Syberian Sunrise (17 page)

By the end of it, he managed to make at least a small score. He snagged a rifle that had been somehow thrown behind a stack of crates and managed to grab two flash-bangs and two fragmentation grenades scattered throughout the room. It wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for when he raided the high-tech armory of a top-secret military complex, but it would do. Between the Altered and Dark Ops, there wasn't much left behind.

Before leaving this level, Enzo made a quick stop by the Control Room. It looked like it had seen some sustained gunfire, and four Dark Ops corpses were spread around the entrance. Good to know that the others hadn't gone down without a fight, though Enzo wondered what Fielding wanted with prisoners. Maybe just to taunt him? Or for their own twisted reasons? Likely both. All the more reason to get them out.

As he stepped out of the Control Room, a bullet whizzed by his head. Enzo ducked instinctively, raising his rifle and taking aim. He spied a pair of dark-armored troops further down the hall, lining up their shots to take him down.

“He's on Level Four!” one of them said, presumably into his radio.

Enzo sighted the man who'd spoken, the one on the right, and blew out his faceplate with a well placed three-round burst. Glass and blood flew as the man let out a short cry, flying onto his back. Enzo grunted as a bullet grazed his shoulder, another flying past his ear. He dropped to one knee, aimed and fired, repeating the process. The second man fell. Silence reigned in the corridor. Enzo let out his breath in a long sigh, standing back up. It had been his left shoulder, at least. He retreated back into the Control Room and took a moment to patch himself up, grunting at the torn fabric of the uniform. If only they'd shot him in the vest.

No one else had shown in up the interval of time that had passed. He moved over to the corpses, patting them down, relieving them of their spare ammo. They didn't have much. Either they'd run into a lot of Altered on the way down or Fielding didn't like them very much. Either way, it told Enzo one thing: the trip up to the abandoned mines wouldn't be as simple as he'd originally hoped. There was a good chance he'd have to fight both Altered and Dark Ops troops. Enzo slapped a fresh magazine into his rifle.

Either way, he'd pushed through.

He always did.

* * * * *

Enzo decided to avoid taking the main entrance up to the next level, which the map marked as 'Level Three: Scientific & Support Staff Living Quarters'. It was little more than a big collection of bedrooms, a few recreational areas and places to eat with a pair of security stations and emergency infirmaries thrown in for good measure. So he climbed up through a maintenance shaft that allowed the technicians access to the more behind the scenes areas. As he climbed, his shoulder began to throb with that low frequency of burning pain.

He kept going, hand over hand, foot over foot.

He thought about what he was going to do when this nightmare was over. It tended to help on particularly long or dangerous missions. There was a big and flashy pleasure planet called Paradice. If they thought they could have gotten away with it, they would've called the place Pair-of-Dice, given that it was basically one giant city of casinos in all their various forms. You went there to lose money in exchange for absurd amounts of pampering. Given the level of relaxation, and the women, Enzo thought it was a very fair deal.

Upon escaping this hellhole, he planned go directly to Paradice, check into the most lavish five star hotel they had, eat a big meal, get drunk, get laid, soak in a hot tub and then pass out for fifteen hours, followed by a dozen more rotations of the same thing, with the occasional gambling session and, for good measure, bar fight.

He thought about this as he came to the next maintenance hatch. It would be wonderful. Enzo hauled himself up and out, coming into a darkened, mostly empty storage bay. There were a few blood stains on the floor, but it seemed as though the Altered had already been through and removed all the bodies for re-purposing. Enzo cleared the room, finding nothing deadly or useful in it and made his way over to the only door in the area.

As soon as he opened it, the majority of the lights immediately went out. He dropped into a crouch, still not quite out of the doorway yet. As his eyes adjusted the gloom, he looked around, attempting to discern if there was anything deadly coming for him. As far as he could tell, he'd come to a locker room. He took a step out.

His radio crackled to life.
“Mr. Rains. In the spirit of good fun and to keep you on your toes, I've sent my best man down to Level Three. You and he are now locked in that level, as well as whatever Altered might have been in the area at the time. The only way out is through. I'd wish you luck, but we both know that doesn't apply here,”
Fielding said.

Enzo sighed. Fantastic. He considered whether or not to use the flashlight, then decided against it. There was enough light left to see by...sort of. He began moving through the room, past the rows of silent and shut lockers. A few of them hung open, ominous in the gloom. He didn't sense anyone or anything else in the room with him, so he hurried on. After a moment, he'd located one of the exits and passed through it.

In his memory of the map of this level, he knew that there was a primary security center on, of course, the opposite side of the structure. If he could get there, he could hopefully figure out what kind of lockout this was and if he'd need to blast through a few doors to escape. And, of course, he'd need to dodge this would-be assassin and the Altered on the way there. Or kill them. The room beyond was a large pool.

In the faded light, he could see massive clouds of blood in the water. Creeping along the slick tiled floor, Enzo wondered if Fielding was bullshitting him or not. With people like this, it was hard to tell. She could just be playing psychological warfare and have locked him in with only altered, hoping he'd believe her about sending her 'best' down here to deal with him. Or, inversely, she could have sent an entire squad to kill him.

Or maybe she was telling the truth.

Enzo reached the far side of the pool room and passed through the door there. His memory of the layout of this level was, unfortunately, imperfect. He wanted another look at a map. While that might not be possible with this level of power, it wasn't entirely out of the question, and he knew there was a terminal nearby with that data. The next area was a corridor that granted access to more of this portion of the facility.

Across the hall was a cafeteria.

And in there was a terminal. Still no one in the corridor, though he could hear something big and heavy walking around somewhere nearby. Fantastic. Enzo dashed across the corridor and entered the cafeteria. Immediately it became obvious that the Altered had hit this place hard during a big meal. Plates, silverware, blood and food coated the floor, making the place reek. Still no Altered and no sign of the Dark Ops warrior.

