Ashes by Russ Linton

Author:Russ Linton [Linton, Russ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cyberpunk, Military Science Fiction, robot, russ linton, soldier, augment, EMP, crimson son, superhero, Science Fiction
Publisher: Fictional Work
Published: 2018-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 29

BEFORE I CREST THE roof line, Drake picks up the whine of a high cc engine. Titan looks ridiculous exploding down the alleyway on his crotch rocket. Since his active duty days, he's really let himself go. He's a seriously stocky dude more suited for one of those hogs with the long, arched handlebars.

From the rear, he's a fleshy passenger on a high-speed unicycle. Flat out in the narrow alley, the bike hits ninety miles per hour before the far end according to the HUD. Timely braking and an agile turn and he's around the first corner. The engine screams as he whips onto the main drag.

"Homing missile armed," Drake offers.

I can't say I'm not tempted. As fast as this guy's bike is, most of the prototype's armaments and own speed are exponentially greater—but not the tranquilizers.

Every single one of these targets remembers Killcreek. Their powers have even been enhanced or changed by the experience. That's been enough incentive to convince them to not come quietly. Several, as I found out, were eager for a shot at the Black Beetle. A few, they'd hoped to be going toe to toe with the Crimson Mask. Dad's apology about being duped by the government hadn't been fully accepted. And here I was, the living embodiment of both. None of them were about to go quietly.

Maybe Titan will. I've found Vulkan. I'm not training anymore, I'm buying time.

I go higher up to watch Titan wind through empty streets. He's headed for The Strip itself. Drake has him painted and won't let go. By the inaudible slosh of the tank and his average speed, I've got a real-time fuel estimate. Top speed shows as a bare fraction of my own. His rear tire is worn. A well-placed puddle and he'd leave his face on the pavement.

The prototype gives me all this information from five hundred feet in the air. I could even go into low orbit and end his run. I pull up the parking lot of Sneaky Pete's. The woman who challenged me, asked me not to kill him, is still there, alone. Zoom closer and I think she's staring right at this dark stain against a feeble green sky.

Martin put himself in front of death incarnate. Mom gave herself up for me. Emily came after a world-killer Augment with a metal pipe.

I know this woman.

Jets fire and I'm in pursuit. I catch up to Titan as he careens onto the Strip. No traffic, he's got the narrow lanes plowed free of obstructing vehicles to open up his engine. He hits one hundred fifty miles per hour, unaware I'm cruising less than ten feet over his head. The vacant Strip blurs past. His single headlight creates a streak of color against the idle and stacked cars.

It did have to be that way, Jupiter. You would've buried me in your scrap yard if given the chance. Patriot would have carved me up with his force fields, surgically sealing them around my limbs had I given him the chance.

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