CHAPTER 304: CHAPTER - 304

Chapter - 304

The air in the penthouse was no longer air. It was a glittering, lethal fog of suspended diamonds and adrenaline.

Rick didn’t run; he launched himself. The "bulletproof" Italian suit stretched tight across his shoulders as he dove headfirst into the kaleidoscope of refracted light. To his left, Sharon was a blur of tactical black, her boots skidding on the polished marble as she flanked wide.

The three Elite Guards were in chaos. Their high-tech visors, designed to amplify low light and track thermal signatures, had just been hit with the optical equivalent of a flashbang set off inside an eyeball. They were stumbling back, clawing at their helmets, their amplified audio sensors picking up the clatter-clink-clatter of a million dollars in diamonds hitting the floor.

"MY EYES! SYSTEM RESET! SYSTEM RESET!" the center guard roared, his voice a distorted, digitized screech of pain. He was firing his railgun blindly, sweeping the room in a panic.

THWIP-THWIP-THWIP!

The hyper-velocity rounds shredded a ten-thousand-dollar sofa and pulverized a wet bar, sending a geyser of expensive scotch and glass shards into the air.

Rick slid on his knees across the diamond-strewn floor, the hard stones acting like ball bearings. He came to a stop right between the legs of the center guard.

"Reset this," Rick grunted.

He jammed the barrel of his stolen railgun upward, right into the soft, rubberized seal of the guard’s groin armor, and pulled the trigger.

THUMP.

The recoil of the magnetic weapon was heavy, but the effect on the target was catastrophic. The round didn’t just penetrate; at point-blank range, it liquefied. The guard didn’t scream. The sound he made was a high-pitched, teakettle whistle of air escaping a crushed windpipe. He folded inward like a collapsing lawn chair, his legs giving out instantly.

Rick rolled aside just as the guard’s heavy, armored body crashed to the floor with a bone-jarring CLANG.

"One down!" Rick yelled, scrambling to his feet. "Don’t look at the light, Sharon! Aim for the necks!"

Sharon was already moving. She had slid behind a grand piano, using it for cover as the guard on the left recovered his vision. His visor’s blue light stabilized, and he locked onto her heat signature.

He raised his weapon. "Target acquired. Terminating."

Sharon popped up. She didn’t have a railgun. She had a 9mm SIG Sauer. Against tank armor, it was a pea shooter. But Sharon Vintner was pissed off, covered in toilet water, and running on spite.

She didn’t aim for the chest. She aimed for the weapon.

BANG-BANG!

Her double-tap was surgical. The bullets sparked off the magnetic rails of the guard’s carbine. The delicate alignment of the magnets shattered. When the guard pulled the trigger, the weapon didn’t fire. It exploded.

K-DOOM!

The railgun’s power cell overloaded, blowing the weapon apart in the guard’s hands. The force of the blast ripped his gauntlets off and sent him spinning backward, slamming into the floor-to-ceiling window. The glass, reinforced to withstand hurricane winds, spiderwebbed but held. The guard slid down the glass, leaving a smear of fluids, unconscious.

"Two down!" Sharon screamed, racking her slide. "I hate this job!"

The third guard, the biggest of the trio, had managed to rip his helmet off. He tossed the malfunctioning piece of tech aside, revealing a scarred, human face contorted in rage. He wasn’t blind anymore. And he was holding a heavy, rotary-barrel chaingun that looked like it belonged on a helicopter.

He leveled it at Rick.

"DIE, YOU SUIT-WEARING PRICK!"

Rick had a split second. He was out in the open. No cover. No Bullet Time.

He did the only thing that came to mind. He reached into his pocket, grabbed a handful of the vacuum-sealed cash bricks he’d looted from the container, and hurled them with all his might at the guard’s face.

The bricks of Yen and Euros hit the guard square in the nose. It wasn’t a lethal blow, but it was a confusing one. Who throws money in a gunfight?

The guard flinched, blinking.

That flinch bought Rick one second.

[System Notification: Skill ’Voice of Command’ Ready.]

Rick didn’t hesitate. He channeled every ounce of his frustration, his rage, and his desire to just go home into his diaphragm. He stepped forward, pointing a finger at the guard, and unleashed the skill.

"EAT IT."

The command was nonsensical, primal, and undeniable. The air rippled.

The guard’s eyes glazed over. The neural implants in his brain misfired, trying to process the absolute authority of the command against the reality of the situation. His hands spasmed. He tried to bring the gun up, but his brain was stuck on the command. Eat it. Eat what? The gun? The money?

In his confusion, he opened his mouth to scream.

Rick lunged. He didn’t punch. He grabbed the barrel of the guard’s own rotary gun, which was already spinning up with a high-pitched whine, and shoved the muzzle directly into the guard’s open mouth.

"Bon appétit," Rick snarled.

He didn’t pull the trigger. He just let go of the gun. The heavy weapon, unsupported, dragged the guard’s head down. The guard stumbled, gagging on the barrel, his finger slipping on the trigger guard.

Rick kicked him in the chest.

The guard fell backward, the heavy gun crushing his windpipe as he went down. He hit the floor, thrashing, choking on his own artillery.

Rick stood over him, panting, straightening his tie. "Check, please."

He turned to survey the room. It was a ruin. The Persian rug was soaked in blood and hydraulic fluid. The walls were Swiss cheese. But the guards were down.

