Chapter 7
The small warehouse John Stratton had directed Nate to go to was a decent place to hide while he detoxed.
There was a breakroom in the back with a cot plus a shower, though it was large and industrial.
It did the trick, though. He had spare clothes, toiletries, and even clippers to take care of his unruly hair.
That was all great and everything, but he mostly tried not to feel like he was dying.
He was failing miserably.
It had been a few days since he had left the Sims Center.
He was in complete withdrawal, except for the taper of benzos Stratton gave him, so he didn’t seize up and die detoxing from them.
Sitting on the cot, Nate put his head in his hands and attempted to ignore the way his bones felt like they were throbbing.
He had gone through every common symptom: nausea, vomiting, headaches, diarrhea, muscle aches, fevers, sweating, fatigue and insomnia at the same damned time, shaking, and now his fucking bones hurt.
He had no idea what was in those syringes, but it was nasty.
He had detoxed from heroin before. It had been bad.
This was ten times worse.
Nate was debating on whether to attempt to sleep or stand under the spray of the shower when he heard a faint noise outside the breakroom.
Using every ounce of energy he had, he grabbed the handgun from his supplies—a Taurus GX4 9mm—and rolled to the floor, where he could kneel and back himself around an old, rusting filing cabinet.
It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.
Before Nate could do much more than ready his weapon, the familiar voice of John Stratton said, “Don’t shoot, Slade. I’m coming in. If you want fresh food, more clothes, and better supplies, I suggest you put your gun down and let me in.”
Nate relaxed—slightly. Stratton had kept his bargain so far. Nate had been freed. His initial destination had been safe. Now, he had another more permanent base to stay and detox until he could figure out what to do.
John Stratton appeared at the door; his handgun pointed down as he kicked two large duffel bags into the room.
He was wearing all black, including black combat pants and matching boots.
The way the guy moved made Nate think he had training.
Nate had been following his brother’s life since joining the Conglomerate, but he had completely missed last year, and the year before had been chaotic because of the sheer number of missions.
He didn’t know much about Kiera’s side of the family, except her father was Damien Amherst, a crazed billionaire and Conglomerate puppet.
He had been taken out by Gray Tower, but apparently her real father was this cloak-and-dagger guy.
Not that Nate was complaining. He was glad the guy was helping him.
“When I told you to get out of there, I didn’t mean kidnap Miles Bryant’s assistant and send all of Gray Tower on your heels,” he said, a wry look on his face. “Do you know how much time I spent scrubbing camera feeds, covering your tracks?”
“I don’t know, Stratton,” Nate muttered, hurt and annoyed. “How much?”
“A lot.”
“Well, maybe you should warn a guy that she’s there? Then I would have kidnapped someone else.”
“I didn’t want you to kidnap anyone. I wanted you to hotwire a car. There was an older model car out there. You literally could have…never mind. It happened. It’s over with. Nothing we can do about it now.”
Nate shook his head.
“Did you even know she was working there as Sims’ new secretary?”
“I knew he had a new hire, and I vaguely knew what she looked like. She didn’t matter for what I needed, so I didn’t care.”
“So…that’s a ‘no?’”
“No,” Stratton said, his eyes narrowing. “I’m assuming you weren’t an idiot and didn’t tell her who you were.”
“Do I look like an idiot?” Nate asked.
“Well…”
“Fuck you. Why are you here anyway? I’m sure it’s not to check on my welfare. This whole get poor Nathan out of the psych ward thing benefits you. I’m just trying to figure out how.”
Stratton chuckled.
“All right. You got me. I want to make my daughter happy, and to do so, my son-in-law needs his brother back.”
Plausible. But in that case, why not tell Gray Tower I’m out? Nate thought.
“Well, gee, we can sit by the Christmas tree like a big, happy family. Are you sure that’s it, Stratton? No other motive there?”
“You’re smarter than you look, Mr. Slade,” Stratton said nonchalantly. Asshole. “Yes, I do have an ulterior motive, and I need your help. You may be the only one with the capabilities to pull it off.”
Nate snorted.
“Let me guess: you want my armor.”
Stratton shook his head and said, “I want you to get your armor, so you can use it. This is very important, and it might be the only way to complete this mission. I have no use for that, uh…” He chuckled. “…super suit, as the people at Gray Tower are fondly calling them.
