So this was bigger than Compass. Bigger than us.
Artyom had known how dangerous and far-reaching this was. He’d been so furious because he understood the magnitude of this operation. My guts felt like they were melting inside me as I realised how little I knew my brother.
We weren’t going to find anything more here. More importantly, I knew where we had to go next. I was telling Grim when I heard the approaching footsteps, disconnected him, and snapped away from the flexiscreen. Poised in a crouched position as the door dilated open and I found myself staring at a guard. He had a shock of dishevelled hair, a local militia insignia stamped on the shoulder of his tactical gear.
My handcannon cracked twice, punching into the guard’s chest as he fired his thin-gun from the hip, mistaking the technician for an attacker and blasting him in the head. The two bodies hit the ground one after the other, the echo of the gunshot crackling down the halls.
18
Bulletstorm
There’s a unique kind of silence after the echo of a gunshot dies down. Pure. Complete. As if every living thing is scared of drawing any attention to itself. It gets the survival mechanism kicking in like no other sound does. So I knew I wasn’t mistaken when I picked up the clatter of heavy footsteps heading my way. If that wasn’t enough, the stormtech sparked like electricity in my chest, welcoming the incoming attack. Eight, ten, fifteen assailants. All coming to carve me up.
I was screwed. No way could I battle my way through that many men.
Or maybe I could.
The flasks of stormtech glistened at me from the shelves. Before I knew it, I was holding one. My hand was twitching. My mouth webbed with sticky saliva, sweat prickling across the nape of my neck. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take a dose like this, not after spending so long wrenching every possible drop of it out of me. Not after the rehab centres had pounded and strained me to the breaking point to be almost clean of it. I couldn’t predict what I’d do. It could be tainted. Even if it wasn’t, the knockback might fry my brains, melt my organs into my guts.
A gruff, muffled voice echoed from a few storeys above. ‘He’s downstairs. Direct shots only, can’t risk hitting—’
The words went out of earshot, but I’d heard enough. My new armour was top-market quality, but even it wouldn’t repel sustained fire for long.
I looked back at the stormtech.
It was like standing on the edge of a roaring cliff, the wind hard at my back, peering into a thrashing ocean below. This dosage could kill me in minutes. Or it could save me.
Not worth the risk. Slowly, almost painfully, I put it down.
There was only one other thing to try.
I spread my arms. Blocked out the world around me and focused inward. Focused on the depths of my body. I felt the stormtech surging up my arms, up my legs and chest like oil. I invited it to rush unobstructed through my veins, strumming my nerves and circling my heart. I gritted my teeth as I dredged up everything that had happened: my brother, my Reaper brothers dying, the war. I fed the stormtech my fear, frustration and white-hot, abject rage. I let the stormtech burn through me like wildfire.
I didn’t realise I’d closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, everything glowed.
The world had taken on the crisp, shiny edge of raw data. Everything sharper, more precise. I could hear every step of the oncoming men, smell the acid in their sweat. See the microscopic films of dust coating the workstations. My chest heaved and I felt my body crackle and tighten with purpose. The air flowing into my lungs tasted like alcohol fumes. My muscles were tingling, my mouth stretched in a splitting grin as I felt every fibre of my body coalesce under my control. My legs poised in a fighter’s stance. My powerful hands squeezed into trembling fists. Ready to fight.
This was what I remembered. This was what I’d been.
I’d never realised how much I’d missed it. How good it felt.
Scraping of boots overhead. Two people. Maybe three. Coming down the stairs.
I pressed my back to the wall as the door slid open. Breathing and footsteps echoed from the corridor. My muscles tensed. Had to wait for them to advance, to come to me. My heart was thumping so hard in my chest I thought they would hear it.
A shadow fell across the doorway, and with two steps the figure stepped clear. I shot him in the head, the handcannon echoing loud and flat. He smashed into a workstation, the second figure yelling as I charged out through the doorway. Her shot burst above me and the stormtech leaped along my breastbone in excitement. I ducked and shot her twice in the chest, throwing her backwards as, beyond her, I heard the high-pitched whine of weapons priming. I took my chance and dived across the hall into a fully furnished conference area, hoping to split them up instead of fighting them all head-on. There was a yell as one of them saw me, then a crackle of communication, and suddenly footsteps were heading towards me from all sides, pinning me dead in the centre of their sights.
The room erupted into chaos.
Sun-bright muzzle flashes around me, gunfire ripping out from high-calibre rifles and rattling my teeth. Chairs and tables turning into gnarled chunks, pillars smashing apart, workstations blasted across the room and glass showering around me. I hunkered down, aware of men to my left slowly closing in on me. The handcannon jerked in my hands as I