"Clear!" Sharon yelled, emerging from behind the piano, wiping diamond dust from her forehead. "We’re clear! Timer?"

Rick looked at Nadia.

08:12

The numbers on her chest were bright, angry, and counting down fast. Nadia was thrashing against the chains, her eyes wide with terror.

"Get me down!" she shrieked, her voice shrill and panicked. "Get me the hell down! It’s going to blow! You idiots! Cut the chains!"

Rick walked over to her, his shoes crunching on the diamonds. He looked up at her, then at the bomb vest. It was a mess of wires, C4 blocks, and anti-tamper switches.

"You know," Rick said, leaning on his stolen railgun casually. "You really shouldn’t call the people saving your life ’idiots’. It’s bad for morale."

"Cut the chains, Rick!" she screamed, spitting at him. "Do it now!"

"Say please," Rick said.

"I WILL KILL YOU!"

"Close enough." Rick raised the railgun. He didn’t aim at the lock. He aimed at the ceiling mount where the chains were bolted into the concrete.

THWIP.

The round sheared the bolt.

Gravity, once again, did the rest. Nadia dropped like a stone. She hit the floor hard, face-first into the diamond-covered rug.

"Owww!" she wailed, rolling over, the chains clanking around her wrists. "You broke my nose! Again!"

"Stop whining," Sharon snapped, rushing over and kneeling beside her. "Let me see the vest."

Sharon examined the device. Her face went pale. "Oh, hell. This isn’t a movie bomb, Rick. There’s no blue wire. It’s got a mercury tilt switch, a biometric lock, and a remote receiver. If I try to cut anything, it blows. If the timer hits zero, it blows. If her heart rate stops... it probably blows."

"So we can’t take it off," Rick concluded.

"Not without the code. Or Marnus’s remote."

Rick looked at the timer. 07:45.

"Okay," Rick said. "Change of plan. We don’t defuse the bomb. We take the bomb to the remote."

He grabbed Nadia by the chains binding her wrists and hauled her to her feet. She stumbled, looking at him with pure hatred.

"You’re taking me with you?" she hissed. "I’m a human shield?"

"You’re a walking hand grenade," Rick corrected. "And right now, you’re the only key we have to that panic room. Marnus wants you? He can have you. In pieces, if he doesn’t open the door."

He turned to the wall panel where Marnus had disappeared. It was a seamless slab of reinforced titanium, disguised as a wall.

"It’s sealed," Sharon said, tapping it with her gun. "We can’t breach this. Not even with the railguns."

"Johnson?" Rick tapped his ear. "You still with us?"

Johnson’s voice crackled in his ear, sounding breathless. "I’m here. I’m trying to crack the lock on the panic room, but Marnus has it hard-lined. It’s air-gapped. I can’t open it remotely."

"Great," Rick muttered. "So we knock."

He looked around the wrecked room. He needed something heavy. Something with kinetic energy. His eyes landed on the Elite Guard’s rotary chaingun lying on the floor.

"Sharon," Rick said. "Grab that chaingun."

"That thing weighs eighty pounds!"

"Lift with your legs!"

Rick grabbed a railgun in each hand. "Nadia, stand in front of the door."

"What?! No!"

"Do it, or I let the timer run out right here," Rick threatened, shoving her toward the metal slab. She stumbled into position, sobbing.

"Okay," Rick said. "On three. We hit the hinges. We hit the center mass. We hit everything. We pour enough lead into that door that it forgets it’s a door. One... two... THREE!"

The room erupted in noise again.

Sharon opened up with the rotary gun, the barrels spinning with a scream, spitting a stream of tracers that chewed into the titanium. Rick fired both railguns, alternating shots, punching golf-ball-sized holes in the metal.

The door groaned. It sparked. It glowed cherry red under the onslaught. The hinges shrieked in protest.

06:30

CRUNCH.

The top hinge gave way.

Rick dropped the empty railguns and ran at the door. He didn’t stop. He lowered his shoulder, activated Predator’s Focus for a split-second burst of perfect timing, and slammed into the glowing, weakened metal with all his strength.

With a screech of tearing metal, the door buckled inward and fell.

Rick tumbled into the space beyond, rolling to his feet.

It wasn’t a room. It was a long, sterile, white corridor sloping upward. An escape tunnel.

"Move!" Rick yelled, grabbing Nadia’s chains and dragging her into the tunnel. Sharon dropped the heavy chaingun and sprinted after them.

The tunnel was steep. They ran, their boots pounding on the metal grating. The air was getting thinner, colder.

"Where does this go?" Sharon panted.

"Roof," Rick said. "Helipad. He’s leaving."

05:00

Halfway up the tunnel, a speaker system crackled to life. Marnus’s voice, smooth and unbothered, echoed off the walls.

"You are remarkably persistent vermin. I assume you’ve destroyed my living room? Pity. The feng shui was finally perfect."

"We’re coming for you, Marnus!" Rick yelled at the ceiling cameras. "And we’re bringing your package! She’s ticking!"

"Oh, I know," Marnus chuckled. "Why do you think I’m leaving? But you seem to have forgotten something. I don’t just have guards. I have... hobbies."

A section of the tunnel wall ahead of them slid open.

Rick stopped, sliding on the grating. "Wait."

From the darkness of the wall cavity, a low, mechanical growl emanated. Then, the sound of heavy, metallic claws clicking on the floor.