my property."

"I have my own money and a well paid PR team."

"I will also hire a squad to repossess said property. I'm sure your lovely Athene and the boys would be very upset about that."

Dante swallowed hard. His father was never a man to pull punches, literally or figuratively. He nodded and waited to be dismissed. Sirus looked his son up and down, curled his lip and waved him away. As Dante approached the exit Sirus called out, "Are you sure you've still got it?"

He stopped and turned around to face his father. "I think I'll be all right," he said. Dante turned again and left the office. Once he had stepped into the elevator, he realized that both of his hearts were pumping abnormally fast.

A courtesy drone equipped with an umbrella sheltered Dante from the rain as he walked out onto the landing pad with his hovercraft. His pilot fired up the engines once he saw Dante. Thanks to his unnatural size, Dante's shoulders were getting wet despite the courtesy drone's best efforts, an inconvenience he was used to. He brushed off each shoulder before stepping into the craft. The thrusters beneath adjusted their energy output and whined in protest. With a flick of his wrist he slid the door shut and the pilot soon took off.

A soft chirp alerted Dante that his data tablet had finished downloading the mission details. He sat down and watched the courtesy drone hover back to its charge station as he pulled out his data tablet. He swiped a finger across the screen and sifted through mission data, stopping and reading things that caught his eye. Fortunately, the specifics were as ambiguous as most high profile jobs so Dante didn't have to read much. The gist of this mission was pretty much what his father had already told him. A top-secret project had gone bad and a CivOps bounty was put out for anyone willing to clean up the mess. There were no details on what the project was because it was classified. The location of the mission would only be revealed en route. Even the cleanup was cryptic, stating only that all hostiles were to be neutralized, and all information was to be confiscated at any cost.

Dante checked the Erythria Examiner, a popular tabloid feed on the planet, and discovered that there was an outbreak of some infection that originated from the facility he was to infiltrate. Footage of the infected was disturbing. Many people were vomiting blood, the first sign of infection, and some were dying from the resulting blood loss. Vicious attacks became a routine problem and the local population was on edge.

So basically he had to go some backwater planet to do something dangerous he wasn't aware of and kill everything trying to kill him in between. Then he would have to bring back information he did not know about in order to get a fat paycheck that he would not receive because his own father was blackmailing him. Fantastic.

A loud crack came from the cockpit and the hovercraft jerked. Dante radioed to the pilot via his earpiece but received no response. It was probably just a communication error; maybe they hit some turbulence and the pilot's headset came loose. It still wouldn't hurt to check. Dante unbuckled from his seat, stood up, and walked to the cabin. He tried the door but, of course, it was locked. Dante knocked on the cabin door. A quick glance out a nearby window revealed that the hovercraft was pitched down at an uncomfortable angle, something Dante hadn't noticed before because the hovercraft's VIP passenger equilibrium plates had shifted to compensate.

With a swift kick the deadbolt sheared and the cabin door ripped from its hinges. A gust of wind assaulted him as pressurized air in the passenger cabin got sucked out through the bullet-sized hole in the windshield. The pressure change and cacophony of rushing air disoriented him for a moment. He stumbled as the craft jerked violently toward the starboard wing from some sort of impact. Dante whipped his head toward the impact and watched a damaged antennae array tumble end over end, cracking windows as it struck the side of the building. He turned back to the cockpit and saw the pilot sitting in a pool of his own blood.

Dante leaped forward to grab the controls at the co-pilot's seat and worked to steady the hovercraft. He had taken the reins of an aircraft several times while campaigning with the Human Liberation Army, but that didn't make it any less nerve-wracking. He pulled up on the yoke to adjust his pitch and steady out the vehicle. With a flick of a switch he engaged the autopilot and issued a distress beacon, hoping that law enforcement in the area would come to his aid before this obvious assassination attempt turned out to be successful.

Roaring wind prevented Dante from hearing the system's multiple warnings and damage reports but a list of malfunctions started to float around the cabin space to compensate. A quick wave of his hand threw all the data floating around him back onto the nearby monitors where he could conveniently ignore it. Dante wasn't a coroner, but the fist-sized chunk of skull missing from the pilot's head was a clear sign that nothing would bring him back. Two large, black hovercrafts descended on either side of Dante's ship, no doubt law enforcement entities coming to his aid. He glanced over their vehicles but couldn't see the To Reprimand and Reform insignia that Vytal law enforcement was known for, or any identification for that matter.

Passenger doors slid open on each vehicle and two men on either side of him armed with military grade assault rifles took aim. Dante dropped to the floor and used the door frame as a handle to drag himself back into the passenger cabin as bullets ripped through the fuselage and tore into the operating machinery. Automatic gunfire shredded the main controls and the hovercraft's VIP equilibrium plates shut down. Dante fought against the descending pitch of the craft as gravity took hold of him and pulled his massive body toward the nose. It wouldn't be long before the unpiloted aircraft ran into something or, even worse, the ground.

A brief lull in the firing signaled that the assailants were reloading, and he had only a few seconds to save his own life. He let go of the door frame and allowed gravity to drop him through the cabin and out the broken windshield. Dante grabbed on to a section of the fuselage and wedged his feet on the nose of the hovercraft. He adjusted his footing and used the micro pistons in his legs to launch himself toward the nearest enemy craft.

He couldn't help but smile as he saw the utter shock and amazement on his assailant's faces as a bear-sized man flew through the air like a spider monkey toward their hovercraft. One man was so shocked he dropped the ammunition he was reloading and frantically searched for another magazine. An involuntary glance down reminded Dante of the other traffic whizzing around them and the many buildings they were over, not to mention the long drop to the pavement. Dante collided with the aircraft and slid down the side before he latched on to the landing gear with his hand. His newly added weight forced the entire vehicle to dip until its pilot steadied them out once more.

Dante reached up for anything he could hold on to so he could enter the hovercraft. His hand latched onto something warm and meaty. A quick jerk later and Dante watched a man plummet towards the city streets below. He shrugged and reached up again. His hand grabbed hold of a seat frame, and with a grunt of exertion he hauled himself into the craft and came face to face with the man who dropped his magazine seconds earlier. Dante punched the man with such force it drove him back into a fire extinguisher and sent him to the floor in a daze. As the man came to, Dante had already dragged him to the edge of the hovercraft. He barely had time to scream before Dante threw him out to suffer the same fate as the first assailant.

Dante heard a loud explosion. A shower of glass erupted from a nearby building and sparkled as it reflected plumes of fire. His personal hovercraft had collided with a building and the fuel reserves ignited, causing a spectacular explosion. Dante cringed as he thought about the lives that may have just ended as collateral damage to this assassination attempt. He turned and walked toward the cabin door. With a swift kick the door flew off its hinges and revealed a terrified pilot. The pilot flicked a switch next to his seat and reached between his legs to grab a handle and give it a quick tug. Dante was once again assaulted by wind as a panel in the vehicle's roof shot open and the pilot ascended through the opening as his seat ejected. Dante grabbed the controls and looked over at the second aircraft that had until now refrained from firing on him to avoid friendly casualties. They opened fire.

With a flick of his wrist, Dante banked the hovercraft hard to avoid an incoming barrage of bullets. He flew toward the enemy craft, gaining altitude at the same time and engaged the autopilot before heading back into the passenger hold of the craft. Air whipped around him as he looked out the cabin doors and down on the top of the other craft. He jumped and landed on top of the second enemy craft, hunkered low to keep his balance. Once he was stable, Dante crawled over to the edge of the hovercraft and gripped a hunk of metal that he assumed was an expensive piece of communication equipment. He used it to swing down into the passenger hold feet first, like a gorilla swinging from a branch.

The fancy dress shoes he'd worn to impress his father connected right into a would-be assassin's chest with such force it shattered his rib cage and slammed him across the interior of the hovercraft and into the opposite wall. The man clutched his chest gasping for air. A burst of rounds from the second and final assailant hit Dante square in the chest. Dante looked at the man, down at the wound, then back up to the now terrified man before punching him so hard his neck snapped like a dry twig. Dante picked up the gun his attacker shot him with and broke open the pilot's cabin. He stopped the pilot from ejecting by smacking him in the back of the head with the butt of his newly gained rifle. Using one hand, Dante grabbed the unconscious man by the back of his neck, yanked him from the pilot's chair, and tossed him out the cabin door before settling into the pilot's seat.

Dante flew the hovercraft down to street level and stopped next to a homeless man. He took the ignition card and climbed out to approach the homeless man, who was squinting through thirty years of alcohol and street drugs. His eyes widened.

"Dante Opulen? Ish 'at rilly you?" he asked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

"It's all yours buddy," Dante said, gesturing to the hovercraft and tossing him the ignition card.

"Sureiously?! Wow, thanksh Dande, I rilly 'preciate it!" the man said, overjoyed momentarily before he noticed the gaping chest wound Dante didn't seem to care about. "Wudda hell happened t'you?" the man asked. Dante ignored him and walked off, letting his second heart compensate for the damaged one as he made his way home. "Wudda hell happe'in here?!" the homeless man shouted after him.

Dante bought a hat and a coat from a nearby shop to at least try to keep a low profile after such a debacle. He felt like a character from one of his early movies, hiding in plain sight with a poor disguise that somehow fooled the surrounding populace. He wanted to hail a cab and go home but his data-pad must have fallen during one of his jumps because it was no longer in his pocket. A few hundred credits later and he had a new one.

"Want headphones for your new d-pad, sir?" a teenage boy near the vending machine he bought his data-pad from asked. The kid was obviously down on his luck and trying to make a few extra credits selling used junk. It looked like the headphones were his own.

"Nah, I'm good kid. Thanks," Dante replied.

"Are you sure? Some of the po-po around here get cranky about their noise ordinances."

Dante ignored him.

The newly acquired device needed a data plan so Dante had to pay for a two-year contract and wait long enough to establish a connection before he could hail a cab. Once the cab arrived, Dante threw the new data-pad in the kid's lap and asked the cabbie to fly him up to the top level of the hive so he could go home.

He used needle-nose pliers to pull bullets out of his chest and had just enough time to clean up his wounds and toss the bloody rags in the garbage before his wife, Athene, and their two boys came running in from gravball practice. Dante slipped on a shirt to hide the dressings, confident that they would be mostly healed in a matter of hours.

He walked out into the living room as his kids greeted him half-heartedly and ran over to the holo-pict screen to play a video game. Dante gave his wife a kiss and asked about her day, not really listening as he looked for his spare data tablet.

"Honey, are you listening to me? You seem a little distracted..." Athene asked, her voice warm and comforting like a meal cooked without genenhanced produce.

"Yeah baby, I'm sorry. Can I use your tablet? There was an accident on my way back from seeing dad, I just want to see if VCN is streaming any details."

She handed him her data tablet, "Of course, was everyone ok? How is Sirus anyway?"

Dante took the tablet and logged into his personal profile. A blinking icon informed him he had a new message. He went to his inbox. The message was from his father, sent only moments ago and flagged as important.

He opened it up and read the message. Hope you had a safe ride home. Dante pursed his lips and deleted it. Had Sirus already put the bounty on him as incentive to complete the mission?

"He's the same crazy ol' bastard as always."
Chapter V

Dante pointed his massive shotgun toward the desk. A terrified murmur came from underneath and two hands slowly lifted in surrender. Dante stared with an intensity that loosened the man's bowels as he crawled out from underneath the desk wearing what looked like a gas mask. Bren motioned to Alistair to keep searching the area before walking over to interrogate.

"Please don't shoot, I'm a scientist," the man said, his voice cracking like a prepubescent teenager.

"What's your name?" Bren asked. The scientist stared into the barrel of the shotgun.

"The man asked you a question," Dante said. His bio-hardware modulated his voice so he sounded almost demonic. The scientist cleared his throat and struggled to get his attention away from the gun pointed directly at him. "Julian Porter. Most of the other doctors call me JP. Sort of a social acceptance thing I suppose."

"All right JP, what are you doing here? What's with the mask?" Bren asked, glancing over to Alistair who was busy poking through some holo-pads in the corner of the room. Apate was still searching in the hallway nearby and nowhere to be seen.

"I am a researcher on this project. I am in charge of virtually every-"

"What's going on? How come you're the only one alive?" Bren said.

Julian was annoyed at the interruption but didn't argue given the circumstances.

"Well, I heard they would send help, but I had hoped they would send trained scientists, not soldiers. Seeing as you gentlemen look like professionals I trust you will understand the importance of confidentiality and understand that I can't discuss the project with you," Julian said, as if his air of professionalism and confidence would end the conversation. Dante reminded the scientist of his presence with a growl. Julian was promptly brought back to reality before Dante could finish his audible displeasure. "But perhaps, given the circumstances I can, erm... bend security protocols."

"Good idea," Bren said as he flashed a patronizing grin.

"Ok, where to begin. This facility is part of the-" the unmistakable crack of energy weapons followed by a shriek pierced the air. Julian squealed like a terrified toddler and dropped to his knees before scuttling back under the desk. He cradled his knees and tried to suppress an anxiety attack. Everyone in the lab looked around as they tried to figure out what was going on. They heard the teeth rattling sound of metal shearing apart, followed by a minor explosion from somewhere else in the facility.

The three men glanced at each other. Apate was not in the room with them.

"Apate, are you ok?" Bren radioed over the comm unit.

"I'm fine. Anyone know what that was?" she responded.

"Not yet, but we're about to find out. Where are you?"

"Down the hall inspecting another laboratory."

"See if you can find out where that noise came from. I'm sending Alistair your way to help. Stay sharp."

"On it," she said.

Bren nodded to Alistair, who left the laboratory in search of Apate. Dante flipped the desk that Julian hid under and tossed it halfway across the room with one arm. "Get up and start talking," he said. Dante pointed his shotgun once again at the terrified scientist.

"Before I begin, I should let you know you are all going to die," the scientist said matter-of-factly. Bren and Dante exchanged glances.

"How do you figure?" Bren asked.

"You're here. You've broken the quarantine and you're inside the facility without protection, which means you will not be leaving the facility."

"We got in just fine, I don't see why we can't get out," Bren said.

"Well, you will probably leave but you won't be alive when you do. Not exactly."

"Now hold up a minute, you said there was a quarantine? Is there some kind of virus or something?" Dante asked.

"A parasite, actually. In the air and the blood. By coming in here and letting it out you've probably killed the entire planet," the scientist said. He relaxed as Dante lowered his gun.

"You don't seem worried," Bren countered to call JP's bluff.

"I was hoping they would send in a qualified rescue team with hazardous material suits and an army to stop the creatures but it's obvious to me now that is not your intention. That means the company only wants the information we gathered on the parasite and that we are all as good as dead. Expendable assets."

"Look man, I'm tired of this, just tell us what the hell is going on and point us to the information you are talking about so we can get out of here," Dante snapped, shaking his shotgun for emphasis.

"Bren, Dante, come in," Alistair radioed. Bren sighed and stepped away from the scientist, who began speaking to Dante about the parasite.

"What is it?" Bren radioed back.

"We've got life."

"Human?"

"Negative. I'm thinkin' you guys are going t'want a look for yourselves."

"Son of a bitch," Bren said, instantly regretting it as the cranial bomb at the base of his skull started beeping, "biscuit! Son of a biscuit!"

"What about biscuits?" Alistair asked.

"Nothing. Hold tight, we'll be there in a moment," Bren replied.

"All right. Down the hall, hang a left, and then a right at the intersection."

"Copy."

Bren turned to face the scientist, who was sweating bullets as he looked down the barrel of Dante's shotgun while trying to explain his research.

"Let's go. Alistair and Apate found something. It sounds important."

"Probably the containment labs. Tell them to keep the doors shut, it's very important that the specimens don't-"

Before Julian could finish his thought, a drone, likely used as a surgical aid if the rotary saws, vice clamps, scalpels, and needles poking out from it were any indication, lazily hovered its way into the lab. Julian panicked. He dove for the overturned desk, only to be dragged out by Dante once more. With no more effort than if he were a soda can, Dante lifted Julian into the air by the throat and held him at eye level, which was considerably higher than most people found comfortable.

"Get your crazy ass up. It's just a drone, let's go," Dante said.

"No! You don't understand, we have to hide!" the scientist shrieked, and glanced over his shoulder. The drone turned and hovered directly toward them. The scientist kicked and flailed but was locked in the air by Dante's vice grip. Without warning, the drone extended an arm with a whirling saw blade attached. It pushed the saw through flesh and bone until it exited through Julian's chest. The poor man began to drool and gurgle as blood spewed upward in a messy arc from the rotation of the saw. Dante dropped him and pulled his hand away from the spinning blade. Julian fell and slid off the drone's arm with a dull thud. Dante lifted his weapon and blasted the drone out of the air. Sparks and metal chunks flew everywhere as the drone spiraled to the floor and forced Bren to jump out of the way to avoid the debris.

"That's frakked up," Dante said.

"What the heck man, watch it!" Bren shouted.

"His chest just exploded onto my face," Dante said, his voice like liquid nitrogen as he wiped blood from his eyes.

"You could have shot me!"

"But did I?"

Bren decided it was best not to argue, but he kicked the drone scrap to let out some frustration. He remembered all the bloody corpses on the way in and wondered if the drone had something to do with them. Bren grabbed a lab coat off the back of a chair and threw it to Dante. Dante gave an appreciative nod and wiped the gore from his face. They took one last look at Julian's mangled body and went out into the hall to find Alistair and Apate.

"Did you say something about biscuits?" Dante asked as they navigated the halls. There were a few other mangled corpses along the way.

"What?" Bren asked.

"I thought I heard you say you've got biscuits. I know we're busy and all but I could use a snack."

"I don't have any biscuits, shut up and keep moving," Bren replied as they rounded a corner decorated with several plaques denoting the 'Researcher of the Month'. Alistair stared in horror through a window in the middle of the hall. Apate looked through a similar window on the other side.

"What's wrong with 'em?" Alistair asked as Bren and Dante caught up. Inside the window was a fully equipped surgical station with all the machines and tools one would assume inhabited such a space. Blood coated the walls and dripped from the ceiling. No less than a dozen small monkeys were jumping around and swinging from equipment, bashing at the windows and breaking anything they could find. Despite their screaming, no sound escaped the thick glass of the window. They couldn't even hear the monkeys' hands smacking against it.

As they stared in horrid fascination, everyone could tell something about these monkeys looked out of place. At first they assumed it was just a coat of blood causing the fur to clump together and look like little scales. Unfortunately, it was much more bizarre. Upon further examination it appeared as though short quills poked out through the skin of each monkey, almost as if a porcupine was trying to fit into a monkey skin suit. Each monkey was proportioned differently as well. Some had an extra large arm or leg, a few had extra limbs, tails or heads. Each was a different monstrosity, with tumors along every limb contorting their already warped bodies. Apate looked into a similar room but it was full of different birds. Long, serrated quills had replaced feathers and their beaks and talons looked rough and jagged, almost as if they had been crudely carved from obsidian. The birds could not fly freely in the enclosed space and searched for an exit. They tore apart the bodies of a few scientists that had been locked in when the specimens escaped.

"What the heck are they?" Bren asked, more to himself than anyone in particular.

"Hell if I know," Dante answered, staring into the black eyes of a monkey-like creature that was viciously clawing at the window hoping to tear off his face.

"Where's the man you found?" Apate asked, having taken in enough of the carnage in either room. She looked at the spattering of blood on Dante's chest and raised an eyebrow.

"He was attacked by a surgical drone," Bren said as if he was apologizing for his dog peeing on a pedestrian. Apate's lips curled in distaste.

"We found an open one 'round the corner an' a little ways down," Alistair said as he pulled himself from sight of the grisly rooms. They walked past several more laboratories full of raging, mutated animals and slowly approached an open door to a laboratory.

"Did you look inside?" Bren asked.

"We thought it would be better t'wait for backup," Alistair said with a glance to Apate. She had her weapon raised and her head turned back and forth, scanning for any signs of movement.

