By the time dawn's first light seeped over the horizon to caress the glass and steel pinnacles of the downtown core, Mordecai and Jeriko were standing in the shadows, staring up at the Brotherhood building, thoughtful expressions painted on their faces. Arms crossed across a barrel chest, Mordecai's eyes were narrowed as he visually examined the face of the skyscraper directly in front of them.
The withdrawal had gone like clockwork; pyroken sealed up the hole they had made in the duct wall after Jeriko had brought down her restraining field that had held the wards back. Then it was back up the shaft, using physical strength to climb the several metres they had dropped down the shaft to begin the penetration. The grating was replaced and then their sliders took them back across the gap between the two buildings, tiny motors allowing them to climb up hill to the higher roof top.
Pausing there for a moment, the two lone gunmen then had worked to remove any trace of their presence before short porting down to the street once more. And, by the total lack of activity he was seeing up on the building now, they were successful in that.
A hand dipped into a storage pouch and the flattened silver box that was Paladin appeared in the big man's grip, it's blue light winking softly from the box's top.
"Paladin, are you online?" he whispered softly as Jeriko stepped deeper into the shadows behind him.
"Online and operating within normal parameters, Mordecai," the familiar voice whispered back and Mordecai nodded in satisfaction.
"And have you been monitoring the penetration?"
"I have, Mordecai. As well as the placement of the psionically active listening devices you planted within the building. In anticipation of your request, I have located each device via their sub-space communication link that you provided them with, and have established connections to each of them."
"Excellent work, Paladin. Now, I want you to actively monitor each device by systematically downloading their memories every fifteen minutes. Scan each data download for the following words: Preacher, Brotherhood, and Renegade. Confirm."
"Parameters accepted, Mordecai," Paladin confirmed in its soft voice. "Uplinking to listening devices now via sub-space com system. First download of memory cores in fifteen minutes from the mark. Mark."
Mordecai returned Paladin to its storage pocket with a tight smile before looking over at the waiting Jeriko.
"We're in business," he noted softly. "Now, all we have to do is wait for something to happen!"
The next three days and nights passed slowly, almost agonizingly so as the two hardwired lone gunmen waited for something significant to trickle out of Mordecai's bugs high up in the Brotherhood's Calgary headquarters. In the meantime, they used Mordecai's probes to locate Brotherhood safe houses throughout the city while they played hide-and-seek with the Brotherhood's bloodhounds.
"Here's your bill, sir," the waitress, Dolores, said in a friendly tone as she put it beside his plate and gave Mordecai a big smile. The man in black had been nothing but friendly to her and always tipped well, as did his stunningly attractive friend, though she wasn't with him this morning. Unconsciously she patted her hair into place when he looked up at her, even though she had been married for almost twenty years and looked it. There was just something about him ...
"Thanks, Dolores. As always, the service has been excellent!" Putting down enough for the bill, plus a twenty-dollar tip, Mordecai stood and, grabbing his jacket in one hand, quickly made his way out onto the street.
To find a frowning Jeriko waiting for him.
"What's up?" he asked as he pulled his jacket on. Without answering, she drew out her personal A.I., Excaliber, which she had linked to Mordecai's Paladin. From Excaliber's top edge, she drew a flat recording crystal, which she then handed to him.
Mordecai silently took the crystal as he pulled Paladin from an inside pocket. A frown of his own appearing on his lips, he slipped the crystal into Paladin's slot. Immediately a three dimensional image appeared. It didn't take long for Mordecai to recognize the scene.
"The office," he named the room now visible within the image and Jeriko nodded.
"I pulled if off one of the watcher's in Preacher's office about five minutes ago. But keep watching; it gets better." Nodding, Mordecai focused on the image.
Early morning light was already tumbling in through the office's massive windows to fill the opulent space with bright sunshine. That light found the lean form they had identified as the mysterious Preacher already hunched over his desk, furiously working on some documents in front of him. Then he was looking up as a light knock came at his door.
Looking up from the documents he was perusing, Preacher called out.
"Come." Soundlessly the door opened to reveal the slender, pretty form of Angela, Preacher's blonde morning secretary. The watcher's psionic scan also revealed that she was a hard softwire, with strong mover, burner and teep abilities.
