Frank Brackenridge slowly walked up the winding driveway to the family summer house, his overnight bag in his hand. Behind him he heard the Police Auxiliary van reverse out of the front entrance and drive away, the powerful electric engines whining in the evening air.
It was peaceful here tonight, a hint of moon shining through the scattered clouds. He relished the warm summery days in the Zone, even tolerating the humidity and rain of the wet season with good cheer.
He had spent enough cold and miserable years in his English home, then his time fighting across war-torn European nations. Every Christmas had been wet and dark, the wintery skies a mass of dark clouds where the sun could never break through.
The last twelve Christmases had been the best of his life, shared with a beautiful wife and a loving daughter. He thought again of Hammerton, the man who had given up his own life so that his infant daughter had a chance to live.
He stopped outside his house and wept quietly, thanking the soldier who had sacrificed everything he had for his commanding officer. It was only five minutes that he allowed himself to indulge in such maudlin sentiment, steeling his heart and mind once more into the man who ran the Brackenridge business empire.
With a firm hand he pressed his thumb to the door scanner, verifying his identity and opening the heavily reinforced door. Inside, Monique Shaw stood waiting, alert and blank faced at the same time.
âWelcome home, Mr Brackenridgeâ the Head Maid announced. âThe Mistress is waiting for you on the porchâ
âThank you, Moniqueâ he replied. âPlease let her know I will shower and change and then join her once I am readyâ
âOf course, sirâ she answered in an even tone. âI shall inform her immediatelyâ
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Clean and dressed in a warm fleecy lined pair of pants and hooded jacket, Frank made his way to the porch that faced the sea. It was Yolandaâs favourite place out of all the residences they owned and the one he liked the least. He found her there leaning against the railing, her eyes on the crashing surf.
In many ways they were so very different, a chalk and cheese couple who somehow made it work despite their opposed natures. Like now, his beautiful wife wore a plain white cotton dress and simple sandals, revelling in the cool breeze blowing in from the water.
He had lined boots and socks on his feet and tucked his hands under his armpits, amazed at her tolerance for the cold.
âArenât you freezing?â he chided her and she reached for him with her hands so he unfolded his own to grasp them. As always, her hands were deliciously warm. She pulled him close and he folded her into his arms.
âI keep telling you, the fires of Hell burn inside of me. They keep me warmâ she answered without a trace of irony. She pressed her face into his fleecy jacket and spoke more quietly.
âMy Master has been banished to his Realm once more. Angelina is alive but she still wonât answer my callsâ
âI knowâ Frank said. âI got a call from the previous Bishop, that Wainwright guy. He told me they had been successful and Angelina was unharmed. He has agreed to have Hammertonâs body returned to us for burialâ
âThat was generous of himâ Yolanda murmured. âWe should make a big donation to their Orphanage as a thank youâ
âAlready taken care ofâ Frank responded. He wondered how to begin the next question when his wife anticipated his concern.
âIf Angelina does not wish to live with her family any more, we can set her up in her own apartment. Something close to her friends and school, with a governess to watch over herâ
âSomeone completely mortal?â he asked seriously.
âOf courseâ she answered âBut it wonât come to that. I know our daughter and all she needs is a night or two to come to terms with what has happened. Then she will return to usâ
âAre you sure?â he wondered.
âTrust meâ Yolanda said and to his credit he did.
It was late in the evening, ten-thirty PM on the dot according to the time that flashed up on his internal display. Chuck Krakowski shifted on his rump and ran his enhanced eyes over the warehouse entrance.
The main gate was unmanned at this time of night, only security cameras watching over the automated mesh barriers. A movement further along the road caught his attention and he switched his amplified eyes in that direction.
Right on cue, a Brackenridge Transportation delivery truck rolled smoothly towards the warehouse gates, the big six wheeled vehicle humming loudly.
âOkay, boys, the truck is hereâ he spoke softly into his throat mike. âLouey, Pete and Feng, get ready for when it reaches the gatesâ
âAye, ayeâ Louey answered on behalf of his two companions. Their job was to approach the truck from the left side.
Chuck glanced at the two men squatting in the cover of a dumpster with him. They flashed smiles at him from beneath their cheap Smart Goggles and hefted their 3D-Printed machine pistols. All of them were down on their luck, grateful to Quent Scarfe for the chance to earn some decent money for a change.
Their new employer had worked for Brackenridge before and been fired without a second thought by the heartless corporation. All of the men here had been mistreated by the ruthless company too and tonight was more than just an opportunity to earn some Pandas.
Tonight was about payback!