“Super suit?” Nate laughed. “I like it. You want me to go get mine and become a superhero, Stratton?”
“No!” Stratton said firmly. “I already had one asset thinking he could take on the world, and it almost killed him. You need to do this mission strategically.”
“Is that all I am to you: an asset?” Nate asked, suddenly annoyed.
“Uh, no. That was the wrong choice of words,” Stratton backtracked. “It’s personal with you, Slade. You know that. Besides, I can’t let anything happen to you. Keira would kill me.”
“Nice save,” Nate grumbled. “So, what’s the big mission? Why do I need my armor?
“I want you to destroy the rest of these super suits,” Stratton said, deadpan.
Nate stared at him. The man had to be crazy.
There had to be at least thirty of them in existence—if not more.
Of course, someone like Nate would never know the true numbers, but he did know they were expensive as hell to make.
The soldiers who wore them had to be specially trained.
Then, of course, there was the fact that each armor-wearer had to be tolerant of the special concoction of drugs the Conglomerate used, and many failed out on that aspect alone.
“Not sure what you’ve been smoking,” Nate began, “but there is absolutely no way one person with a suit could go in and take out all the rest of them. The logistics would be a nightmare, not to mention these would be fights that are multiple sets against one. I don’t even know where you would find these things. You’re—”
“I know where all the suits are located,” Stratton cut in. “I have an associate who is extremely motivated and found them all.”
“Bullshit. There’s no possible way.”
Stratton smiled slightly, but the expression was sadder than anything else.
“My friend has a vendetta against the Conglomerate, and he is one of the most talented hackers in the world. Trust me when I say he did it.”
Nate’s head began to throb, and he wanted to crawl back onto his cot and sleep. However, Stratton was throwing out the opportunity of a lifetime: the perfect revenge on the Conglomerate. That was, of course, if he could deliver.
“Okay,” Nate said, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe he was entertaining this.
“Let’s say you could get me these locations.
How am I supposed to take the armor out?
These places are fortified. I should know; I lived in them for years.
Then, if I somehow did get in, how am I supposed to take out multiple armored suits by myself? This whole plan is crazy.”
“You’ll have blueprints and ways to stealthily enter the areas and leave without issue.
As for the soldiers and their suits, some will be off and in storage.
Those will be easy. The others will be harder, but we will be utilizing Ms. Katrina Langely’s exploitation in the suits to render them useless. ”
Kat Langely had found a way to hack into the suits and control them remotely when they had met on that fated island mission.
The suits themselves were linked together via a heavily encrypted wireless network.
They used it for communication, but the real technology was that it used signals and some incredibly advanced math to bounce around and locate people, objects, and rooms. It would then show what it would deem important—usually people.
Sure, it had infrared, but this shit was so advanced that current technology was just catching up with it.
Whoever had designed it was a frigging genius.
“You’re saying the Conglomerate doesn’t know Kat found a vulnerability in the suits?” Nate asked.
“No. All that information was fried in the explosion their own people set off on the island.” Stratton chuckled.
“All they could recover were the burnt armor shells, despite the special shielding. It didn’t matter how tough the armor was; it was never meant to take an explosion like that and then sit in a fire for an ungodly number of hours. They turned into a crisp.”
Nate’s lips twitched with amusement. When the Gray Tower agents had assaulted that island to rescue Jack and Kat, Nate’s superior had wired the main residence there to blow. The countdown had already begun after Nate’s former team had been taken out, leaving them to sit in the building to fry.
“And my suit was patched…” he mumbled, more to himself than Stratton.
Through a series of coincidences, Kat had the patch to the code in the armor’s operating system. Nate’s suit got the patch. The other suits got hacked. It had been the perfect set-up when they went to take out the Conglomerate soldiers so everyone could leave the island safely.
“Yes, that was all the information I could get out of your Gray Tower data,” Stratton said. “The rest has been stored somewhere so secure my guy couldn’t get to it.” He shrugged. “It was all we needed at this point anyhow. My man is working on more as we speak.”
Nate snorted.
“Must be some friend you have there.”
“Oh, he’s not a friend,” Stratton said dryly. “I’m still wondering if he’ll stab me in the back. But we do have the same goals, so that’s good enough for now.”
