Two sub-machine guns were pointed at Carter’s head—one from either side of the stable doorway, both in the gloved hands of copper-eyed Nex soldiers. Carter glanced, very slowly, from left to right.
‘There were five Nex,’
said Kade smugly.
‘Yeah, thanks for that, Kade. Big
fucking
help you were with that one.’
‘Let me sort this out, Carter. You
know
I can take them. You
know
I can burn their skulls and piss on their graves. This is just a walk in the park for me. As dangerous as feeding the quacking ducks.
‘
‘Kade—you can just drop dead.’
‘Hey, Carter, maybe we both will—just look at that!’
From behind the smoking ruins of the Mercedes 8x8 came an enormously muscled figure on all fours—like a huge stocky cat, moving with a heavy feline grace, long claws gouging the dirt road, heavy triangular head swaying from left to right. Its skin was the glossy black of insect chitin, with spiralled patterns of skin blending with silver armour down its flanks. It stalked forward in arrogance, slitted copper eyes focusing on Carter—and it made the Spiral man’s breath catch in his throat and his skin go suddenly cold. He felt the two Nex to either side take a step back.
‘Sleeper Nex,’
came Kade’s soft whisper, laced with just a hint of joy. With the thrill of
battle. ‘You have
no
chance with that, my friend. Last time, it was just luck ... but this time?’
The Sleeper Nex halted, claws flexing, and a long string of drool dripped from its thick twisted fangs. Its head tilted a little then, observing Carter with the slow appreciation that all predators reserve for their prey. But what horrified him most was that there was a
recognition
in that narrowed stare.
The Sleeper Nex
knew
Carter ...
And then it spoke, sending spider crawls of horror rippling down Carter’s spine. How can it speak? his mind screamed at him. Just how
the fuck
can that monstrosity
speak
?
‘Mr Carter,’ came the low sibilant whisper.
It blinked, slowly, lazily. Saliva, a thick mixture of black and grey, continued to drip from its jaws, drooling to the ground where it formed twin puddles.
‘You have evaded us for too long. Now your time has finally come.’
Spiral Mainframe
Data log# 12327 [amended]
CLASSIFIED SADT/5345/SPECIAL INVESTIGATIONS UNIT
DATA REQUEST 324#12327
Durell
All existing files concerning Durell were destroyed (by the man himself) prior to his betrayal of Spiral.
It is known that he was heavily involved in the Nx5 Project early on in his career. He worked with Gol and Count Feuchter. It is known that he carried on with this work illegally after Spiral withdrew funding and closed down the Nex operations.
It is believed that Durell was the instigator in creating the Spiral mobile, an anti-Spiral warship designed to overthrow world powers and take control of the world’s military and financial institutions via the all-powerful QuanTech Edition 3 processor. He was later responsible for global terrorism using a QuakeHub linked to the deadly QIV processor, again in further attempts at world domination by the use of terrible, continent-hammering quakes—which he could target at will.
Durell is the most dangerous individual ever encountered by Spiral. His knowledge and lust for power are insatiable. He is considered extremely dangerous and ranks No 1 on Spiral’s terrorist hit list. There is intel regarding some form of ancient
‘Nex DemolSquad’,
although no Spiral records have ever referred to such a creation—nor can anybody envisage why such a deviant squad would arise.
Keyword SEARCH» NEX, SAD, SPIRAL_sadt, DURELL, FEUCHTER, SPIRAL_mobile, QIII, QIV, QuakeHub
// Also see military texts
SPIRAL
and
QUAKE.
let us () out
make () us free
we see you () we see you
we see the traitor ()
() traitor of our breed
T
he light was dying over the New York skyline—or what remained of it. The one building which still stood perfectly erect, at the centre of Manhattan, was the Sentinel Corporation’s New York HQ.
Durell stood within the enfolding glass embrace of one of the upper floors, computers glinting dully behind him, their lights reflecting on the high-sheen oak of the thirty-foot lacquered desk surrounded by soft leather chairs. He stood beside the smoked privacy glass, one clawed black hand lifted and pressed against the TitaniumGL laminates.