"Got any of those 'nades left?" Dante asked.

"Y'really think that's necessary?" Alistair asked. He exchanged awkward glances with Bren and Dante, then shrugged and pulled out a grenade. "I'd get 'round th'corner if I was you," he said. He pulled the pin and tossed the grenade toward the door. The grenade bounced off the door frame and rolled into the room. It detonated a few seconds later and sent a wave of heat down the hallway that felt like they were standing outside the mouth of a volcano. The team rounded the corner and walked into the room, weapons drawn.

Equipment hissed as it cooled, and molten metal dripped from the ceiling. Despite the damage, the team could tell that there was nothing living in the room when the bomb went off. The charred remains of a few human skeletons smoked in the corner, as if they had been picked clean of most their flesh prior to incineration.

"What do you suppose would do that?" Bren asked, gesturing to the skeletons.

"The drones?" Alistair offered.

"I dunno, bugs? Maybe rats?" Dante suggested, kicking the remains of a small cage.

"Looks like mice. Look, it says muridae rodentia," Apate chimed in, reading a placard on the wall outside the laboratory.

"So what, are there a bunch of flopping mice running around trying to gnaw our faces off?" Bren asked, amused.

"Certainly appears'at way," Alistair responded. A moment later his brow furrowed as he mouthed the word 'flopping'.

"I hate rats. Little bastards are gonna get a taste of my boot if they try biting my ankles," Dante said, making no effort to hide his disgust.

"Well, it doesn't do us much good standing here, let's get moving. Maybe the lab you found Dr. Porter in will have some more answers," Apate said as she made her way back down the hall. The rest of the team exited the room and followed her, scanning the halls for any escaped creatures or rogue drones. Dante peered into each vent they passed, lest a cunning mouse dupe him.

They arrived back in the laboratory where they found Julian and discovered that his body had bite marks. Tiny ones.

"Oh hell no, those little bastards already got here and left?" Dante asked, scanning the room with his shotgun and kicking over desks. The whir of servo tracks drew their attention as a drone wheeled around the corner toward them.

Moving with purpose, the little drone navigated through the mess of debris with surprising efficiency and clamped two mechanical claws around each of Julian's ankles. This one didn't appear to have any weapons, but the entire team stayed alert all the same. Against protesting gears, the drone dragged Julian's body out of the lab and down the hall in a different direction from whence it came. It followed the trail of blood they had been following thus far. "Should we follow it?" Dante asked.

"Not now. Let's check the computers," Apate suggested.

Bren and Alistair nodded, each heading to a nearby machine as they searched for anything useful. Dante kept watch for rodents. Before long Alistair stumbled upon a file that looked promising. He tapped on the screen to open it and went to the first file in the folder. Julian's face popped up, adjusting a low-resolution camera for a moment before he sat down and composed himself.

"I think I foun' somethin'," Alistair said. He turned the volume up as Apate and Bren joined him. Julian, on screen, cleared his throat and spoke.

"This is the video log of Dr. Julian Porter, working on a project that is proving to be truly mind blowing."
Chapter VI

Hive metropolis Vytal was notorious for segregating the wealthy from the poor. It is common for communities to have upper, middle, and lower class castes but on Vytal you were either a mogul or a miscreant. Vytal's slums were what Alistair had called home since he was a child, and that was where he chose to make as much of a difference as he could.

Her name was Gayle. She was ten years old, which made her old enough to do just about anything someone would buy her for and young enough to be helpless when she was sold. Alistair Preest had been looking for her for the better part of a month and finally narrowed down the search to a warehouse owned and operated by Viktor Cetti, a notoriously ruthless human trafficker.

Alistair wasn't ashamed to admit he enjoyed getting rough with the scum of the earth if a situation called for it, but when he did it was often in the company of a child he was rescuing. The horrified faces of every child he ever saved were burned into his mind. That moment when they didn't know if he was there to save them from their torment or if he was something even worse was an experience Alistair had too many times. It never got easier.

This search took longer than usual, and Alistair hoped he wasn't too late. Normally if a week had passed from the day of the missing persons report, then the child would already be sold or dead by the time he caught up to them. This was the third week, and it worried Alistair his search might lead him to a corpse. Even worse, he might find nothing at all. That didn't change the situation, he was determined to track Gayle down and return her to her parents, assuming they were still alive.

Armed with his trademark incendiary equipment – inferno pistols, nova grenades, and a torch sword – Alistair set out to find poor little Gayle. The torch sword was definitely his favorite weapon for jobs like this, but it was a high-risk item. It operated similar to an acetylene torch albeit with a flame that was three feet long, two inches wide, and able to cut through almost anything if you had enough fuel and patience. It also made a wicked sound as it sliced through the air and devoured oxygen. The only real problem with a torch sword was the need for an abundant fuel source and the fact that one wrong move could easily sever and cauterize an arm with little effort.

Alistair waited for the man guarding the entrance of the warehouse to meander off for a smoke before he crossed the street. Fortunately, the man was too interested in his cigarette to notice anyone behind him. Alistair used his forearm and bicep to block both arteries on either side of the man's neck. He held the choke tight and dragged the guard back into the shadows like a lion territorial over a kill. Another two minutes of squeezing ensured that both blood and air stopped going to the man's brain long enough to kill him.

Alistair lifted the man's body into a nearby empty oil drum that smelled of burned garbage and circled the warehouse for any more guards, careful to avoid windows lest he be spotted by someone inside. Alistair wasn't surprised when he didn't find anyone else. More than one person outside a building meant something interesting was inside, and most criminals didn't like to attract too much attention to their affairs.

A few quick glances through the windows revealed that most of the defenses were inside. At least a dozen men armed with automatic weapons paced around the inside of the warehouse. There was also a man drinking beer and lounging in a pop-up chair next to a tripod-mounted machine gun a short distance from the main entrance. Alistair didn't see Gayle anywhere, but that didn't mean she wasn't stowed away somewhere out of sight.

Peering through the grime-encrusted window, Alistair saw that some of the skylights were either open or broken. That was probably the easiest way to get in undetected, since the catwalk of the warehouse was close to the ceiling. Alistair found a fire escape on the side of the building and climbed up to reach the roof. He walked over to a broken skylight and looked around, gaining a better assessment of the interior of the warehouse. Two cranes flanked the main storage area but one was obviously broken and the winch was released so the hook and wire lay in a heap on the ground.

The second crane held a crate suspended in the air above the pacing guards. He noticed that most of the guards used the crate's shadow as a guide of where not to walk as they made their way around while on patrol. Alistair wasn't sure if that was intentional, or if the crane had stopped working before anyone could unload it. Regardless of its reason for being there the suspended crate would prove useful in his plan to raid the warehouse. If only it were hanging above someone that he could drop the crate on, but that would be asking too much from Lady Luck.

Upon scanning the thugs in the room several times, Viktor was nowhere to be seen. The thugs he could see were playing multi-level holo-chess, which Alistair found ironic given the uneducated stigma thugs usually had and the pompous stereotype most holo-chess players fell into. He wondered if they were even playing correctly. Some men walked around halfheartedly kicking debris or rocking on their heels while a small group in the corner, apparently invisible to the rest, bare-knuckle brawled.

Alistair poked his head through the broken skylight to scan the catwalk and came nose to nose with a thug patrolling immediately below him. His hair gel smelled like burned grease. It was entirely possible that his hair gel was burned grease. His eyes bugged out and the thug quickly raised his assault rifle to smash Alistair's nose in with the butt. Alistair tore the weapon from his grip and turned it on him in a swift display of Human Liberation Marines training. Upside down and glaring down the sights of the assault rifle, Alistair contemplated if he should fire and completely blow his cover or try to subdue the man quietly, despite his current inversion.

Slowly, the thug inched back along the catwalk with hands raised. He scowled in humiliation and anger. It was a little unnerving that the man didn't look the least bit scared. As Alistair thought of his next move, the man ended up making the decision for him.

"He's here! The kid snatcher is-" a gaping bullet wound in his throat left him gurgling before he could finish his sentence. Alistair then found himself annoyed at being called 'the kid snatcher' and immediately wondered if they were expecting him.

Alistair fell through the skylight with a half flip and landed feet first on the catwalk. He watched the man who blew his cover fall to his knees clutching his throat. Alistair glanced down at the warehouse and saw that everyone below was mobilizing to attack. He sprinted down the catwalk and jumped off the handrail to launch through the air and land on the suspended crate attached to the crane. Bullets tore up toward him and chewed into the wood of the crate as Alistair ducked and kept as low a profile as possible. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and heard a door slam open at the back of the warehouse.

"No, stop! Stop you frakking morons, don't shoot!" a voice yelled. It was Viktor.

The thugs on the ground began to argue as they tried to explain who was assaulting them. Viktor made it clear that he knew who it was and that they were still idiots for shooting at him. Viktor ordering his team to cease fire was an interesting turn of events. Alistair took advantage of their momentary confusion, loosened a nova grenade from his belt, and pulled the pin as they talked. He tossed it over the side of the crate and listened as it bounced off the concrete.

There was less than a second of complete silence as the room realized what had fallen in their midst. Brief screams echoed through the warehouse before the grenade incinerated everything in a vehicle-wide radius. It melted through the concrete and formed a searing crater in the middle of the warehouse. Some nearby crates and dust caught on fire. Alistair was used to explosions, so he recovered quickly, struggling only to keep his balance on the swinging crate. The thugs below that weren't already burning husks reeled from ruptured eardrums. They clutched their heads in agony and struggled to regain their senses. One stumbled into a pyre and shrieked as his clothes ignited. Alistair stood up on the crate and fired with his stolen assault rifle at the disoriented thugs, taking a few out before the rest realized what was happening and ran for cover.

A few men ran inside the nearby office to protect Viktor, but the rest took cover behind broken equipment or nearby debris. One brave thug even manned the tripod-mounted machine gun and turned it upward to face Alistair. Lining up a quick shot, Alistair smiled at the stupidity of the stationary turret thug before he fired. A hollow click met his ears as the assault rifle he held dry fired. The magazine was empty.

"Frak."

A torrent of machine gun fire ripped toward him in response. He turned around and jumped to the arm of the crane, using it like a ladder to climb down the machine as quickly as he could. Alistair prayed that the turret thug's accuracy was as notoriously bad as most criminal lackeys. Once the rest of the thugs had joined in and started taking potshots at him, Alistair loosened his grip and squeezed the edge of the crane arm with the sides of his boots to slide the rest of the way down. His knees almost buckled as he landed hard on the crane chassis and jumped off to use its robust bulk as cover.

Alistair fished in his jacket for his inferno pistols and hunkered down behind the crane as thugs laid down sporadic covering fire. If they were smart, they would stagger their shots so that one could fire while another reloaded. Fortunately for Alistair, they weren't smart. As soon as the bursts ceased, Alistair stood up and swung out from cover to unleash two gouts of flame toward a stack of boxes he knew some thugs hid behind. It didn't take long for the incendiary gel to spray out and drip over the crates, coating the thugs behind it and lighting them ablaze.

Alistair held down the triggers of both guns and spread his arms as if welcoming someone into his embrace. Fire roared around him in two cones of searing hot death. As more and more of the building lit on fire, Alistair sweat both literally and figuratively. He put a lot of faith into his fire retardant gear, but if he got stuck inside the building while it was crumbling he would still be crushed in the debris like everyone else. He knew he had to find Gayle and get out of there fast.

He made his way to the back of the warehouse and kicked down the door to the office where Viktor was no doubt keeping Gayle hostage. The office was empty. He heard screaming in the warehouse but ignored it as he searched the back office for any sign of Viktor. All he found was a broken window and a computer with a few monitors.

"Coward."

Alistair cursed his luck and searched through the closet and some nearby lockers for Gayle. As the temperature rose, Alistair wondered if Viktor had taken Gayle with him, though it seemed unlikely because she would have slowed him down. A second look at the computer monitors revealed a small window that looked like a video feed. Alistair enlarged the video and saw several children pounding on the walls of their confines. In the last window he saw Gayle unconscious, or possibly dead, inside what appeared to be a box or crate similar to the other prisons. Something didn't make sense. Smoke rose through bullet holes in the bottom of the crate Gayle was in. That wouldn't be possible if she were in a crate resting on the ground.

Alistair made the horrific realization that she was inside the crate suspended from the crane, the very same crate he was standing on minutes earlier. The sound of screeching metal tore through the warehouse as a chunk of the rafters collapsed and slammed into the arm of the crane. Supports broke, and the chain shook violently as it whipped the attached crate into the catwalk.

He watched in horror as the crate burst open and Gayle's body flailed wildly as it fell to the cement below. Even with adrenaline on his side there was no way Alistair could reach her in time. He was forced to watch her fall into a heap of embers, a cloud of smoke and cinder pluming up after her. With his arm up to shield his face, he jumped through open flames and pulled a small extinguishing device from his jacket. Alistair closed the distance between him and Gayle in a heartbeat.

Cool blue foam sprayed out over her and expanded, instantly quenching the flame and preventing further damage to her already battered body. Alistair clawed through the foam and grabbed onto her arm before pulling her out and cradling her in his arms as he searched for an exit. Then he remembered the other kids. It was difficult to hold Gayle with enough grace to not irritate her wounds as he moved through the warehouse and put his ear to nearby crates hoping to hear anyone inside. Roaring flames and rapidly depleting oxygen levels made this process all but impossible.

With a swift kick he cracked open the crate closest to him and peered inside. All it contained were some dehydrated food packets. He kicked another, and it too had useless objects inside. His lungs burned, and the smoke obscured his vision. The sinking feeling in his gut was pushed back in favor of self-preservation. He jumped through open flames and dodged falling debris before he found a broken window. With his arms wrapped around Gayle for protection, he lowered his shoulder and jumped through the window, landing hard on the dirt outside. It took a moment to catch his breath, but Alistair got up and limped his way back to his sanctuary across the sector with a burned and battered Gayle in his arms.

Upon arrival at the derelict church Alistair had turned into an orphanage he punched in his password on the terminal next to the door. The automated door made a stubborn grinding sound as it opened and hissed shut behind him. He waited for the vitals scanner to register his body and assure the security system that he was, indeed, himself.

Four automated turrets followed him as he walked through the next and final security measure of his establishment. Three of them didn't have ammunition, but potential infiltrators didn't need to know that. Alistair pressed the intercom button to speak with Morria, his first rescued orphan and second in command at the orphanage.

"Morria, please let me in."

There was a pause followed by a hiss of static and the voice of a toddler. "Unkie Al?" the toddler asked incredulously.

"Stella? Is that you? Please go find Morria, right away."

"Why are you in the wall box unkie Al?"

The sound of a woman running into the room and shooing away little Stella came out of the speaker, followed by a heated protest from Stella who demanded to know why 'unkie Al' was in the 'wall box'.

"Sorry Alistair, buzzing you in now," the woman said. Seconds later the final door buzzed open and allowed Alistair to enter his sanctuary.

He had turned the main chapel area into a makeshift playground. Most of the pews were gone, but some had been pulled to the outside edges to allow children to sit and read or draw if they didn't want to play. A series of tunnels and platforms made of various salvage created a multi-level fortress for games and exercise. For safety he sprayed the fort with a latex-based polymer to avoid any unwanted cuts that might cause tetanus or other infections. Tires were stacked and placed in various areas to simulate towers and tunnels. Ropes hung from several rafters that led to a hive of crash webbing and fishing nets suspended from the ceiling to facilitate another area of play. Many children had toy guns and were shooting small rubber pellets at each other while playing war games.

Alistair knew that on the whole it wasn't the safest environment for a child, but it was the best he could provide with what little resources he scrounged together. He also felt that it served as a training ground for where most of these children would end up and in that way he considered it worth the bumps, bruises and occasional swollen eye. The children were usually good at including anyone who wanted to be involved in the battles and ignoring anyone who didn't. Even the girls would join in, often working together to overthrow all the lone wolves the boys thought themselves to be. Alistair was proud of the environment he made for them but he always wanted to provide more.

Morria parted the children to make way for Alistair, who was still carrying Gayle. Most of the children, especially the older ones, had seen newcomers in rough shape before and they got out of the way but a few gawked and nervously chewed their fingers as Morria, Alistair, and Gayle went into the makeshift infirmary.

It used to be a bathroom but now only one toilet remained and only the cold water worked in the sinks. Alistair made a table out of cinder blocks and stall walls from when his infirmary was still a bathroom and stored supplies on some bookshelves and in an old fridge. Alistair laid Gayle down on the cinder block table and went to the fridge for some painkilling gel. Morria took a towel from a bookshelf and soaked it in cold water. She dabbed off the blue goo covering Gayle to prevent further burns as she looked down on the poor child. Gayle squinted through swollen eyes and tried to make sense of her situation. She let out a hoarse whisper that neither Alistair nor Morria could understand.

Morria put a cold finger on Gayle's lips to prevent her from speaking further. "Get some rest," she whispered as she brushed a clump of hair out of Gayle's face and further dabbed the blue goo off her body while Alistair injected a sedative mixed with painkillers into her arm.

"She'll wake up in about twelve hours, make sure she gets somethin' t'eat," Alistair said, glancing up at Morria, "Mac delivered th'food today, yeah?"

Morria pursed her lips. Her hesitation told him what he needed to know. Alistair gritted his teeth and walked over to a sink. A swirl of red blood washed from his hands down the drain. He thought about the other kids on the monitors he saw back in the warehouse and hoped they were remote feeds from somewhere else because he didn't want to believe he failed to rescue them from the fires he created.

"How much d'we have then?" he asked.

"Maybe two or three days if we skip lunch. We also have to get more rat poison, and some propane tanks if we plan on cooking anything. Oh, and the generator is..."

"Enough. I'm workin' on it," Alistair said. He dried his hands on his pants and left Morria to tend to Gayle. He knew they were in trouble. Recent gang activity had stopped his supply chain several times now and he couldn't risk any of the children's lives to go out and get supplies alone. He was too busy trying to make legitimate money to feed the ever growing and already overpopulated orphanage he maintained to run errands by himself all the time.

Alistair knew that the only way to get out of the slums and give these kids a better life would be to land a large sum of money in a short amount of time. Alistair also knew that the only way to do that was either illegally or by claiming a large bounty. His bounty license had expired long ago but he could still take a CivOps contract if he had to. It took about fifteen minutes to boot up his machine and connect to the CivOps network to check the roster for anything lucrative. One in particular caught his eye. The only information it had was the reward, a very large reward, and the rest was classified until acceptance of the mission.

That meant the job would be dangerous and would require a special set of skills from a special team of people, the kind of thing that normally one would hire a legitimate mercenary company. Since this was a CivOps contract that meant the job was questionably legal or part of inter-corporation sabotage. Either way, it was something Alistair knew he needed to do to get his life back on track and put the lives of his orphans in a direction other than the streets where he found them. Alistair applied to the contract and hoped they would accept him.
Chapter VII

Bren, Alistair, and Apate watched the video of Dr. Julian Porter on a computer terminal in the mostly destroyed lab where they first found him. Julian wasn't wearing a mask and his hair was much shorter. He talked with an air of excitement that betrayed his inexperience with reporting official scientific logs.

"The powers that be have finally allowed me to study something that hasn't already been published to death. This new parasite, a member of the cordyceps family of fungi but not native to Terrunda, which we are currently calling, unoriginally I might add, Unidentified Parasite 1264A, has been difficult to study for a myriad of reasons.

"First and most obvious is the increased aggression the host demonstrates in the later stages of infection. Once infected with 1264A, incubation times vary greatly but most host specimens have between a week and a month until their central nervous system shuts down, leaving them in a vegetative, coma-like state. At this point the host will either die or wake with all semblance of their former selves torn away, becoming increasingly violent and unpredictable.

"It should be noted that the initial outbreak that started this whole project was with a group of miners, about ninety percent of which died in the initial infection phase. Security personnel transferred the few men and women that managed to survive to this facility for observation. Since then we have been testing on them and recently received clearance to infect various animals in an attempt to learn more about 1264A.

