Chapter 26; Grand Theft Auto

  Rob cocked an eyebrow at Ben’s hand as the elevator took them to the ground floor. Namely, that he stuffed it in his pocket whenever idle. Everyone’s getting injured. But people aren’t simple like cars or perpetual motion machines. I can fix metal things but I can’t do shit for a hand or stomach. What could I do? Mechanical fingers, maybe. How would that work? He glanced at his own hand, flexing the two middle fingers Ben’s hand was missing. He’s got two small stumps there, the fingers aren’t completely gone. There’s some movement. Hell, my finger curling just looks like the little muscles are pulling the bones.

  “They could find that tracker, we might not have much time,” said Chris. “We can scout out the area and act from there. Rob, can you get us there?”

  Rob noticed the muscles of Chris’s face contract and slacken as he talked. They pulled his jaw up and down, the gears below his ears on either side keeping it attached to the rest of his skull.

  Miya snapped her fingers in his face, “Hey, you with us?”

  With a blink, Rob replied, “Yeah, yeah. Easy.”

  “Alright,” said Quarrel to the group at large. “Our cars are this way.”

  She led the way, jogging to the exit on the far side of the hallway. Her knees acted as two larger gears. Her calf muscles contracted, pulling her leg back. Different muscles, pulling different gears. They split between Roach and Quarrel’s rides. Olivia kept to the roof, waiting for night to fall before risking flight again.

  “Gotta strike back,” said Ben, wedged between Rob and the car door in the back seat. The engine of Quarrel’s car purred as she drove them through the early evening traffic. She knows cars, I’ll give her that.

  “Easy. We’ll have no way of knowing what we’ll be walking into,” said Chris from the shotgun seat.

  “He’s right,” agreed Quarrel. “This is just suicide otherwise.”

  “Well, the fuck are we gonna do?” asked Ben. “Just scout?”

  Chris’ jaw tightened before he said, “That’s what we need to find out.” Talk, talk, talk. “But I’m betting on two things. The Tzontlis are a street gang pumped up by Overlord, not a professional outfit. And they just kicked our asses. What do they have to be afraid of? We’re not the police, we don’t have their kind of manpower.”

  Oh, hey, he found his spine again. The tense words slid right off Ben. “OK. We’re bummin’ rides off the Watch right now. Don’t think we got much wiggle room. We just gonna tap out if things look scary?”

  “We have a score to settle too, don’t worry about us,” Quarrel chipped in as she checked a mirror to merge lanes.

  “I can’t see into the future. It would be great, I know,” said Chris. “I don’t want to charge into a machine gun, do you?” Ben grumbled something under his breath but kept quiet after. Chris changed gears, twisting in his seat to look Rob in the eye and say, “Between you and Amanda’s techie stuff, they’re probably drunk on victory.”

  “Yeah,” admitted Rob, keeping his voice neutral as he bit back an angry and thus unhelpful snipe. “Even if they don’t know exactly what they got, they know they got somethin’. Overlord’s always lookin’ for new toys. Even if he don’t wind up wantin’ me and Amanda’s shit specifically, just figurin’ that out will take ‘em some time. Right now the Tzontlis probably think they got it made.”

  Chris nodded. “Right. Even if all we get back is Rob’s truck, I’d call that a win, but we need to actually work together instead of charging off because we’re bored.”

  Fuck, man, Amanda’s laid out on a hospital bed, my shit’s gone, and we’re pussyfooting around and justifying what we’re already going to do? Come on, doing that with the tracker got us into this mess in the first place. Rob sighed and glanced out the window at the unfamiliar desert city. And now I’m getting bitchy and unhelpful. Whatever. Let’s do this already.

  ***

  The combined group found themselves staring at a chop shop, the largest of many along the street. They couldn’t stare for too long, though, as the various men and women loitering around, or workers on smoke breaks, gave any car that came through to slow a suspicious eye. They never spotted Rob’s truck, though the expansive yard held more than enough busted cars to hide any vehicle.

  Nothing caught Rob’s eye externally, no guns, hidden or otherwise, beyond the watchers. The building itself, though, could accommodate any number of nasty surprises. Twenty minutes away, on the outskirts of town as the sun set, they pulled into an isolated parking lot to plan. Rob kept his mouth shut as his blood simmered to a boil at the wasted time.

