Robert Crane - Omega

“To you, perhaps,” Eve said, unsmiling. “This is how it looks whenever I travel.”

“You make your own bed?” Reed asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I prefer everything well ordered.”

“Sighting,” Parks’ voice came over the earpiece. “We have eyes on target; she is in the lobby and moving toward the elevator.”

“Reed,” Bastian said, “make sure the hallway’s clear. Let’s see if we can set the door back up and lure her in.”

“That’s a negatory,” I said. “That sucker is off the hinges. Even an idiot would bolt if they went to unlock the door and it just fell in.”

I saw Bastian’s eyes waver as he pondered the options. “Then we take her getting off the elevator.”

“You might wanna hurry,” Parks voice came in reply, “because she’s in.”

“Move,” Bastian ordered, but we were all in motion already. I kept my pace to the high end of human potential in case anyone was watching, as did the others. We charged along the walkway, the doors of the rooms to our right seeming like a blur of squares shooting by with nothing but open air to our left. We turned the corner and saw the elevator bank; it was built into the walls, with a subtle overreach that had the walkway run under it, like a tunnel, elevators on both sides. The wallpaper took on a browner tone here, protected from the skylights by virtue of being covered over and isolated from the main area. Four elevators, two on each side, serviced the floor. There were potted ferns stuck between each elevator to add some green to the otherwise sterile environment. The yellow lighting on the walls cast the place like a darkened steakhouse at midday, cave-like, with only the suggestion of daylight showing in through the apertures that led back to the open-air walkways on either side of the elevator bank.

I dodged to the side of the elevators, positioning myself in the middle of two of the doors, waiting to hear the ding. If the light lit up on the opposite side, I would have to move fast, but I was ready to do so. I kept one hand free of my gun; the other gripped the pistol tightly. I saw Reed station himself near where we came in, gun in hand. Eve took up position in the far corner, giving her the view of the entire room. Bastian blocked the opposite walkway entrance.

The dinging sounded, and I felt the tension, the sweat back on my palms now, the stress I hadn’t even known I was feeling bleeding through me. The triangular light above the door to my left lit up red, and the doors began to open.

Eleanor Madigan emerged, not really looking around as she stepped out of the elevator. Her profile was different than I would have expected from her photo, strong cheekbones but a more pronounced nose than was evident by the front-on passport photo. She wore very casual attire, jeans and a sweatshirt from the Mall of America. She sensed I was there, turning to look at me. I waited to see her reaction, my gun hidden behind me; if she was Omega, she would know me.

A flicker of recognition passed behind her eyes. Her hand came up and I batted it aside with my pistol as I wrapped a hand around her neck. Her eyes widened, this time in outrage, all her teeth displayed in a feral look that was half-grimace, half-snarl. She reached out a hand, past me, toward the elevator and her fingers extended, grasping for something.

I heard the crackle before it hit me; electricity flowed out of the call buttons, snapping across the distance between her fingers and the metal like bolts of lightning. A charge ran up my hand and every muscle in my body seized, clenching, my head exploding in a burst of pain like someone put a thousand knives through me and I contracted in a full-body heave. I held tight to her neck for as long as I could, which felt like a year but was probably more like a second, before I was propelled through the air into a wall as I fell, limply, to the ground.

“Thor-type!” Bastian shouted somewhere in the distance; it felt far off. Another droning hum of electricity filled the air, along with the soft whoosh of Eve’s nets striking the wall.

“She moves fast,” Reed said, his hand on my shoulder. “You all right?” His voice was practically a shout, but I lifted my head to see him looking at me, lips pursed in concern.

“I’ll live,” I said as gunfire filled the air. I whipped my head up to see Madigan send a surge of lightning at Eve and Bastian, forked electricity striking the barrels of their pistols. I heard a pop from each of them as their guns flew out of their hands, Eve staggering back into the wall and Bastian ducking behind the arch that led back to the walkway.

I raised my pistol at Madigan and drew a bead on her. I hesitated, though, and she swung around. Reed had just begun to raise his gun when the burst of lightning came for us, arcing toward our weapons, the closest object to the point of contact, and metal to boot. I was already moving my gun to throw it away when the lightning hit and I managed to get clear with only a little stray voltage hitting me. Reed made a similar move and I saw him fall back, out into the uncovered walkway behind me as he recovered from the attack.

“Sienna Nealon,” Madigan said, her voice a sort of droll whisper.

“Shocked to see me?” I asked, drawing to my feet. I cringed. “That…was not the witticism I was looking for.” A pun. I blame the electricity.

“Not really,” Madigan said, her blunt face curving in a slight smile, a British accent barely there. “Perhaps surprised it took you so long to come calling, but not startled to see you here. Not after Bjorn. Not after Fries.”

“Yeah, we just keep taking your pieces off the board,” I said, circling around to place my back to the elevator door to my right. It was metal, and I had a grand plan to use it as a backstop to catch her next bolt of lightning while I tested my reflexes to see if I could dodge her attacks. The potted fern next to me was going to be my accomplice, whether it wanted to be or not. I could see Eve out of the corner of my eyes, leaning against a wall, breathing heavily, staring at Madigan with glaring eyes but not making any aggressive moves—yet. With Eve, that was sure not to last.

“But a queen has yet to fall,” Madigan said with that same eerie half-smile. “And we all know that the game doesn’t end until you’ve trapped the king. So whose pieces are moving faster toward the checkmate? Because everything else is irrelevant. Take all our pawns that you want, because so long as we make the last move, the one you don’t see and can’t defend against, we still win.”

“Aww, that’s so sad.” I backed against the elevator, felt the steel against my hand to make sure I was positioned right. “You’re just a pawn? Give yourself more credit. Maybe you’re a knight. Or, like, part of a knight. Maybe the horse’s ass.”

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” She smiled again. “Because you beat Wolfe. Because you bested Henderschott, and circumvented our spy.”

“I also decapitated your vampires, outmaneuvered James Fries and put a bunch of hurt onto your boy Bjorn,” I said. “Small victories, but I’ll take ‘em. What about you? What’ve you got, Eleanor? And please don’t say abs.”

Her face twisted in confusion and without warning she sent a bolt at Eve, who dodged behind the archway to hide behind Bastian, who I could see from where I was standing. “You needn’t ask what I’ve got. I’m a hand of Omega, the oldest and most powerful force in the world. I carry out the will of those who were named gods to the men of old, those who run the world, who wield strength the average man can’t comprehend, that every other meta would die to possess. I am one of the chosen, a brandisher of thunder and lightning, and the servant of the—”