Consequences (Two)

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Fire and debris were not going to hurt her as much as it would Lewis, so she pulled him behind her. Their intention wasn't to kill with the grenade but rather to disorient with a flash. Whoever sent it probably wanted the memory chip undamaged.

Seconds later, Lewis was still coughing on the ground below her, although he still struggled to move. Luna had backed away to the other corner of the room, and stood ready, awaiting her master's orders.

"Stay down if you want to live long enough to save your friends," Vivian told him.

"The chip."

She rushed over to the computer and pulled it out, squeezing it into his palm. "If you lose it..."

Lewis was just staring, and she didn't need clarification from the reflection in his eyes to know hers were glowing. "Through the kitchen, bottom left corner." There is a trapdoor that will take you somewhere safe till I come to get you. "

Lewis didn't wait for her to say it twice, and he stumbled off, losing his footing a few times. Her watch beeped again. There was another incoming grenade.

The second one landed exactly where Lewis had stood moments ago. If she had stayed too, she would have taken some damage. But by the time it had landed, she had already been moving towards Lewis. He was back on the ground from the force of the explosion. He looked vulnerable, and that meant her attention would be divided, which was never a good thing. She ushered him through the kitchen before whoever it was decided to send another bomb at them. She shifted the carpet out of the way. The trapdoor had an old-fashioned padlock on it. No time looking for a key. She ripped it off with her bare hand and then pushed Lewis slowly down the stairs. Luna trotted down behind him.

"Hey, what about you?" He turned to her.

"I can more than take care of myself."

Her entire personal armor and weaponry were back at the Harbor so very well out of range. If their attackers knew who she was and that she was here, they would keep firing from a distance. If ignorance was on their side and they marched down here, well. A buzz alert notified her of the latter.

She loved her watch.

They were six in total, heavily armoured and equipped with Mainstream weaponry. No vital body parts were exposed, and the position of guns and formation related to reasonable experience and expertise. These guys knew what they were doing. And they were no ordinary mercenaries.

But neither was she.

They were split up into three groups of two. Those to the right moved slowly towards the kitchen. She stood right behind the door, breath held.

The muzzle of his gun showed first, covered by a suppressor.

"Wow," she thought. That was designed to do real damage, silently.

Next was probability. If he decided to immediately check behind the door, she would be forced to act prematurely. If he waited for his partner, that worked better for her.

He chose to wait for his partner. She couldn't say luck was on her side; in this game, it was either right or wrong, black or white, dead or alive.

She grabbed him around the neck and slammed him back, at the same time shutting the door. His partner turned and hesitated to shoot.

That was his mistake, and it would be his death. She snapped the neck of the one that she was holding, then pushed him towards the other. She had taken the gun from him and didn't hesitate. She later placed her fingers on their necks for a sign of a pulse, very well knowing she wouldn't find one. She wondered if she had overestimated her attackers. Carrying guns whose firepower was high enough to tear through the armour you wore was not very tactical. Unless they didn't expect to find someone good enough to take a gun from any one of them.

With a weapon at hand, the other four weren't too far behind. She, however, knew they had to leave as soon as possible. She would have taken Lewis to the Harbor, and he would have had more than enough protection there. But with the data on that chip, she couldn't let even the Vanguard get their hands on it.

As she sat down in the rubble next to the six dead men on the ground, there was one thing going through her head. Those memories were clear as day, the needles, the tests, the pain. That was something that had to stay in the past: she had to destroy the chip.

"Lewis, get up here."

After a few seconds without a reply, she went down herself. It was a basement of sorts, in case of a need for a quick, unseen exit. Lewis had discovered the back exit because he was nowhere in sight.

He had run away from her, so she guessed he was above average on the IQ chart. No one smart stayed long around her.

Going out there alone was placing himself in imminent danger. But he'd rather that than her. She had learned years ago that she tended to have that effect on people. Finding him wouldn't be a problem. But getting him alive would mean that the chances of that crossing with him still having the chip were less than zero.

"Track the most recent memory chip in proximity."

Seconds later, the red blip appeared. It wouldn't be long now. She could still bury her past before it caught up with her.

Again.

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