  “We got lucky, we know exactly where to go and they don’t seem prepared,” said Chris, as Roach and Miya hopped out of their truck to join them.

  “Well, we looked, what are you thinkin’?” Ben prodded him.

  “Move patiently at first, don’t be suspicious so we don't attract attention until we’re in position. One team goes through the back, the other the front, as fast as possible so they can’t react.”

  “Like what they did to us?” asked Ben. “A pincer?”

  “Yeah, it works,” replied Chris. “Keep it simple. I’m thinking we keep the Watch together, you two know each other. Roach can take a hit, so can I. I’ll take point on the other side. Miya, you go with them, keep the numbers even.”

  Quarrel cleared her throat and spoke up, “That place was big enough that it could have plenty of robots inside, especially if Overlord has decided to consider them expendable.”

  “I don’t know,” said Miya. “I was with Sanchez for a bit. Him and all his men were nervous around those bots, even if they were on their side. I didn’t get that sort of feeling from our little drive by.”

  “That’s a lot we’re pinning on a feeling,” said Chris.

  Miya shrugged. “That's all we’ve got. What about Olivia?”

  “She’ll stay up in the air and keep an eye out.”

  “That’s it?” said Ben, his incredulity mirroring Rob’s own. “Just a lookout?”

  “No, that’s a dragon in our back pocket to drop with extreme prejudice on any surprises. Surprises are what kills. Speaking of which, who should we expect in there? I want to find and shoot the guy who was throwing fire at us first if we can.”

  “The Baron is aloof,” rasped Roach with a shake of his head.

  “He isn’t slumming it here,” said Miya. “I guarantee it.”

  “So the potential two threats beyond the usual are the big guy, Shotty, and at least one robot. Any others?” Chris asked the Watch.

  “Buzz, there’s Vaca but he isn’t a fighter,” said Quarrel. The left corner of her mouth twisted as she reconsidered. “Well, he can still shoot you, but his powers aren’t for fighting.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Rob rolled his shoulders at the back of the group. Fuck, they just keep talking. Fuck I’m angry. It’s almost as bad as when Ben went missing. I should learn from that and not do something retarded this time.

  “Buzz is weird. How would you describe it? Sharp sound?” she asked Roach. He shrugged and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, if you listen too long you start taking deeper and deeper cuts. It takes a while to get going though.”

  “Ear protection work?” asked Ben.

  “Nope. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said listen. It’s just when you’re in the sound waves, I guess. It’s not like he’s sat down for demonstrations.”

  Air rushed around them as Olivia landed. She blushed and dipped her head down as everyone looked at her. “Hello.”

  “Welcome,” said Chris, catching her up to speed. Something occurred to him halfway through, his explanation rushing faster. “Olivia, can you fly over and look for Rob’s truck?” he asked once done.

  “Yeah, I can do that,” said Olivia, happy to do something useful. A minute later, she returned with confirmation. Fuck. I wish I could fly.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Smell any bot oil?” asked Ben. Oh, is that why she freaked out before the attack?

  Olivia frowned as she considered, head tilting up an inch to catch the air. “Yes, but not strong.”

  “Alright, that’s still a maybe on the robots.”

  “How will we let each other know if one is here?” asked Quarrel.

  “Yeah, fuck. I know we can add new comms users but only Amanda knows how. I need one, Olivia needs one.”

  “I got you,” said Rob, pulling out his own earpiece, cleaning it off, and offering it to Quarrel. Peace and quiet.

  Once their comms were green, Chris said, “Alright, here’s the plan. Team one, me, Rob, and Ben, go through the fence to the yard. I saw a padlocked gate, nothing fancy. Team two, Quarrel, Roach, and Miya, ready at the front with our cars. Team one will go in quietly, secure the truck, and scope out any Tzontlis. This is going to go loud. We’re not ninjas, and the truck we’re trying to get out is not subtle. Olivia watches from the sky. Olivia, if you see anything trying to sneak up on us, anything at all, destroy it. Human, robot, doesn’t matter. Don’t wait for anyone to decide for you. If anyone hears or sees gunshots, it’s on you to let the other team know.” God damn, aggression and initiative. He actually found his balls. Shame it took Amanda getting shot and my truck getting stolen though.

