"Impressive, isn't it?"
Kilgore padded from the rear shadows, aviator shades reflecting the glints of color from the window. "Once upon a time, people flocked to houses of worship to pray and reflect on faith and mortality. Now people have other things to do than think about saving their souls. Damnation was the punishment for when a man kills another man, or so it was said. But what's the punishment when man kills God?"
A grin slid across my face. "I don't have a clue. I'm just here to kill you, Ethan."
He frowned at the name drop. "We haven't gotten to that part yet. First, we make the exchange, remember?"
"Why is this so important to you, anyway?"
"I told you — I'm preventing an extinction event."
"You don't care about humanity, Kilgore. I don’t think our extinction would give you a single sleepless night. So, it's gotta be Merlin, right? Who is he? Lemme guess: your kid? You trying to protect the spawn of your loins, right? Never pegged you for the sentimental type, Kilgore."
His demeanor altered instantly, face turning feral in rage. "You've been talking to the wrong people, Mike. I was willing to make this easy, but you had to go stick your nose in business that doesn't concern you."
"You're the one that showed up uninvited, Kilgore. All I wanna do is put an end to this."
"You can do that by never mentioning that name again. You want this to end? Start by surrendering the goods. That's a bio-storage case in your hand, isn't it?"
"What do you think?"
"What's in it?"
"Faraday's head."
For the first time, a flicker of surprise crossed Kilgore's face. "That's … unexpected."
"I'll say. But the doc's pretty stuck on the whole transhumanism thing, so much that he decided to stay in the digital landscape where folks like you can't lay a finger on him."
"Unless I have possession of his mind, that is. Immersion is impossible without active brainwaves, I understand."
"Exactly. Faraday put me in charge of stashing his head somewhere safe. The plan was to leave the Haven."
"Now, the plan is to hand it over to me."
"Where's Natasha?"
I followed his gaze when he glanced up to the balcony, where she was barely visible. The guards on either side were silent shadows, twin angels of death with weapons in hand, ready to kill on command. I sensed more triggermen in the chamber: lurking behind pillars, hiding between the pews. I knew the second that I gave Kilgore the case, they'd spring from their hiding places and hose us down like the fire department.
Kilgore clamped his teeth together in a violent grin. "Don't make this a difficult decision, Mike. Hand the case over or be haunted by yet another lovely ghost."
"You forgot about the third option." I pulled out the Mean Ol' Broad in one smooth motion and pulled the trigger.
All I heard was thunder.
Chapter 14: All Comes Down
The room exploded with gunfire, but I only had eyes for Kilgore. I moved as soon as I fired the first shot, making myself a harder target to hit. The last time I faced Kilgore I was rattled by the car crash, but I had enough time since then to adjust to the exodermis suit, nearly matching his speed. He weaved and dodged, flipping over pews with athletic ease as my shots hummed around him. Static flickered from his hands, and a second later he held twin drum-fed handguns that spit slugs in my direction. A lot of statues and furniture were shredded in the crossfire, chips and shards flying through the air.
Ducking behind a marble pillar, I pulled a frag grenade from my pocket, removed the pin with my teeth, and tossed it in Kilgore's direction. It exploded a few seconds later, engulfing the chamber in debris and powdery dust. My ears rang from the close-quarters explosion, throwing my balance off, stinging my nostrils with the scent of scorched wood and dirt.
I glanced up at the balcony, spotting muzzle flashes barely visible through the haze where Natasha's fate was in Poddar's hands. I desperately wanted to charge up the stairs to help, but I knew that was what Kilgore expected. I had to keep him off-balance. Reloading the Mean Ol' Broad with a moon clip, I snapped the cylinder shut, picked up the bio-case, and dashed from behind the pillar.
A figure rose from the damaged pews, shotgun in hand. Two shots from the Broad dropped him, but he wasn't Kilgore. I dropped to one knee, turned, and fired in the same motion. Another triggerman screamed and fell in the rubble, clutching his chest. More figures dashed through the aisles, guns blazing. I grunted and staggered as rounds struck the armored plate on my chest, another grazed my shoulder. It hurt a lot, but I was more concerned about a slug hitting one of the pen grenades and blowing me to kingdom come. Dropping low, I rolled between a row of pews for cover, firing indiscriminately.
Gunshots from the balcony were the only thing that saved my bacon, courtesy of Poddar and Natasha, who used a plasma rifle from a fallen guard. She shouted out to me.
"Mick: I set myself up as bait to get to Kilgore. I just activated a tracker — the calvary is on the way."
I flinched when a volley of slugs narrowly missed my head, punching holes through the hardwood benches. "You got nabbed on purpose? What the hell, Natasha?"
"We figured Kilgore was tracking anyone close to you. Flask thought it too good an opportunity to pass up."
"You tell Flask—" I paused as the gunfire cut off, and the remaining bodies hit the floor. "Never mind, I'll tell him myself." Raising up, I turned to look for Kilgore.
Big mistake.
Spotting me, he physically ran through row after row of benches, the hardened furniture not even slowing him down as he plowed into the pews like a bull through plywood boards, splintered wood flying through the air. Poddar and Natasha opened fire but didn't have any better luck than I did. I got a final shot off before his arm shot forward like a battering ram, fist meeting armor with a dull ring. I felt the impact despite the protection, breath crushed from my lungs as I sailed backward ten yards before rebounding off of a bullet-riddled statue of an angel. The bust tottered, face staring disapprovingly as it fell forward, nearly crushing me when it shattered on the floor.
Kilgore never slowed, flipping upside down as his hands crackled with static. A grenade launcher appeared, which he fired while still in midair. Poddar seized Natasha and leaped from the balcony as the grenade struck, bowling them over in a blast of flame and concussive force. They tumbled to the lower level in a shower of smoldering debris.
I tried not to think about their health when I activated the gauntlet on my left hand and bolted toward Kilgore. I was out of bullets, but the Mean Ol' Broad was still handy when I hefted her by the barrel and pistol-whipped Kilgore square on the chin when he turned around. Grunting, he caught the revolver on the next swing and ripped it from my fingers. I responded by grabbing the back of his head with my HFM and discharging the maximum output of two thousand volts of electricity. He snarled through gritted teeth, fighting against the involuntary muscle contractions before finally collapsing to a convulsing heap on the debris-covered floor, smoke wafting from his sizzling skin. After a few seconds, his body finally sagged and went limp.
Wincing, I examined the armor on my chest, where an imprint of a fist was clearly visible. It saved me from a broken sternum, but just barely. Glancing around, I saw Poddar and Natasha knocked out cold in a pile of rubble. It looked like they were still breathing, so I staggered in search of the bio-storage case. I finally spotted it at the base of the podium, the alloyed exterior looking in better shape than I was. Coughing, I stooped to scoop up the Mean Ol' Broad before heading for the case. The sound of broken laughter froze me in my tracks.