Project Northwoods (51 page)

“We need a flash-bang,” Julia said, putting her hand to her ear.

Electronica stopped her, a wily smile on her face. “No need. I can get us down there.”

“How?”

“Shoot the grapple gun there,” she said, pointing at the edge of the rooftop. “I’ll take care of the rest when we descend.” She hit a button on her belt, and the dancing electric lights on her uniform lost their subtle luminescence.

Julia’s first thought when she dutifully fired the grapple gun was that all she was truly doing was making herself a meat piñata, but Electronica had certainly gone out of her way to assist her. There was no real precedent to leave her hanging, so to speak. The hook securely in place, Julia stood, wincing as more automatic rifle fire continued to splinter the already damaged safety glass. “Now what?”

Electronica paused a moment, surveying the roof. Rain was picking up in earnest now, flattening her wild hair. “In about three seconds’ time, I need you to hit the descend trigger.” She stood up, then circled around Julia, stopping when she was facing her and the skylight.

Julia looked at her, annoyed. “Why…”

“Now!” Julia’s reaction was immediate, hitting the trigger right as Electronica tackled into her, sending the two of them tumbling through the breach in the skylight. Adrenaline kicked in, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as she felt the cold wave of her ability roll into her eyes. She was aware of the bullets pelting all around them, the projectiles leaving red fluorescent trails in their wake. It had taken her years of practice to give attackers a unique color to their bullets; before then, they looked the same as hers or, worse, almost invisible, insect-like killers. Numerous rounds screamed directly at them only to be redirected with a flourish of sparks. Electronica was shielding them.

They drew nearer to the floor. Julia really didn’t like the gung-ho nature of this particular hero. She preferred the orderly discipline of the Enforcers, the matter-of-fact nature of Arbiter… in the last twenty seconds or so, she had even gained a new appreciation for Claymore’s constant seeking of her input. They hit the ground in a crouch, Julia hitting the ‘retract’ trigger before releasing the gun. There was no way she could get the grapple bit back now, and she didn’t want an escapee giving heroes more reason to beat the stuffing out of them.

She drew her two revolvers, heaving as the static shield still deflected numerous bullets. “Sorry,” Electronica grunted through the strain. “My suit retains some electric charge after I use my ability.” Her voice was mirthful, almost childlike. “Should have told you my plan, huh?”

“Yes,” Julia said as she cocked the hammers on her guns. “You should have.” She gave Electronica a glare, the older woman retreating into a more serious look. “You need to get to the entrance and disarm the proximity bombs.” Julia looked around the hall, numerous potential targets glistening in her vision. But the priority targets were the ones all taking cover, reloading, or sending bursts of ammunition their way. She knew, instinctively, there were sixteen shooters in range, six on this floor and ten on the upper walkways. Everyone else was in a sleep chamber, running the other direction, cowering in a cell, or hiding around corners with makeshift clubs. “Keep the static shield up around yourself. I’ll draw their fire.” She stood upright. “Go!”

Julia felt the static wave pass over her, and she immediately dove to her right to avoid a stream of rifle fire. She pulled the triggers and the first two bullets streaked out, their blue fluorescent trail carving their way past obstacles into the two separate goons firing on her position, one from above and one from down the hall and around a corner. Predictably, the rubber rounds struck home, smashing into the necks of the mobsters and rendering them incapacitated.

From the floor, she cocked the single-action revolvers and fired again, the bullets training on two targets in the midst of reloading on the ground floor. They must have been surprised in their last conscious moments when something smashed into their heads despite being behind cover, knocking them down and out.

Julia rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself upright. A mobster on the walkway above and in front of her opened fire, his tommy-gun chattering loudly. She dove forward and sent another two rounds out, one finding its way into the mobster’s groin and sending him collapsing to the floor as his gun tumbled over the railing. The other bullet arced its way into the teeth of another goon who had been keeping his back to the wall in a cell down the hall.

