She whirled and her cloak billowed out. She grabbed the edge with a flick of her wrist and it snapped like a whip, catching Kenny across the eyes. He howled and fell back. By the time he blinked the shock away she’d disarmed him and driven strikes into both of his shoulders.
Furber and Jake untangled themselves. She grabbed Kenny by the back of the neck, yanked the nightstick from his belt, and pushed him forward. The two MPs collided and the nightstick spun through the air to knock the lieutenant’s pistol from his hand. He threw himself at her, but she ducked both of his punches and batted his grab away. Furber felt the palm of her hand as it touched his jaw and knew the blow was going to knock him out cold.
She spun from the unconscious lieutenant and brought her heel up to Jake’s temple. He slammed into the wall, his duty cap flew off, and he dropped. She brought the foot down and snapped a kick to the back of Kenny’s head. The blow left him senseless and his face hit the floor.
Stealth retrieved their weapons, standard 9mm Beretta pistols. They would not fit well in her holsters, and she paused to wonder why she had not been more insistent about getting her own weapons back. She flipped one of the nightsticks into a defensive position against her arm.
“Stealth,” shouted a muffled voice. “I know that’s you out there. Open this damned door.”
The nightstick smashed the face of the keypad and her fingers danced through the wires behind it. The door unlocked with a thump. “Good to see you,” said Danielle.
“Where is St. George?”
“He’s getting Barry. We were going to meet at my workshop.” She glanced at the MPs. “Did you kill any of them?”
“Of course not,” said Stealth. “They are still law enforcement officers.” She handed two of the pistols to Danielle. “You will need these.”
“You have no idea. You’ll never guess what’s going on.”
Stealth gestured her down the hall. “The Nest units have never worked. Rodney Casares, also known as Peasy, is alive and controlling the exes.”
“How do you always know this stuff?”
“You were very loud when they brought you in, Danielle. Did it appear as if any of the officers would heed your warnings?”
“Not a chance,” scoffed the redhead as they rounded a corner. “Did you attack Shelly?”
Stealth guided them past the elevator toward a stairwell. “Colonel Shelly was dead when I found him.”
“Dead? Are you sure?”
“Yes,” said Stealth. She reached around the corner to grab an MP’s wrist. Danielle yelped as the cloaked woman twisted the soldier’s arm, slammed the nightstick into his stomach, and dumped him on the floor. She did something fast with her fingers and he was unconscious. “Does St. George know of Peasy’s presence?”
Danielle shrugged. “No idea. I don’t think so.”
Stealth opened the stairwell door and peered out at a hallway. There was no sign of guards or other personnel. “You must keep your rendezvous at the workshop,” she told Danielle. “I will try to convince Captain Freedom of the threat Krypton faces.”
“I don’t think he’s going to listen. He’s furious about Shelly.”
“That may be, but we must try.” She gestured them out into the hallway and turned left. “There are over a thousand people here who will be caught off guard and slaughtered when Peasy decides to attack, and it is likely revealing himself to you has forced his hand.”
“What if I try speaking to John instead? He’s not part of the military. He might have a cooler head about all this.”
“Do you think he will listen to reason?”
“I think so, yeah. He can be a stubborn jerk, but he’s not stupid.”
Two soldiers stood guard in the lobby. Even with their backs turned, Danielle could tell they were both zombies. She turned to whisper a question, but Stealth was already moving.
The cloaked woman drove the tip of her nightstick into one ex’s spine, right at the base of the skull. There was a sound like driftwood breaking and the dead man fell forward. The stick whirled in her hand and smashed back and forth across the other ex-soldier’s jaw. She kicked its rifle into the air, dropped below its hands, and swept the legs out from under it. It landed on its back and she drove the rifle barrel through its eye, putting all her weight on it. There was a pop of breaking bone and the M16 sank into the dead man’s skull. It went limp.
She turned to Danielle. “Return to your workshop,” she said. “Meet with St. George and Zzzap. Apprise them of the situation. I will contact Agent Smith.”
“He might be more receptive to me,” she said.
“He might,” said Stealth, “but you will need the time to get into the Cerberus armor.”
*
“Good to go, sir,” said the sergeant.
Captain Creed nodded. “All right, then,” he said. “This is dry run number one for the Cerberus Battle Armor System. The pilot is First Lieutenant Thomas Gibbs. What’s the time?”
“Thirteen-thirty hours, sir.”