Across the room, Enzo spied the soft glow of the terminal. It was still powered, at least. He hurried across the room, in between tables and chairs, careful not to slip. Once he reached the terminal, he booted it up and accessed the map. Best to do this quick. He memorized the best route from the cafeteria to the primary security center. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be easy. The level was large, with a lot of interconnecting corridors and who knew what in between. Enzo sighed and turned away from the terminal.

Time to get moving-

Something hit him hard in the chest, punching into his security vest, and knocked him on his ass. Even as he fell he spied a dark figure standing across the room. He brought his gun up as he hit the ground, took aim and sent a few three-round volleys towards the figure, who ducked down behind a table. Taking the opportunity to move, Enzo quickly got behind a table as well and scanned the room. He couldn't see anyone else.

Something landed a few feet away.

Reacting on instinct, Enzo threw himself towards the nearest door. A second later, the grenade went off, filling the area with heat and metal fragments. He barely managed to get behind another table, hidden from the worst of the blast. Knowing there was no time to lose, Enzo primed and tossed one of his own grenades, a flash-bang. The second it went off, he was up and running towards the exit. Bullets exploded into existence, peppering his position. He hit the access button as soon as he reached the door and went through, locking it down behind him, then kept running. Okay, so Fielding hadn't been bluffing, she sent someone that was pretty good.

Fine, he could deal with that.

Probably.

Enzo turned a corner, preparing to head for the support staff dormitories, and let out an involuntary scream as he nearly stepped right into the waiting arms of an Ire. It let out a brutal roar as it took a swing at him. He stepped back and heard another sound behind him. Spinning, he saw yet
another
Ire further down the corridor. Giving up his shortest route path for now, he turned and sprinted into the scientific dormitories wing.

The Ires roared and gave chase. About that time, he heard a door open, followed by gunfire and another powerful roar. Well, at least he'd run into some trouble as well. Enzo kept running, keeping his head down. He'd come to the scientists' dormitories, which basically meant he'd come to a maze. The interconnecting corridors all looked the same, dozens of doors lining the walls. Nothing but corridors and crossroads.

Enzo sighed. Now what?

Behind him, the gunfire had fallen away, though he could hear heavy footfalls. He looked down at the rifle in his hands. Perhaps he'd have to deal with this personally. Wasn't that how it always went? 'Fuck it, I'll do it myself.' He headed down the nearest corridor, for now just trying to get away from the three hostiles so he could come up with some kind of plan. He took a left, then a right, then hurried down that corridor.

The sounds of the others had almost completely dissipated. Taking another turn, Enzo took a moment to try and figure out where he was. He'd managed to catch a few of the names, who lived where, as he looked over the map, trying to use them as placeholders. None of these seemed familiar. He walked down another corridor, listening for the others. The Ires were somewhere within the warren of hallways. Contemporary minotaurs for this maze. The Dark Ops jackass, on the other hand...he couldn't get a feel for where the guy was.

Enzo took a moment to reload, then kept walking, rifle tucked into his shoulder, finger on the trigger. He'd done a dozen jobs like this before, two dozen, maybe even three. Hunting down someone that didn't want to be found could, when the person had been pushed far enough, turn around, and then it's
you
being hunted. He'd also had bad guys out for his blood before, though it was usually alleys and colony streets and not underground top secret installations. A sound came to him, then, and Enzo spun around, looking down an empty corridor.

He turned again, then let out a surprised sound as a bullet hit him in his false arm. The trooper stood right there, at the next junction. Enzo opened fire and decided to go on the offensive, this needed to end
now
. The trooper seemed taken aback by this and hesitated just long enough for Enzo to cross the distance, leap forward and punch the man's rifle from his grasp. That was all Enzo got, though, as the trooper regained the initiative by socking Enzo directly in the face. Pain rocketed through his skull, momentarily blinding him, and he stumbled back a few steps. He tried to bring his rifle up, but it was smashed aside.

As he regained his senses, Enzo took a step back, fists raised, ready for another attack. But it didn't come. His eyes cleared and he saw that the assassin wasn't looking at him. The man was looking to the left. Enzo flicked his gaze left and saw that one of the Ires had found them. He heard a huff of heavy breath from his right and glanced that way. No,
both
of the Ires had found them. He and the assassin glanced at each other one, then both turned away to deal with their respective problems. Enzo began looking for his rifle while stepping back.

It was too late.

The Ire rushed him. In a blur of motion, it had him in its grasp, massive, meaty fingers around his waist, lifting him, piling on the pressure. Enzo groaned, beating ineffectively against its immense limbs, and he knew his internal organs didn't have long if this kept up. His mind ran through a quick list of options and then he had it. Reaching down, Enzo tore his pistol free, barely able to get at it, brought the barrel up and took aim.

He emptied the magazine into the Ire's twisted face.

Blood sprayed the thing as it roared and raged, dropping him and collapsing back onto the ground. He heard a muffled explosion and spun around, seeing that the assassin had dealt with his own Ire by way of grenade. They both looked at each other. The assassin's hands were empty, his or her face hidden behind a plate of black glass. Enzo's pistol was empty. Both of them lunged at each other in that second, ready to keep it going.

And it might have gone on for a while longer if Enzo hadn't balled up his artificial fist and punched straight through the trooper's visor. The man, it was a man, screamed once and then collapsed back onto the floor. Enzo pulled his fist free, shaking off shards of glass and blood, and reloaded his pistol. He shot the trooper twice in the head for good measure, then took a quick moment to collect his rifle and pat the corpse down. The pockets contained a few more magazines and a couple of spare grenades. Enzo policed them all up.