Mateo blinked from the sudden brilliance, using the bar counter to help pull himself to his feet. A few feet away, Jinx did the same. Mateo gave her a nod.
"Nice trick with the hack."
"Thanks."
Across the bar, Cash pushed a booth table away and stood, brushing himself off. He glanced around what remained of the place — four walls and rubble. Bolts the bartender was missing his head and most of his upper body. Three of the mercenaries were half-buried under the debris.
"Damn. Beckett got away."
"No way he survived without his cyber-suit."
"You don't know Beckett. The bastard has nine lives. I saw an armored roller outside. Top of the line and shielded for megastorms. That's how they got here in the first place. Besides, he can't die when we got a score to settle. He's gonna pay for this." He pointed at Rex's body.
Mateo walked over, reluctantly looking at the damage. The old man had a hand over his fatal chest wound and suffered from several other lesser injuries from the explosion. But his face looked relaxed and at peace; as if he had fallen asleep in his chair.
Cash shook his head. "He never even tried to get out the way. I think he was ready to go. Like maybe he knew it was his time."
Mateo nodded.
"You gonna be okay? How long were you his partner?"
"Since two days ago."
"What?"
"Yeah. I was new in town. He got to talking and said he needed a hand. Not to hunt bounties. He needed a partner to run this place." Mateo gestured to the ruined building.
"Well, where the hell did you learn to fight like that? Never seen anything like it outside of HSSC Elites. Never seen a weapon like that, either."
Mateo glanced at the arcsaber in the holster on his hip. "I built it."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. I'm good at building things. Fixing old stuff, making it new."
"A gearhead, huh? You seem like you're full of tricks, kid." Cash glanced over at Jinx, who had been inching her way toward the door. "You okay?"
She paused. "Yeah. Fine."
"Well, appreciate the help in taking those guys down." Cash held out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, she shook it.
He slapped a pair of manacles on her wrist.
"Hey, what the hell?" Her free hand shot to the cy-gear on her belt. Cash stopped her when he pulled his sidearm.
"I don't think so, Ms. la Fox. Your little hacking tricks won’t work on a regular ol' gun that shoots regular ol' bullets. Be a good girl and play nice."
She glared up at him. "What do you want from me?"
He clicked the manacle on her other wrist. "From you? Nothing. I just want the sizable bounty on your head. Beckett's loss is my gain for once, and I aim to cash in."
He looked at Mateo. "What do you say, kid? I can use a partner who can hold his own in a fight. Your mechanical skills will come in handy too. Say the word, and you're in the Nimrod business. You get a third of anything we bring in."
Mateo tilted his head. "Why a third? Why not fifty-fifty?"
"I got another partner back in the rig. We all take a third."
"What about Rex? Can't just leave him like this."
"I'll make the call to the authorities. They'll alert his next of kin if he has any, and take care of the burial. And they'll put a bounty out on Beckett's head. He'll be running for the rest of his rotten life. Nothing else we can do. You in or you out?"
Mateo glanced around. The place was unrecognizable — just a skeleton ripe for burial. There wasn’t anything to hang around for. And he couldn't afford to have anyone asking questions about him.
He knelt, fingering Beckett's abandoned cyber-suit. "Yeah. Count me in."
Chapter 3
General Kirk Hamilton followed the trail of dead and dying bodies. His long, navy-blue overcoat stopped just short of his boot heels, avoiding the trails of blood spattered on the floor. He was grateful for that small comfort. Getting blood out of fabric was a nightmare.
The compound was small, just two stories and a basement. It wasn't meant to be conspicuous, not meant to attract attention at all. That was the point. No one could guess the mine of sensitive information protected by a full detail of two squads of Special Forces soldiers. No one but Kirk.
After all, he was the one that suggested the location in the first place.
He sighed. This is the point of no return. No looking back now.
The five-man team that followed him through the corridors were Blood Legion veterans. They still proudly wore the crimson uniforms of their original units. Bonded by brotherhood and shared trauma from fighting in the Red War and surviving it. True patriots, like himself. Used and discarded, like himself. Left with PTSD, unanswered questions, neglect, disillusionment, and quietly simmering rage.
Like himself.
He collected his New Legion from all corners of the fractured nation. Men and women trying unsuccessfully at assimilating into new lives across the United Havens. Members of mercenary teams and private military corporations. Running security firms or wasting themselves in bars and strip clubs. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was their willingness to join the cause. He started with the goal of recruiting one hundred soldiers. He wound up with more than five hundred.
But one particular soldier meant more than the rest combined.
Rounding the corner, he stopped at the doorway of the server room. A man stood inside. Tall, dark-skinned. Body armor protected his torso, but his heavily muscled arms were left bare as if getting shot anywhere but his chest was inconsequential. Clean-cut, chiseled jaw, eyes covered by aviator shades that he rarely removed. His close-cropped hair was shock-white, but he wasn't old. At least Kirk didn't think so. He knew very little about Beowulf Kilgore, even after the man served under him for ten years. No one did.
Kirk cleared his throat, hating the unease he felt in Kilgore's presence. He made sure his voice was authoritative when he spoke. "Did you have to kill everyone?"
Kilgore raised his head. The entire room reflected off the mirrored surface of his shades, including Kirk's gruff face.
"If you wanted to leave people alive, you should have sent them in first." Kilgore jerked a thumb at the New Legion squad.
"Yes, well…" Kirk trailed off, realizing he had no handy retort. He knew the squad would have sustained fatalities had they been sent in first. And they might not have taken the compound at all. "The servers weren't damaged?"
"They tried to scrub the system. I handled it." Kilgore tilted his head at the bodies carelessly tossed in the corner of the room.
"Good work." Kirk motioned to one of the soldiers behind him. "Sergeant Chen, you're up."
"Sir." She saluted and dashed to one of the servers, where she knelt and attached a wireless drive to jack into the system.
"I'm done here." Kilgore abruptly headed for the door, brushing past the New Legion officers.
There was a collective sense of tension relief when he left the room. Corporal Singleton turned to Kirk, an astonished look on his face.
"It's him, isn't it? Captain Kilgore of the 55th Battalion. Hero of the Battle of Olympus Mons."
Lieutenant Bryant sneered. "Hero? Try mass-murderer. He lost his mind on Mars. As soon as he set foot back on Earth, he killed a thousand Elites."
"Says who, Jarhead? Your intel? We both know how accurate they are."
"Like you can talk, Frogman. At least we got to the right LZ on Noachis Terra. Where were you clowns?"
"Enough." Kirk glanced at the lieutenant. "They were clones."
"Sir?"