"Unfortunately, running tests on such fervently hostile creatures has been cumbersome at best. It is also interesting to note that 1264A seems to only have an effect on males of a species. This suggests a possible relationship to the 'Y' chromosome, but that is just my own conjecture at this point.

"The second, and perhaps most interesting, reason it is difficult to research 1264A is because..." Julian's attention was pulled from the camera as a crash came from behind him, followed by terrified screams. A look of familiar concern crossed his face as Julian turned back to the camera, "It appears another specimen has escaped, I'll continue this log at a later time."

Armed security personnel raced behind Julian as he waved his hand and turned off the recording. Alistair looked around at the rest of the crew as if apologizing for the sudden interruption. They clicked on the next log, a closeup of Julian's hand as he adjusted the camera again, and then composed himself briefly.

"Well, it appears that Dr. Morgahn was attacked by an infected canine specimen. He is being detained until we know for sure he isn't a threat. If he is, I'll be forced to convene with the board and discuss our..." Julian paused, looking for an appropriate word, "...options. But until that happens I'm going to try to remain objective."

Apate let out a bored sigh. "Is this really helping? Shouldn't we move on?"

"Yeah, I don't really see how this is helping either," Bren admitted as he sat back in a nearby office chair with his feet on the desk busy thumbing through a magazine he had found.

"Don't y'think it's wise t'know what we're up against?" Alistair asked.

"Well now we know. Some kind of parasite or fungus or some crap, right?" Bren said.

"Should we try to find some kind of protective gear or something?" Alistair asked, already looking through some nearby lockers.

"JP told me we were probably already infected," Dante said.

"Maybe we are, we won't know if we don't finish listening t'this," Alistair rebutted.

With a crackle and buzz, the lights flickered out and left the crew in pitch-black darkness. A few seconds later they flickered back on. The computer they were using didn't boot back up with the lights. Alistair identified the power switch and tried to get the machine operational again, only to be stymied by a security screen demanding a password.

Alistair cursed his luck and kicked the console.

"Did you guys notice that the hallway lights stayed on?" Bren asked.

"What about it?" Dante asked.

"I dunno, it just seemed like... like the power outage was confined to this room."

"Come on boys, let's move. We have to find the main server room so we can download the facility backups and get the hell out of here," Apate said as she turned from the console and headed back out to the hall with the captive and furious mutated animals. Bren and Dante soon followed, but Alistair made an effort to eject the drive containing Julian Porter's logs.

"I think it's a lost cause," Bren said, trying to entice Alistair to come along. With a reluctant sigh Alistair gave up and followed the rest of them into the hallway.

The four of them walked in silence as they stepped over mangled bodies and examined locked laboratories filled with strange animals raging mindlessly in their confines. A few drones wheeled past them to clean up bodies periodically. It was unsettling to watch the drones dragging the former occupants of this facility around like garbage, but the deeper into the facility they got, the fewer corpses they found. Once immaculately clean hallways were now stained with bright blood and littered with gore. Dante noticed that all the bodies they had found thus far were male, confirming Julian's statement in the video log.

"Is anyone else wondering if we are infected?" Bren asked.

"It's crossed me mind," Alistair admitted.

"There's nothing we can do about it anyway, let's just keep moving," Apate said, though it didn't help anyone feel better.

"Easy for you to say," Bren said.

"Maybe there's a cure?" Dante asked.

"If there was, wouldn't these guys have used it?" Apate said, kicking some bones for emphasis.

They heard the unmistakable hum of grav-plates propelling a small drone up ahead. All four readied their weapons and pointed them at the end of the hall toward the noise. Gradually the humming grew louder and the whir of servos coupled with the gentle beeping of a scanning device became clear. A drone rounded the corner and lazily floated to a halt at the end of the hallway.

It looked almost like a crustacean of some sort. It had a vaguely disk-shaped shell with a gaggle of sensory equipment sticking out the top like spiky hair. A camera in the middle peered at them curiously while two little mechanical claws turned and clacked together in anticipation. A small surgical saw was mounted under the nose of the drone next to some other scanning equipment that dilated open and closed to assess the four newly acquired targets. A bright red scanning laser shot out and swiped across the room, ingesting information about the four of them and processing it rapidly to determine friend from foe. All four held their breath and hoped that the drone's current pacifism persisted.

The little thing hovered for a moment, bobbing slightly as it took in the information it needed before sluggishly turning back and continuing on its original path. There was an audible sigh of relief as the drone flew away. Weapons lowered and heart rates stabilized. Continuing on, the team rounded the corner the drone had come from and spotted a woman holding what looked like sensitive measuring equipment and medical supplies at the end of the hall. A mess of cables dangled from the equipment, implying she had recently confiscated them.

A look of terror spread across the woman's face. With a horrified shriek she dropped her salvaged equipment and sprinted away.

"Wait!" Alistair yelled as he ran after her.

Apate, Dante, and Bren all followed, racing after Alistair as he tried to catch up with the scared woman.

"She's back! Somebody help me!" the woman shouted as she ran.

Their boots thumped against the ground, and their gear clanked during the pursuit. The woman disappeared from view as she rounded a corner, but Alistair barreled after her as fast as his legs could propel him. Alistair reached the intersection the woman had ran around and was promptly thrown off his feet by a colliding drone. Apate, Dante, and Bren watched as the drone they spotted earlier flew from the opposite side of the intersection and smashed into Alistair, hitting him with such force that he flew a short way before landing on the ground. His inferno pistols slid from his grip and scraped along the floor and out of reach.

Dante charged, revving his chainsaw bayonet and intending to maul the attacking drone, but forced himself to stop mid hack upon the realization that a glancing blow would horribly maim Alistair. Shouting in confusion and fear, Alistair did his best to beat back the attacking drone while only narrowly avoiding the whirling saw blade that projected from its underside.

Apate sighted up the attacking drone with her carbine and fired a quick burst into its light armor plating. Sparks flew and smoke billowed as vital operating systems tore apart and forced the little drone to collide against the wall and tumble to the ground only to be stomped flat by Dante's massive boot.

Dante rushed up to Alistair and kneeled down. "You all right?" he asked as he checked Alistair over for any lacerations.

Alistair gave an exasperated nod but clutched his hand in pain. He jerked his chin back over his shoulder and spoke through clenched teeth. "Chase her!" A quick glance showed Dante that one of Alistair's fingers was bent at what looked like an excruciating angle, but he knew the woman was getting away.

Apate was already bounding down the hall at full speed after the fleeing woman and Bren panted like a dog behind them. Dante started to run but gave up halfway down the hall as both Bren and Apate peeled ahead of him. Once he got going he was near impossible to stop, but without a moment to gather steam he knew he would be outpaced. He stomped back over to Alistair and kneeled down. "Lemme have a look at that hand," he said.

Trembling, Alistair held up his hand and tried not to panic as he saw that his finger bent at a hard seventy degree angle the opposite way the joint was meant to bend. It throbbed, and he didn't enjoy the warm trickle of blood dripping down his forearm, nor did he like the glossy bone fragment sticking out from his skin.

Dante let out a long whistle, "Little bastard messed you up, huh?" he asked as he pulled a nano-splint from one of his pockets and held it up to Alistair's face. "You see one of these before?" he asked.

Alistair shook his head.

"This little guy is going to act as your joint for a while, till your finger heals. It hurts like a bitch when it goes in but self-medicates so you'll be fine in a few minutes."

Dante pulled a combat knife from his vest, sheath and all. He pulled the knife out of the sheath and Alistair's eyes widened.

"Do y'really tink that's necessary lad?" he asked as he pulled his injured finger close to his chest.

"Yes, I do," Dante replied. He put the knife down on the smooth floor and held the hard leather sheath to Alistair's lips. Alistair was relieved as he looked up at Dante and opened his mouth to bite down on the leather sheath. Dante wrapped his fingers around Alistair's broken one. Alistair bit down hard and nodded once more. Dante popped his finger back into place and quickly activated the nano-splint. Alistair groaned. He watched in horror as the little splint extended four needle-like appendages and impaled his finger with them. He then shrieked as the needles bored into his finger bone and secured into the skin, injecting a painkiller once properly aligned.

Alistair looked down as the nano-splint made tiny adjustments. He wiggled his finger. The splint acted like a hinge between the broken bones. He looked up and gave Dante an appreciative nod, flexing his hand and spitting out the leather sheath which was now embossed with deep bite marks. Dante patted him on the shoulder, a gesture that practically knocked the wind out of him.

"Who loves you baby?" he grinned, once more channeling the bravado of his holo-film characters.

Apate sprinted as fast as her legs could carry her around corners and down hallways, bounding over bodies and equipment as necessary. Bren did his best to keep up but was nowhere near as agile, especially with all of his armor. The woman they chased grew tired. They were gaining ground but the woman was shouting into a radio and telling whoever was on the other side to be ready for her.

Bren and Apate all but leaped down a flight of stairs and saw a window with several people behind the glass watching frantically as the woman they chased ran towards them. A door at the end of the hallway opened up and two women encouraged their comrade to enter the room. They activated the security lock, and the door shut just seconds before Apate reached it.

With a wail of frustration, Apate slammed against the door and banged her fists. She was in tears, pounding with all her strength and panting heavily from the chase. "Give me my son you heartless bitch!" she cried.
Chapter VIII

It was no secret to anyone in the facility that security officer Apate Nevermore and Dr. Gideon Amontillado were together, but they did their best to keep things professional all the same. Public displays of affection were rare, almost to where it seemed like they made a conscious effort to ignore or put off one another instead of expressing their admiration. No one was fooled.

Due to conflicts of interest, most relationships were discouraged on expensive and important research projects such as this. Only because of Apate and Gideon's exceeding professionalism, and the fact they were in separate departments, did the administrative body permit them to work together.

Gideon had proposed to her shortly before arriving at the research facility that was to become their home for the next six to twelve months. Apate was overjoyed and accepted. They agreed to keep their engagement a secret until after the contract was complete and Gideon promised to make up for his poor timing by absconding with her to Pacifica, arguably the most popular, and expensive, luxury planet getaway in the solar system, once the contract was fulfilled.

By no means did this quench their passion for each other and despite their attempts at being responsible lovers Apate was pregnant within a few months. At first she didn't tell Gideon because she wanted to be absolutely sure and, gods forbid, should anything happen to the baby during the early stages of pregnancy, she didn't want to have that weigh on Gideon's mind during his research. Then the project took an unexpected turn.

Some of the infected miners Gideon studied complained of severe headaches and suffered from intense muscle spasms. 1264A, the name Gideon coined to refer to the infection, began to attack the central nervous system of the infected and their bodies were shutting down. Most of the miners suffered a gradual descent into paralysis, foreshadowed by the splitting head pain and sporadic muscle twitching. More and more miners slipped into comas before death. If they were lucky, the infected would die in their sleep from brain aneurysms or heart failure. Scientists studying the infection had trouble figuring out why. Not everyone died peacefully.

Some of the miners, the ones that lived through their coma, began vomiting blood. At first this appalled everyone involved, but upon closer study the scientists became fascinated with the act, Gideon in particular. He was the first to make the connection between the airborne parasites and their relation to the vomiting.

Gideon hypothesized that the host would inhale spores of the parasite, which would then lodge in the tissue of the lungs. Once inside the lungs the spores used the blood and nutrients of the host to incubate and undergo mitosis to form the next stage of the parasite's life cycle and spread through the rest of the body at its leisure. It would chew through the tissue of the lungs and cause the host to bleed internally. The pooled blood would feed the new zygotes and help them develop further to create new spores. Part of a grotesque form of pollination, the host would vomit the blood and attempt to spread the new spores to a different host. When Gideon made this connection, he immediately asked for approval to test on animals for further study.

Apate remembered him being very upset about an ultimatum the funding company had provided and he refused to give her any details for fear of violating their contract and risk getting one of them removed from the project. This would have been particularly devastating since Apate was only a month or two away from having their child. Now forced to delegate most of her duties, Apate had assumed more of an administrative position than she was used to. She always preferred to be active. She liked to be doing something productive, such as patrolling or dealing with physical confrontation personally, but until she had the baby she would have to resign herself to paperwork and patiently watching security cameras.

Tensions were running high because the last few surviving miners had undergone some radical changes in the previous weeks. Their nails and teeth turned jagged and black. Each miner complained about internal pains as well, a common note being that their 'bones hurt', and they were all becoming very testy. X-rays revealed that the miners' bones were actually growing. Bone density had almost doubled, and the bones were growing out towards the flesh in spiny tendrils. This would have accounted for the pain and possibly the increased aggression if every movement they made were as painful as they claimed. Animal testing hadn't reached that stage in 1264A's life cycle yet, so it was difficult to draw any conclusions.

Apate was watching the monitors one day, paying extra attention to Gideon since they had spent little time together lately. He put on a haz-mat suit in preparation of running some routine tests on the surviving miners. Most of their fingers had turned to thick black claws at this point, and one miner's fingers had even begun to fuse together into a single black spike.

Pacing irritably, the miners waited for Gideon to enter. They had done this dozens of times before, a quick blood sample, some x-rays, throat swabs, nothing particularly invasive. Gideon had mentioned his growing uneasiness at the miners' behavior but refused Apate's suggestions of a security escort. He didn't want the men to feel like he didn't trust them; they had enough to worry about.

Clad in his haz-mat suit, Gideon entered the quarantine chamber and stood with arms raised as the automated cleansing unit disinfected him and he waited for the second set of doors to open. All three miners shot him a suspicious glance and Gideon felt every hair on his body stand up. A chime signaled to Gideon that the disinfection process was complete and the second door bridging the quarantine chamber to the laboratory opened.

As soon as the door sealed behind him, all three miners descended like a pack of hungry wolves. Apate watched in horror from her security bay as one miner tackled Gideon to the ground and slashed open his mask. He then vomited blood into the hole and drowned Gideon with it. She punched the emergency alert button and caused the whole complex to spiral into fear and confusion as Apate ordered all of her security staff to converge on the lab.

Watching him with guarded curiosity, the other two miners waited for something as Gideon rolled over and choked on the blood that had been sprayed into his suit. He spit it out in thick gobs and crawled into a corner for some modicum of protection, however insignificant it may be. Seemingly satisfied with whatever they were waiting for, the two miners followed the first as he ripped Gideon's badge from his chest and used it to activate the door panel and exit the lab that once confined them.

Apate's chest hammered with dread as she watched the three miners spread throughout the facility and assault everyone they came in contact with, vomiting blood on them before moving on to the next victim. It was astonishing the amount of ground they covered in the minute or so it took for a security team to reach them. At least ten people were contaminated before security caught up.

The miners shrugged off blasts from security team's shock weapons and attacked, infecting them in a few brutal seconds. Apate ordered an emergency lock down of the entire area and loosed the security drones into the facility. She plugged in the safety override and granted the drones permission to kill. Quarantine doors locked and Apate couldn't resist feeling a pang of guilt as some innocent uninfected people got trapped in the hallways. She could have overridden the doors but didn't want to risk any more lives than necessary, so she was forced to damn her comrades to the horrific embrace of the infected miners.

Four more people were attacked before the first drone arrived, charging its energy weapon and making a steaming meat puddle of the first infected miner. With a quick and simultaneous turn, the other two miners assessed their new threat and attacked the drone. They dodged several energy blasts and tore the drone apart with their long black claws as if it were made of wet cardboard. Apate felt helpless as she watched the miners dismember the security drone effortlessly.

A second drone arrived in the hall and blasted at them with its energy weapon. This blast clipped the first drone and ripped apart the power cells, which caused it to explode and swallow up the miners in a blaze. They screamed and flailed for a moment before sinking to their knees one after the other and slowly stopped all movement.

Apate watched for a few moments to make sure they were dead. The drone hovered nearby in anticipation of more commands. Once she was sure, Apate lifted the quarantine and ordered all medical personnel to help the wounded and secure the infected. She stood up from her console and ran as best as her pregnant body would allow to Gideon.

She overrode the door locks and ran into the lab to help him. She grabbed a nearby lab coat and used it to wipe blood from his eyes. He looked up at her and screamed. She stared in horror as Gideon backed away into a nearby bed.

"What are you doing here, are you insane?" he shouted.

She didn't have an answer; wounded from his reaction to her being there, she just stared at him, mouth agape.

"Go! Get out of here, now!" he screamed, trying to get as far away from her as possible, coughing and choking from the effort.

A haz-mat team entered the room and she realized her mistake. By entering the room without protection she had just infected herself, and her unborn child, with 1264A.

Dr. Eris Malliny took over the research from Gideon, who was now under close observation in a lab guarded by a pair of armed security and a combat drone. Over a month had passed before he went into the coma that all infected eventually succumbed to. Apate waited for two weeks in her cell before they informed her that he came out of the coma. She wasn't sure if she was happy that his body hadn't rejected the parasite and killed him, because that meant he would eventually mutate like all the rest. On top of these concerns, she was burdened with the knowledge of what experiments the facility ran on the infected, and that both her fiancé and newborn child were being subjected to such tests.

Apate had to have an emergency C-section after the incident. Since then all the tests they ran showed signs of infection in the child but despite the existence of the parasite, there seemed to be no ill effects. No one knew what that implied.

Dr. Malliny put Apate's entire family under observation and forced them to undergo a daily barrage of tests based on new information they were getting from the animal experiments. Concerned with further exposure to the parasite, Apate hadn't been allowed to hold her baby at all since they took him from her belly. She also hadn't been allowed to see Gideon, and only heard stories from other doctors to update her on his progress.

Apate heard footsteps coming down the hall. One of the women on Gideon's team walked toward her room staring at a digi-pad. It took a moment for Apate to remember the woman's name.

"Chelle! Can you tell me how he is? How both of them are?"

Chelle's attention was pulled from her digi-pad for a fraction of a second before her eyes lowered back to it without a word. Apate watched as she walked away. Right as Chelle was about to round a corner toward the cafeteria, a voice turned her around. Dr. Malliny waved her hand and shouted down the hall for Chelle to join her. The two walked toward each other and stopped just outside Apate's room.

"Dr. Malliny, can I see my boy?" Apate asked through the glass. Both Dr. Malliny and Chelle looked up at her. "Please? It's been... almost a month, I think. I can't remember exactly. Even just a video feed?" Apate continued.

Chelle's eyes softened.

"I'm sorry Apate, we-"

Dr. Malliny snapped her fingers and pointed into her own eyes. Chelle looked at her and then back to Apate only to be snapped at again. They finished discussing something about the alleles of the parasite that Apate didn't understand before Dr. Malliny escorted Chelle down the hall.

"Eris please? I just want to see my fiancé and my child, please? Dr. Malliny!"

Apate slammed her fists against the glass and tried to use her access code to leave the room even though she knew it no longer worked. Many more days went by with similar results. Eventually Apate gave up. She fell into the familiar monotony of her tests and paced around what was effectively her cell, thinking about Gideon and what he could be turning into. She worried about what horrid things were being done to her child and how scared the infant must be. Apate felt her life deteriorating around her and it took every last iota of strength not to cry herself to sleep each night.

Months passed. She had become a hollow shell of her former self, and no one bothered to help her. All she could do was pace her cell and worry, the knots in her gut growing tighter with each passing day. She hadn't even named the boy and had never officially agreed on one with Gideon before they took him from her. She realized they might never get to have that conversation.

She wanted to give him a name that would easily harbor a legacy. Something that wasn't too weird or exotic like some of the more flamboyant parents had been coming up with, but she didn't want it to be too plain either. After mulling over it for some time she eventually decided on Raza, for no particular reason other than she enjoyed the way it sounded. She thought Gideon would like it too, and it gave her something to hold on to.

Apate spent day after day, test after test, with no inkling as to what happened outside the walls of her cell. She had once been the hub of knowledge around the complex. She had her finger on the pulse of the entire building and between official reports, camera feeds, and a steady stream of gossip she was as close to omniscient as one could get in that facility. Now she was completely in the dark.

