The Girl Who Dared to Think 7: The Girl Who Dared to Fight

We sped through the halls like this, unified as one, but with me leading the charge in a deep and deadly calm. One hand was already holding my gun while the other pulled out the baton, pressing the button to start the charge.

The hall spiraled inward, taking me through the kitchen, past the bedrooms, dodging the signs of chaos and searching for any hint of movement in the shadows.

A light began to shine from the opposite side of the hall as I drew closer to the war room, and I came around the turn to see a long line of people pouring through a hole where the door had once been. An angry yell burst from my mouth as I saw it, and I raised my gun and began firing into the crowd.

I caught the first three legacies in the back, dropping them immediately, and a fourth mid-turn, and then missed the fifth when he dodged to the side, somehow managing to avoid the bullet. He slammed up against the wall and made for me, but I had anticipated his charge and picked up my foot, planting a kick low to his belly. He staggered back, and I shot him before he had a chance to recoup, the rage in my heart unwilling to show any mercy.

Several other legacies peeled off from the back and moved to meet me, but I gunned them down, and two more behind them. The gun clicked empty, but instead of ejecting the magazine, Tony compelled me to spin it around in my hand and use it to crack some heads, and I was more than happy to comply, turning it in my hand until I was gripping the top and then bringing it back down on a man’s temple.

I jabbed my baton into the woman behind him, going to a knee to do it, then caught the blow from a man with my gun hand seconds before he slashed me open with a cutter. With a vicious growl, I dropped the baton I had been holding against the woman’s stomach and grabbed the man’s cupped hands with my free hand, forcing the angle of the blade back on him. His eyes grew wide as he realized the mistake of his position over me, and then I stood up, shoving my forearm up while pressing down on the cutter hilt with my other hand. He barely had a chance to scream before the crimson blade began to cut a fiery line through his forehead, and then I jerked his arms down quickly, savagely ending his life.

His hands fell away from the cutter, and I pulled it out of him and swung it around to the hall in front of me, bending and scooping up my baton as well. Several legacies were hovering a foot away, their faces wearing various masks of hatred, revulsion, disgust, and fear, and I couldn’t help but bare my teeth at them in a silent snarl as I began to stalk toward them, wondering who would be the first to meet my challenge.

A big man on the left opted to be the first, and he launched himself at me, wielding not one, but two batons. I cut through the first one with the cutter, ducked under the second, and then drove the cutter through his chest, giving the plasma blade a vicious twist before jerking it out of him and letting him fall to one side.

I heard Zoe and Maddox shouting in panicked voices over the clamor, and Tony responded by giving me another hit of adrenaline. I burst into action, racing toward the remaining three legacies, impatient to have this at an end.

I leaned back to avoid a wide blow from a baton brandished by a blond woman, and then grabbed her arm, pushing the baton she held into a second attacker and stepping behind her to use her as a shield against the third attacker. I planted a boot in the small of her back and shoved her forward, then brought my cutter down at an angle in the spot where I had last seen the man. The red-hot, super-charged plasma turned orange in the dim light as it connected with something, and I heard a cry of pain followed by a sizzling spatter of something wet evaporating under the heat of the plasma. The smell of burning flesh filled the hall, but I carried the blade through, then spun all the way around and brought it up over my head in a two-handed grip. I spied the woman I had kicked forward seconds before I brought the blade down, slicing a line down her spine.

I ignored the queasiness that was beginning to form at so much carnage in a matter of seconds, and sprinted toward the door, spying more legacies inside. Several of them were watching me warily, all wielding batons, but they had their backs to the fight behind them—a fight I couldn’t make out through the flashing hand lights and darkness.

I turned my gaze on the handful of legacies waiting just inside the war room and took a quick look at the floor, spotting my gun lying a few feet back. I moved to get it, tucking my baton into my belt loop and then pulling out my last magazine.

As soon as the gun was in my hands, I ejected the old clip and inserted the new, taking a second to chamber a round. The entire time, I kept my back to my enemies, giving them an open target, an invitation to come and get me. A part of me had hoped they would take it—it was easier to fight five when only three of them could fit in the hall, shoulder to shoulder—but they had chosen not to, which meant that their deaths were going to come a whole lot faster.

As soon as the round was chambered, I turned the gun on them, aiming it at the five standing at the other end and squeezing the trigger, Tony’s minor corrections to my arm making my aim true. I began walking down the hall as I fired off another round, hitting a second person before the others ducked into openings to use the walls for cover.

Then I was running, racing toward the opening. I used my free arm to throw a lash end down, snapping out a few feet and then flinging it through the door, aiming for the ceiling beyond. I saw the sharp spark of blue that told me it had connected, and hit the hand controls, jamming them to full throttle. They sent me flying through the door, my gun already turning to the side to angle down, in anticipation of where the enemy would be.

As soon as I saw the sparking blue tips of the batons, Tony and I were able to estimate their positions, and I fired two shots back to back, changing the angle slightly between the two. The flash from both shots showed me that our aim had been spot on, so I put those legacies out of my mind and looked ahead, searching for my friends.

My light caught the edge of the large conference table in the center of the room, now on its side, and I let my lash line continue to drag me up and threw another line, angling for it. I knew my friends were on the other side—the table was surrounded by legacies—and I needed to get to them.

The line hit, and I disconnected the first, swinging into the new connection and firing on the legacies who were trying to flank my friends. I cleared the edge of the table still firing, disconnected the line, and fell to the ground. I landed on my feet and then fired my last two rounds at the men racing around the right side of the table for me.

The gun hit empty, but no one else came around the corner, and I realized I had scared them off for a few seconds. I turned my eyes to the handful of forms huddled behind the table and quickly counted off Maddox, Zoe, and Eric, all of them holding batons.

“Where are the others?” I demanded as I moved closer to them, my eyes searching the area around their feet for any sign of the locked cases that held the ammunition for the guns. I found one a second later, next to a bag by Zoe, and waved for her to pass it over.

She gaped at me, still stunned by my sudden appearance, but Eric quickly spotted what I was after and slid the heavy box toward me while Maddox answered my question.