  “OK,” said Olivia, even as her face turned pale.

  “Once we get the truck we’ll have to play it by ear. If there's only two men in there, then we can be meticulous. If there’s twenty, we’ll be causing confusion and panic to get ourselves time to get out. Roach, Miya, you mentioned a rendezvous point if we get separated?”

  “Yes. A construction site,” replied Roach. “No one there this late.”

  Once everyone was clear on the location, Chris wrapped up by saying, “Alright, if there are no questions, let’s do this.”

  With the others murmuring their ascent, the group divided into their two teams and split up to approach their target. Rob shoved his hands into his pockets and walked alongside Ben. Once they got close to the chop shop, they all kept a wary eye out for any interlopers. Getting jumped by sheer coincidence because they weren’t paying attention would have been an embarrassing end to their mission.

  With no cameras in sight, they found the padlock Chris spotted. Rob pulled a bit of wire out of his pocket, dropped to one knee, and d to the fence’s lock. Ben kept a hand on the chain links surrounding the lot to prevent any rattling. Chris faced the streets behind Rob as Olivia circled overhead in the night sky.

  Rob heard a tiny click as the wire broke. He muttered, “Fuck.” He pulled out another. “There it is,” he murmured to the others, after another few moments of jostling.

  He pulled the chain out from around the gate posts and pushed it open with no resistance. Ben and Chris hurried through, and Rob closed it behind them to avoid suspicion. He threaded the chain back in a lazy loop around the gate before he followed. Truck will blow through that, no problem.

  They made their way through the stacks of crushed or soon to be crushed cars. It took only a few minutes to find what they searched for, beside the main garage building. Motherfuckers. The shattered window of the truck was the least of his problems. All of their packed gear and equipment lay strewn on the ground around the truck bed. Some effort had been put into organizing the looted bags and boxes, though evidently half finished. The gears of the clock he had been working on lay half buried in the dirt. Rob took a moment to control his breathing. There’s a special circle in hell for these people.

  A familiar box, barely touched, caught his attention as their team cautiously approached. He opened it to find the contents just as he remembered. They didn’t find the wirepatch. He picked up the dark grey canister, maybe half again the size of a normal grenade, from under the cardboard flap. Pin’s still in place and everything.

  “What’s that?” asked his brother under his breath, leaning in to take a look.

  “Wirepatch,” replied Rob.

  “The fuck is a wirepatch?”

  “The fuck you think I was working on here? Just probes? You’ll see.” Rob stuffed it into his pocket.

  “You got your keys?” asked Chris from the passenger door of the truck. The three of them kept the bulk of the truck between the building and themselves to keep out of sight. All could see the light coming from a couple windows.

  “Yeah.”

  They couldn’t do a real inspection without making too much noise, but Rob could at least visually check the inside of the truck. A Tzontli had taken a knife to the dashboard near the key ignition to hotwire it, though everything else seemed fine.

  “Car works. You wanna try to pack quietly or take care of whoever’s in the main building first?” Ben asked Chris.

  “Building,” replied Chris without hesitation.

  They let the other team know the situation as the trio crept up to the building proper. Rob felt his blood pressure rise with every light step. He peered in through a grimy window, finding only a storage space. Footsteps cut off the light under the door on the opposite wall. Thirty seconds later, another set passed. At least two in there. The blinking light of a familiar laptop on a workbench caught his eye.

  His knuckles around the wirepatch whitened. Fuck them, let’s do this. He stormed off in the same direction the footsteps had gone.

  “What is it? Wait!” asked Chris. With no answer forthcoming and reading Rob’s face in the dim glow of a distant floodlight, he tapped his comms and said, “Now, we’re going now!”

  At the next window beside a door Rob found four men, one absolutely massive, sharing some drinks around a table. A swift elbow shattered the window, accompanied by the shriek of an alarm. He pulled the pin on the wirepatch and tossed it into the chop shop.