Durell smiled within the folds of his dark hood.
Light aircraft swept above him, thundering through the skies and spraying out another fine mist of chemical Half-Life Accelerators over the still devastated but gradually renewing world below him. Whilst most areas of New York had been made safe in terms of radiation levels upwards of a year ago, there were still pockets of dangerous radioactivity that necessitated regular and constant sweeps.
Durell looked down as the spray fell and disappeared.
Distantly, people moved like tiny insects through the streets. Fires burned in pockets among the devastation. Whilst most of the roads had been cleared of debris and many structures had been rebuilt, there was still an amazing amount of post-blast destruction. The Nex patrolled with an iron fist, closely backed by the JT8 police squads—Justice Troops, once the police and military of the Old World before the Nex Agency had taken global control. Now retrained and rearmed, paid a handsome wage, and given the best in city-living accommodation, they were the human untouchables. The Mercs. The modern face of law and order.
Gunshots flickered distantly, although Durell could not hear their blasts from his luxury office. The JT8s swarmed forward against a blockade, overrunning it. Fire flared. There was a tiny green glow of detonation, and more ragged shooting from unleashed automatic weaponry.
Turning his back, Durell moved towards the long wooden desk and seated himself at its head. He ran a deformed claw hand along the fine lacquered wood, tracing patterns of dark grain, delighting in the flawless smooth surface.
A steel door at the far end of the chamber opened and a Nex stepped onto the plush carpet, dragging a half-naked, battered, raze-wire-bound captive.
The Nex was of no great stature; she wore a tight body-hugging black uniform and soft black boots. She had an AK52 slung over one shoulder and her face was unmasked; copper eyes glowed brightly in a beautifully pale and oval face. The hair was cut short near the scalp, leaving a tight black forest of spikes, but the lack of hair only accentuated the cold beauty of the high cheekbones and unblemished skin.
She prodded the man, who stumbled forward and fell to his knees for a moment. He was breathing heavily, and blood had dried on his face. He lifted his steel-grey gaze and fixed it on Durell, then snarled something incomprehensible and surged upwards. He lurched to a halt in front of Durell—with the female Nex’s sub-machine gun poking viciously into his back.
He smiled, a low spiteful smile laced with traces of blood. ‘So you’ve finally chosen to see me. You’ve finally found your balls, Durell, you twisted piece of rat-shit.’
‘Welcome to my simple home, Mr Haven.’ Durell spoke softly. Without emotion. He pushed back the hood of his heavy robe and smiled his own curious twisted smile. ‘I am sorry for your pain—truly I am.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Tut, tut. Your anger is misplaced, my little
Spiral
friend. I never gave the order to beat you into a senseless pulp; you may thank the JT8s for that honour—and let us be honest with one another: the Justice Troops are a product of
your
world, not mine.’
Haven seemed to sag a little then; Durell saw the raze-wire digging into his wrists and the blood rolling down over his hands, dripping to the carpet. Durell motioned to the female Nex warrior who reached forward. There was an electronic
blip
and the raze-wire retreated into itself and dropped to the carpet.
Haven looked up, rubbing at his deeply lacerated flesh and flexing his fingers slowly, allowing life to flood back into his crippled near-blue hands. He took a step forward, but felt the prod of the gun in his back once more. He laughed then, a bitter laugh of cynicism and despair. ‘You going to kill me then, Durell? You
know
I don’t have the information you want. I just don’t have it—and no amount of torture can make me talk.’ His tone was mocking, and despite his obvious pain and hopeless predicament there was a glint of victory shining in his cold hard eyes.
Durell sighed, shaking his head. ‘We will scan you for brain tattoos. It will be very painful.’
‘Scan me, fucker. I don’t have the access codes to the SpiralGRID—as you will shortly discover. Now
I
have a question for
you…
’ Their eyes met and for a long moment there was a tense silence. The female Nex retreated a little, as if sensing that she wasn’t needed.