It was maddening.

A woman in a haz-mat suit entered her cell. There had been no evidence that the parasite affected women, but everyone still took precautions. She laid out a set of tools that had become standard for this routine procedure. First she set down a needle to draw blood, then some cotton swabs for throat cultures, followed by some pills that Apate was unfamiliar with, and finally a scalpel to shave off skin and nail samples.

Apate allowed the nurse to take her blood.

"Oh my, it's filling up fast today. Are you nervous?" the woman asked, her voice muffled by the suit.

"I guess I still get anxious," Apate lied, surprised that the woman offered any conversation at all. She opened her mouth and let the woman swab her throat. As the woman examined the end of the swab Apate glanced over to the table with the test materials. Apate felt the nurse's eyes shift back in her direction and snapped her own back to meet the gaze. The corners of the nurse's eyes scrunched as she forced a polite smile. The nurse put the throat culture into a sealed container. Apate took a deep breath to steel herself for the next few moments. She snatched the scalpel and stood up, shoving the woman's shoulder to force her around while slashing open the haz-mat suit in one fluid motion.

The woman screamed as Apate ripped the mask off and gripped her from behind, holding the scalpel to her throat. "Walk," she ordered.

"Apate, please don't hurt me, I was only following-"

"Walk!"

They left the observation room and made their way toward the elevator so she could reach the labs where she thought Gideon and Raza might be held. She kept her back to a wall and chose her angles carefully so she couldn't be surrounded at any particular intersection. Having intimate knowledge of the facility layout and camera positioning allowed her to sneak through several areas undetected. As they approached the elevator, she heard voices. She clamped her hand over the nurse's mouth and pressed her back to a nearby vending machine. The nurse shuddered as Apate pressed the scalpel against her jugular, a reminder to stay quiet.

"That dragon specimen is remarkable, where did we find it?" a dark-haired woman said.

"I don't recall which planet it came from but I know it's not local," a shorter, blonde replied.

"I'm very curious to see if it is susceptible to the parasite as well. Though I'll be honest and say I'm not sure we should have it here. What if we can't contain it?"

"That's what the security team is for, don't worry."

The two women spoke as they walked by the vending machine, oblivious to Apate and her captive.

"Oh hold on, I want to get one of those drinks with Dante Opulen on the bottle," the blonde said, an ounce of shame in her voice.

"Ugh, that guy is so obnoxious."

"I know, but I can still enjoy looking at him."

Both women turned to approach the vending machine and screamed as they saw Apate holding her nurse with a blade to her throat.

"If you say anything I'll-" Apate began, but both women were already running. She gripped her hostage and went for the elevator. A moment later an alarm went off and a team of people clad in haz-mat suits and armed with shock rifles converged on her from all angles. With nowhere to run, Apate pressed her back against the wall and used her nurse as a shield. The scalpel's threat was enough to keep the security team at bay, but she wasn't sure for how long.

"Where is my son?" Apate demanded as the security team closed in.

"Put the weapon down or we will fire!" the lead guard said, his voice coming through his mask with a metallic tang.

"Where is my son?" she repeated, enunciating each word in a way that made it perfectly clear they were not going to negotiate. Dr. Malliny had donned a suit and came to the fore of the scene.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Bring me my son or I'll paint the floor with her neck," Apate replied as she moved the blade against the nurse's throat and ignored her panicked breathing.

"Are you really going to kill her, Apate?" Dr. Malliny asked.

Apate slid the scalpel across the terrified woman's throat and left a thin ribbon of blood in its wake. It wasn't deep enough to cause anything apart from superficial damage, but everyone knew she meant business. Dr. Malliny stared at her for a moment from behind the safety of her mask and security team.

"Fine, shoot them both," she ordered.

The security team hesitated. Apate's jaw dropped, her power over the situation demolished. Her victim began hyperventilating.

"She has already been exposed to the parasite, we can't take any chances," Dr. Malliny continued.

"Why won't you let me see my son?" Apate pleaded. Dr. Malliny stared for a moment, her eyes icy and resolute.

"It's not my decision, I'm sorry."

She turned around and walked through the security team, dismissing the situation as if it were no more important than a child having a tantrum.

Apate screamed in frustration and pushed the nurse toward the security team. She elbowed an intervening guard in the face and cracked his mask. As he fell to the ground, she leaped for Dr. Malliny. A second guard attempted to tackle her but a quick change of her footing allowed her to catch the man as he came in and throw his weight over her hip, slamming him to the ground with enough force to shatter his rib cage.

A barrage of shocks from the security team's rifles forced her body rigid. She lost control and crumbled to the floor. Her teeth felt like they would shatter as she ground them together against the pain and reached out with a livid claw in a vain attempt to strangle the woman keeping her from her child. Not a moment later a flurry of shocks sizzled against her skin as the security team closed in. The last thing she saw was a boot heading directly for her face.

An acrid smell that had never before polluted her nostrils woke her up. She could barely move. Her back felt stiff and bruised. Her chest throbbed with pain at every breath. One of her teeth was loose and wiggled uncomfortably in her mouth. She laid on something cold and lumpy. It took a few minutes before she could muster the strength to look around. Her shoulder screamed with pain, as if it had become dislocated. One glance confirmed that it had.

Then she realized what happened. Human and animal corpses in various states of decay surrounded her, and she lay atop the pile like a discarded doll on a heap of trash. Apate retched and vomited onto the remains of a nearby dog. They had thrown her out like refuse, hoping the fall would kill her or possibly thinking she was already dead. They didn't account for the mound of other bodies to break her fall.

She stumbled down the hill of flesh and bone and sloshed through the thick grime of the sewer network. Her brain could barely process the series of unfortunate events that had befallen her. She was devoid of emotion. Once the initial shock subsided, she looked around for an escape as survival was her brain's only function. A ways down the passage she found a maintenance door that led to control pump. The room also had a ladder that led to the outside world.

As she climbed the ladder against the wishes of her aching muscles, Apate vowed to gain her strength and find a way back and retrieve her son, or die trying.
Chapter IX

Apate slumped against the door to the laboratory and sobbed into her trembling hands. Bren slowed to a walk as he approached her. There was a look of stunned recognition on the faces of the women inside the laboratory as they saw their former security officer. One of the scientists hit a switch next to the glass. A dark frost to spread over the windows and hid the women from view. Bren stared down at Apate trying to make sense of the situation.

"Umm... are you ok?" he asked as Dante and Alistair came up behind him, out of breath. After taking a moment to collect herself, Apate informed the rest of the team about her involvement with the facility, her fiancé, and her captive child.

"Is there a reason you didn't tell us this before?" Dante asked.

"What do you care? Was I really supposed to expect three mercenaries to be compassionate?" Apate replied.

No one argued.

"Look, regardless of my motives we are in this together because if we don't get into that lab you guys are all going to die from exposure to the parasite."

"According to everything we've been hearing, the three of us are already dead," Dante said.

"If we get inside this lab, there may be a way to fix that," Apate said.

"Are y'saying they have a cure?" Alistair asked.

"I don't know, but the only way to find out is to ask them," she replied.

"I never thought I'd see the day I wished I didn't have a dick," Bren said. A beep started up behind him. Everyone looked at him and stepped back. "Really?! I can't say dick? Are you kidding me?" he shouted as the beeping sped up. Everyone took another step back as Bren let out a frustrated groan.

"Can you use that digi-key you have?" Dante asked after the beeping ceased.

"Well, I could, but they can just stand there and hold the manual override. If we get to the security bay, I can maybe grant us access to the complex by writing new security codes," she said.

"Couldn't they just hold down the override from their side?" Bren asked.

"Not if I give us priority over the override," she said.

Exchanging wary glances, the three men conceded their fate with a mutual shrug.

"So where do we go?" Dante asked.

"The main security bay is toward the bottom of the facility. Luckily, we can just take the elevator to go most of the way, assuming it still works," she said.

"What about all them?" Dante asked, pointing a thumb toward the darkened window.

"They won't go far knowing we are here. If we can get down to the security bay fast enough, they might not even realize we've left."

"Then let's hurry the crap up," Bren said as he stomped toward the elevator.

Bren rounded a corner and was greeted with the iconic hum and crackle of an energy weapon readying to fire. He registered the drone's presence, and the meaning of the noise, just in time to shriek in fear and jump back. The immovable object that was Dante stopped his retreat and he fell to the ground as a bolt of energy whipped down the hallway and burst against the wall Bren attempted to hide behind. Melted slag dripped from the grav-ball sized chunk missing from the wall.

Bren scuttled on all fours like a terrified child and rushed to the other side of the intersection. They heard the low thrum of grav-plates as the drone moved toward the intersection the team used as cover. Dante pressed his back against the wall, heedless of the molten metal cooling next to him, and waited until the sound of the grav-plates was closer.

In one fluid motion Dante ducked around the corner, raised his massive shotgun, and severed the top half of the drone with a deafening shot before quickly seeking refuge behind the corner again. The disabled drone continued to propel forward under its previous momentum and slammed into the wall in a fantastic display of sparks and expensive electronics before it ground to a halt and powered down.

"What the heck was that?" Bren asked, his heart still racing from almost being vaporized.

"They must have activated the compound's defense systems," Apate replied.

"You gotta be floppin' kidding me," Bren said.

"Until we are all cured, or rather cleansed, of the parasite this facility sees us as a threat. Fortunately, if we get to the security bay I can turn off the drones," Apate said.

None of them felt like she was trustworthy at this point, and her sudden eagerness to go deeper into the fray only added to their suspicions.

"Why didn't they try an'kill us before?" Alistair asked as he readied his weapons.

"Perhaps it took that long for you to contract the parasite, how should I know?"

Before anyone argued, the hum and crackle of another energy weapon interrupted their conversation. Everyone dived in opposite directions as the energy bolt screamed down the hall toward them from a new drone. The surrounding air tasted tangy and metallic as it ionized. A second drone rounded the corner at the far end of the hall and flanked the team, forcing them to run down the middle hall back to where the original drone had attacked.

As the first new drone rounded the corner, Dante twisted at the waist, still running forward, and fired from his hip to hit the oncoming drone and send it spinning into a nearby wall. The second drone changed course to avoid its whirling counterpart, a low hum swelling as a shot charged and fired down the hall toward them.

Dante saw the shot coming and turned to shove all three of the other team members to either side of the hall as he ducked just in time for the energy bolt to crackle past his head. Bren and Alistair both fell awkwardly from the shove, but Apate's finesse allowed her to turn and fire her weapon at the oncoming drone. Everyone could smell the singed hairs on Dante's head.

Despite the impressive rate of fire, all Apate's weapon did was chip glossy white paint and disable some of the more delicate and expensive looking electronics. The drone still functioned and bore down on them thanks to improved armor compared to the surgical drones. Dante rolled over onto his back and fired a massive shotgun round into the drone's underside. He hit it center mass and carved a hole through the middle that allowed everyone to see right through it.

The drone collided into the ground, its metal fuselage screeching as it bounced across the floor and toppled over before turning to slag. A third drone appeared from the smoke and fired an energy bolt that exploded against a nearby vending machine. Coolant gushed out across the floor and drowned the area in a cool fog, effectively blocking the line of sight to and from the new drone. The team scrambled to their feet as Alistair drew his torch sword and released the fuel switch. A flick from his thumb was all it took to engulf his hand in flames. A quick turn of the dial focused the flame to a crisp white-hot blade that hissed as it devoured oxygen.

Sprinting for their lives, the team continued down the hall unaware that Alistair stayed behind. Grav-plates strained to maintain control of the drone as it rounded the corner after them. A shower of sparks and flame filled the hallway as Alistair bisected the robot with his fiery weapon. The bottom half of the drone attached to the grav-plates separated from the top half with all its navigation sensors and collided into a nearby wall as the top half slammed into the ground, bolts and electronics shooting out like shrapnel.

Alistair took a deep breath and gazed into the flaming metal long enough to notice two more drones coming down the hall after them with their weapons humming into a crescendo.

"Down!" he yelled as he threw himself to the ground. Two energy bolts erupted from the drones and careened down the hall towards the team. Dante saw Apate and Bren hit the deck and looked back just in time for the searing bolt to whip past his face. It scalded his flesh and burned the hair of his beard along with melting some of his shoulder plate.

Dante gritted his teeth in agony and stopped in his tracks. He turned toward the cause of his pain and charged the oncoming drones with savage ferocity. He thundered passed Alistair and crossed the distance to the drones in a few vehement steps. Like a battering ram to a fragile light bulb, Dante rammed his massive fist into the lead drone and crushed it into the ground with a satisfying crunch. An impact like that would have shattered every bone in a normal man's hand and left the drone unscathed. Dante was not a normal man. His knuckles cracked as the nitrogen bubbles between his titanium laced bones popped. His skin tore slightly and blood welled up between the cracks only to coagulate almost instantly.

The metal of the drone crumpled like wet cardboard under his fury and his second fist came smashing down onto the disabled drone for good measure. Dante grabbed the heap of scrap metal that was once a drone and hurled it at the second drone with a grunt, knocking it off its course just in time to redirect its next deadly shot into the wall. Metal shrieked as the drone smashed into the ground and Dante leaped onto it. He tore out the most expensive looking equipment first in a fit of blind rage from receiving such a close shave.

Another shot tore down the hall over Dante's shoulder that came from the direction he had ran from. Dante looked up in time to see Bren, Alistair, and Apate run past him, all blind firing over their shoulders. A large energy cannon wielding drone flanked by two surgical drones blocked their previous escape. Dante shoved the fallen drones together in the middle of the hallway and ran. Both of the oncoming surgical drones floated over the debris but it forced the larger gun drone to change course, turning down the hall and moving out of sight.

"Hey guys, it'd be really swell if we could turn these off," Bren yelled.

"Follow me!" Apate shouted as she picked up her pace and sprinted through a set of doors while the three men struggled to keep up. The whirring of saw blades got louder as they ran and Bren risked a look over his shoulder to gauge how long they had before they would need to confront the oncoming drones.

Not more than a couple of arm's lengths away, the drones barreled down on the team with cold efficiency. Exhausted and fed up with running, Bren planted his feet and turned toward the drones. He aimed one arm at each oncoming drone and fired his forearm-mounted harpoons. Both harpoons sailed through the air and headed toward their marks, the electric chains snaking behind them. A faint grin pulled at Bren's cheeks as he imagined the impending explosion of his harpoons impaling their targets and frying the internal circuitry. His grin faded as the drones nimbly darted up and away from the oncoming harpoons, which caused them to extend their full length down the hall without purchase. Both drones activated their impromptu weapons and converged toward him intending to kill.

Bren activated the winches in his forearms and rolled forward under the swooping saw blades, careful to keep his arms wide so the chains didn't cross mid retraction. The harpoons locked back into their housings, and Bren turned to fire once more at the drones. A puff of smoke ejected from his forearms as the internal combustion device launched the spearheads forward. This time he nailed both drones square from behind as they passed him and tried to attack the rest of the team. He howled in surprise as the shock batteries in his forearms overloaded, sending a ripple of electric feedback from the drones and up his arms as the electric pulse generator shorted out. Bren jerked his arms and brought the chase to an abrupt end. He watched with a satisfied grin as the drones fell out of the air and slammed into the ground with about as much grace as Dante in a ballet class.

Damaged but not destroyed, the drones wobbled as they floated up and turned back toward Bren to resume their charge, flying over each other and accidentally crossing the attached chains in the process. Bren activated the winches in his arms, which were thankfully on a separate circuit than his pulse generator, and waited for the slack to tighten up before giving another violent jerk. The crossed chains sucked both drones together and resulted in a horrid screech of torn metal as the whirling blades of each robot hacked into the other after falling out of their flight path. Opposite trajectories of each drone twisted the chains further and forced them back to the ground in a mess of metal.

Bren lifted his boot to stop the oncoming debris and tore his harpoons from the downed drones just in time to hear the hum and buzz of an energy weapon behind him. He dove over the sparking drones and narrowly dodged an energy bolt aimed at his back. A quick pivot later secured his footing and gave him the momentum to sprint to the rest of the team as they passed through a destroyed lab.

Another searing bolt screamed down the hall and turned an overturned desk to slag. Bren jumped over it, careful to avoid the white hot metal as he struggled to close the distance between him and the rest of the team. Apate ran into a stairwell and jumped over the railing at the top. She fell past two flights of stairs and landed on her feet with effortless grace. Dante entered the stairwell and hurled his body over the rail. Floor tiles cracked as he landed. Alistair gauged the drop.

"Oh frak that," he muttered, choosing to take the stairs instead with Bren following at his heels. At the bottom of the stairwell Alistair heard the energy weapon charging above him. With only a short distance left, he hoped there would be enough time to escape. He heard the weapon discharge behind him and hurled his body down the last few steps just as they melted from the energy blast. Bren fell through the resulting hole and collided chest first with the rim of the vaporized stairs. He landed flat on his back at the bottom of the stairwell and gasped for air. Alistair noticed that Bren was no longer running behind him. He looked back and wasn't sure if he had enough time to close the distance and pull Bren away without getting incinerated.

That moment of hesitation gave Bren enough time to fire a harpoon across the room and plunge the chained spike into the far wall. A quick activation of the harpoon's winch yanked Bren out of another energy bolt's trajectory and his armor scraped across the floor in a shower of sparks. Bren tugged his harpoon out of the wall, picked himself up and darted out of the stairwell with Alistair. A bead of sweat sizzled as it fell onto the back of his armor where friction had heated it up.

The energy gun-wielding drone was either unable to descend the stairs or had been programmed not to try because it waited at the threshold for another threat to present itself, weapons and sensors searching for a target.

The hallways in the lower level were much more industrial than the clinical white ones above. Concrete from floor to ceiling, exposed wiring and air ducts mixed with harsh pools of light from wall sconces created a stark contrast to their previous surroundings. Dante and Apate ran ahead as Bren and Alistair stepped into a long spacious hallway. It was so massive it could have been the spine of the entire complex. At the end of the hall Alistair could just barely make out the words 'Security Bay' on the holo-display above a door. Alistair and Bren booked it as fast as their legs would carry them to close the distance.

Apate approached the door and punched in a code, wondering if it would even work since she had been gone so long. It didn't.

"Need a key?" Dante asked as he revved his chainsaw bayonet.

"I've already got one," she said as she began searching through the pouches at her hip. Apate used the butt of her pistol to smash the faceplate of the security pad open as she pulled out her digi-key. She yanked a wire from the digi-key and plugged it into the security pad. The screen filled with numbers and a series of notched cylinders that looked like they could fit together if manipulated properly.

Visibly deflated, Dante turned as four surgical drones poked out of various hallways and split up to pursue the team at either end of the facility spine. Dante raised his shotgun to blast the surgical drones out of the way, but with Bren and Alistair closing in he wasn't sure they wouldn't take some of the blast as well. Both Bren and Alistair shared this fear, and violently shook their heads and hands in dissent as Dante's shotgun leveled in their direction. Instead, Dante flicked the switch for his chainsaw bayonet and revved it as he advanced toward the two oncoming surgical drones. Hopefully, he could buy Apate more time. Bren and Alistair simultaneously let out a breath of relief once Dante pointed his gun away from them. That moment was short lived once the two surgical drones heading in their direction activated their surgical saws.

Alistair hit the ignition on his torch sword and adjusted the dial, concentrating the flame to a white-hot blade once more as he held his opposite hand out and gestured at Bren to keep his distance. Twin saw blades swirled on their bearings and separated on tiny arms intending to decapitate Alistair before he could swing. A sidestep followed by a quick thrust upwards dissected the first oncoming drone vertically and forced Bren to jump over a saw blade falling in the path of his shins.

