David Leadbeater: Weapons of the Gods

“Surreal,” Alicia commented.

“Waste of time,” Molokai said. “Five seconds and I’d have ended them.”

“Sometimes,” Alicia said, “you just have to try harder.”

“And now we leave live, capable enemies at our backs.”

Alicia hadn’t failed to notice. She’d taken their cellphones, clothes and discarded weapons. “I doubt that, my friend.”

Molokai ignored her and headed for the exit door, taking a moment to peer up and down the corridor. The coast was clear, and gunfire raged from a distant corner of the house.

“We have to go.”

“Lead the way.”

Leaving the mercs and that area of the extensive asylum behind, the foursome raced for the side where the other teams were engaged in battle.

Drake smashed through weak, wooden paneling, leaving it in splinters in his wake, and then rolled twice until a spray of bullets had temporarily ceased. He was pinned down, but fortunately it was all a distraction. Drake was the bait and Luther was the hook. The single merc that targeted Drake didn’t see the enormous, bald-headed behemoth charging in from his left, and paid a hefty price. Luther struck, bones smashed, and the merc entered unconsciousness before he even knew what had happened.

Luther looked for Drake. “You okay?”

The Englishman was already up, shaking his head in disappointment. “Bloody hell, man. C’mon, let’s find the others.”

Two minutes later and they were stealing up behind Mai, Hayden and Kinimaka. It was the Japanese woman that turned.

“Did you find out where the sword is?”

“Nah. Luther the Hulk decided to show up instead. Knocked our merc out cold.”

Mai widened her eyes at the big man. “Oh, Luther. Really?”

Drake was incredulous to see Luther lower his head. “Yeah, sorry Mai.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “You two sound like a pair of pansies.”

Hayden waved for their full attention. “There’s another merc bedded down just ahead. Pretty soon he’s gonna realize that this corridor is constructed of wooden paneling, but he’s hired help so I think we have a few minutes. I’m thinking… percussion?”

Drake nodded along with everyone else. At that moment Alicia and her small team arrived and made them whole again.

“How many?” Kinimaka asked.

“We took out five in total.”

“Okay, so that leaves our friend here and three more. They must have the sword. Anything from the perimeter?”

Hayden checked her comms. “No movement out there. Cops have the place ringed and sealed.”

Drake was staring at Alicia and her team. “Why the hell are you all wet?”

Alicia shook droplets over him. “Stopped for a shower.”

“So why isn’t Molokai wet? And why is Yorgi blushing?”

Alicia stroked the Russian’s cheek. “What happens in the asylum stays in the asylum, right Yogi?”

Drake sized Alicia, Kenzie and Yorgi up, all three soaked through and sporting fresh bruises. “Had to be a hell of a threesome, guys. You ready for more?”

Hayden threw the grenade and jammed her ears with her fingers. When the blast erupted, they moved quickly, firing hard on the hidden man but ensuring they fired high. When Drake slipped around the side of a sturdy overturned bookcase he found the merc on his back, blood leaking from his ears.

“Shit. Doesn’t look good, people.”

Hayden righted the merc as Kinimaka swept his weapons away with stroke of a hand. Carefully, she planted his back against the bookcase and let his eyes swim back into focus.

“Can you hear me?”

The merc blinked.

“I think percussion grenades were a bad idea,” Kinimaka commented.

“Ya think?” Hayden patted the man’s cheek gently. “Speak up sooner next time, Mano. This dude’s less use than a carrot.”

The man’s eyes cleared suddenly and he blinked up at Hayden. “What?”

“You can hear me now? Oh, good.”

She dropped to her knees and framed his face tightly with her hands, not too hard but still making sure he could feel her. “Where is the weapon you guys stole from the Brits? The Sword of Mars.”

The merc stared and then tried to look around. Hayden let him see Kinimaka, Drake and Luther, all standing menacingly close, and then asked the same question again.

“Last chance, dickhead,” Drake added.

The merc kicked his legs but they were jelly, pushed his arms against the floor but found he had no strength. Finally, he slumped. “All right,” he moaned. “The pizza just arrived.”

Hayden bit her lip. “I think the blast must have confused him.”

“No, no. The pizza guy delivered so the boss took the boxes to the comms room. To eat. He has the sword.”

“Where’s the comms room?”

He relayed the information, then Smyth and Dahl rendered him immobile with plastic zip ties. “Don’t worry, the cops’ll be along soon.” The Swede grinned.

As a team, they slipped toward the comms room, wary of traps and wondering when the last three remaining mercs would make their appearance. The asylum brooded heavily all around them, its scarred, cold walls bearing the weight of oppressive secrets; its half-closed, creaking doors having endured with a stoic silence all the arduous years it housed the criminally insane. In the air, Drake imagined, there still might linger ghosts of former terrors, watching over the new trespassers, gathering in the gloom.

He shook it off, treading the old boards as cautiously as he could, for more than one reason.

Hayden stopped as a new smell infused the air. “We’re close.”

Drake smelled it too. The mouth-watering aroma of several pepperoni pizzas. Up ahead, a shadow darted. Shouts went up among the SPEAR team, most hitting the deck and others falling into nearby rooms. The shadow appeared again, this time holding a machine gun, becoming solid as he peered around a corner.

Shots rang out. Bullets struck wood, plaster and block work. Hayden threw another grenade and, in the aftermath, used the confusion to charge ahead, Kinimaka at her side. It became a full-on assault as Dahl, Luther and Molokai joined in, jostling for position along the hallway. Drake was up and chasing them with Alicia and Mai alongside.

“New boys are keen,” Drake muttered.

“Mai’s got her Luther all wound up,” Alicia baited.

“Don’t be a fool, Taz. You know Drake’s the only one for me.”

“I’ll give him back when he’s all worn out, bitch.”

“Hey!” Drake shouted. “Quit it.”

The leaders burst through a door frame, quite literally. Dahl and Luther were shoulder to shoulder and neither gave ground. The wooden frame splintered, smashed apart. Dahl went through a step ahead, gun raised, and Drake was barely a step behind Luther.

The room was small, almost fully occupied by a central table. A computer desk and monitor sat in one corner, practically inaccessible because of the table, a live Skype screen in use. The monitor was blank, but the “live” light still blinked.

On the table sat six enormous pizzas in distinctively colored boxes.

Resting atop the highest box of pizzas was the Sword of Mars.

Now that’s surreal. Drake entertained the fleeting thought as men attacked from both sides. The onslaught was weak at best, both men affected by the grenade. Drake didn’t blame them. He’d been some way from the explosion and could still hear the ringing in his ears.

Luther and Dahl put the two men down with ease. Drake relaxed, looking around at the beaten enemy and the weapon they had come to reclaim. “Well, I’m starting to feel a bit superfluous.”

“Finally,” Dahl nodded, “the Yorkshire bell end sees the glaring truth.”

“Says the man from the land of blonde porn.” Drake pushed the Swede aside. “Are we done here?”