Ex-Patriots

“I’d never say I’m stronger,” said Freedom. “Just smarter.”

 

 

He made a fist around the demon fang he’d torn off St. George’s lapel and slammed it into the hero’s arm just behind the wrist.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

The Humvee had left an opening in the fence line almost forty feet wide. The stumbling dead worked their way over the fallen chainlink and onto the base, their teeth chattering.

 

“Bro,” said Cesar. He rapped his knuckles on the steel forehead of the fallen battlesuit. “You still alive in there?”

 

The armor shifted and a metallic groan hissed through the speakers.

 

“Cool. No broken bones or nothing?”

 

“I... I’m good,” said Gibbs. “What the hell was that?”

 

“Dead girl driving a Hummer,” Cesar told him. “Look, you sure you’re okay?”

 

“A little dizzy.”

 

Danielle crouched by the helmet and looked for damage. “Is the suit okay? No problems with monitors or the reactive sensors?”

 

The battlesuit flailed for a moment as the arms pushed it up to a sitting position. “Power’s down to sixty-eight percent, but as far as I can tell past that, all systems read one hundred percent across the board.”

 

“Good,” said the redhead. She sighed. “I’m sorry about this, but I think your loyalties are a little too split for you to be of much use right now.”

 

Cesar’s face broke into a grin.

 

She glared at him. “One scratch, one circuit I need to replace, and I own you for life. Clear?”

 

He wrapped his arms around the armor. The air crackled as he vanished, and a few arcs of electricity danced across the helmet and chestplate. “Crystal, ma’am,” said his voice from the speakers. “Cerberus, reporting for duty.”

 

“Let’s get one thing clear right now,” she said as the armor clomped back to its feet. “You’re a kid with a neat power. I’m Cerberus.”

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

The fang ripped through St. George’s jacket and flesh. Its tip burst through the other side of his arm. Blood splashed out over the sleeve. The hero roared and it came out as a blast of fire that blinded everyone in the lobby. He let go of Freedom’s arm and the officer twisted away from the flames.

 

Freedom looked back and St. George grabbed him by the throat. The fang was still buried in the hero’s forearm. It was bleeding, but not enough to be fatal. Just painful as all hell. The arm stretched up and Freedom’s feet left the floor.

 

“We’re not going to surrender,” grunted Freedom.

 

“I’m not asking you to,” said St. George though gritted teeth. “Say you won if you want. I just don’t want to waste any more time fighting. My friends and I want to help.”

 

“One of your friends beat Colonel Shelly to within an inch of his life.”

 

“I don’t know what that’s all about,” said the hero, “but it’s not the issue. There’s a threat to this base we need to deal with. All of us. No one heads off in any helicopters or anything. You’ve got the manpower but we’ve got the experience with this guy. Once that’s done, you and me and all our friends can sit down and figure out who did what to who.”

 

Freedom glared at him. Out of the corner of his eye, St. George could see Kennedy struggling to her feet and Jefferson trying to reload his pistol one handed. Franklin and Truman began to stir.

 

So were the dead soldiers, he realized.

 

Noise burst from their earpieces and the hero saw their faces shift. It woke up Franklin and Truman, and they shot glances between Kennedy and Freedom. The captain’s jaw was still set, but St. George could see the conflict in his eyes.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

The soldiers looked to Freedom. “The main gate just fell,” he said. “Someone drove a Guardian through it. They’re getting in.”

 

St. George nodded at the waking exes and the bloody lobby. “What’s it going to be, captain? Help us save everybody, or do you want to keep trying to put handcuffs on me?”

 

Freedom’s shoulders relaxed. Just a little. “What’s your plan?”

 

St. George let his arm drop and opened the fingers around the officer’s throat. He tried not to wince as the muscles around the fang shifted.

 

“Peasy—Legion, whatever he’s calling himself now—he attacks on multiple sides. When he tried to take the Mount, that’s how he did it. I’ll bet he’s going to do the same thing here if he hasn’t already.”

 

Freedom and the other soldiers nodded. “Ask and you shall receive,” said Kennedy, pressing a finger to her ear, “the same thing happened at Tower Nine. The whole fence line is gone between Nine and Eight.” She glanced at St. George. “Sounds like your people are already there. Zzzap and the robot.”

 

“Exes?” asked Freedom.

 

“About a hundred with as many closing in.”

 

St. George pursed his lips. “Anyone got a radio?”

 

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