Chapter 13 #5
Jamie pulled the trigger, getting a burst off that took out the point man.
The two remaining hostiles scattered in opposite directions.
He went left, ducking behind a large Islamic vase encased in a shield, catching one of the two fighters by surprise.
Jamie pulled the trigger, a three-shot burst cutting across the man’s unprotected throat in a gruesome, bloody line.
The body collapsed to the floor, gun falling free of lifeless hands.
Rather than leave the weapon for someone else to find, Jamie kneeled down and wrapped his hand around the barrel.
Squeezing his fingers, he crunched the metal into a useless mess before kicking the broken weapon aside.
He stayed where he was, keeping his breathing quiet as he listened intently to the space around him.
Distant gunfire was ignored. The faint splash of water from footsteps coming closer was not.
Jamie flexed his fingers against the grip of his gun, eyes narrowing as he placed the other fighter’s position. His eight o’clock.
Jamie didn’t wait and came up firing.
The Reborn IRA fighter dove out of the way of the spray of bullets coming from Jamie’s weapon, sliding across the slippery floor.
Jamie advanced, sighting down his assault rifle and pulling the trigger.
The hostile was wearing far more armor than he was, which managed to deflect the bullets.
Jamie closed the distance between them and grabbed the other man’s gun by the barrel.
With a snap of his wrist, he broke it in half.
The man gaped in shock at him, giving Jamie a precious few seconds to grab him by the front of his second-rate tactical vest, pick him up as if he weighed nothing, and throw him out of the gallery.
Jamie’s enhanced strength meant the man went flying into the sculpture gallery, slamming headfirst into the base of a large sculpture.
He didn’t move after that.
Knowing he couldn’t hold this position without more firepower, Jamie retreated back to Tariq’s position two rooms over.
“Apollo to Drake. I’m coming up on your nine o’clock,” Jamie warned over the comms.
“Copy that,” Tariq replied.
Jamie made it back to Tariq’s position at the rear of the museum store. Beyond Tariq, Jamie could see a panicked crowd of people struggling to flee the museum. The two main entrances were sealed shut, and no amount of pounding on them would get the doors to open.
“Apollo to Knight. Status of the perimeter?” Jamie said.
“Holding, but we can’t risk these people getting out of the quarantine zone,” Liam responded almost immediately.
“It’s going to be a bloodfest if we don’t get some of these people out of the line of fire.
” Jamie saw a pair of dark shapes running through the fading steam at the far end of the museum store and took aim.
He waited just long enough to confirm they weren’t friendly before taking them out.
“We figured Cillian for the bombs, maybe a couple of enforcers, not a damn contingent of paramilitary fighters. You want this museum still standing tomorrow, we need to change the game plan.”
Jamie ducked behind a marble pillar at the edge of the grand entrance and trained his gun in the direction they’d come, keeping an eye out for any further advancement of the enemy.
“Plan B it is. Eclipse will handle the shielding outside. Bones will need to deal with everyone inside.”
“Copy that. Nova has Viper’s six. On my way down,” Trevor said over comms. “I hope this museum has really, really good insurance.”
They held position, with Tariq facing the screaming crowd struggling to get out while Jamie covered Samaira’s retreat back to their position a minute later.
“Europa to all fighters. Be advised, the enemy has scattered,” she reported over comms.
“What about their pyrokinetic?” Jamie asked.
Samaira shook her head. “Went below.”
They staggered their positions, trying to cover all lines of sight, but there were too many angles for the enemy to come at them from. Behind them, the screams gave way to muffled shouts of thank God! and run! as the doors were finally forced open.
They wouldn’t get very far. Eclipse, a telekinetic on a different UMG field team than the Royal Legion, would have the museum locked down beneath a telekinetic shield. They couldn’t risk anyone getting out and into London, not with the threat of Splice everywhere within this crowd.
Moments later, a sound started up, making the hairs on the back of Jamie’s neck stand on end.
Even through the museum walls, Jamie could hear the sirens.
Loud, piercing, meant to dig down into a person’s bones and wake the dead, they were first heard centuries ago during World War II to warn of incoming enemy air raids.
Now, they warned the citizens of London to shelter in place in the wake of a Splice chemical bomb attack.
The first of which went off in the middle of the crowd behind them trying to cram through the museum entrance for the uncertain safety of a London street.