  The pin sparked a small fuse. Energy hit the core, composed of powdered aluminum treated to increase combustibility, exploding and breaking the canister open. Now with the canister open, the spools of wire wrapped around the horizontal axis could extend fully. The wirepatch acted as a sort of bouncing betty. Now, the real question is if all that wire held the little serrations I worked in. Moving that fast, the wire should tear apart clothes and skin. I’ll need to test it out on armor later.

  A small pop, then the screaming started. Something, or more likely someone, collided with the wall on the other side of Rob.

  A man came stumbling out, bleeding profusely from his face, arms, and legs. Rob tackled him and drove his knife into the man’s lower ribcage. He hacked upwards, towards more important organs like the heart and lungs. The two of them hit the ground, the man unmoving and Rob very much alive. Ben and Chris cursed as the alarm pierced the night, returning fire with other unseen men elsewhere in the hop shop.

  Rob pulled the knife out and stood, just in time to see a massive man tear a couple thin wires out of his face as he marched out of the doorway. His clothing looked torn to shreds, but Rob couldn’t see a drop of blood. Shotty.

  Shotty took in the sight of Rob standing over the corpse with his knife. He laughed. The gears and pistons under his skin shifted as he began his lunge. I’d rather not get hit.

  Weight shifted his left foot, tension forming in the arm cords. Forearm tensing as well, making the hand form a fist. A punch, very fast, aimed for the center of Rob’s chest. It won’t be perfectly straight, the path will be more of a swing to my right.

  Rob turned to the side and let the punch glide past him. He glanced at the arm, the thick collection of more gears and pistons and cords. How do I make that stop? That cord towards the center looks important.

  Rob stabbed the knife into Shotty’s tricep. The man’s arm put up far more resistance than he expected. Rather than simply slicing through everything, the knife got stuck deep in the large muscle. Shotty recoiled, ripping the knife out of Rob’s grasp. Arm and chest muscles tensing. Wrong kind of tension in his forearm for a punch. Looks like he’s going to swing his elbow at my head.

  Rob ducked and reached for a slashing knife on his back. Another punch. Injured arm this time. Aimed for my chest again. Only so many ways a human body can move with force. Rob noted the trajectory of the punch and twisted out of the way. Yeah, too slow, you don’t like that cut, do you? He backpedaled another step.

  Haymaker. Right side of my head. Rob ducked in the nick of time. Uppercut, left side of my jaw. Rob leaned back. Haymaker, throat. I can’t do this forever.

  Rob backed up another step, slashing his knife at the top of Shotty’s forearm. The man roared in pain, his hand now completely limp at his side. Rob smiled.

  Leg muscles tensing. Looks like a charge. Arm muscles tensing as well. Looks like a bear hug. You’re expecting me to go to your bad arm, aren’t you.

  Rob tucked and rolled, coming up behind Shotty. That muscle on his shoulder lets him pull his arm back. From what I’ve seen, my knife can cut through fairly well. Tensile strength of this fucker is much higher than most other people. I’ll need more tests for a number. Rob slashed as Shotty turned, leaving another deep cut on the man’s shoulder.

  Leg muscles again. Kick, towards my hip. With only the slightest of forewarning at this change in tactics, Rob jumped to the side, though Shotty’s shin still clipped him. The sheer force sent Rob stumbling in a clumsy spin. Rather than fight the momentum, he pushed and let it carry him further out of whatever followup Shotty might throw at him. He came to a stop just shy of his truck and faced his angry opponent once again.

  Upper body tensing. The muscles on his back aren’t completely cut. Shotty managed to swing his arm with a growl. Rob rolled out of the way again.

  Back of that gear. No, knee. Lots of tension there. Cut. Rob lunged and delivered a slash to the back of Shotty’s knee. The giant tumbled. There it is. Rob circled a few steps around the fallen man as he struggled to get up.

  Neck cords tensing at the sound of footsteps. Tracking. Rob kicked loose dirt into the man’s eyes. Shotty recoiled, long enough for Rob to crouch down, and stab his knife down into the base of Shotty’s skull where no substantial muscles covered. A massive hand smacked into his throat a split second later, any animating impulse in it swiftly leaving.

  Rob stood, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He blinked, no longer able to ignore the sweat that now stung his eyes and crept into the corners of his mouth. Around him, gunfire, shouting, and the alarm all filled the air.

  I won, I got my damn car back. Why am I still pissed?