But I was still strapped to my seat, and the damn thing came with an automatic parachute.
The nylon folds opened above me, caught the wind, and dragged me away like a jellyfish in a riptide. Jets in the chair automatically fired, steering me toward the nearest building, where it unceremoniously plunged into the glimmering waters of the rooftop infinity pool. I sank to the bottom of the warm, blue waters as the seatbelt disengaged, allowing me to rise to the surface.
As I emerged gasping and choking, the feeling of déjà vu struck. Once again I was wounded, floundering in the water while screams rang in the air and fire blazed around me. And just like the first time, I was reborn when I pulled myself out of the water. Blood dripped onto the concrete as I staggered to the railing of the rooftop, staring helplessly at the gaping wound in the middle of Downtown, where thick smoke choked the skyline and hundreds of emergency floaters hovered like disturbed wasps. My city burned, thousands had died, and I didn't do a thing to stop it.
There was only the aftermath: simmering, murderous rage and vengeance.
Chapter 4: Meet Mike Trudo
Everything blurred. Buildings hurtled by, street and vehicle lights whipped past, even the view of the injured city was obscured by rain streaming down the rear window. Maxine's engine hummed as she flew full speed across the wet asphalt, tires barely able to hold.
My mind raced. Everything I'd learned, every clue and detail collided, gathered at a focal point and reassembled. Kilgore — a face from my past was in New Haven. Faraday was still alive. And if Kilgore wasn't lying, Maxine — the real Maxine was still alive as well.
But I couldn't even concentrate on the earth-shattering revelation in the face of what Kilgore did. Thousands of people died in a terrifying building collapse and he didn't even change expression. It meant nothing to him. He'd always been a cold-hearted bastard, but he had become even worse, altered into something inhuman. And after seeing him up-close and personal, after being humiliatingly manhandled so quickly, I was afraid. Not about the possibility of dying — that came with the job. But I was scared of dying before I saw Maxine again. Before I could make amends for the terrible things I did.
I tapped on the console.
"Call Natasha."
Her face appeared on the screen. "Mick? Thank God you're alive. When I heard about the explosion, I thought you might have—"
"Not this time, sweetheart. Listen, I don't have too much time. I'm sending you a mapping coordinate. Take Benny with you. Do not go alone, understand?"
To my surprise, she simply nodded. "What's over there?"
"Poddar. He's hurt something awful and needs medical attention. Benny can get him to a safe place. No hospitals."
"Should I even ask what's going on?"
"The less you know, the better. This is for your safety, Natasha. The guy that blew up the NHP building is still out there. No one is safe until I bring him down. Can you do this for me?"
"I'll do it."
"Good. I'll check in with you later."
"Be careful, Mick."
"No promises, Natasha."
I ended the call and immediately dialed Hessler. His face appeared on the screen, looking as stressed as I felt.
"My drones went dark at the warehouse district. Kilgore. He's here, isn't he?"
I nodded. "Yeah. He ambushed me and Poddar, then took me for a ride. I had a bird's-eye view of the building going down."
"I'm surprised you survived the experience."
"I'm alive only because he wants me to help him unearth Faraday. He says if I don't, then the NHP is just the beginning. He's going to keep blowing things up until he gets what he wants."
"That doesn't leave you with too many options."
"Tell me about it. You didn't tell me the guy was superhuman, Hessler. A little heads-up would've been appreciated."
"You weren't exactly cooperative last time we spoke, Mike. This was what I was afraid of. If Kilgore took out a building like that, it means he's been in New Haven for a while. Maybe as long as I have, or longer. It takes time to plant all those explosives, even for someone with his skills."
"And what skills are those, exactly? I saw him do stuff that makes no sense. He appeared right in front of us like he teleported into existence."
"We're on a time clock, so here's the brief: Kilgore was in the Elite program: bio-enhanced super-soldier regiment that enhanced his strength, speed, reflexes, and healing abilities. Shortly after that, the New Haven Council took it a step forward, attempting to enhance their Elites even further. They added aberrant energy into the mix, grafting it to the subject's DNA."
I shook my head. "What were they thinking? Playing with aberrant energy always ends in disaster."
"And it did again, destroying the entire group of Elites, save one. Kilgore was the sole survivor of the program, but even then, no one understood what it meant. NHC sent him to Mars to fight in the Red War. Some say they sent him to end the war. Whatever the case, something happened on Mars that activated the aberrant coding, granting Kilgore powers that haven't been seen since the Imperial Age. He's able to teleport himself from one location to another instantly, transposing space and time. He can summon objects from anywhere in the world, mostly in the forms of firearms or tools. That's on top of his already formidable abilities. In short, he's the perfect weapon. And the perfect nightmare, because unlike every other weapon, he's under no one's control. Just the mention of his name creates sleepless nights for top-level officials because no one knows how to control him or figure out how to take him down."
"Guess I gotta do their work for them."
He leaned forward, squinting. "Doesn’t look like you're in shape to do any kind of work. Are you wounded?"
"I'll get better. You better find a hole to hide in, Kessler. I wouldn't count on Kilgore not knowing you're here."
"I left the hotel as soon as the news reported the explosion. Don't worry about me — I'll be fine."
"Not worried, just passing a word of advice."
"Where do you want to meet up?"
"Something I gotta take care of first."
"Something more important than this?"
"Yeah. I gotta pull myself together. Be in touch."
I ended the call just as Maxine pulled up in front of a battered, ramshackle, barely-standing excuse for a house in a neighborhood that couldn't look any worse if someone dropped a bomb on it. We were in the heart of the West Docks, where only someone desperate or insane would risk wandering into.
I was both.
Heart pounding, I exited into the rain and walked up the broken steps as the dead eyes of the windows watched my approach. I took a deep breath, and like so many times before, pushed the door open and stepped inside. Darkness greeted me, along with the nearly overwhelming stench of mold and rotted wood. Cockroaches skittered away from my footsteps as I cautiously advanced, hand on the grip of the Replacement Killer I retrieved from the glove compartment. The only sounds were my footsteps and water dripping from leaks in the ceiling.
"Hunter. Come on out — I know you're here. You're always around when I need you, aren't you?"
I crept into the kitchen area, eyes roving. Last time I was there, Hunter left a tricked-out corpse to communicate. No such luck this time. The place was empty, not even a glass of absinthe waiting like usual.
"Hunter. C'mon, man — we need to talk. Come out right now, damn it!" I kicked the table over in frustration, breaking the half-rotted wood to pieces. "Show your ugly synoid face. Where the hell are you?"
"Behind you."
The voice was so real, so smug and mocking that I froze in my tracks, suddenly afraid to turn around. But I knew there was no choice. I had avoided this confrontation for too long, and sooner or later I knew I'd have to look the devil in the eye. I turned around.