The truck whined to a halt at the gates, the Ident signal from the vehicle taking a few moments to be scanned and recognised by the automated warehouse security system. Quent had told them they would have at most five seconds while the truck was stationary, but that was plenty of time.
âLetâs go!â Chuck shouted and burst from cover, his Enhanced muscle frame letting him carry the heavy machine gun in his arms with ease. He put a three round burst from his gun into each tyre on his side of the vehicle, shredding the rubber and immobilising one side. On the far side he heard similar gun fire from Louey as he destroyed the tyres too.
Chuck reached the driving cab and was about to shoot into the door when it buckled and flew outwards, propelled by an armoured boot. He stopped in surprise and watched as a fully armoured man jumped out of the cabin, a pair of heavy calibre pistols in his hands.
âWhat the hell?â he shouted in alarm. There were shouts from the opposite side too as something heavy rocked the big vehicle.
âChuck!â yelled Louey over his headset. âThis truck is full of Freelancers!â
âFall back, itâs a trap!â Chuck screamed and let loose a torrent of lead bullets on the armoured man in front of him. The bullets pinged and bounced from the expensive armour the Freelancer wore and the figure casually lifted both pistols to aim directly at Chuck.
âMiss Tengaki says helloâ the Freelancer told him and Chuck saw both pistols flash brightly.
He didnât hear the boom of the big guns because the noise reached him after the armour piercing bullets did. By that time he was already dead.
Quent Scarfe was not a fan of tunnels or of tight spaces in general. He considered himself more of an outdoorsy, open air kind of guy. Yet ever since he had teamed up with the alien presence of Bob-Two, he seemed to spend a fair chunk of his time splashing about in dirty maintenance tunnels or slimy sewers.
His headlamp was illuminating another stretch of concrete tunnel, lined with pipes and cables like all the other ones had been.
âThis way, then we turn left at the next junctionâ Bob-Two told him eagerly, his voice echoing down the unlit passage. Quent followed the directions, lugging the box of tools in his strong metal right hand.
âHow do you think the raid is going?â Quent asked his companion. âThe truck should be at the warehouse by nowâ
âIf the Brackenridgeâs follow the kind of responses I expect from them, they will have realised we were using their own delivery schedule to pick off the trucksâ Bob-Two said aloud. âThey will pack a surprise of some sort into the trucks that are carrying Heightened Experience. When the truck is attacked, they will spring their own ambushâ
âDo you think the boys will be Okay?â Quent wondered.
âI think the Brackenridgeâs will try and kill every last one of themâ Bob-Two replied without concern. âAt least I hope so, otherwise Chuck may come looking for us to get the rest of his moneyâ
âYeahâ agreed Quent. âStill, I feel bad about sending those boys up against Brackenridge. That company is seriously bad newsâ
âWhich is why we are going to take them over and turn the whole business into a happy and cheery place to workâ Bob-Two said with his tongue firmly in their shared cheek. âAnyway, they will keep a couple alive to interrogate them, just like we plannedâ
He checked his map again on the datapad they carried in the meat hand. âThis is the placeâ he announced.
Quent flashed his headlamp over the massive set of power boxes and hardwired data cables. To his uneducated eye they looked like every other set of boxes and cables they had trudged past for the last hour.
Bob-Two took over their shared body, locating and opening the junction points with practiced ease. When the cables were exposed, he used the metal fingers of his right hand to make a small incision on his flesh hand. Thick black blood welled up and he squeezed the fingertips to make big beads of the glistening essence.
He placed a drop carefully into an exposed joint, then squeezed more drops into each power and data cable. By the time he was finished, his finger was pale and bruised by the squeezing yet he felt elated.
Already he could sense his control extending over the data streams into the Brackenridge Security Centre. Bob-Two knew he had to move slow and steady, avoiding raising any alerts with the human Net Divers who oversaw the internal network.
Slow and steady, that was the way to win this war.
Bob-Two could imagine the delight that the Head of Security must be feeling tonight, thinking she had drawn them into a trap. So long as she believed it had worked, then the second phase of Miss Smithâs plan had worked perfectly.
They replaced the covers on the power boxes and resealed the data cables. With a final wipe from a rag, there was no evidence they had ever been here.
âIs it time to get a drink?â Quent asked impatiently. âMaybe something hot to eat as well?â
âSureâ Bob-Two agreed. âWe need to let my little babies grow big and strong in the network before they hatch. The scrapyard is all set up for Phase Three, so once that is completed letâs take a couple of days off, what do you say partner?â
âSounds great!â Quent agreed enthusiastically and began the long trudge to their hideout.