The second drone dodged Alistair's back swing and slashed with a mass of scalpels in the shape of a hand. It scored fine grooves into Alistair's armor and sliced open fabric and skin in the gaps where armor was foregone to allow movement. A hiss of pain escaped his lips. Alistair hacked toward the second drone, his torch sword roaring through the air and chewing up oxygen but unable to find purchase. Bren wanted to join the melee but a reckless swing from the torch sword would maim him into uselessness or possibly kill him. Forced to just watch the skirmish in front of him, Bren glanced back at Dante as he shredded one of the attacking drones in a spray of sparks and metal fragments. Dante's hungry and enraged visage loosened Bren's bowels momentarily, and he thanked the gods for allowing Dante to be his ally.

With a glance back to Alistair, Bren watched as the drone tried to maneuver past the flaming weapon flicking through the air toward it. Alistair squared off with the drone at each movement, waiting for the AI to over commit and give him an opportunity to destroy it. A buzz and crackle rumbled over Bren's shoulder. A second quick glance confirmed that another energy gun-wielding drone had found them.

"Crap, do these things ever end?" Bren shouted. He ran full tilt down the hall away from the charging weapon. He ducked his head as he ran under the drone Alistair fought and hoped to everything holy that Alistair didn't choose that moment to swing. Air hissed as an energy bolt barked from the new drone's weapon and flew down the hall. It impacted with the surgical drone Alistair was fighting and sent a mess of molten metal and energy careening out from the drone.

Alistair shielded his face with a forearm in time to protect his eyes from any of the searing shrapnel but he still took a bit of superficial damage to his skin and armor. The blast knocked Alistair against the wall and Bren to the floor. Both men barely had enough time to scramble to their feet before another charge loosed itself down the hall toward them.

Dante noticed the bright flash from the first impact and grabbed the remaining drone with both hands. He ignored the lacerations as the scalpel hands tore into his forearms. Like an angry discus thrower, Dante hurled the drone down the hall and into the oncoming energy bolt.

"It's open!" Apate shouted down the corridor as she slipped inside the security bay door. Her three compatriots used their last reserves of endurance to follow her.

They heard the buzz and crackle of another shot readying itself as they ran through the threshold of the security bay. Alistair slammed a button to force the door closed and the two sides hissed together as an energy bolt whipped down the hallway. Their eardrums almost burst as the shot impacted against the closing door. The outer layer turned to slag and made the inner layer of the door glow red-hot.

"We don't have much time!" Dante shouted, leveling his shotgun at the glowing door as Apate pressed the controls at a nearby computer console, frantically trying to disable the security drones.

Close enough to hear the buzz and crackle of another shot charging, the rest of the team braced for the impending slag implosion. They pointed their weapons at the glowing door. Sweat stung their eyes and the minor flesh wounds everyone had endured. Their hearts pounded in their chests and threatened to explode. Their lungs ached with exhaustion. Gaining steadily in pitch, the buzz and crackle left everyone's nerves screaming in anticipation. Any moment now the door would erupt in molten metal and there was nothing they could do about it. Then, much to their disbelief, the pitch slowly wound down. Everyone held their breath and watched the door. A moment later Dante risked a nervous glance over his shoulder at Apate.

"They're disabled," she said as she slumped into a nearby chair and brushed the hair out of her eyes.

All three men relaxed their weapons. Bren collapsed to the floor, Alistair leaned against a wall and Dante just stood there, his enhanced and artificial organs supplying him with the oxygen and blood he needed with little effort. Bren pulled open a locker and found some supplies inside.

"Anything good?" Dante asked.

"Eh, some shock rifles," Bren rummaged through the locker, "medi-gel, and it looks like a few power bars."

"No shit?" Dante asked, looking over Bren's shoulder and grabbing the half-empty box from the locker. He immediately ripped a bar open with his teeth and ate it whole. Alistair loaded a medi-gel canister into his dispenser and applied it to his wounds. Dante stuffed another energy bar into his mouth as Bren held up an old issue of Nubile Nymphos and let the centerfold spill out.

"Dayum," he said as he looked the centerfold up and down. The back of his head started beeping, but he was too mesmerized to care. Dante cradled the box of energy bars and took a step back as he stuffed a third bar into his mouth.

"Can I get one of those mate?" Alistair asked.

"There's only three left," Dante said as some crumbs fell from his mouth.

"Great, that's one each," Alistair said, pointing to everyone but Dante. Dante looked hurt.

"C'mon boys, you have to share," Apate said.

"But I'm so much bigger than you all," Dante said.

"You can have mine," Bren said as he thumbed through the magazine. Dante ate another bar before Bren changed his mind and put the box on a table between them. Alistair picked both bars up and tossed one to Apate. Dante sighed and licked his fingers as Alistair peeled open a bar and took a bite. Apate reloaded her weapon as she watched some floating status icons spin in front of them. She pulled out four security cards from a small box on the floor and ran them through an encryptor. She punched in new access codes on a nearby computer.

"Ok, these should give us access to the rest of the facility," she said as she handed a card to each of them.

"Should?" Bren asked, finally pulling his attention away from the magazine.

"I haven't been here for a while, I granted us access to everything I can remember but they may have set new protocols since then, I don't know."

"Good work lass," Alistair said. He took his card and put it in a spare pocket.

"I'll upload a map of the place to all your holo-pads, give me a minute."

Apate worked to get them as much information as possible. They all hoped the rest of the mission would be less life threatening than what they had endured up till now. With the security system turned off and complete access to the facility, it looked like their problems were solved. The team sat in silence while Apate worked, tending to their wounds and gear. The silence was quickly broken as the collective scream of hundreds of mutated animals roared through the facility, so loud that even in a locked room in the basement there was no question what the sound was.

Wide eyed and horrified, Bren looked over to Apate and shuddered.

"You let them out?"
Chapter X

"It must be some mistake. I never opened the doors in that wing. I didn't open any doors, I just gave us access to them," Apate stammered as she checked the monitors frantically for what could have possibly gone wrong. Flashing icons poured into the hallways and turned into a mass of blinking red. They stared in disbelief as the floating display in front of them exploded with warning messages. It didn't take long before it was impossible to distinguish specific icons.

"What is your problem? First you 'forget' to tell us about working for this facility, then you fail to mention that you are trying to save your kid instead of help us complete the mission and get out of here alive, and now you are actively trying to get us killed?" Bren roared as he watered the seeds of distrust Apate had planted. "How did you even get accepted for this mission? Wasn't your name in a 'do-not-let-this-crazy-chick-enter' list or something?"

Apate remained silent for a moment as she struggled to focus on what could have gone wrong and how she could fix it. She met Bren's accusatory glare with stoicism and tried to forget that her former colleagues had left her for dead, and probably erased her and her family from any formal documents to cover their tracks.

"It was a mistake," she said in the calmest tone she could manage, hoping Bren wouldn't go off on another tirade. Both Dante and Alistair exchanged nervous glances.

"Mistake or not, the fact remains those creatures are loose. We need to move. Now," Dante said, his voice no more alarmed than if he were ordering a meal at a cheap insta-food joint.

"Agreed, let's get on with it," Alistair said as he lifted his weapons in preparation.

"Fine. How do we get to the data banks?" Bren asked.

"We might be able to get what we need in the lab we found those women in," Apate said as she stood up from the console. Dante and Alistair grumbled. Apate looked around and wondered how to buy herself some trust. It would not be easy, but maybe if she kept them alive long enough to reach the main lab they would trust her enough to not let her get eaten alive by the mutant monstrosities en route to their position.

"They are in the main lab. All of their research passes through there at some point before being backed up in the data banks. It's entirely possible that they have information in that lab that hasn't been backed up, assuming they can even still make backups to the server," she explained. None of the men seemed convinced. "They will also have supplies in there and I know for a fact I'm almost out. What about you? Do we have any medi-gel left?"

Everyone patted down their pockets, gear and holsters. Resources were sparse. Whether or not she had an ulterior motive, Apate was their best chance of getting where they needed to go and getting out alive. Maybe the lifted quarantine was a mistake, and she truly was innocent. They weren't getting any closer to finding answers arguing in the basement of a facility swarming with things trying to kill them.

The team quickly gathered what was left of their belongings and left the security bay. Together they jogged back down the long hallway from whence they came. Everyone hoped that the mutated creatures wouldn't have time to fan out and reach the basement. If they were lucky, they could get to the laboratory that was their next objective unmolested. As they approached an intersection with a sign directing them to the elevator, their spirits rose. A second wind took them and they all moved faster, Apate's promise that the elevator exited close to the main lab fueling their flight. That hope was quickly shattered when a crescendo of scratching claws and enraged howls echoed around them.

"Anybody got a bright idea?" Bren asked as the noises suffocated the hallway. A pair of large mutated dogs jumped out of the stairwell at the end of the hallway. Hungry teeth gnashed and their bodies twitched and convulsed as if there were a separate beast inside each of them fighting to break out of the spiny black carapace encasing it.

Apate fired a burst down the hall and darted left to an adjacent corridor. She didn't bother to watch as her bullets split through the lead dog's spiny armor and ejected a stream of black ichor through its ribs. Alistair curled his lip in disgust and followed Apate around the corner, panting as he struggled to keep up with her lithe gait. The second mutated dog sprung away from its fallen comrade. It eyed the corpse for a moment before turning back to pursue its prey with renewed ferocity. Saliva dripped to the floor as the mutated canine barreled forward and quickly gained on the team while they searched for a way up to the main level.

"Follow her?" Dante suggested as he aimed his shotgun and fired at the second mutated dog. As if it read Dante's mind the creature jumped out of the way and Dante's shot hit the ground.

"Nimbly bimbly little pup, ain't he?" Bren muttered to himself as he picked up the pace to catch up with the others.

Apate made another quick turn and arrived in front of the elevator. She slammed her fist on the wall and mashed the 'up' button as if the harder she hit it the more likely it was to complete its function. A score of creatures fled in from all sides. Dogs, cats, small monkeys, badgers, lizards and a few arachnids all encased in spiny, bone-like armor and were two or three times their normal size.

A bead of sweat stung her eye as Apate looked up at the glowing display, waiting for it to read 'B' for basement and open the doors in front of them. Although their ammunition was low, they had little choice but to take shots at anything they could. It seemed a useless effort to try to slow the tide given the amount of creatures crawling out of every corner and crevice, but to do nothing meant certain death.

With a deafening howl, a carapace armored spider monkey jumped off a canine in front of it and latched on to Dante's shoulder. It clawed at Dante's neck and its fangs dug into his flesh as it gnawed furiously. Dante looked at the creature as if it were a stain on his shirt and swatted it away. His brute strength sent the monkey careening through the air. It crunched against a wall and fell to the floor with a limp thud.

Two more took its place, and a large lizard-like creature crawled up his leg. Dante smashed the lizard's face in with the butt of his shotgun and lowered the barrel down to finish the creature. He was rewarded with the click of a dry fire instead of a spray of gore. He patted his ammo pockets and fingered the hollow grooves in his ammo bandolier, swatting the mutated monkeys away. "I'm empty!" he shouted, instead using his shotgun as an impromptu club to keep the horde at bay.

Alistair and Bren had similar trouble as the confined space and proximity of so many creatures made it difficult to use their weapons freely. This forced them to use more vicious melee methods instead. Bren took a bad scratch to the face that split open his cheek and almost gouged out his eye before he threw the offending creature down and stomped it into a puddle of bony meat and viscera.

A scorpion-like creature with a long tail barb impaled Alistair's leg. He screamed in both pain and rage as the venom-filled barb punched clean through his leg and oozed toxins out onto his armor. This agony was followed by the horrific weight of a large bird as it slammed into him from behind and knocked him to the ground. The fall caused the impaled barb to break off in his flesh, still pumping venom but thankfully onto his armor and not into his bloodstream.

Apate fired a few bursts into nearby creatures as she bobbed and weaved through the attacking horde with much more finesse than any of the men. She did her best to keep the largest threats at bay so they could handle the smaller ones that broke through her defensive fire. Bren stooped down to help Alistair up, squinting through his own blood as the furious melee consumed them. He blindly stabbed his harpooned fist at anything that got close enough and hoped it wasn't one of their crew.

With an anticlimactic chime, the elevator doors opened and Apate dipped inside. "Come on!" she shouted, holding down the button to keep the doors open as she fired small bursts at anything that tried to get inside the elevator.

Dante roared in frustration as he flipped a creature off his back and slammed it into the floor. Its spine cracked in several places. He then started grabbing the creatures he had killed, ignoring the lacerations to his hands from their spiny growths, and hurled them at the remaining creatures like spiky murder balls. It worked better than anyone expected. The corpses of their assailants impaled the attacking creatures. Bren hooked one arm under Alistair's shoulder and used his free hand to punch back whatever got close enough. Once inside the elevator, Dante kicked a mutant cat down the hall and stepped in after them.

Talons and spiny limbs poked into the narrowing space as the elevator doors shut. A quick boot from Dante or a stab from Bren forced them out with furious shrieks. The safety mechanism on the doors that prevented them from closing on a tardy scientist or the arm of a polite colleague kept forcing the doors open before Apate had time to override them. This caused the whole ordeal to drag on much longer than anyone wanted. Bit by bit, the doors closed before finally sealing shut.

The whole crew struggled to catch their breath, apart from Dante who's enhanced lungs didn't seem bothered by the effort.

"We don't have much time, its only one floor," Apate said as she reloaded her weapon.

"There's gonna be another horde when those doors open," Bren said. He used a grimy sleeve to try to clear the blood from his eye while not tearing his own flayed flesh any more. Alistair gritted his teeth and tried to push the barb through his dense thigh meat, but the pain was too crippling. "He's gonna need a band-aid pretty soon," Bren said with a wry grin.

"You guys ever watch Dead Man Walking?" Dante asked as he moved to the middle of the elevator and pressed his back against the wall.

Bren blinked at the seemingly random question. "That holo you did with Aphrodite Summers? The one about an evil corporation that created a regenerative medication that accidentally turned people into zombies?" Bren asked.

"That's the one," Dante confirmed. "Remember the scene where I ran out of that burning building with all those zombies on the outside?"

"Yeah, that was awesome!" Bren began before the light bulb clicked on, "Oh. OH!" Bren picked up and shouldered Alistair despite his groans of protest.

"What is he talking about?" Apate asked. The doors cracked open and a seething mass of angry, spiked monstrosities started to claw their way in.

Dante let out a roar that could have shattered concrete before he lowered his shoulder and barreled through the opening passageway. Beneath his feet he crushed anything that wasn't rocketed aside by his flailing arms.

"Get that butt moving!" Bren yelled as he struggled to carry Alistair through the gory path left in Dante's wake. It didn't take long before Apate realized the plan and stooped to help shoulder Alistair. Together they ran after Dante.

Alistair's eyes widened as the monstrous form of a gorilla, mutated and perverted from its normal shape, lumbered around a corner ahead of Dante.

"This way!" Apate shouted as she helped Bren carry Alistair left down a corridor. Dante was busy pummeling every living thing within his reach and suffered a plethora of lacerations for his effort. Most of the mutated animals had set their focus on Dante by this point, which made sense since he was the largest and most audible threat. This gave the other three members of the team precious seconds to reach a door that led to the back of the laboratory where the female scientists were hiding.

Dante spotted the mutant gorilla and bellowed out a challenging war cry that could have voided the bowels of a Mezotanian eviscerator wyrm. The mutated gorilla turned to face him. It had enough time to beat its spiny chest once to accept the challenge before it was hurled down the hall by a massive brick of genehanced and enraged man. Dante certainly had a flair for the dramatic.

Apate snatched her security card from its home on her vest and buzzed them into the laboratory, dragging Alistair in with Bren's help. The doors shut behind them.

"We can't leave him out there," Alistair groaned. His leg was drenched in his own blood and slathered with venom. His eyes darted around lazily before drooping shut. Apate slapped him, hard. They fluttered back open, and he gave her an appreciative nod.

"Get him patched up," Bren said. He pushed the wall pad to exit the lab and entered back into the chaos beyond.

"Thanks for helping! Ass."

Apate rifled through some nearby drawers and looked for any supplies to help extract the barb lodged in Alistair's leg so she could better tend to the wound.

A door across the room opened and two women wielding shock rifles entered. The weapons wobbled as they looked around the room. They spotted Apate. Either unaware or unfazed, Apate kept looking for tools and supplies to help Alistair, who watched helplessly as the two makeshift soldiers closed in. He wanted to warn her but was too weak from blood loss and it took all his effort to just stay awake.

"Stop Apate, we'll shoot!" one of the women stammered. It sounded like she was trying to convince herself that she had the courage to follow through with her threat.

Apate ignored them.

They advanced and stood less than a few steps away, trigger fingers twitching. "Apate, we will fire!" the other woman shouted, with little more conviction than her partner. Apate turned and looked her in the eye.

"That man over there is dying. If you want to shoot me then do it, otherwise stay the hell out of my way," she said. She grabbed a kit of medi-gels from a cupboard and headed back over to Alistair. She kneeled down and pulled out a syringe of yellow gel, held it up to the light, and shook it for a moment to examine its quality. She then jabbed it into the wound caused by the broken barb. Only one of his eyes was barely cracked open, but Alistair did his best to stay awake during the process. It was made a lot easier when Apate started hacking at the barb with a surgical saw. The sawing motion caused the barb to shift and rotate slightly inside Alistair's leg at very uncomfortable angles. She shot him an apologetic look but continued to work.

She applied another type of gel, this one blue, and waited a moment for it to take effect. Poking the damaged flesh with her finger, Apate confirmed that the painkiller was working since Alistair didn't shout in agony or smack her in response.

"Probably should have done that sooner," she muttered to herself.

With a pair of thin forceps she removed the barb. The two women, who were supposed to be security guards, watched over her shoulder. A cacophony of wails and growls echoed from out in the hall, mixed with noises of exertion from Dante and Bren's vicious melee.

"Are they going to be all right?" one of the women asked, more to herself than anyone in particular.

"I don't know," Apate admitted as she focused on the removal of the barb. Gobbets of flesh tore out with the barb as Apate pulled. The second woman on security detail stooped down, holding out her hand to stop the procedure.

"Flip over," she said.

Alistair gave a wary glance to Apate, who returned an assuring nod. Despite his body's protests, he rolled onto his stomach and looked over his shoulder as the second woman pulled the barb out from that side, relieved to watch it slide rather effortlessly and with no excess flesh torn out. She grabbed a syringe of green gel and liberally applied it to the meaty hole. They watched as the gel quickly swelled and closed his wound.

"Security team, report," a voice sounded from a radio at the shoulder of both security women. They looked at each other.

The one still standing turned her head toward the radio and activated it, "Stand by," she said, shrugging to her partner.

Alistair was already looking better as the cocktail of painkillers and regenerative gel worked its chemical magic. Apate cleaned up the tools she used and threw away the gel canisters, a practice that seemed less than important at the time but habits were habits. After cleaning up the area she helped Alistair stand up and sit on an exam table.

Apate turned on her heel and strode purposefully out of the small sub-lab and into the main lab. There were close to fifty women in various states of dishevelment. Some still looked clean and unbothered while others were lying on makeshift beds as someone tended to their wounds. Apate stood for a moment and scanned the faces of all women present. Their eyes quickly turned to her and they panicked, amplified more so when Apate raised her gun.

A sudden collective gasp followed by shouts of fear alerted Eris Malliny to the danger behind her. This afforded her just enough time to turn and see the muzzle flash as a burst of bullets nested into her skull. Her body fell to the floor like a puppet with cut strings and a spray of blood from the exit wounds splashed against the wall behind her.

Apate strode over and held down the trigger. Burst after burst tore into the body as onlookers cowered in fear and tried to find cover. In one smooth motion, Apate ejected her magazine and replaced it with a fresh one. She emptied the new magazine into the corpse as well. The vicious onslaught showered the surrounding area in blood and small particles of flesh. A light haze formed around her from the smoke of spent shells.

