Travis Brett
LEGACY
Dedication
Dedicated to Amelia-Rose Rubin, whose input into Legacy cannot be overstated. Thank you for having the tough love to tell me honestly when my first drafts were simply awful, yet having the kindness to believe they could become something worthwhile.
And to Zane Barker, who surprised me by making the first printed copies of Legacy. He is the true hero we don’t deserve, but so desperately need.
PART ONE
The Job
01
Roman knew he was being followed.
Judging by the footsteps, the one on his left was barefoot. The other breathed far too loudly. Damn amateurs. They had been following him for the last two blocks, gradually drawing closer. Sooner or later they would make their move.
He hoped it would be sooner. There was no point delaying the inevitable.
Rubble blocked the road ahead. An office block had collapsed, brought down by a century of radiation decay. A streetlight protruded from the wreckage, half buried and precariously tilted. It briefly flickered into life, illuminating the ruins beneath it.
Roman frowned at the roadblock. Fucking hell, he thought, yet another collapse. How long would it be before the entire city was nothing but broken relics of the Ancients?
He paused at the foot of the wreckage, listening. The night was silent except for the footsteps following him, which promptly stopped after he did. If they had been waiting for the perfect ambush spot, this would be it. He pretended to be adjusting his belt, taking his time to give them a good chance to attack.
But still, they waited.
Disappointing.
Roman began to climb, the frayed hem of his coat brushing against the rubble as he stooped low to keep balance. Chunks of concrete crumbled beneath his leather boots. He wondered if anyone had been inside when the building collapsed. Welcome to Legacy: if the radiation doesn’t kill you fast enough, falling debris will.
He paused at the apex of the rubble, looking out at the empty street ahead. Broken windows. Boarded up doors. Walls carved with obscene graffiti. The sight angered Roman — it was a crime for a city to rot like this. Especially when it might be the last city mankind had left.
He climbed down, carefully testing each step before committing his weight. He nearly stumbled on an unstable brick, but corrected his balance just in time. Hopefully one of his stalkers would be less lucky. That would be worth a laugh. Roman pushed another two bricks loose and picked up a third.
Jumping off the last ledge of rubble, he landed back on the cracked pavement. As he resumed his stride he wondered where Ruby was watching from. She’d be close, but there was no point looking for her. Ruby would stay invisible until she wanted to be seen.
A silhouette emerged out of the darkness ahead. Too large to be Ruby.
So that’s what they were waiting for.
Roman halted, readjusting the situation in his head. Three against one. These crooks weren’t the gambling kind. But his confidence didn’t waver. He was here tonight to hunt an Adrenalite, so a simple gang of bandits wasn’t going to frighten him. He tossed the brick between his hands, weighing it up.
Heavy enough to hurt, at least.
In one well-rehearsed motion, Roman spun and hurled the brick at the closest bandit, who was only a couple paces away by now. The clay shattered against the man’s face and he collapsed.
A glint of steel drew Roman’s focus to the second bandit. This one was a short, stocky bastard, with an ugly jaw like a dog. Roman charged, keeping low, dodged under a clumsy punch, then rammed his elbow into the man’s chest.
The bandit gasped, winded. Roman aimed a second blow at his kneecap. The leg buckled. With a cry of pain, the bandit dropped to the ground. Roman landed one quick jab to the temple, ensuring the bandit wouldn’t be rising anytime soon.
Movement to his left. Roman threw himself to the side, just as a blade sliced through the air where he had been a moment ago. He regained his footing while clutching his coat pocket, checking that the two syringes hadn’t been broken. Still intact. He breathed a sigh of relief.
The third bandit advanced, a rusty blade held in front of him. His ragged tunic hung loosely from his skeletal frame. Roman wondered whether the bastard was planning to rob him or eat him. Out here in the outskirts of Legacy, who knew what desperate men would resort to.
The bandit lunged, yelling. Roman caught him by the wrist — he swore he almost felt the thin bone break in his grip — and retaliated with three left-handed jabs to the gut, ribs, and the chin. His opponent stumbled back, stunned, knife falling from limp fingers.
Roman held back, offering the bandit a chance to flee. Instead, the man attacked again. Roman brushed aside a punch, swerved away from the mad dive, then used a sharp kick to the shin to send the bandit tumbling to the pavement.
Only then did Roman pull out his revolver.
Now the bandit decided to stay back. His expression quickly changed from anger to terror. “Oh, gods… please, I’m sorry!”
Roman aimed his pistol at the bandit’s chest. “What’s your name?”
“Uh… Garth. Please don’t kill me, sir!”
“Now, Garth, here is the more important question: do you know who I am?”
The bandit’s gaze passed over Roman’s dark skin and tangle of matted dark hair. His long black cloak. His revolver. That’s the real clue. Anyone who could afford a gun wouldn’t be here in the outskirts, unless—
“Oh fuck,” Garth whispered. “You’re that bounty hunter.”
“Congratulations. You’re not a complete idiot.”
“Please! I didn’t mean…”
Roman lowered the pistol. “I’m not going to shoot you.”
“Thank you. Thank you so—”
“Shut up. Now, you’re going to tell all your associates that if anyone bothers me while I’m doing business, ever again, I won’t be so kind-hearted. Got it?”
Roman had given his last six muggers the same message. It never helped. Bandits in the outskirts were as inevitable as cancer.
“I got it. I do!” Garth stumbled over each word. “So you’re, er… here on business?”
“I’m definitely not in your neighbourhood because I like the smell.”
The thug’s face paled even further.
“So if I were you,” Roman continued, “I would leave this district, right now, and hide in a very, very deep hole. Got it?”
Garth nodded vigorously, leapt to his feet and fled. He didn’t even stop to help his unconscious partners. Roman watched him go with disgust. Men like him were the parasites of Legacy, maggots feeding off the corpse of this city. Yet they were insignificant.
This city’s true disease was the Adrenalites.
Roman slipped his revolver back into his coat and resumed his journey. And with any luck, before morning breaks there’ll be one less Adrenalite in Legacy.
Two blocks later, another set of footsteps approached. Light, subtle steps. Roman wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been expecting them.
“You know, Ruby,” he said without turning around, “I’m not sure what the point of you watching my back is if you don’t actually warn me when there’s danger.”
She laughed. “You call that danger?”
“Well… no.”
She fell into step beside him, movements so graceful she practically glided over the potholes. Her dark eyes flicked from side to side, scanning each shadow.