Two goons on the third level catwalk were approaching the exit, no doubt to take out Electronica. Julia rolled onto her back the second she hit the floor and fired her guns into the air, one rubber bullet sent straight into the base of one of the goon’s skulls, knocking her out, and the other into the side of the opposite goon’s leg, buckling him hard to the ground as his leg ripped out from underneath him.

Flipping up onto her feet, Julia quickly fired off the four remaining shots in a wide arc, intercepting three goons on the catwalks trying to outmaneuver her and one darting between cover on her level. One nearly tumbled over the railing headfirst, but regained enough composure to crumple by the guardrail. Julia didn’t think she could handle a railing kill at the moment, considering she was trying so hard to keep these idiots in one piece.

Her gun was out of ammo, and one of the goons must have noticed. “She’s out!” a female voice called out. “Move in!” The four targets were lit up like Paris, one on her level, one on the catwalk nearest to her, and the remaining two on the highest level. She popped open one of the pouches on her utility belt and removed a half-moon clip, the three bullets light in her hand after the heft of the revolvers. She waited.

The ground floor mobster popped up from behind cover and opened fire. Anticipating his reaction, Julia one-handedly cartwheeled out of the way, the stream of bullets following her. Hitting the floor, she back-flipped using the momentum from the acrobatics. As she curled in the air, she pitched the clip into the floor at the angle she practiced so many times before.

The metal floor sparked just enough to ignite the gunpowder on all three bullets. They rocketed out, each one burying itself in a soft, vital portion of three attackers. Julia crashed to the floor in a crouch, heaving deeply. She wobbled as she stood up, fairly proud of herself.

A thump on the floor behind her drew her attention, but she couldn’t turn in time. The muzzle of a gun pressed between her shoulder blades. Instinctively, she put her hands in the air. “That’s what I thought, lady.” The male voice was young and unsure, but he still had a gun to her back. “Now, turn around… slowly…”

The second she felt the pressure on her spine release, Julia leaned to her right and hooked her arm around the muzzle of the gun. She kicked backward with her left foot, nailing the mobster in the shin with her heel and making his grip falter. She squeezed her arm tighter around the weapon and spun to face the dazed goon, yanking the gun away. Julia stomped onto his kneecap with her boot, sending him down. Spinning the firearm in her hands in order to hold it like a club, Julia swung the stock into his face, knocking him out.

“Electronica is going to clear the debris blocking the entrance to C-Wing,” Overseer chimed. “Please stand back.”

The explosion barely rocked the interior of the building. Even if it had, Julia doubted she would have noticed. This was going to be a very long night.

Claymore was having the time of his life. He had managed to bully his way to the front of the pack and lead the charge into the Tier Four Wing, running ahead of the Enforcers and taking out the Italian Mob’s goons as they stared gormlessly at his approach. The squadrons of trained semi-soldiers behind him were suppressing retaliatory gunfire, allowing him to get close enough to pummel the villains with his fists.

A few actual prisoners had tried to stop him, leaping on his back when he was distracted with a goon only to be thrown off and stomped into unconsciousness. Others preferring a direct approach were knocked aside with a quick flick of his blade, a feat unthinkable for those without training and immense physical strength. He couldn’t help but smile widely, enjoying the fight. This, right here, was what it meant to be a hero. He understood, then and there, what Arbiter had meant in all his grand talks of the good old days, fighting for truth and justice and…

“Come on, pa, hurry up!” came an Irish-lilted voice from above, almost dissolved by the emergency klaxons. He craned his neck, trying to detect movement on the walkways. A smile crept onto his face when he saw the top of someone’s head just above the railing, standing in front of a sleep chamber. The light was yellow, meaning its ‘defrost’ process had started. “We need to get out of here!”

Claymore looked around at the nearby Enforcers, a little concerned that they did not hear what was so apparent to him. They were busy zip-tying the goons he had rendered incapacitated or engaged in other duties before moving further down the hall to quash resistance. It didn’t matter. He was more than willing to take down another villain in the name of heroism.