"A Mr. Duchesne to see you, sir," she announced in a husky voice before ushering in a wolfish looking man, all lean angles and hard as steel.
"Thank you, Angela. That'll be all." She nodded and turned, closing the door behind her.
That left Preacher alone with the lean Duchesne. Leaning back into his leather, high backed executive style chair, he took a moment to study one of the Brotherhood's most powerful and talented assassins. As Preacher looked him over, a wolfish grin split the thin lips.
"Do I pass inspection, Preacher?" Duchesne asked in a hoarse whisper, standing casually in black leather pants and coat, with a black turtleneck and loafers finishing off the package. Preacher felt a quirky grin touch his own lips at the light insolence, a trait admired by most of the Brotherhood. It, along with a sadistic streak, combined with superior intelligence and cunning to turn this hardwire into a virtually unstoppable assassin. According to his dossier, open in front of Preacher on the desk, Duchesne had failed only twice in over thirty years in the business.
Duchesne was lean, but his clothing barely concealed the whipcord hardness of his body. And, despite the silver in the short-cropped dark hair, the man moved with a stealthy grace that was almost sensual. The skin was darkened by long hours in the sun, yet smooth, as if some other force was helping the powerful man resist the effects of aging. The hands, long and lean, like their owner, also had done in more men than Preacher cared to think about. Duchesne was a killer not limited to the powers of the mind!
"Just, Duchesne, just," Preacher answered lightly. "Have a seat." He waved at a comfortable chair set off to the side of the desk.
"I'd rather stand," the wolfish man answered aloofly, glancing around him to take in the contents of the room in one sweep. "Your associate indicated that you have some sort of task for me."
"Yes," Preacher answered somewhat sharply, still feeling frustration at Henry's failure to locate the renegade hardwire. A flash of irritation went across his mind then at his own lack of control. Burying his feelings with typical ruthlessness, he passed over several black and white police crime scene photographs, showing the chaos at the airport, the destruction at Curly's and the alleyway.
"We have some sort of renegade hardwire out there wiping out Brotherhood enforcers. These are pictures of the three entanglements Brotherhood wireheads have had with the renegade." Preacher slid across a folder of reports. "It began with the encounter at the airport when three of our movers attempted to restrain a teep that had managed to get out of the organization with a sizeable amount of information in his cortex. As far as we know, he intended to sell the information to the Normals in exchange for amnesty and protection during the coup."
The lionine face tightened.
"Our movers managed to apprehend the renegade teep but were shortly afterwards 'disabled' by the renegade hardwire before they could make their withdrawal. Signatures indicated that the hardwire received some sort of download from the teep before he died. So, we're assuming that the renegade now knows what the teep stole from the data store."
"I'm to find this renegade and pull his plug, then," Duchesne whispered, frowning as he examined the photos and flipped through the reports.
"Exactly," Preacher answered softly, peering at the other man. Who shot a tight look at the Brotherhood commander.
"And you don't have any hardwires of your own to do the job?"
"It isn't a matter of having hardwires," Preacher explained quickly. "It's a matter of getting the right man for the job. So far this renegade has managed to elude my people, despite a citywide scan."
Duchesne glanced up again to look at Preacher with ice-blue eyes for just an instant before returning to the pictures and the reports.
"Then what makes you think that I can find him? I'm only one man."
"Because you've done what many have tried and failed. You're much more than a simple man, Duchesne."
The hardwire assassin's face twitched with what may have been a smile before it was again a plane of hard angles.
"You're right, Preacher. I am," he husked, his eyes reduced to narrow slits. "I'm the Inner Council's silver arrow. Meant only for tasks that no other man can do. I think you're clever enough, commander, to realize what would happen if you wasted my, and the Council's time on a snipe hunt. You're not so important that you can't be replaced, my friend."
This time it was Preacher's turn to narrow his eyes.
"No need to threaten me, Duchesne. I'm well aware of the risks of trifling with the Brotherhood and the Inner Council."
"Good," Duchesne cut in coldly as he abruptly stepped back, photos in hand. "Then I'll be about my business. I'll contact you shortly as to the success of my endeavors." And, with the hiss and pop of displaced air, he was gone.
