Jon eagerly dragged him along to the central computer station, saddling up beside him and dismissing the guards off to one side. “Let us play gentleman. You won’t be any trouble, now will you Mr. Perrin?”
“Not really in any position to be, now am I?” he asked dryly.
The hacker clapped him heartily on the back, turning his fervent attention to his network. Syler made a mental note to set up an emergency intervention team in the event he ever fell this deep down a manic engineering hole. Steampunk fever dream floor lamps were one thing, but technophilia on this level was really best avoided.
“She’s fully automated. Always on, always watching, forever eager to stretch her legs and play. Why don’t you give her a test, hm? See how you fare.”
Syler stepped up to the keypad, intrigued despite himself. “Just gonna let me take a crack at it? Really?”
“Oh, she won’t let you hurt her. You couldn’t if you tried. I haven’t been able to slow her down in ages and only then with her time out code.” He paused. “I won’t be sharing that with you, obviously. I don’t share it with anyone.”
“Can’t say that I blame you,” he replied, attention already fixed on the login screen. He cracked his knuckles. “Let’s put you through your paces, shall we Pryona?”
It took him almost no time at all to breach her login screen, the volleys back almost teasing now that he was looking for it, like being toyed with by a playful child learning the boundaries of her new friend. He resisted the urge to shudder, horrified by this iteration of his chosen specialty. In the future, he thought, he’d really be staying away from devices that had the potential to cause this much damage. That was possibly more a reflection of the instability of its creator than of the machine itself, but all the same he’d be reconsidering his stance on designing fully AI systems. Arthur may have been joking about death rays all those months ago, but this thing might just be able to build one by itself if left to its own devices with a hardwired line into a manufacturing shop.
And speaking of Arthur…
A security alarm blared out from every corner. Jon snarled, shoving him out of the way of the keyboard to pull up the main camera displays. If the sound of gunfire was anything to go by, Arthur was on the opposite side of the building. Syler sighed. Always late, that one.
The guards in the corner were momentarily startled, but that wouldn’t last long. Not particularly interested in spending any more time cuffed with a bag over his head, Syler darted out of the way and made a dash for the server banks as one of the guards popped off a shot in his direction.
“Not in here, you idiots!” Jon barked.
Syler tore off his glasses, snapping the release on the legs. The taser might well be dead after that EMP, but he did still have knives to work with and that would have to count for something when the goons caught up with him. He unsheathed the thin blades, ducking behind a corner as the guards advanced, waiting. As the first one cleared the edge, he plunged the stiletto cleanly into the man’s shoulder, brushing against the taser trigger just on the off chance—
He was thrown back and away with a jolt, hair almost certainly standing on end as the static coursed through him. His hand shook where the voltage had exceeded the capacity of the hilt. Well that was a fun glitch. EMP must’ve blown out the ground wire instead of frying the entire thing.
The wounded man dropped with a crash, not even managing a scream before the hyped up taser had taken him out. Giving the knife up as a loss, particularly with the way it was still smoking in the felled guard’s shoulder, Syler instead dove for the man’s weapon, landing with a crunch and sliding several feet across the floor as he twisted to aim for the second guard.
The shot the other man got off clipped dangerously close to his left ear, but his own aim was thankfully entirely more reliable than that, bullet landing dead center of mass. He heaved himself up without pausing to catch his breath, half-turning to face the center desk, gun up and cocked.
He was met with Jon’s own gun pointed at his forehead, the man only a few feet away. “Freeze now, please. You’re making a mess of my girl.”
Syler snorted, hands dropping to his side. “Can’t say I’m particularly sorry about that. You did kidnap me.”
“We could’ve worked so well together,” the other man tutted as he stepped forward and rested the barrel directly against his brow. Syler closed his eyes, swallowing as a shot rang out.
Byron’s body dropped to the floor, hole in the side of his head. Syler breathed out heavily through his nose, hazel eyes fluttering open to send a baleful look in the direction of the door. “You’re late.”
“Terrible traffic,” Arthur replied, already wrapping arms around him. He sank into the other man’s embrace easily, body going limp even as his heart continued to pound. Syler buried his face in his agent’s neck, inhaling deeply, and started to laugh. It was probably manic if the hands stroking gently over his back were any indicator.
He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but by the time his pulse had returned to normal levels, he found that he was eager to wash his hands of this entire mess and sleep for approximately the rest of January.