“You’re making me feel really good about this situation, Stratton,” Nate said sarcastically.
“It’s the best I can do. There aren’t many people with his skill level willing to take on the Conglomerate.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “Actually, scratch that. There aren’t any people with his skill level, so we need him.”
As much as Nate didn’t want to trust anyone, Stratton was his best chance at getting back at the Conglomerate.
Grabbing the suit was a gamble. The Conglomerate could be watching.
Stratton could double-cross him. Then, that armor Nate had fought so hard to keep away from those bastards would go back to them with the patch in place.
Any advantage Gray Tower had gained against them would be gone.
Still, this whole mission was one big risk for Nate while Stratton stayed back in the shadows and pulled the strings. As much as Nate wanted to get back at the Conglomerate, he needed something more than just a pat on the back.
“What’s in this for me?” Nate asked.
Stratton laughed.
“A job well done star isn’t going to cut it for you?” When Nate grunted in reply, Stratton continued, “How about the satisfaction of getting rid of all those armor sets?” Nate just stared at him. Stratton knew better. “Okay, fine. How about I give you your freedom?”
Nate held his breath, wondering if he had heard the man right. His freedom? What was Stratton playing at?
“What do you mean? Just give it to me straight. I don’t have time for bullshit.”
“I can give you Victor, which would allow you to erase yourself from the Conglomerate’s roster. You’d be free. No one breathing down your neck. You could have a relationship with your brother again. Get married. Start a family. White picket fence shit.”
What. The. Fuck.
“How?” Nate demanded.
“Victor is in command of your armor program: Project X. To keep one project from tanking the rest of the organization, if something were to happen, they are splintered off. Only the head is known to the Conglomerate. Technically, it wasn’t the whole Conglomerate who was after you but Victor’s group.
It just so happens that Victor has one large fucking group. ”
“Damn,” Nate mumbled.
He had thought all this time his efforts were known to the organization. Instead, he was just a cog in a wheel of corruption. As much as this revelation angered him, the offer to get back at Victor and to go free was too tempting to pass up.
Get married. Start a family.
His thoughts drifted to Alex, and he scolded himself for even thinking about it.
Alex was too good for him. She was perfection, and he was a washed-out soldier.
He needed to stop thinking about her. However, he did want a new life.
He wanted to live—like Logan was. He craved stability. Family. Love.
Was that so far out of reach?
“All right,” Nate said, a new determination burning through him. “I’ll get the armor. I’d prefer a truck, if you’ve got one. All the armor pieces together are hard to load in the back of a car.”
“Consider it done.” Stratton chucked a cell phone at Nate. “I will contact you. Not the other way around.”
Nate shook his head. The guy was infuriating.
“Whatever. I can get it done.”
“Once I give you all the intel you need, you’ll be on your own. I have shit to deal with, which will take my full attention. If any of the intel changes, you’ll be contacted and updated.”
“Great,” Nate muttered.
“You can do it. I’ve accessed your file. You’re one hell of a soldier.”
“If you mean a hollowed-out shell of a man, drugged out, and placed in a mechanical husk, sure.”
Stratton ran a hand through his hair.
“Don’t discount yourself, Slade. Besides, I feel like this mission will be…liberating.”
“I’m sure it fucking will,” Nate grumbled and flopped back down in his cot.
Everything hurt, and he was tired—both physically and mentally.
The thought of nailing Victor to the wall was exciting, but the task seemed daunting.
Take out every Project X armor there was?
Find and kill Victor, one of the most sadistic and ruthless motherfuckers ever?
Yeah, there was a good chance he wouldn’t survive.
But he had to try, right? Anything was better than running and hiding for the rest of his life. Or being captured and tortured. Or getting a glimpse of something bright in the darkness and not being able to have it.
His eyes closed.
That last one hurt the most. Alex was stuck in his head, forever marking him with her beautiful soul.
God, he wished things were different—that he wasn’t Nathan Slade, the man who never amounted to anything but an addict and a traitor.
She feared him when he was just some psych patient from the Sims Center.
What would she think of him if she knew who he really was?
Nate was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear John leave. He didn’t care. The throbbing in his body began to drown out everything else, and he curled up in a ball on his cot and tried not to think of the pain.