"Cocky bastard," Preacher muttered darkly as he frowned at the empty space where Duchesne had stood. "It'll take a week just to reset the wards!"
" ... a week just to reset the wards!" the recorded image repeated dutifully into Mordecai's mind as he and Jeriko stood on the corner not 100 meters from Preacher's office building. Nodding thoughtfully at the information the watcher had provided, he deactivated Paladin's reader and slipped it back into his pocket before looking over at Jeriko.
"So, the Brotherhood has brought in a specialist." His smile was tight. "We'll have to work a bit harder to avoid him."
"Right." Jeriko's frown grew. "By the levels of activity the watcher picked up, he's a fairly strong hardwire. Not a lone gunman, but still very dangerous. But I don't think we can ignore this opportunity to physically penetrate Preacher's office, now that the wards are down."
"I can't agree more." Mordecai's smile faded as his mind began to work in constructing a plan for the penetration. "This isn't an opportunity that we can ...
It was the strange feeling of being watched that made Mordecai's voice trail off, his senses tingling with unease. His blonde companion quickly picked up on the big man's sudden shift in awareness.
"What do you have?" she husked, cautiously squashing her impulse to look around them in case they were being watched from close by. Mordecai's eyes narrowed in response.
"I'm not sure," he began softly, also quelling the impulse to take a quick look around. "But it's close ... real close."
"Closer than you think, psionic," a husky voice growled and both lone gunmen's heads jerked around to the mouth of a nearby alley where they found a tight knot of roughly dressed young folk staring at them. The speaker was a wiry young man dressing in faded jeans, tattered army fatigue jacket, heavy black boots and a leather vest. His hair was long and shaggy and his rather handsome, heavily tanned face was darkened by several days' growth of beard. His companions were dressed much the same, in old and worn clothing that fit loosely and easily. It gave them all an almost untamed, wild look.
As Mordecai's eyes swept over him, the man smiled tightly revealing a set of dangerous-looking fangs, his eyes gleaming lupine gold.
"Werewolves," he said softly and the man bowed mockingly in acknowledgement.
"Quint Silvermane, at your service," the young man introduced himself with a roguish grin. "And my pack." He indicated those with him with a gesture. "You, of course, are Martin O'Hara. Or, whatever name you're going by now. According to the Brotherhood, you've been a very, very naughty boy."
Mordecai's eyebrow slowly rose.
"Werewolves in league with psionics?" he said dryly in return. "How novel!"
"We're not allies, O'Hara, if that's what you're suggesting," Silvermane replied, his smile fading somewhat. "We're ... employees."
"They've been hired to track us," Jeriko hissed tightly from just over Mordecai's shoulder, her face a mask of intensity. The man in black could feel the air chilling around her.
Silvermane's smile returned at that.
"Indeed we have. The Brotherhood made quite a lucrative proposal to my pack and me. I couldn't just turn it down." The smile grew slightly. "You may have the ability to hide yourself from the Brotherhood blood hounds, but you can't hide your scent." He tapped the side of his nose. "We tracked you all over Calgary before finding you here."
"I see." Mordecai's frown tightened. "And now that you've found us, what do you intend on doing with us?"
"Why, hold you here until the Brotherhood arrives to take you into their custody, of course," Silvermane hissed, his smile dropping as a rather cold expression spread across his young face. "The call's already been made. They're on their way."
"You do know, of course, that we can't allow ourselves to be taken by the Brotherhood," Mordecai flatly pointed out.
Ignoring the few Normals that were walking across the street from them, Silvermane nodded tightly, a predatory grin abruptly splitting the hard mask of intent that had been forming on his face.
"We actually were hoping that you were going to resist," he growled. He waved his companions forward with a gesture of his head. As they fanned out to flank the two cautiously shifting hardwires, Silvermane went on.
"We heard you were powerful, O'Hara, real good with the psionic powers. And your little friend there probably is too. But no psionic, no matter how good they were, has eluded a werewolf pack with the blood scent in their nostrils. And no wirehead has survived a pack rush. None!" Silvermane's grin became bloodthirsty as he watched his pack begin to circle the two psionics, who had gone back to back in order to keep them all in view.
