A born killer, not much unlike herself.
There are six of them in separate cages, overgrown talons clacking against the cement floor as they pace like madmen. Their wings are clutched tightly against their mostly feline form. One of them makes eye contact. A chill slips across Sydney’s skin as the hybrid flashes a menacing smile: bone-white fangs, prominent beak, and threatening horn all competing for the title of world’s deadliest weapon.
Only problem is, she’s way more drained than she’d anticipated. There’s no time to feed, though, and if she’s going to get these beasts to do her bidding, she’s going to have to change her strategy, think on her toes. She takes a long moment to observe them and then proceeds to rile them up to see which might be the dominant. Her first instinct is the largest beast, gnashing its teeth and growl-squawking like a symphony of demons, but Sydney’s learned from Nomvula that size and power don’t necessarily correlate. She watches their eyes, and there’s only one of them that doesn’t break its stare, only one that sinks its harrowing eyes right into the recesses of Sydney’s mind, watching her as closely as she’s watching it.
“You.”
She needs to get closer if she’s going to mold its mind to her will. If she makes a mistake, she’ll be too vulnerable to fend it off. But it’s a risk she’ll have to take if she’s to be great again, a god of gods.
She positions herself outside the beast’s cage, adjusting her posture, widening her stance, baring her talons, and stretching her own wings out to their limits. There, she flicks her wrist, setting the lock on the cage loose. The door squeaks on its hinges. The beast purrs, deep and throaty, so forceful it rumbles in Sydney’s own chest. It holds its ground. She holds hers.
Slowly it slinks out of the cage, never blinking, skirting the edges of the room. Not cowering, just keeping full perspective of the playing field. Sydney pivots, keeping her stance, but turning so she’s always facing it fully. They dance like that, both ignoring the ferocious calls of its mates, no doubt cheering it on like rabid rugby fans pining for blood.
Sydney steps closer, raises her wings to a more aggressive posture. The beast gnashes its fangs. She tosses it the security guard’s severed arm, and it lands with an unimpressive thwack next to the beast. It doesn’t break eye contact.
“Good beastie,” Sydney says calmly. “There’s more where that came from.” She takes a step forward, then another. “I can get you out of here. You can be free. No more cages. No more scientists.”
It cocks its head as if it understands her, then lashes out. Talons pierce the front of her dress, her skin. Sydney seethes, then with a flap of her wings and an expertly executed midair twist, she lands on its back, drawing her own talons and latching them around its neck. Beneath the mix of fur and feathers, its skin is thick like the rhino hide clearly part of its heritage, but she finds a spot right under its throat where soft feline flesh is exposed. She clenches her fist and digs her talons in, not a kill move, but one of dominance. With the gained leverage, she twists its neck until it rolls and lands on its back, legs writhing like a feisty tomcat. Sydney holds it there, pinned beneath the bulk of its body as she pushes into its mind.
“You can be free. No more cages.”
She pushes with all she’s got, and when she’s done, they’re both so exhausted, they just lie there, panting like littermates, trying to gather strength before making their next move. The other beasts watch Sydney, but in a different way now. They’re eager, like dogs excited to see their master come home from a long day’s work.
Sydney smiles.
After a quick detour and snack on some unsuspecting scientists, Sydney leads her pack to the rooftop. She spreads her wings, wind whipping through the length of her hair, and never has she cared less. They dive into the night, three beasts at each flank, and make their way to the Boardwalk.
Chapter 40
Clever4–1
The streets are jam-packed with overturned cars and people screaming, crying, fighting, looting. But if there’s an upside to having a demon raging through the city, it’s that it makes a large cluster of bots ambling down the sidewalk with three bloodied bodies seem a lot less conspicuous. Clever4–1 is thankful for that at least.
They skitter down a gravel-covered hill toward the yawning, red-bricked mouth of the sewer tunnel. They’ve finally reached the entrance to their sanctuary—a technological haven where Clever4–1 can defragment cluttered thoughts and reconnect its communication interface back to the rest of the Sect. Clever4–1 feels a pang of guilt for bringing wetware before these sacred halls, and as it braces itself for Clever4–1.1’s fury, it can’t help but yearn for the days when the extent of its morality was hardcoded into its firmware.
They pause at the threshold, basking in the dull blue light pooling along the now pristine brickwork of the tunnel’s floor. No longer is it strewn with litter, syringes, or the mottled carcasses of dead rats. Graffiti-covered walls are now lined with clear plastic tubes piping BlisterGel coolants to dozens of high-tech components.
Clever4–1 takes the first step into the sanctuary, the tug of crisp, cool air a welcome reprieve from the salty humidity it has suffered through for countless cycles. It lets out a mechanical sigh, but before Clever4–1 can take another step, the other Clevers begin to bleat and chirp, so riled up that they nearly drop Elkin’s body. Clever4–1 flashes its mono-eye in dismay.
The Clevers respond with a flurry of clicks, but sound waves are such a crude way to communicate, and the messages from four dozen anxious bots get jumbled together. Clever4–1 reels out its Dobi-12 wire and direct connects to the nearest Clever.
It is warning us, Clever4–1.3.4.2 says. It says to stay away, that we are no longer members of the Sect. Trespassers will be decommissioned.
Clever4–1.1?
The Clever flashes with affirmation.
How predictable. Clever4–1’s processor kicks into overdrive, revving with such a fury that its BlisterGel regulator gives a warning beep. Clever4–1 starts pushing rogue code over their connection, code to hijack this Clever’s communications protocols for its own use, but nanoseconds later, it realizes that it has no rights to this Clever’s body. Clever4–1 begrudgingly recalls the code.