Maddox shrugged, crossing his arms and leaning back on the bench.
“She was born pre-emergence. No chance of Flux. One less thing to worry about.”
“So why send two alpha-level assets like us for one old lady?” I mused. “Something doesn’t add up.”
My instincts had kept me alive. I always listened to them—and right now, my shoulder throbbed, a familiar buzz that always preceded trouble.
“Could be overkill,” Maddox offered, “or there’s something we’re not being told.”
I blew a smoke ring. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Maddox nodded in agreement.
The warning lights on my Vysor flashed. A notification from Maddox’s side. Perimeter alert. I checked the feed from our surveillance drone.
Four armored figures disembarked from a darkened vehicle across the street.
“Shit,” Maddox hissed. “Those are Black Legion markings.”
I recognized the modified, piecemeal armor and distinctive black face shields with infrared tech. Mercenaries with POM training.
Most were former POM Security assets who hadn’t lasted or made the cut. They were some of the most ruthless security forces out there—well, besides us, of course.
“What the fuck are they doing here?” I stuffed my VaPurr back in my pocket, already reaching for my sidearm.
“Same as us, probably,” Maddox answered, tapping his Vysor to enhance the feed. “Someone else wants the professor, and they’re not here to ask nicely.”
“Let’s get this over with so I can get home early today.”
Maddox huffed at that.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t know how you can be so casual about this,” he said.
“Maddox, how many jobs have we done together at this point? But every time it’s like you’re a blushing virgin, man.”
He said nothing, instead busying himself with the transport’s surveillance controls.
I rolled my eyes at him and opened the vehicle’s side door.
As I crawled out, I heard him murmur, “Maybe that’s how it should be.”
“Your neck ever hurt from that halo you’re always wearing?” I asked.
“I’ll take point,” I added, checking the chamber of my gun to see if there was a bullet in place. “Keep me patched into surveillance. If those fuckers follow me in, I want to know.”
“You sure?” Maddox asked, his voice only slightly deviated from monotone. “Your implants were acting up yesterday—”
“I’m fine,” I snapped.
The pain was already building, a well-worn storm gathering beneath my skin, the familiar burn starting deep below my skin. My implants—crude, first-generation tech fused directly to my bones—heated as my Flux responded to the surge of adrenaline. Not the elegant, nearly painless Flux chips most people had these days. No, I had the junkyard version, and every time I used my powers, I felt it in my marrow.
“Just be ready for extraction. And watch those Black Legion pricks.”
I rolled my shoulder, the one the pain always concentrated in, and slammed the door behind me.
Rain slicked over the featureless mask we wore. My heads-up display sprang to life, illuminating the heat signature of the Black Legion down the street.
