The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Eighteen

"I'm Iron Man, bitch."

Rolling my eyes, I stomp toward Gatlin. He's eyeing Charlie with the same annoyance. Despite Ryker's orders for us to leave as soon as possible, we hadn't budged an inch.

Iron Man? Really? That's the best he could come up with?

I don't care what anybody says. Tony Stark doesn't have shit on me.

Iron Man doesn't have cold fusion engines. His repulsor rays allow him to gain thrust and rocket into the sky, nearing the speed of jet fighters. My MAAG Suits would make him wet with jealousy.

"Can we go now or are you still climaxing?"

He pauses and swings around, glaring at me. "Why are you so worried about me climaxing, princess? You offering to help?"

I grin. "You wish."

Gatlin's heavy sigh grabs our attention. "If you two are finished, let's move. We're already an hour behind. If we don't leave now, we'll lose daylight and I don't like the idea of being in the sky after dark."

Without another word, I engage my engines and shoot into the sky. The speed is breakneck and stresses my systems, but they hold up well. And like a wondrously patterned rug, the world stretches out beneath us.

Stray clouds pepper the heavens, leaving oddly blotched shadows across the terrain. Crisp air filters through the vents in my helmet. Birds chirp, calling out to one another as they cross the vastness of the open sky.

As a small group, we fling through the miles of open space, easily avoiding aircraft, air balloons, drones and satellites. Charlie's excitement whips through the channel connecting us. He whoops and hollers, circling Gatlin and me.

It's easy to appreciate his free spirit. He's untethered in the Suit and the sky isn't even the limit. We're higher than we should be, but we don't freeze over and no warning lights appear on our helmets. The display bleeds a fluorescent blue, pinging mountains, hills, highways on our flight.

We hide in the clouds over a massive interstate, letting our displays easily identify a black Dodge Challenger, two white diesel trucks carrying logs of wood, and an ambling group of motorcycle riders sporting black kuttes. As the rises higher, it cuts through the dense clouds and reflects, sending a shockwave of heat over us, but there's no worry.

My cold fusion engines won't fail. Made from hydrogen and metal, they burn at room temperature and to keep them there, the nanites extract microscopic amounts of hydrogen from the atmosphere. Most of the carbon dioxide is supplied on the ground and was filled to the max before we ventured out. On a full tank, veils of blue run the length of our arms and legs.

It's a light show. Plain and simple. Let the enemy know you're there. My nanites are manufactured to withstand a nuclear bomb.

They want to test it? Fine. Let them come.

I'll send them and their reinforcements back crying for mercy. Sadly for them, I am my father's daughter and they won't get any.

Darcy stands on the tarmac of a private airstrip outside Dallas, Texas. The wind catches her unruly, ruby red curls and thrust them in the air, exposing her round face and dimpled cheeks. Sunglasses protected her dark eyes from the rising sun.

She's a shade lighter than me and dressed in black combat boots, and camouflage cargo pants with a black t-shirt. Cool and collected. I've only seen her dressed to the nines once, and it was on a dare. Darcy has always been more at home in the dirt with a gun and her knife than anywhere else.

A grin broke across her face when I landed, and before I could utter a single word, she threw her arms around my neck. Her giggle flitters through my right ear, and then I'm giggling with her like a maniac. It's been months since I've seen her—too long.