Chapter 16 #2
“Fair’s overrated. And it doesn’t matter if there’re others like her. They won’t live long enough to make a difference. I’ll see to it personally.” He took a calculated step forward. “I’m one of a kind.”
Hackett started walking. Not fast. More like a man who wanted to prove he could win without any fanfare. Win without charging in or relying on his increased speed and endurance.
Just his hand and that blade.
A loud hum buzzed behind Quinn as he shifted over, the cage covering one of the high-voltage transformer hubs sizzling with raw power. The hairs on his arms stood up, as his only play looped through his mind.
He tightened his grip on his knife, right arm hanging uselessly at his side, as he braced his feet, the metal grating digging into the rubber on his boots. Sweat dripped down his face, Scout’s image still playing in his head as he took a breath, letting it hiss out.
Hackett closed in, breaking into a sprint for the last ten meters, running at Quinn like a damn freight train.
Quinn held firm, then flipped his knife, throwing it at Hackett once he was only five meters away.
The blade hit him in the upper left shoulder, just outside his vest, sinking into the meaty part near his underarm.
Nowhere near fatal, but it knocked off his balance, had him tumbling into the railing.
But Quinn was already moving. Racing toward him, then dropping his weight, sliding past as Hackett hit the edge, nearly tipping over as his own blade clattered to the ground beneath them.
Quinn’s knife wrenched free, tumbling onto the catwalk.
The corrugated metal scraped Quinn’s legs, the vibrations shaking clear through to his molars, before he popped up, and slammed into Hackett from behind.
His shoulder and ribs screamed, those dots getting closer.
The bastard lurched forward, stumbling again when Quinn jumped, grabbed that same overhead bar with his left hand and booted Hackett in the back. The force tripped him against the cage surrounding the transformer, the hum drowning out the man’s startled grunt, giving Quinn the opening he needed.
He landed, managing to stay upright, as he grabbed his knife off the catwalk, then barreled into the guy, crushing him against the metal, bouncing his head off the wire cage.
Hackett locked his hands around the mesh, using brute strength to push back, just as Quinn gripped the insulated handle.
Slamming the hilt into Hackett’s head, he reared back, raising his arm.
He focused on the man’s hand, putting all his strength into one final hit. “Evolve your way out of this, asshole.”
He struck, sinking the blade through Hackett’s left palm, driving the tip into the live copper conduit behind the cage before staggering back.
The transformer hissed, sparks erupting from the casing as the current spiked, pulsing through Hackett like a frantic heartbeat.
The man screamed, body thrashing, smoke curling up off his bare skin as arcs of white-blue electricity danced along his arms before the entire transformer blew in a flash of light and sound.
Quinn flew backwards onto the grating, smoke choking out any attempt to breathe and plunging the upper catwalk into utter blackness save for the faint glow of that damn strobing red light on the far wall. His vision dimmed, pain pulling him into a numbing haze until the air stilled.
Quinn roused, chest heaving, nothing working quite right.
He pushed onto his ass until his back rested against the railing, the scenery tilting left and right until his head cleared.
Hackett’s limp body slid onto the metal floor with a dull thud, severe burns marring any exposed skin, his eyes open, unseeing.
Quinn shoved down any remorse, staggering to his feet, his right arm still hanging at that odd angle. A fucking liability guaranteed to get him killed if he didn’t pop it back into place.
Dread settled low in his gut as he stumbled over to the corner of the catwalk, kicking Hackett to ensure the bastard wasn’t getting back up, before threading his arm through the steel bars.
Not his first choice for resetting the joint, but he didn’t have the luxury of being picky.
Taking a breath, he bit down on his collar, then violently rotated his torso, realigning the bones.
He paused briefly with everything strung tight, the pain so fierce, his knees buckled until a nauseating crunch split the air.
His shoulder slipped into its socket a moment before he fell to his knees.
White-hot agony washed over him, sweat soaking through his shirt before the pain slowly faded, leaving a deep-seated ache in his upper chest.
The metal cooled his skin as he rested his forehead against the railing, waiting for the nausea to pass, for the numbness to lift from his arm. It took a couple minutes, but he finally managed to wiggle his fingers and bend his elbow. Rocking back on his heels, he gained his feet.
A few more dizzying breaths, and he had his balance back — only his ribs barking at him, now.
He glanced around looking for Scout, thankful the transformer hadn’t created a damn fireball.
A hint of panic burned through his chest until he crushed it.
Breathed. Surely Scout should have reached him already.
Found whatever passageway Hackett had used to access the chamber.
And with her almost inhuman tracking skills, Quinn knew she’d either run into trouble or was hurt.
The thought had him reaching for his Sig, changing the mag, everything slotting into place. He took a step, intent on finding that remote, hopefully opening the door, when the alarm changed pitch, that strobing light burning bright yellow.
Hidden speakers blasted out a roar of static, followed by a mechanical voice blaring through the air.
Protocol Zero activated. Thermal purge initiated in T minus twenty minutes.
Quinn tripped his way across the catwalk, half-falling, half-racing down the stairs, his legs barely keeping up with his head. He stared at the heavy steel door, that message repeating in that same, tinny voice.
Twenty minutes.
No time to worry, he just tightened his grip and headed deeper into the mine.