The entire laboratory watched in horror as Apate emptied both magazines into the body of their former boss. Once the firing ceased, and their ears adjusted to the silence, everyone heard a faint sniffling. Apate took a moment to reload her gun again before slinging it over her shoulder. She then turned to the rest of the lab, squinting through her tears. "Where is my son?"

No one spoke.

"Where. Is. My. Son," she repeated in a voice that made absolute zero seem tropical.

There was a moment of silence before someone in the corner dared to speak, her strangled words barely forming a murmur. Apate turned toward the voice but couldn't identify the speaker.

Despite her knees' protest to the contrary, the woman who spoke stood up from behind a bank of monitors and repeated herself. "He's in the chem lab," she said, struggling to keep her fear at bay. Alistair, flanked by the impromptu security team, limped into the room and took in the scene.

"Is he alive?" Apate asked.

The woman who spoke nodded.

"We have a live feed of the laboratory if you'd like to-" she began but Apate had already covered the distance between them and was looking over her shoulder at the bank of monitors.

Her eyes once again filled with tears as she reached out and touched the screen where her child was displayed. He was in a hermetically sealed incubation chamber festooned with wires and tubes that were both giving and taking necessary fluids and gasses. "We are synthesizing an antidote from his blood," the woman continued.

"Stop it," Apate said, her voice dead and hollow. The woman at the monitors next to her tried to figure out how to say 'No' without getting shot. Apate did not appreciate her hesitation. "Stop it. Now," she said.

"Apate, you know very well we can't do that," another woman spoke from across the room. She stepped forward, mustering more courage than the rest of the room seemed to give her credit for if their shocked faces were anything to go by. "When we asked the corporation for help, I didn't expect them to send you. Not after what happened. And quite frankly, I think the way you are handling this situation is both irresponsible and reprehensible," the woman added. A name tag pinned to her coat identified her as Dr. Vilmonroe, Dr. Malliny's second in command.

The entire room held their collective breath. Everyone exchanged nervous glances, at least anyone who had the courage to move a muscle or tendon that wasn't busy keeping absolutely still. Muffled sounds of mutated creatures attempting to disembowel Bren and Dante echoed from outside the walls. Apate forced her eyes from the console and glared at the woman. Dr. Vilmonroe cleared her throat and continued.

"The fact that you have returned here, interrupted our research, disabled our defenses, released the infected specimens, and killed our lead scientist all for some immature vendetta is a clear indication of why we took you off this project in the first place."

"You stole my family and tried to kill me!" Apate screamed, her voice cracking.

"We confiscated your child to save the lives of millions of people on this planet. The life of your child, though valued by all of us, is not worth the destruction of an entire planet Apate, and you know that," she said.

No sooner had the words left her mouth Apate drew her gun and crossed the distance. She placed the still warm barrel on Dr. Vilmonroe's forehead.

Apate gritted her teeth and twisted the weapon against Dr. Vilmonroe's skin. She then took a deep breath and spoke. "I didn't release the infected specimens, at least not intentionally. The only reason I disabled the security system was because we would have died otherwise. Things spiraled out of control long ago, me being here is just bringing that all to a head. And I will not leave without my son."

"We can't let him leave until we retrieve the synthesized antidote and test-"

Apate's expression hardened once more, her voice quivering with rage. "You've already synthesized a cure?"

"We've been unable to retrieve it since the security system still sees us as infected, and once you shut it down the mutants got out. We haven't tested it yet, we aren't sure if it will actually-"

"I don't care if it hasn't been tested. I don't care if everyone on the planet turns into one of those things or gets killed by one. I don't care. All I care about is getting my son back and keeping him safe. This place has taken everything from me. My husband, my son, and my life are all gone and I just want to salvage what I can."

"You would doom an entire planet to extinction for your own selfish reasons?" Dr. Vilmonroe asked.

"If it were your child, wouldn't you?" Apate asked. Dr. Vilmonroe stared into Apate's eyes for a moment. Her lip quivered, and she looked away. Apate lowered her weapon and slung it along her back. If anyone would have sacrificed their child in her position, they didn't say so. Apate walked over to the monitor for another look at her son.

"Which lab is this?" Apate asked.

"Dr. Vilmonroe!" A voice shouted, running out of a side room. Dr. Vilmonroe turned to acknowledge the voice. Terrified and out of breath, the woman ran over to Dr. Vilmonroe and said, "Someone opened up the experimental labs."

Dr. Vilmonroe blanched.

"Oh gods, that means..." she began, but was quickly interrupted by the beep of a security card unlocking the door at the far end of the room and a hiss as the door slid open. A shrieking roar bellowed from outside.

"Dinosaurs!" Bren shouted as he skewered a winged reptilian creature out of the air before following a blood-soaked Dante through the door.

"He ain't kidding," Dante panted. Apate made the horrible realization that Dante, of all people, was breathing heavily. The man who had torn off a double-reinforced security door like it was a band-aid, the man who had shrugged off massive wounds that would have killed any other, the man who just bull rushed into a horde of mutated horrors without breaking a sweat was now out of breath. Things were bad. Very, very bad.

"They aren't dinosaurs. Not strictly speaking," Dr. Vilmonroe chimed in.

"Well, whatever they are, they are big and angry. Bigger and angrier than most of the big angry crap out there," Bren said. He pulled a nearby desk in front of the door, for what good it would do.

"Yeah, we were doing fine until Dr. Hammond got involved," Dante said, lifting a much larger desk with less effort.

"How do you know Dr. Hammond?" Dr. Vilmonroe asked, clearly astonished.

"There's an actual Dr. Hammond responsible for this? I was jok-"

"We don't have time for this," Apate said as she tried to get control of the room again. Unfortunately for her, the women recognized Dante and whispered to each other about their favorite holo-films in which he starred. Dante seemed unaware of the effect he was having on the room, much to Apate's unspoken relief. "Ok, well you are all safe in here. We will go out the back entrance and make our way to the lab where my son is being held."

"With all due respect love, we're not here t'rescue your son. We're here for th'files. Don't forget that," Alistair said. The painkillers and regenerative gel had worked well enough for him to stand on his own now. Apate shot him a betrayed look. "Don't worry, we'll still get him but we have to stay focused and accomplish the mission while we are at it," he added.

"Yeah, there is no way I'm not getting paid for this," Bren said, eyeing some surgical equipment nearby. Apate nodded and patted her pockets.

"I seem to have lost the drive they gave me, do one of you still have one?" she asked.

"Yeah, hold on," Alistair said as he pulled out several pieces of a destroyed hard drive from a pocket on his leg, "scratch that."

"Let me check," Dante said, reaching inside his armored vest. He pulled out a drive about the size of a pack of cigarettes and handed it to Apate after wiping it on his leg to remove the sweat.

Apate sat down at Dr. Malliny's computer and began transferring files. She was grateful that the system was already logged in and she didn't have to bypass any security measures. A blinking window at the bottom of the screen caught her eye. She enlarged it and discovered that the facility's quarantine lock down had been lifted seconds after she terminated the defensive drones. In the log to her right was a timestamp and username for the person who authorized the quarantine lift. Dr. Malliny had done it herself.

"Frakking bitch," Apate muttered under her breath as she plugged in the hard drive and copied the files. A status bar told her that the file transfer would take about twenty minutes.

Bren requisitioned the services of a nearby surgeon to help detach the bomb from his skull, despite her recommendation to the contrary. He sat on a nearby table and let the surgeon get to work. Alistair took the time to look around for food, bullets, fuel, medi-gel, or anything else he could find to replenish their stores. Fortunately, these women had the foresight to grab as many provisions and survival items as possible before locking themselves inside the lab, so Alistair had plenty of things to pick from.

He replenished some of their ammunition and grabbed a few of the more fast acting medical supplies, in addition to some protein bars and Hyperade. Dante's grinning mug was on some of the bottles.

With less than five minutes left on the file transfer the lights flickered and slowly dimmed, eventually turning off with the rest of the electrical appliances in the area. It also killed the data transfer. A moment later auxiliary lighting turned on but panic had already spread.

"What happened?" Dante asked.

"I don't know," Apate said.

"This place really sucks. I just want to get that out there," Bren said.

"It looks like something destroyed the main power supply. Backup generators should keep the lights on but I'm not sure about-"

The door to their sanctuary rattled and cracked open. Long black claws curled around the gap and feral screams grew louder as the creatures forced their way in.
Chapter XI

The gap between the door and threshold was quickly widening as black spiny talons and gnashing teeth squeezed through. Panic spread instantly. Some women went into nearby offices and barricaded them shut while others hid under desks or ran to the back laboratory toward the second exit. Anything to make them feel like they had hope for survival.

Displaying courage no one else felt, Dante squared off with the widening door, grabbed one of the desks he had used to barricade it, and started using it as a colossal club to beat back the limbs clawing their way in. The surgeon helping Bren detach his cranial bomb dropped her tools and ran.

"Oh c'mon it's almost off! Son of a bitch," Bren shouted. The bomb started beeping. "Yeah, yeah I know you stupid piece of-"

"What's your backup plan if this room is compromised?" Apate asked Dr. Vilmonroe.

"This is the backup plan," she replied.

"You don't have another place to fall back to? Somewhere to hide or defend yourselves?"

"That's what we were doing before you showed up!"

Apate bit her lip and tried to think. With their refuge compromised, they were all destined for a painful, gruesome death and everyone knew it.

"All right, everyone move to th'back of the lab. Try to remain calm and grab any supplies y'can carry with you," Alistair said as he ushered panicked women through the lab.

It probably wouldn't save them, but at least it gave them purpose and kept everyone moving in one direction.

Dr. Vilmonroe and Apate retreated to the back laboratory to discuss how Apate would find her child and recover the data necessary to create an antidote given this most recent unlucky turn of events. Bren was frustrated and in searing pain from the incisions made around his scalp to remove the cranial bomb. Then he got an idea. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea but it was an idea.

"Dante, move!"

Dante looked back at him and dropped the desk he was using as a club as Bren ripped the cranial bomb from his skull and threw it, along with a generous amount of his scalp, at the doorway. Bren's agonized scream covered the steady increase in beeping that warned the wearer it was about to explode. The bomb landed on top of a desk barricading the door with a wet thud, blinking rapidly before it lit up solid and sounded a high-pitched beep that signaled detonation.

Dante and Bren shielded their eyes for the imminent explosion while everyone else was corralled into the other lab and unaware. They waited. The beasts outside squeezed through the door and tore through the metal desks as if their talons were made of torch swords.

They waited. Dante put the pieces together in his head and scrambled away from the door. He got up and ran for the refuge of the back laboratory. Bren stared at the cranial bomb still attached to a fist-sized chunk of his scalp and winced as the tender nerves screamed behind his head. Hot blood dripped down the back of his neck.

"That bastard!" he shouted. The cranial bomb attached to his skull was just a scare tactic. He was never in any immediate danger, apart maybe from ripping the device from his flesh and the resulting blood loss. "I'm gonna kill that frakker! I am so damned pissed right now," he growled, gritting his teeth against the pain as he slapped some pain gel he had on standby over his seeping wound.

"C'mon chief, we gotta go!" Dante shouted. He stood at the threshold to the back office and waved Bren in. A giant spiny raptor tore through the doorway and sprinted toward Bren, which encouraged him to follow Dante's instructions. Bren ducked under Dante's chainsaw bayonet as it came up and met the pouncing raptor with messy efficiency. Black blood and entrails sprayed everywhere as Dante carved the creature in half. He watched a horde of smaller creatures pour in from where the towering reptilian had entered as two halves of the beast fell away with a splash of thick ichor. Dante ducked into the next lab and shut the door behind him. Alistair stood next to the door with an inferno pistol and started using it like a welding torch to seal the door and buy them a little more time.

"Why didn't you do that before?" Dante asked.

"Jus' thought of it now," Alistair shrugged. Dante shrugged back and used a nearby lab coat to wipe himself clean of gore. Bren grabbed some gauze and wrapped it around his head, making up for all the lost time by saying such vile and insulting things that outer abyss pirates would have blushed. Some of the women present shot him disgusted looks that he ignored.

Alistair continued welding the door as a cacophony of noises assailed it from the other side. Perspiration gathered on his brow, which wasn't unusual given the stressful circumstances and the high heat he was working with, but his face felt increasingly warm. A quick flick of his thumb turned off the inferno pistol. The heat persisted. He took a glove off and put his hand on the door. Heat was being generated from the other side and was only getting hotter.

Apate detailed the route on her holo-pad with Dr. Vilmonroe and tried to ignore the panicked shouts of everyone else in the room. Dante, unable to maim or destroy anything, felt useless. Bren nursed his scalp with a mix of appalling profanity and medi-gel. He glanced over and saw Alistair's growing concern at the door in front of him.

Glowing now, detailed features on the door blurred and changed shape. "It's melting," Alistair shouted, "we have to go."

He was already making his way to the back door.

"What the flying frak did you guys make that is melting the frakking door?" Bren growled.

He didn't receive a straight answer from anyone in particular, but he was certain he heard someone say 'dragon'. That seemed unlikely since the closest drake species was three planets away, but then again the closest form of raptor was a whole system away and they were prancing around like puppies so he wasn't going to take anything for granted. Bren made his way to the back door and prepared to jump from the frying pan and into the fire. He waited with Alistair and Dante as they all looked to Apate, who was getting the last bit of information they needed.

"Please don't leave us in here!" one woman shouted.

"We're going to come back for you, everything will be OK," Dante said.

"What if they get through? Where will we go?"

"Calm down ladies, we've got shit to do," Bren said.

"You're going to leave us?" another woman shouted.

"No. Well, yes, but we're coming back," Dante said.

"Please try to remain calm," Alistair added.

"We're about to be overrun by these things!" the woman said.

Apate turned to leave once she was satisfied with the amount of information she had, but Dr. Vilmonroe grabbed her arm. The senior scientist hesitated. It looked like she was weighing a decision in her head before finally saying, "There's something you should know," just as a large, spiny, four-armed creature slammed through the melting door.

It splashed slag into the room that covered a handful of helpless scientists. Molten metal flicked around the room with each angry movement from the beast, igniting flesh and incinerating bone as it landed on nearby scientists. A mix of terrified screams and bestial shrieks cut off Dr. Vilmonroe's next words. Scientists ran in all directions and were quickly mauled by incoming creatures, a typhoon of blood sprayed out and covered the room in seconds. A hog-like creature bit off one woman's leg at the knee. She fell awkwardly toward her stump and was torn apart by smaller creatures.

Heat poured into the room as a plume of flame spewed through the door. That reminded everyone of the fire-breathing creature in the other room. Apparently it was too large to fit through the space and spat fire in protest. That was a sobering thought considering the door was wide enough for two men Dante's size to stand shoulder to shoulder and still have elbow-room. The slag covered four-armed creature smashed into a metal table and tossed it across the room effortlessly. A multitude of scientist bones broke on impact.

Everyone with a weapon tried to quell the tidal wave of carnage that poured through the melted door frame. Each creature they killed was instantly replaced by several more. It didn't take long to realize they were fighting a losing battle. Apate, Alistair, Dante, and Bren all fired into the horde as they backed toward the rear exit. They pushed through the scientists and slew hideous creatures on their way to the door, desperate to reach the only escape before they were overrun.

Bren was the first to exit the room, even going so far as to toss a woman blocking the door out of his way before he sprinted into the hall. Alistair and Apate followed as Dante helped the woman up. He blasted a spiny raven out of the air and ushered a few people out the door before realizing his own safety would soon be compromised. Dante ducked his massive head and shoulders through the threshold to catch up to his comrades. His gait allowed Dante to close the distance without much effort. He stayed behind a few paces to give them room to use their weapons freely. More women ran out of the lab behind them, screaming for their lives only to get torn limb from limb by the vicious mutants that swarmed them. They were all experienced enough to know a lost cause when they saw one, and self-preservation was higher on their list of priorities than valor.

Leading the retreat, Apate struggled to navigate in the darkened halls. Auxiliary lighting made it possible, and the spears of light coming from salvaged flashlights mounted on their weapons helped, but with all the surrounding commotion it was still difficult to get her bearings and direct them properly. She needed a chance to think and consult her holo-pad without the threat of dismemberment. She shoved open the nearest door and ordered everyone inside.

Condensation dripped down the walls and pooled on the floor. Thick fog limited visibility any further than ten paces. The room felt as though it had been a freezer at some point and was slowly thawing, likely because of the power failure. Cables, wire, and pipes festooned the area. The chaos outside echoed as if in another plane of existence. Dante covered the door with his shotgun and glanced over his shoulder occasionally to keep an eye on things.

Apate was lost in her holo-pad, trying to locate where they were in relation to the lab where her son was held and determine if there was a way to get to the data banks in between. Bren and Alistair fanned out into the room just to make sure they were alone. It was so quiet that they could hear individual condensation droplets hitting the floor. On either side of the room, tucked against the walls, Bren and Alistair found a row of upright cryo-storage tubes.

Entombed inside the storage units were horrifically mutated men, presumably infected male scientists or miners. Each one had a different mutation, but all were covered in that black spiny carapace that encased every other infected creature thus far. One had long, knife-like claws, another had an over sized maw, and still another had inverted knees and massively enlarged legs, an adaptation well suited to jumping and chasing prey.

"Ok, I've got it mapped out, follow me," Apate said. She walked through the fog toward a back door.

"'Ave a look 'ere," Alistair said as he stood in front of what he hoped was a sleeping mutant. Dante and Apate followed his voice to meet him. They both understood what they were looking at.

"Should we kill them?" Dante asked, already leveling his shotgun.

"What if there is a cure?" Apate said. She put her hand out and lowered the barrel of his gun. She knew the man in the cryo unit and didn't want to admit a bias to keeping him alive if possible.

"What if there isn't?" Dante countered.

"I've seen this movie before. If one of these ugly frakkers opens his eyes I'm punching it in the face, I don't even care," Bren said as he walked down the line of cryo-storage units. He looked curiously at the varied monsters within. Towards the end of the row he came upon a pair of open units. He rushed over and examined the area. Flashing red lights on the cryo unit indicated a security failure. A trail of footsteps disappeared into the fog. Bren swung his light up to the next cryo unit and looked inside. His stomach dropped in horror as the monster within squinted against the brightness of his light.

"They're awake!" he shouted.

Everyone turned toward his shout in time to see a giant, bony cleaver slice through the air toward them. They jumped out of the way and the giant cleaver shattered the glass on the cryo-storage unit they were examining. With a tortured grumble, the mutant lifted its giant meat cleaver and rallied for another strike. Black ichor spewed out of the wounded inhabitant of the frozen tomb next to them. As the mutant lifted its weapon into the air they realized that the giant cleaver was actually his arm. The flesh of his fingers had fused together into a solid mass of thick, black bone ridged with spiky protrusions along the top and a sharpened blade on bottom.

Apate ran toward the back of the room and yelled for everyone to follow. Another cryogenic tube opened behind them and sent a hiss of coolant into the air. As she neared the exit, she failed to notice the mutant lurking above the door. Its mutated talons dug into the wall and helped it cling to the sheer surface like a spider. Apate approached the door and lifted her hand to punch the access panel.

Shrieking madly, the creature launched from the ceiling and smashed Apate into the ground. Without hesitation it vomited blood into her face. She tried to scream but choked on the mix of blood and bile. Bren tackled the creature and impaled it with his fist-mounted harpoons, using them like punching spikes to pummel the creature in an adrenaline-fueled rage.

Alistair helped Apate to her feet as Dante rammed his shoulder into the door and ejected it out of the threshold and across the hall with a reverberating clang. Apate did her best to clean herself off and run at the same time, spitting out black ichor as she went. Bren heard a growl over his shoulder and saw the mutant with the meat cleaver arm raise his weapon once more.