‘Please feel free to ask.’ Durell turned and moved once more towards the darkened glass. He stared down over the devastation of Manhattan—and over the distant chaos of rubble across the East River, in Queens and Brooklyn. He stared at the destruction he had commissioned, the sea of rubble he had wrought.
‘What happened?’ Haven’s voice was softer now, gentler. There was a thick slur of sentiment; of nostalgia. Durell turned and saw that Haven’s head was tilted slightly, eyes bright as if the man was holding back tears. ‘What
happened
to you? We used to be friends.’
‘Nothing happened, Haven—except the world became more corrupt, Spiral passed over more and more abominations. The politicians and the generals said the right words, earned their promotions and elections by clever words, by slick marketing and money games and underhand tactics. But when the world fell into decline they never did what was necessary; they complained and moaned, whined and stalled and found an eternity of feeble excuses. And yes—I have wrought a terrible destruction—but nothing so terrible that it cannot be rebuilt, cannot be reborn, cannot be
improved
.’
‘Improved? You call the Nex an
improvement
? You truly are insane, Durell. I always used to joke back in the NexSquad days that you drank your fill from the mercury fountain—but fuck me if you weren’t bathing in a toxic lake instead.’
‘You misunderstand my intentions,’ crooned Durell, his gaze locked on New York. Once more he witnessed the flashes of shotgun blasts. The city below him was a turmoil of anarchy, a maelstrom of human struggle. A battleground for Nex and Spiral, REBS and JT8s.
A high-pitched shrill alerted Durell, who moved smoothly—with only a few tiny crackles from beneath his robe—and pressed a sleek alloy button. A huge black screen shimmered into life to reveal the face of a Nex, haughty-looking, with narrow copper eyes and short black bristling hair.
‘Yes, Mace?’
‘Sir, the QIV processor has completed the compilation. We have mapped the new definitions for the HATE zones and managed to control further creeping by spraying anti-HATE borders delivered by chopper. It can no longer infiltrate the cities.’
‘Good. So are we—’ Durell chuckled lightly, as if amused by the word ‘—
safe,
for the moment?’
‘It is controlled,’ said Mace simply.
‘Good work. Well done.’
‘What shall we do with the recent prisoners? The ones who unknowingly wandered into Half-Zones?’
‘They broke the Five Laws of Contamination.’
‘They did not intend a non-compliance, sir. It was an act based purely on ignorance.’
‘You suggest I should release them?’
‘I suggest nothing, sir. I am merely stating the facts. There are loyal JT8s and Nex who were out of their jurisdiction because of the nature of the HATE biological weapon; it shifts on the wind and was able to infiltrate edges of the cities, using plant spores as organic carriers. Although the Nex and JT8s were not confined to their Lanes, they had unwittingly entered KillZones and I feel that—’
‘Kill them.’
‘Yes, sir. Out.’ Mace signed off and the screen went a terrible matt black; it reflected Durell’s contemplative expression for a moment before he turned and settled his gaze on Haven. Then he glanced over to the slim female Nex who stood, stoic and impassive, her sub-machine gun pointing down at the plush carpet.
‘Did we run the preliminary checks on Viktor Haven here?’
‘Yes,’ said the female Nex softly, her voice gentle and sexless.
‘And we found nothing?’
‘He is clean, although his ECube does condemn him as a Spiral terrorist purely by association.’
‘I know that,’ whispered Durell. ‘Any fool can read his Spiral Agency loyalties in his stance. But what does he truly know about the GRID? What does he know of EDEN? And what does he know about the Dreadnought constructions?’
Durell caught the glint in Haven’s eye.
‘So you
do
contain some knowledge. Take him to Mace for ...
questioning.’
The Nex moved forward and placed a hand on Haven’s shoulder.
‘And Alexis?’
‘Yes?’ she purred tenderly, her copper-eyed gaze meeting Durell’s.