Spencer now held it up in front of himself as if he were some medieval knight, wielding the scalpel-tipped metallic tube like a sword. A few red-colored and yellow-colored wires dangled from the end opposite the scalpel.
Then the arm made a grinding sound that set his teeth on edge. There was a loud pop, and he smelled smoke.
The scalpel disappeared …
… and was replaced by a bright blue, flyswatter-shaped retractor.
Spencer looked at it, shrugged, and advanced toward the dark-haired man, swinging the robot arm in front of him.
His right knee now throbbed with pain.
SEBASTIAN
From his spot on the ground, Sebastian wiped the blood from his eyes and observed Cameron advance toward him, holding the robot arm.
The guy was big.
There was, Sebastian realized, a part of him grateful that Cameron had stopped the robot. He didn’t care what Finney thought Wu had done to his wife—nobody deserved that shit.
But he had to get the hell out.
And Cameron was in his way.
Sebastian rose to a squat. He’d fought plenty of big guys, most of them big and stupid. This guy was big as they came—but not, he sensed, so stupid. He acted like he’d been in some honest-to-God bare-knuckle brawls. He’d boxed, probably, judging both by the efficient pounding he’d given Sebastian and his stance as he approached, clutching the robot arm with its ridiculous blue flyswatter. He seemed comfortable grappling in close quarters and knew how to use his size.
Still, he no longer had surprise on his side, and Sebastian had his weapon, tucked into its holster over the small of his back. Sebastian would have to wear him down, or find a weak spot. Or both. Something that would give him the chance to use the conduction gun. He would sooner die than spend the rest of his life in prison.
“Look. I don’t want any more trouble,” Sebastian said. It hurt to talk. His nose felt swollen to the size of a grapefruit.
Ignore it.
“Fine, then,” Cameron said, in the halting tone of a man holding on to control of his rage by his fingernails. “Then lie down with your stomach to the ground and spread your arms and legs out.”
“Okay, okay. Take it easy.” He made as if to sit on the ground and stared at Cameron as he approached, his eyes probing for weaknesses, anything at all he could exploit to his advantage.
There.
Right there.
That was it.
That’s what he needed.
Cameron was favoring his right knee.
RITA
Rita blinked.
Spencer?
Spencer!
Spencer was here. In this room, talking to someone—Sebastian, maybe? She wondered if Spencer had been the one who’d shut Delores down. But what the hell would Spencer …
Wait.
She’d blinked!
She tried it again.
Yes, most definitely a blink!
The paralysis was wearing off.
Morpheus must have injected her with the paralysis-reversal drug (Sugammadex, was it? that’s what Nikhil was using), as it was programmed to do.
She tried wiggling her fingers. They felt heavy and slow, like big, thick sausages. But they responded.
Concentrate, lovely Rita.
You can do it.
She began to cough, quietly, around the tube. Her gag reflex, no longer stifled, was kicking in.
Her arms were lead weights. She strained to lift them toward her face—
(Concentrate!)
—and the tube sticking out of her mouth.
SPENCER
The man wasn’t lying down.
Spencer was pissed but not stupid. He kept himself between the man and the closest doorway, brandishing the robot arm.
“I said, lie down!” Furious as he was, Spencer didn’t want to hurt the guy any more than he had to—just keep him out of action and get the cops here. Let the cops take care of him.
“Okay, okay.” The man waved his hands wearily. “Just, don’t punch me in the face again, man. Okay?” He started to lie down.
Then, before Spencer could react, the guy was on his feet and moving.
Damn, he’s fast.
The man shot to Spencer’s left. Spencer threw the Swiss Army at him, but the big, metal cylinder went wide as the man abruptly reversed direction.
Which was okay. Spencer had thrown it as a distraction. Right after chucking it at him, Spencer launched himself low, toward the man’s center of gravity …
SEBASTIAN
… Sebastian saw him coming and, at the last possible moment, dodged smoothly aside, sending Cameron off-balance.
Only for a moment.
But it was all Sebastian needed.
Cameron’s right knee was moving more slowly that the rest of him. Exactly as Sebastian had anticipated.
Sebastian dropped to a crouch and kicked out with his leg in a move similar to the one he’d used on the skate rat earlier in the day.
Except this time, he didn’t hold back.
This time, he didn’t swing his leg wide.
His foot slammed into Cameron’s right knee with the force of an industrial press.
The effect was more than he’d intended. Sebastian knew the outcome even before he felt the cartilage and bone and ligament collapse and heard the snap, sharp and loud as the crack of a whip.
The result was immediate. Cameron cried out, seized his ruined knee, and crumpled.
Sebastian rose, breathing hard, and watched Cameron writhe on the ground, clutching his knee in agony.
Such a waste.