"Oh shit!" he said before a quick shoulder roll got him out of the way. The giant cleaver missed Bren and instead hacked into the mutant that had pounced on Apate. Both creatures were equally surprised by this turn of events. By the time the massive creature had removed his cleaver from his fallen ally, Bren was already halfway down the hall running after his comrades. A few of the remaining scientists ran aimlessly around the halls as they attempted to find a hiding spot or an escape route. Anything to survive. Mutated creatures came from all directions. Any attempt at making sense of the chaos while running through the dark was overwhelming. Dante risked a glance over his shoulder and watched Meat Cleaver Arm disembowel a scientist.

The crew's lungs protested every movement with misery as they followed Apate through the dark and blood-soaked halls. Wails of fear and agony filled the area. Animal cries mixed with human shrieks taunted them and the sounds of flesh and bone tearing apart made the already horrible experience that much more nightmarish. Survival was the only motive for every living thing in the facility. It was pure savage anarchy.

They reached a part of the facility that had large windows on the walls, similar to the observation labs at the entrance that allowed a view into the corresponding animal labs. As they ran, Apate searched each of the labs for any sign of her son. A woman ran screaming down a nearby hallway as the mutant with knife claws flayed her to pieces. His guts trailed behind him like toilet paper stuck to a shoe. He didn't seem bothered.

"You've gotta be frakking me," Bren said as the mutant charged them.

Toward the end of the hall Apate stopped dead in her tracks. Her flashlight illuminated the body of a small child in a hermetically sealed chamber. It was Raza. Her eyes welled up with tears, and for a moment she was stunned. Apate ran back toward the door of the laboratory where her son was held captive. Dante stopped her almost immediately.

"No time, c'mon!" he said. She protested, and he was forced to snatch her holo-pad from her hands and throw her over his shoulder to keep moving. Knife Hands sprinted toward them. Apate screamed and beat her fists on Dante's back, but quickly realized that Knife Hands was gaining on them. She drew her gun and held it at an awkward angle given her position. She emptied the weapon down the hall as the creature bobbed and weaved around the cone of fire with remarkable agility.

Dante glanced at the route detailed on her holo-pad and shouted instructions to both Alistair and Bren as they took whatever shots they could at the mutated creatures exiting from surrounding labs. Apate tried to reload her gun but dropped her magazine while bouncing around on Dante's shoulder.

"Put me down, asshole!"

"No time, we'll go back for him."

She grabbed another magazine and slammed it into her weapon just as Knife Hands pounced. She held down the trigger and unloaded it into the beast's face as it flew toward them with extended claws. It could not dodge the shots while in midair, and most of the bullets hit their mark and tore the creature's head apart. Momentum kept the body moving, and it slammed into Dante's back as he ran. He tripped and made an effort to toss Apate forward to avoid landing on her. Dante rolled onto his back and fired a massive slug into the corpse of the monster that hit him, unaware that it was already dead.

Apate stared up at the ceiling, her vision a blur. Something scuttled into her line of sight. She struggled to get her bearings as a massive black spider descended onto her. Eight spiny legs wrapped around her torso and finger length fangs gnashed down at her, dripping with venom. She barely had enough time to bring her forearms up in defense as she struggled to keep the thing at bay.

Dante heard her scream, and looked back. Any shot he took would hit her too. He scrambled to his feet and started down the hallway before footsteps thundered behind him. A glance over his shoulder was all he could manage before the inverted knee creature jumped and pummeled him into the ground. Although his bones were laced with titanium, Dante was positive he felt something in his chest break from the impact. His shotgun was ripped from his grip and slid aside.

Bren loosed a harpoon down the hall and watched it embed into the abdomen of the spider attempting to eat Apate. A quick jerk on the chain tore the creature off of her. He activated the winch in his forearm and gauged the time it would take to reel the creature in. With a grunt he slammed his other spiked fist into the squealing arachnid at the last moment.

"Boom, bitch!" he yelled as the arachnid writhed on his harpoon. Bren's gloating was short lived as the spider wrapped its long bony legs around his chest and pulled him into its dripping fangs. Bren lifted the creature with both arms and slammed it down onto the concrete. It struggled for only a moment before its legs relaxed and he was released from their grip.

Alistair ran down the hall toward Dante, thankful for the steel toe in his boot as he kicked the armored creature in the face before shoving an inferno pistol down its throat and pulling the trigger. It bloated strangely, and the creature's body hissed as heat escaped through the carapace like a boiling crustacean before it crumbled under its own weight. Dante shoved the crispy corpse off of him and wrinkled his nose at the smell of burned flesh. He grabbed his shotgun, and they continued their escape.

Fortunately, after such a violent struggle they weren't far from the data bank. It appeared as though the creatures had given up temporarily on the team in favor of easier prey around the facility. Everyone staggered into the data bank and used whatever chairs, desks and other equipment they could find to bar the door.

"Boys, the doors slide open. Blocking them won't help," Apate said.

They all looked at her.

"I've locked them, we should be fine."

"Those things don't know that," Bren said before putting a nearby waste bin on top of the pile.
Chapter XII

Data transfer technology had come a long way in the last century, but transferring over a hundred terabytes of information still took a considerable amount of time. Since the myriad of enraged and mutated predators trying to kill them were occupied with easier prey, it felt like a good time to rest and assess their situation.

Everyone was running low on ammunition once again. Dante found a handful of shells for his weapon and even though his hands were massive, the shells were too so it didn't amount to much. Apate consolidated the few bullets she had into a single magazine. Alistair was out of fuel for the inferno pistols and would have discarded them if they weren't so rare and expensive, not to mention the sentimental value they held. He stuffed them into their holsters and secured them tight since he wouldn't be using them any time soon. He still had a decent amount of fuel for his torch sword, but that meant he would have to get closer to these wretched things than he wanted. If all else failed, he still had one grenade on him as a last resort. Bren didn't have to worry about ammunition, his father's notorious weapons as reliable as ever. He had forgotten that the shock-batteries had shorted out, and he noticed one of the winches beginning to stick, so he used some small tools he procured from his pockets to tinker with it.

Apate checked the data transfer and sighed at the thirteen more minutes they would have to wait. "Once this is done, would you be willing to carry the hard drive for us Dante?" she asked. Based on what she'd seen him survive thus far she thought he was the best person to protect it.

Dante nodded.

"Good, then we can get back to my son and get out of here."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, but frak that. We got what we came for so let's get the hell out of here," Bren said.

Apate put serious thought about using her last few bullets on him right there.

"Look, I know he's your kid, but we signed up to do a mission and once that hard drive is full that mission is over. I want to get the frak out of here and get as far away from this rock as possible."

Apate was at a loss for words. He was right; they signed up to get the data and leave. Her personal issues weren't their responsibility. Bren's lack of compassion didn't surprise her, but she still felt betrayed.

"Don't worry lass, I'll help you find 'im," Alistair chimed in.

She looked over her shoulder and gave him a thankful look before turning to Dante. He avoided eye contact.

"I'm sorry, I've got kids of my own to worry about. I've got to get back to them."

Alistair regretted his decision to stay behind and help.

"I suppose I'm not surprised," Apate said as she turned her back to them.

Bren didn't care, but Dante was more wounded by this gesture than any of the bruises, broken bones, or lacerations he'd suffered thus far.

"Take the hard drive and get to the emergency evacuation shelter. I'm sending a route to your holo-pads now," she said as she punched a few buttons on her floating display after drawing a route with her finger on the map hovering in front of her. With a friendly chime the console signaled it was finished transferring the data. Apate unplugged the hard drive and handed it to Dante.

Bren cocked his head toward the ceiling. "What the frak is that?"

Above them came a scuffle before what sounded like a burp followed by the sound of liquid splattering on the other side of the ceiling. Next came a sizzle. Everyone stared up at the ceiling in horror, weapons aimed at the noise as they stepped away from it. The ceiling started to smoke and drip as viscous acid bored holes that plumed outward and opened the ceiling above them. They only had a moment to register what was happening before a spiny and bloated humanoid punched its way through the ceiling tiles and dropped into the data bank with them.

The creature let out a gargled scream and took a deep breath as it prepared to projectile vomit. Bren shot his harpoon into the back of its head. He yanked its neck back and forced the bile to shoot straight up into the air. It splashed against what was left of the ceiling and rained back down on the creature, coating the surrounding floor and causing it to corrode beneath them. It attempted to scream as it choked on its own corrosive vomit. Its skin bubbled as it tried to flail its bloated limbs, struggling to keep its balance on the melting floor. Bren activated the winch in his forearm and the chain snapped tight. The gluttonous creature was too heavy for him to move. He activated his boot spikes to ground himself from falling over and gave the chain a strong tug to try to dislodge it from the creature's skull.

Unfortunately, the spiny carapace covering the mutant was stronger than the flesh and bone he was used to, and Bren couldn't remove his harpoon before the acid chewed through the floor and the bloated screaming monstrosity fell through. It ripped Bren's boot spikes out of the ground and dragged him toward the gaping hole in the floor.

Dante dove and grabbed Bren's ankle. He struggled to drag Bren back up against the awkward weight of the bloated mutant mixed with the precarious balance of the ever-corroding floor. He also had to maintain his grip on the hard drive. Alistair ignited his torch sword and rounded the mouth of the hole to cut the harpoon chain. Before Alistair could sever the chain, the floor melted and Dante lost his balance. He fell face first with Bren into the maintenance network below. The earsplitting bang of tortured metal rang through the data bank as something outside tried to bash its way in. Their makeshift barricade of furniture rattled loose.

Apate jumped over the hole and sprinted to the other side of the room towards a second door, only to be stopped dead in her tracks by another impact, this time at the door in front of her. They were trapped.

Alistair looked around for an alternate method of escape. Claws and fangs poked in on the sides of each door frame. He looked down into the maintenance tunnels and saw a mix of sludge and bodies in the darkness. Obviously if they jumped down it would be difficult to get back inside and retrieve Apate's child. Then he remembered the sizzling hole in the ceiling.

"Apate!" he shouted, bending over and cupping his hands together. He gestured for her to use them as a foothold so he could boost her up.

She took the suggestion without pause, stepped onto his hands and jumped slightly as he lifted her to the ceiling. She then crawled into the space and turned around to offer Alistair a hand. He grabbed a nearby desk and moved it into position before stepping up and jumping into the space above just as both doors flew into the room simultaneously with a mass of ravenous monsters in tow.

Alistair struggled to pull himself up as his legs dangled and the mutated creatures entered with tortured groans searching for prey. With Apate's help, Alistair climbed into the space above the ceiling before a mutated man with a giant maw could snap his feet off as a light snack. Apate and Alistair crawled into the space above the ceiling that was reserved for air ducts and wiring. They scrambled through the cramped space and tried to ignore the fact that maw mutant was climbing up behind them in pursuit with his jaw clicking in anticipation. Just as Apate noticed a shaft of light ahead, a black spear shot up in front of her.

The spear retracted and reappeared a few feet ahead of her, accompanied by the screech of torn metal. Disappearing once again the spear thrust up a third time, yet still farther down. Apate advanced little by little and Alistar bumped into her while trying to escape the slathering jaws of the mutant behind him, blissfully unaware of the trouble ahead.

"Move it lass, c'mon!" he shouted as he began to panic.

Apate waited for the spear to reappear and was horrified to watch a long, slimy tendril poke up in its place. It slithered around and searched for something, almost as if it tasted the area. Apate pulled out her gun to use a precious few bullets to blast the tongue in half. Alistair screamed in surprise as the shots deafened them both temporarily. Apate pressed forward with Alistair in tow, angry spears shooting up around them and a hungry mutant in pursuit. Apate came upon a drop leading down a shaft. It was capped off with a grate to direct air into the hallway below. She watched the grate for signs of movement.

"Move lass, what're y'waiting for?" Alistair shouted.

If anything was down there she was about to meet it. She turned awkwardly in the small space and fell feet first down the chute. She dropped through the grill at the bottom of the shaft and landed hard in the hallway beneath. Alistair followed and drew his torch sword upon landing. Fortunately, they had navigated to the other side of a wall and the spear-wielding creature wasn't around to greet them. They heard a growl as the maw mutant fumbled through the ducts above.

"This way," Apate said, wasting no time to run down the hall and toward the labs where her son was held.

As they approached each intersection, they hugged the wall and listened for anything lurking around the corners. It was mercifully quiet. Their boots squeaked and left bloody prints along their path that filled back to pools before they had even turned into the next hallway. Lights flickered and the echoes of mutants wreaking havoc throughout the facility forced them to stay on their toes but they traversed the hallways unmolested. They approached a long hallway with many windows on either side that led to various labs and research areas. None of these labs had been damaged yet, and the pristine working equipment inside looked out of place.

"Why so easy all th'sudden?" Alistair asked as they approached a laboratory.

"Maybe Bren and Dante found a way back up and are keeping them busy. Don't jinx it," Apate said. She used her key card to unlock the room that held her son.

Pumps hissed and fluids bubbled, but this room was otherwise quiet and serene compared to the rest of the gore-drenched facility. Apate went to the chamber holding her son and pressed her fingers to the glass. Her touch left sticky red prints. Alistair searched the room for any signs of infiltration and was relieved to see they were alone. For now, at least.

Apate hit some buttons on a nearby console and the hermetically sealed chamber opened with a lazy sigh. She carefully removed the needles, tubes and sensors from her child's body. Tears carved a clean river through the grime on her face. The boy choked as they removed a tube from his mouth and he slowly came to consciousness.

It surprised Alistair to see how old he was, easily a toddler. The boy looked around in confusion. He stared up at the woman above him and screamed in fear. Apate tried to calm him down, shushing him and cradling him in her arms but it was no use. She looked down into his eyes and realized with horrid clarity that he didn't recognize her. She was a complete stranger to him, no different from the myriad of other women that had tortured him in his life.

Her heart sank and her arms felt numb. She set the boy down and staggered to a nearby console. Alistair noticed a secured vial with a glowing red substance inside resting on a mechanical dais nearby. Underneath the vial was a screen that read 'ANTIDOTE SYNTHESIZED' in blocky capital letters. He carefully picked it up and stuffed it into a secure pouch on his hip. Screaming in confusion and fear, the child cried harder than his mother and struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Alistair realized he was the only one not enraptured by intense emotion, and took hold of the situation.

"C'mon Apate, grab..." he struggled to remember the name she had told him, "...Raza was it? Grab Raza and let's get out of 'ere," he said.

Metal screeched as the door to the lab was forced open. The mutant with the meat cleaver arm entered the room. There was a streak of fresh blood running down his chin. Apate snapped from her stupor and quickly snatched up her child, holding him close to her chest. Alistair raised his torch sword and prepared to charge. With a groan, the mutant shuffled into the lab but didn't attack. Instead, it stared at the boy. Apate stared back for a moment before she realized in horror that this creature wanted her son. Then she realized something even more shocking.

"Gideon?"

Dante lifted his head out of the water and spat out a glob of something thick and stringy that tasted the way rotten fish smells. Bren screamed. Dante's shotgun had fallen from his grasp during the fall and he could barely see as viscous gunk dripped down his face. He wiped his eyes clean of grime and saw Bren punching the fat, acid-filled mutant with savage ferocity.

"Die you ugly fat frak!" Bren shouted as he drove a spiked fist into the mutant's face for the umpteenth time.

"Watch the acid!" Dante yelled.

Bren held his punches for a moment to look over his body for any signs of damage. Yellow bile dripped down his chest and from his arms but it wasn't harming him. A cloud of bile floated around the fat mutant as it bobbed lifelessly in front of them.

"Maybe the water stops it?" Bren asked. Dante looked over his own body and despite there being blobs of yellow fluid dripping from his armor it had no effect.

"Guess so. You seen my gun?" Dante asked. Bren felt around in the murky water.

The mutant twitched.

"Oh, hell no!" Bren shouted before hammering the mushy pile of meat that was left of its head with a spiked fist several more times. He finished his barrage and stared at it.

"Found it," Dante said, lifting his shotgun from the sludge, and giving it a few shakes "where the hell are we?"

"I don't know but it smells like ass," Bren said.

Hungry grumbles echoed from above.

"We should get out of here," Dante said as he sloshed his way over to a concrete ledge about waist height.

"Yeah, you still have that drive on you?"

"Oh shit," Dante said as he reached inside his vest to search for the drive, "feel around, its gotta be close."

Underneath the murky water they found a menagerie of items including rocks, trash, machine parts and even a few bones. Water and sludge had completely soaked their armor, and as they kicked up more and more debris it grew more difficult to identify anything. Dante slid his fingers over what felt distinctly like teeth when his hand came upon a solid brick of metal. He lifted it out of the water and grinned.

"Found it," he said.

"Good, this is disgusting, let's- ow!"

"Let's ow?"

"Something just bit me!" Bren said, splashing at the water and looking around.

"What was it?" Dante asked, looking over at the floating corpse of the mutant that brought them down to this cesspool.

"I don't know, but- ow! What the frak?" Bren lifted his arm and a long black eel came up with it. The creature twisted and flailed as it tried to rip off the chunk of armor and flesh it had locked its jaw around. Bren grabbed it with his other hand and ripped it from his forearm. Dante sloshed over to him as Bren threw the eel at the wall across from them.

"Are you ok?" Dante asked. The eel hissed and squirmed, inching its way to the edge of the concrete and slithering back into the water. They both climbed out on the other side before it would find them again.

"Where are we?" Bren asked as he pulled off his boots and dumped the muck out of them. The walls were unfinished rock, but the floor was poured concrete. Flickering lights led to an intersection with pipes jutting from the ceiling. Murky water filtered through a grate at the end of the passageway.

"This is a mining planet, right? Maybe this is some kind of cave," Dante said.

He secured the hard drive to his belt and hoped that the fall and resulting splash of water hadn't damaged it. Bren put his boots back on and they followed the lights toward the intersection up ahead. A pile of bodies greeted them around the corner. It was mostly animal carcasses with several men at the top. Bren and Dante approached with caution. Above was a panel in the ceiling with blood dripping from the crevices.

"Is this where those drones bring the bodies?" Bren asked.

"Must be," Dante said.

They hugged the wall and continued down the cement walkway. Along the way were several more piles of bodies and every so often they found more offshoots of rough stone that lead into darkness.

"These tunnels must honeycomb the area," Dante said.

"Don't know and don't care. I'll just be happy when we get out of this shit hole," Bren said as they walked up a ramp to find some pumps and generators struggling to accomplish their tasks. Steam billowed from the elbow of a nearby pipe and almost all of the readouts on the machines were blinking red and flashing with various warnings.

Dante felt guilty for telling Apate he didn't want to help rescue her child. He thought about his two boys back home and knew he would go to any lengths to protect them. She wasn't being irrational; she was being a parent. He should have sympathized with her and offered to help, contract be damned.

"Hey, look at this," Bren said as they rounded the corner. There was a ladder fixed to the wall with a sign next to it that read 'Maintenance Building' with an arrow pointing up. The ladder led up to a platform connected to the wall. Shafts of light peeked around the metal door at the end of the platform. Bren went to the ladder and started climbing.

"Wait!" Dante said.

Bren looked over his shoulder, "What?" and slid down the ladder.

"I..." Dante paused, "should we go back?"

"We just found a way out, and you want to go back?"

Dante shrugged, torn between escape from this nightmare and helping an innocent child. "We don't even know if they are still alive," Bren argued, surmising Dante's thought process without having to hear it.

"But what if they are? Don't their lives mean anything to you?"

"No, they don't. She has been lying to us from the beginning and we have just been offered a chance for freedom. I'm not going to give that up."

"Well, what if we infect the rest of the planet by opening that hatch?" Dante reasoned.

"Are you kidding me? Obviously this planet is frakked, look at these things," Bren said as he gestured to the black eel that followed them in the water, hissing as it surfaced. It was difficult for Dante to argue. "If you want to go back and die then fine, be my guest, but give me the hard drive so one of us can finish the job we signed up for."

Dante hesitated. He wondered if his father would care that he had not brought the drive back personally. He wondered if his father would care if he returned at all.

"Dante, give me the damned hard drive," Bren repeated. Dante looked up and saw both of Bren's arms pointed at him, harpoons ready.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dante asked.

