Silent Order by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: final consciousness, jack march, silent order
Publisher: Jonathan Moeller

Chapter 5: Street Fighting

“Down!” snapped March, clawing at the glove compartment.

He wasn’t sure if the others had heard him.

Five men with pistols walked towards the car. The smart thing to do, March knew, would be to pump the car full of bullets. But the impact might have killed March, Eighty, and Cassandra, or injured them badly enough that they couldn’t resist, and their attackers were coming to check.

Cassandra ducked behind the seat. Eighty dropped behind the steering wheel, grabbing for his gun. March ripped the glove compartment open with his left hand, grabbed his pistol, and raised the weapon.

The men drew nearer. They wore the clothes of Raetian civilians and had numerous tattoos on their arms and faces. Likely they were a local gang. Were they working for the Machinists, or was this just an ill-timed robbery? No, they moved with the precise, economical movement of professionals, not the swagger of street thugs. They made the scooter gang that March had fought earlier look like amateurs. This was a professional assassination, carried out by people who had experience of violence.

But who had sent them?

There was no time to worry about it.

March started shooting.

His first bullet caught the nearest man in the forehead, and the gunman fell limp to the asphalt. March shot another gunman, and then the survivors started shooting. The bullets whined and clanged off the car as March ducked, and he grabbed at the door handle with his left hand and shoved. The door swung open, and March fell out the side of the car and landed on his left knee, the shock shooting through his leg.

But he snapped up his pistol and shot through the ruined window, and another gunman went down. The other two fell back towards the damaged van, firing at March. Their bullets clanged into the door, which thankfully was thick enough to absorb the bullets.

March seized the door with his left hand and pushed. The hinge was no match for the cybernetic strength of his left arm, and he ripped the car door free, holding it before him like an ancient warrior’s shield. His left shoulder and back tensed with the effort, but the car door couldn’t have weighed more than eighty or ninety pounds, and he lifted weights heavier than that on a regular basis.

He charged forward, using the door as a shield, and the bullets from the remaining two gunmen smacked into it. His left arm coiled, and March flung the shield like a discus. It caught the gunman on the left in the chest and threw him to the ground. The gunman on the right tried to line up a shot, but March was quicker. His next two bullets caught the gunman in the head, and the man fell dead to the street.

His aim shifted to the man he had hit with the door, but the gunman was motionless, blood puddling beneath his head. It looked as if his skull had struck the street with enough force to knock him out or kill him.

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