The female soldier looked lost and confused. Her nose bled heavily, and her eyes were beginning to roll back in her head, her breath coming short and sharp.
Here it came. Noah braced himself. He’d watched this scene play out many times at Midlands. It was all over for these two. They’d opted for freedom and now they paid the price. He respected them for it, but it still sucked to watch.
Asa yanked a knife from his boot and cut Caro’s bonds. She pulled the strange metal helmet off her head, and started rubbing her wrists.
Noah realized, with a jolt, that he had not thought to do that for her. In fact, he had not thought at all. Thick headed lug. Couldn’t seem to think. Or move.
“Who the hell is Callie?” Asa asked her, as he kneeled at the side of his employee and felt that man’s pulse as well.
Caro tried to speak, coughed, and tried again. “His two year old daughter,” she said. “I saw a newsclip about them on the Internet. Recognized him.”
Asa nodded, moving to check his other man who lay near Mark and the dead soldier. Noah noticed that Asa’s fingers were dripping blood. He’d taken a bullet to his upper arm. “You’re shot,” he said sharply.
His brother wiped his hand on his jacket with a shrug. “Not a problem,” he said, as he peered under the unconscious guy’s eyelids with a frown of concentration.
By that time, the two slave soldiers were in full crisis. The process was swift and horrible, and took less than a minute. They convulsed, gasped, struggled for breath as if drowning in their own blood. Then slowly they went still.
Asa stared at them, horrified. “What the fuck is wrong with them?”
“They resisted their programming,” Noah said wearily. “That set off the auto-destruct brain implant. It makes the brain dissolve. Just turns to slop.”
“Jesus.” Asa looked appalled. “That is some ugly, twisted shit.”
“Yeah.” He stared bleakly at Mark’s two prototypes, arched in agony on the ground, faces contorted. He’d witnessed that scene too many times to be shocked, but it was still depressing. Knocked him even further underground.
He was just so fucking tired. He wanted to fall at Caro’s feet, put his head in her lap, close his eyes. Make it all go away.
But she wasn’t coming to him. And she was giving him that look. Those shocked, scared eyes. Like she was afraid of him. Sickened by what she’d seen.
Right. Like any sane person would be.
Noise from the door sent them into guard mode again, but Noah sighed in relief to see first Sisko and then Zade stumble in. They were bruised and bloodied, but both on their feet. That was all that mattered.
“Situation outside?” he asked.
“Quiet now,” Sisko said wearily. “There were only two of them out there, but it took us a while. Tough bastards. They almost won.”
“Both of them are down?”
“Yeah. Gone.” Sisko sounded unhappy about it. “They fought real hard. Wouldn’t give up. But we finished them.”
Zade took his headphones off as he walked over to Mark, staring down.
“Put those back on, you idiot!” Noah snapped. “He’s not dead!”
“He looks pretty far gone.” Zade crouched down. His hands were clenched into enormous fists, but his voice was carefully casual as he peered into Mark’s face. “How do you want to transport him?”
“There are dedicated carrying cases out there in his truck,” Noah said. “We should dose him with his own sedative, if we can find some of it. The stuff is potent.”
“Help me get my men to the van first,” Asa said. “They need medical attention. I have somebody on call. He’s good, and discreet, if any of you need to get checked out.”
“Nah, we’re good,” Noah said. Mark’s sig still showed the slow, dull pulse of unconsciousness when he checked, so he turned to help lift one of Asa’s guys.
“Noah!” Caro shrieked.
Mark’s sig flashed, blinding white like lighting bolt. He jack-knifed to yank a compact pistol from his ankle holster.
Asa threw himself in front of Noah, shielding his brother as Mark emptied his gun.
Every bullet made Asa’s body jerk. He crashed to the ground, breaking a rotten chair into splinters on his way down.
Then three more shots jarred her ears, from a different direction.
Mark’s head disintegrated.
“Callie.” The thick, garbled voice of the slave soldier that Caro had called Brenner. He’d dragged himself back to consciousness. Now he slumped to the floor, the Ruger 9mm he’d pulled out falling from his hand, blood streaming from nose, mouth, ears.
Noah dropped down next to Asa, and touched his brother with a shaking hand.
Asa’s sig flashed, and his eyes opened. His grin answered his brother’s unspoken question. “Nah. Dragon skin.” He spoke with effort as he thumped his body armor. “This shit works.”
“You still got hit,” Noah said.
“No big deal,” Asa rasped. “Only five bullets.”
Noah’s breath eased. “Fuck you. Stay down.”