"If you won't finish the job, I will."

"What if we open that door and these things find a way to the surface?"

"Not my problem."

"You would let an entire planet die to these things to collect a check?"

"Look, it sucks, but I didn't take this job because I cared about anyone on this backwater. Give me the hard drive."

Dante held his ground.

"Would you really kill me for this?"

Bren didn't respond, but didn't lower his weapons either. Dante was now stuck with the decision of abandoning the rest of his team, an innocent child, and possibly killing an entire planet or killing a team member and going back into the jaws of hell to risk his own life and see if the rest of his team was even still alive.

Before he decided, Bren fired. One harpoon aimed at Dante's face and the other aimed at his gun. The first harpoon nailed him in the forehead and blinded him with pain but didn't penetrate his titanium skull. The second harpoon snatched his shotgun from his hands before he could retaliate. Bren caught the massive gun in the air, handling it awkwardly because of its size. Dante reeled with pain and squinted through the blood seeping into his eyes. Bren pointed the gun at Dante's face and pulled the trigger.
Chapter XIII

Apate stared in disbelief at the mutant form of her fiancé. His features were misshapen and bloody, but his eyes were unmistakable. Looking into them Apate saw the Gideon she knew trapped somewhere inside the mutated monstrosity before her. There was an uncontrolled rage in his eyes that she had never seen before mixed with a look of vague familiarity. Alistair watched as the mutant stared back, struggling with whatever thought process it was going through. Then a look of realization washed over the mutant's face. He remembered her.

A moment later the look passed and anger replaced it. Apate screamed and retreated as the mutant raised its arm and lunged. Having backed herself into a corner, Apate clutched Raza and tried to anticipate the angle of the strike. If she was lucky, she might dodge it on the way down. It reached the apex of its arc and the meat cleaver descended. Alistair rushed the creature and hacked at its leg, cutting through carapace, meat, and bone with his flaming blade. The mutant shifted its attention toward Alistair and finished its deadly arc in his direction. He sidestepped and avoided getting hacked in two by a finger's width.

"Stop!" Apate shouted.

Alistair turned to face her with a look on his face that asked what the blazes she was thinking.

"What if we can cure him?" she pleaded. A long black spear thrust from Gideon's other hand and impaled Apate through one of her lungs, only narrowly missing Raza's legs. She coughed blood and instantly lost her strength. With a wet snap the spear retreated into Gideon's arm and Apate slumped to the floor, almost dropping Raza.

Alistair hacked at Gideon with his torch sword and severed the meat cleaver arm just above the elbow. Gideon reeled back in pain and anger. Alistair moved to position himself between Apate and Gideon as Gideon raised his mostly human arm and directed his palm toward Alistair to ready another spear strike. Alistair cut that arm off at the wrist before Gideon fully raised it. He then drove his torch sword through Gideon's stomach and out his back, black ichor sizzling around the wound as he ripped the blade out. Apate looked through the cauterized hole in Gideon's stomach as he fell to his knees.

Raza cried out and looked around in panicked confusion. Apate clutched her chest and attempted to crawl to safety. She slipped on the blood slick floor and Alistair stooped to help her up. She coughed up a lungful of blood and her hold on Raza faltered. Alistair bent down and picked Raza up. He looked down at Apate as her eyelids grew heavy. He hoped she would understand. He gave her a nod and left the room with Raza in his arms.

Apate reached out as they left the room, unable to speak from the blood pooling in her lungs. She watched through tear-filled eyes as Alistair walked away. Gideon slumped down in front of her. He raised the stump of one hand as if to strike her with it. The damage he had suffered drove him to exhaustion, and instead he simply fell face first into Apate's lap, looking up at her in a mix of rage and fear.

Right before she slipped into the cold embrace of death, Apate was certain she could see the man she once loved behind those eyes.

Light-years past the point of exhaustion, Alistair made his way down the hall through sheer force of will with Raza screaming in his arms. He rounded a corner and almost ran face first into the mutated dragon they had escaped earlier. Instinct kicked in and he cut the dragon's tail in half as it swooped by. This did not make the creature happy.

It roared and snapped its head back toward Alistair and Raza. Lights shattered and plunged them into darkness as the dragon's wings extended toward the ceiling and the beast struggled to turn its massive body around in the hallway. Harsh shadows crawled along the walls as the orange glow of Alistair's torch sword illuminated the area. Raza cried into Alistair's chest and held on tight. Behind the creature at the end of the hall Alistair saw a glowing sign above a door that read 'Emergency Escape Pod'. The dragon clawed into the floor tiles and finished its rotation to face Alistair. With a deep breath the beast inhaled and a pouch under its chin swelled.

"Oh frak," Alistair said as he ran past the dragon and toward the emergency shelter. Heat and light poured over the area as a gout of flames erupted from the dragon's gullet. Alistair disabled his torch sword and held Raza close to his chest as fire licked at his heels and surrounded them. He pushed his body up against the wall and wrapped his coat around Raza. Never had he appreciated his fireproof gear than in that moment. A searing pain scalded his head, and he patted out a clump of hair that was on fire.

The dragon charged.

"Stay here," Alistair said as he set Raza on the ground. With a flick of his thumb Alistair ignited his torch sword. He twisted the dial on the hilt and turned the rippling flame into a focused blade. Raza wobbled as he tried to stand up. His legs were too weak from his time in isolation and he fell to his hands and knees. Alistair wanted to stop him as he crawled away toward the emergency escape pod but the dragon's clicking jaws stole his attention.

He side-stepped a chomp from the dragon that could have cut him in half if the smacking sound its jaws made were any judge. The torch sword growled as it sucked up oxygen on its way through the air in response to the dragon's chomp, but the large creature was surprisingly agile and pulled away just out of range. One of its black wings flew toward him like a quick jab from a boxer. Alistair ducked and rolled as the spiked appendage cracked the wall and shards of cement fell to the floor.

As he stood from his roll, he swiped his weapon in a figure eight, advancing on the dragon. It hopped back with its powerful haunches and landed hard enough to cause some ceiling tiles to fall. Once again it jabbed with the pollex of its wing. The dragon's wing connected hard into his gut. Alistair flew through the air, hit the wall and crumbled to the floor. It felt like he'd been hit with a sledgehammer and his lungs struggled to feed him air. He felt sharp claws wrap around his calf before he skidded along the floor.

The dragon pulled him across the hall and lifted a claw to pin his chest to the ground. It looked down on him with its beady black eyes and snarled. Thick hot saliva dripped onto his face. Its breath smelled like burned meat. It opened its jaws and Alistair was positive it could eat him whole if it chose to. He was also positive that he'd angered it enough to not be given that mercy. The dragon twisted its head and Alistair's world darkened as he entered the creature's mouth.

A flash of light illuminated the inside of the dragon's mouth as his torch sword passed in front of his face and decapitated the creature in one swipe. Its teeth were still wrapped around him as the beast collapsed, and the grip on his chest loosened. Black blood and saliva poured over his upper body. He turned off his weapon immediately to avoid igniting the flammable fluid somewhere in the creature's gullet. It was a miracle he hadn't ignited it in the first place. The dragon's head flopped to the side as Alistair pushed it and crawled out from under the twitching corpse. He looked down the hall and saw Raza at the emergency escape pod door, pounding on it and crying. He couldn't even imagine the terror that poor child was going through but he was determined to stop it.

A choir of screams rippled down the hallway behind him. It sounded like every creature in the facility was on its way to his location. He sprinted with every iota of his remaining strength to the end of the hall. He picked Raza up and opened the door to pass through a security tunnel that led to the emergency shelter. Once inside, he set Raza down and rushed over to a panel on the wall, praying to everything holy that the shelter had an independent power supply. He glanced down the hall and saw no less than a dozen mutated monstrosities running toward them, and more were arriving every second. With a quick jab he shattered the glass to the emergency panel and started pressing buttons to make the screen come to life. To his relief, it lit up and he was able to start the escape protocols with little effort. A two-minute countdown began. He didn't have thirty seconds before the horde tore them to shreds.

With a sigh of resignation, Alistair pulled the antidote from his grenade pouch and placed it in the terrified and confused child's lap. He pushed open the door and closed it behind him, locking it from the outside. He peered through a small window on the door and watched the confused child for a moment. He hoped the boy would be safe on his own. He then ran back down the security tunnel and locked the door behind him, trapping himself in with the horde of bloodthirsty mutants.

A swarm of smaller mutated animals arrived first, which he stomped, punched, and sliced at mercilessly. All hope had abandoned him, which made fear nonexistent. He was going to die, but he damn sure wasn't going down without a fight. He hacked, slashed, and ripped his way down the hallway with a ferocity that rivaled the creatures he dismembered. He used every bit of strength and stamina left to let these monsters know he wasn't going to just sit down and take it. He saw the molten metal scarred four-armed mutant from earlier bearing down on him at the end of the hallway with another humanoid mutant not far behind.

"C'mon y'frakkers!"

Alistair pulled his last grenade from its pouch and considered doing a suicide run with it. He didn't want to take the coward's way out. He pulled the pin and lobbed it down the hall and into the dragon corpse. He shielded his eyes with his forearm as the grenade exploded and simultaneously ignited the flammable liquid in the dragon's gullet. A massive explosion tore apart the facility in a glorious display of pyrotechnic destruction. Fire burst down the hall in both directions and metal shrieked as the ceiling was torn asunder. The sheer volume of the resulting explosion muffled the death screams of everything in the immediate area.

Crushed against the wall by the shock wave, Alistair was certain he broke something. He tried to get up and realized he broke multiple somethings. He coughed and peered through the smoke as shafts of light came from above. The explosion was so large it poked a hole out of the ground to the air outside. Alistair rubbed his eyes and tried to stand but his legs wouldn't allow it. It was at that point he realized he was on fire. All the money he had spent on fire retardant gear didn't do much good if it was torn to shreds and hanging by scraps from his body. He patted the fire out and slumped against the wall. He peered through the smoke and waited for something to come kill him and mercifully end this incessant battle.

A massive shape filled the hallway. It ambled through the smoke toward him. It looked roughly human, one of the humanoid mutants most likely. He wasn't sure how anything could have survived that blast, but obviously he had underestimated their resilience. Alistair watched impassively as the massive figure trudged through the smoke and debris. He wiped blood from his lips and waited for his demise.

Once the figure came out of the smoke, Alistair smiled. Dante waved his hand in front of his face to clear the air as he coughed. His face was a pulpy mess, and he limped along using his shotgun as a cane.

"Well, I'll be damned," Alistair said.

"You the one causing all this ruckus?" Dante coughed. He opened his arms and smiled, wincing as his muscles protested the movement. The ground shook as the emergency shelter ejected into orbit. It ascended through a hole in the ceiling and they watched as it turned into a speck against the evening sun.

"What happened t'you?" Alistair asked, horrified by the flaps of skin hanging from Dante's face.

"The bastard shot me," Dante said.

"Bren?"

Dante nodded. "With my own gun too. Then he ran off with the hard drive. He was gone when I woke up, otherwise I would have turned his face into pudding."

"How are y'still alive? Not that I'm disappointed."

"I've got a few enhancements."

"Seems like y'have more than a few. I've seen y'rip off blast doors, tackle a mutant gorilla and survive a shotgun blast t'the face. Are you even human?"

"Mostly," Dante said with a shrug, "you guys find the kid? Where's Apate?"

"She didn't make it. I put th'boy on that escape pod," Alistair said, pointing to the sky.

"Where's it going?"

"Away from here, I don't know. I'm sure th'company funding this operation will retrieve it before long and th'boy will be fine. At least I hope."

"Me too. Let's get out of here," Dante said as he extended his arm to Alistair.

Alistair took it and groaned as he got up. They helped each other climb out of the crater made by Alistair's final grenade and limped to a nearby communications tower to relay for help. Dante took a moment to set up a quick CivOp contract of his own with a payout high enough to get instant results. A MediSyn shuttle descended next to the communications relay and a small team of medics accompanied by armed guards helped both Dante and Alistair into their transport. They climbed in and watched the ground disappear beneath them. A separate medic tended to each of them as a man wielding a holo-pad barraged them with questions about what they had seen and accomplished.

Before they had even left the atmosphere, a series of explosions peppered the area. Someone was carpet-bombing the facility, destroying any last vestiges of the project and the nightmares within.

Dante waited in the glossy waiting lobby of his father's office. They gave both him and Alistair a dose of the antidote before they were allowed back into society. It had been less than a week since Dante had gotten planet side and his father had already summoned him for a meeting. That wasn't good. His entire head was wrapped in pink stained gauze after several hundred stitches put his face back together. It hurt like hell, even with the cocktail of painkillers he was taking.

Sia, the android that acted as Sirus Opulen's secretary, walked over swaying her hips with suggestive elegance. She held a plate of refreshments. Dante stared into her glowing purples eyes with his good eye but didn't respond. She stood there for a moment, bent at the waist slightly, before her programming deemed it a polite enough amount of time and she returned to her charging station that doubled as a desk. Dante stared at the holo-screen in front of him, taking in the drama of current politics and the latest celebrity scandals. It all seemed mundane compared to the life-threatening ordeal he'd just survived. He wondered to himself why people got sucked into such rubbish. Then he remembered he was usually a part of that rubbish.

The office door slid open and Sirus Opulen gestured for Dante to enter. Dante picked himself up, every muscle in his body protesting, and limped his way into the office. He moved over to a chair and began to sit down but Sirus hissed and shooed him away from it. "I don't want you bleeding on my furniture," he said.

Dante stood up and leaned against his massive crutch.

Sirus went back to looking at something on his desk, as if unaware of Dante's presence. Dante waited. The phone rang and Sirus activated a glyph on his desk to answer. Although short, the conversation still irritated Dante beyond words. After a moment, Sirus hung up and looked up from his desk, finally paying attention to Dante.

"Well, I have to admit I'm not entirely disappointed with your performance," he said. Dante was speechless at what, compared to Sirus' usual scathing remarks, was a compliment. Dante held his breath and waited for some insult to follow.

"You preserved the integrity of the project and hid my secrets. It would look terrible for us both if anyone knew what was going on. You got me the antidote and helped destroy the facility. You got one member of your team killed and another went AWOL. Even though he escaped with the files I wanted, I don't have to pay him or the dead one so I'll consider it an acceptable loss. I've already put out a bounty on the hard drive, so if he tries to sell it anywhere I will know. This is, of course, assuming he survived the cleansing run," he said, referring to the carpet-bombing.

"So, since I don't have to pay you anyways, I managed to get almost everything I wanted for one third of the cost. I would thank you but that is only a small part of what you owe me," he said, looking Dante in his one good eye. Dante fought the rising bile in his throat. They stared at each other for a moment.

"I think you should give the other two-thirds of the payout to the remaining operative, Alistair Preest," Dante said.

"I don't care what you think," Sirus riposted, "and it would only be one third. Your stowaway was never in the original contract."

Dante raised an eyebrow.

Sirus grinned, "I'm not sure how she did it, but your friend Apate found out about the mission and snuck herself onto the transport vessel. Very resourceful, that one. Too bad she died. I'm disappointed you neglected to give me the child. You gave me a sample of his blood, but not the child himself. Why is that?"

Dante cleared his throat. "That poor kid has gone through enough. I wasn't about to let you ruin his life any more. Use the blood to get what you need but leave him alone."

"I wasn't aware that it was your decision. Do you understand the destruction that child can bring? He is a carrier of a very volatile parasite-"

"He is immune, we don't even know if-"

"I wasn't finished," Sirus said, piercing Dante with a look that made his throat clench shut. "Which, if I didn't own the antidote, would be a very bad business decision."

Dante remained silent.

"That being said, I still need to keep track of him. Where is he?"

Dante remained silent.

They glared at each other for a long moment.

"Your facial reconstruction will begin downstairs in an hour," Sirus said at length, before going back to looking at something on his desk.

"Why did you do it?" Dante asked. Sirus looked up. "Why did you allow that parasite to live even after you saw what it was doing?"

Sirus sighed.

"Because things like that make a lot of money. Do you have any idea how many organizations are willing to pay for biological warfare? More importantly, do you have any idea how many organizations are willing to pay for the cure to biological warfare?

"Armed with a weapon that I could control would allow me to usher in the rise and fall of entire countries, entire planets even. A simple bank transfer could exterminate an entire race, while another transfer could prevent it. Entire solar systems would be at the mercy of someone's bank account. The possibilities would have been staggering. They still might be if I can retrieve that hard drive."

"What about the rest of the planet? You're just going to let them die as the parasite keeps spreading from the mines?"

"Of course not, I'm no fool. Currently infected individuals will get the cure for free, while newly infected will have to pay. We'll instate new laws regarding safety in the mines and treat cases as they occur. If people wish to be proactive and get vaccinated early, that is their decision."

Dante continued to fight the rising bile in his throat. He was ashamed to be a part of the same lineage as this man.

"Your clone has been prepped for the face transplant, Sia can show you the way," Sirus finished.

Dante walked from his father's office and took the elevator to the sixty-third floor. While waiting for his facial reconstruction to begin, Dante pulled out his holo-pad and sent a gift to a new friend.

Alistair Preest watched the boy play by himself in the corner and wondered if he would ever become well-adjusted after the atrocities he witnessed. It was much too early to tell, of course, but the thought still burdened him. He rolled himself around his dilapidated orphanage in a wheelchair and started to plan what renovations he would make with the money he earned from the job.

He had already bought a nice supply of food and even got his hand on some things that weren't genehanced, a treat for his kids. He bought some projectors and a bunch of Dante's older holo flicks. They were cheesy and violent, but the kids loved them. He felt they deserved it. Some of them were rough around the edges but they were products of their environment and were good at heart. Alistair liked to think he would help them stay that way.

A group of kids were imitating Rex Hammar, one of Dante's testosterone-fueled characters, as he shot aliens around their projection area. They made gun noises and other sound effects as they ran around killing holograms with their favorite action hero. Rex cradled a woman in his arms and jumped through a window just in time for an explosion to go off behind him. He landed a conveniently safe distance away from the destruction and chewed on a cigar as he squinted into the sunlight.

"Oh, Rex!" the damsel said in a husky tone. Several children parroted her and gave their most dramatic swoon as she did the same. Rex nodded and spit out his cigar.

"Who loves you baby?" Rex said before they embraced in a passionate kiss.

Alistair's lap buzzed, and he looked down to see a new message from a proxy account. He opened the message and saw a deposit had been made to his bank account from a private account for ten million credits.

He shrugged and deleted the message. It was probably a scam. He glanced up and saw another child, Gayle, trying to play with Raza but he was shy and reluctant. She eventually took his hand and led him to a group of other children who did their best to welcome him into their social circle. Alistair smiled.

His lap buzzed again. He opened this message and realized that the first one was not a scam. His heart skipped a beat as he read the words and reality hit him like a nova grenade. The simple four-word message warmed him and made all the pain go away as ideas flooded into his head for his and his orphans' future. The message read:

"Who loves you, baby?"
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Stay Connected With Kyle Winter

Website: www.TheKyleWinter.com

Twitter: @TheKyleWinter

Want More?

Also in this series:

Novels

Parasite Lost

Forerunners Anthology

Short Stories

Trial By Fire (Forerunners)

Cradle to the Grave (Forerunners)

The Black Maw (Forerunners)

Grudge Match (Forerunners)

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Patrick for putting up with me.

Thank you to my family and friends for your support.

Thank you to my teachers for all your wisdom and guidance.

Thank you to my fans for their appreciation.

Seriously, you guys are frakking great.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born in Minnesota but currently living in Los Angeles with a brilliant and patient wife and our ugly, impatient dog. I've been an avid gamer all my life. Video games, role-playing games, board games, card games, tabletop miniatures, nothing is safe. I've also trained martial arts most of my life with jiu-jitsu being my main sport for almost a decade now. Mostly I'm just a guy who takes his imaginary friends too seriously and writes stories about them.