Sheathing his sword, he mentally mapped out his path to the upmost walkway. Sprinting toward a nearby support pillar, he leapt, grabbed the metal surface, and rebounded off it. His arms shot out, catching the bottom of the catwalk. Hand over hand, he climbed the railing and hefted himself up before launching himself at another pillar and using it as a bouncing board to the final level, a thick fog clinging tightly to the metal gantries, a remnant of previously opened sleep chambers.

He unsheathed his sword, growing a little disheartened when he saw that his target was just a girl, no more than seventeen, her red hair illuminated by the lighting of the sleep chamber. She slapped her hand against the chamber as it hissed, sending a spray of icy air rolling out of it. Claymore subconsciously noted that this was a different model than the one Zombress had been contained in, seemingly less secure in favor of tighter spacing.

He took a step toward the girl when he noticed an Enforcer approaching her. His heart sank when the officer walked toward her, gun held at the ready.
So much for another villain…

He walked right past her.

Claymore wasn’t sure he saw that correctly. The Enforcer just moved right beside her, like the girl wasn’t there or even making any noise. Before he could reconcile that, the officer swiftly aimed at Claymore, then lowered his weapon. “Sorry, sir. It’s hard to see in these helmets sometimes.” He swept his head around, stared directly at the girl, and then turned back to Claymore before putting his hand up to where his ear would be. “Third floor gantry secure. Awaiting orders to continue assault.” The Enforcer turned and continued down the catwalk.

Blinking his eyes, Claymore approached the intersection of his path and the other walkway. He looked at the Enforcer, now looking down the barrel of his bullpup rifle over the railing and toward the ground floor. Claymore’s eyes quickly found their way back to the girl, still peering into the sleep chamber as the glass rapidly unfogged, revealing a twitching man in a dirty white t-shirt and Fort-issued orange inmate pants.

“What’s going on here?” Claymore asked, the girl snapping toward the sound of his voice. “Why didn’t he see what you’re doing?”

“You can see me?” she asked, her voice wavering.

He took a dangerous, fast step toward her. She darted backward to maintain the distance. “I have no patience for villainous trickery.” The girl’s face was nothing like Julia’s, but it was a good placeholder for the enmity he still felt in his gut. “Your use of Bestowed abilities…”

“Please, I just want to see my father…” she begged, further inciting him. He stepped toward her, and she stepped backward.

“… Constitute a threat to inmate pacification and shall result…”

“Don’t do this…” her face was terrified, which made him feel all the more powerful.

“… In punishment,” he hissed as his free hand shot out and snagged her wrist.

“No!”

He had no idea what his intention was after scaring her. His mind was flooded with all the dopamine his anger had unleashed into his system. All he could see now was Julia begging him for something. The vision in his mind’s eye distracted him from the sound of footsteps on the walkway behind him.

“Let her go!” another Irish voice shouted. Claymore whipped around only to be clobbered in the jaw by a fist of surprising strength. Before he could recover, another blow aimed at his knee jostled him, but was dulled by the protective pad he had on. He raised his sword to strike, but it caught in the railing before his attacker grabbed his throat and sword hand, twisting his wrist and crushing his larynx at the same time. Claymore dropped the sword and shoved his assailant, the man from the sleep chamber, into the wall. The man kicked off the wall and sent the two tumbling over the railing.

Claymore had hoped luck would be on his side, but he instead landed first, cushioning the impact for the smaller man. Although the shock of it hardly registered, he still felt his hands go limp. His attacker kicked off of him, knocking air from his lungs. Claymore rolled onto his stomach and pushed up, trying to get to his feet as he watched the man snatch up his dulled sword from the ground. It was too huge for him, looking suitably preposterous being hefted by the Irishman… until he jammed the sword into a thick cable by a recently abandoned sleep chamber.