"It would seem that you're all too concerned about keeping yourselves hidden that you won't use your abilities in sight of Normals." A quick glance across the street was enough to confirm that the Normals were still there, in plain view of the cafe and the alleyway. "And we both know that physically no other race are equals of the werewolves. Especially in the daylight." He bared his fangs in a ferocious smile. "You damn psionics are so fucking cocky, thinking you're on top of the mutant world. We're going to enjoy teaching you different!"
Mordecai's eyes narrowed as they focused on the young werewolf pack leader.
"Well, Silvermane, I must admit you've made a compelling case for me to move you to the top of my assholes list. And that's not wise. Not to mention I have to point out that the Brotherhood won't spare you and your pack when they begin their genetic cleansing. If you're not Brotherhood psionic, you're dead."
The young werewolf barked out a mirthless laugh.
"Do you think I actually care what the Brotherhood has planned? They'll fail against us, just like you're about to." The hard smile evaporated. "Now take this bastard, kids, and fuck him up real good. But keep the bruising on his little friend to a minimum. I have plans for her later!"
"I'm really starting to dislike this guy," Jeriko hissed tightly as the two tensed. Then the werewolves were charging en masse forward, intending to overrun the two psionics. The man in black, however, had other plans.
Exploding up out of his ready crouch, Mordecai launched himself into the air, whipping his legs through a tight scissors kick that found the head of a young werewolf that looked no older than sixteen with his heel. As the werewolf spun away unconscious, the big psionic dropped onto the ground to snap himself around in a tight crescent kick to knock away two more werewolves moving in low and fast.
But, before the big man could recover his balance from his second attack, a waifish looking young woman stepped in fast, a snarl on her face, to take Mordecai by his jacket lapels. Then with a surge of superhuman strength and speed, she slung him bodily into a nearby concrete wall.
Unable to withstand the impact, the wall crumbled and Mordecai tumbled out of sight, covered with chunks of shattered concrete and debris. And that left Jeriko abruptly alone.
"Shit," she hissed tightly. She had counted on the big lone gunman to be there to help. But the blonde Swede wasn't without her own resources and abilities.
As Mordecai disappeared in a cloud of dust and debris, she too exploded into motion, moving smoothly forward like a striking viper, intent on doing some damage before the werewolves overran her. A spinning heel kick took out two before they could reach her. Then Jeriko was ducking beneath a wild swing to hammer a tight series of blows to a young man's chest before a hard left hook sent him reeling back.
A whirling hammer fist took out a hard looking young woman before she could get close enough to strike and a side kick dropped another werewolf just as he was preparing to attack. Then they were all over her, the weight of their numbers bearing Jeriko to the ground.
"Remember," Silvermane called out as Jeriko struggled against the hands pinning her down, "no bruising. I want her relatively unharmed."
"This is a very bad call, wolf," Jeriko bit out, her face a grimace of anger and frustration, the air around her so cold the werewolves pinning her down were shivering. Only her resolve to maintain the Shield was preventing her now from lashing out with psionic rage.
"Oh?" Silvermane stepped close, a smirk on his face as he looked through the knot of werewolves holding her down and at her. "From my vantage point, it would seem that I have the upper hand. As I said, you psionics are nothing compared to us."
A soft hum of gathering power touched Jeriko's ultra-sensitive hearing and she abruptly grinned. Mordecai.
"I wouldn't be too sure of that, if I were you, Silvermane," she rasped. "I think you're about to get a rather unpleasant surprise!"
"Eh?" The werewolf leader frowned. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
The writhing cable of energy that lashed out of the dark hole in the concrete wall took the broad shouldered werewolf standing beside Silvermane with an impact that drove the breath out of his lungs with a 'woof' of air. In the blink of an eye, he was powered into a nearby car, crumpling the car's side as he slammed into it at nearly the speed of sound. Rubber screeched as the car was knocked nearly a meter into the street with the impact. The werewolf then dropped limply to the ground, his neck obviously broken.
Silvermane's jaw dropped in astonishment as he stared at his now dead companion.
"What the ... ?" he began before his eyes jerked up in the direction of the Normals that had been standing across the street from them. Damn, they were gone. His head swung around to the cafe that the big psionic had stepped out of to meet with the female psionic. It was empty, the waitress behind the counter frantically talking to somebody on the phone while she stared at him and his pack as they surrounded the female psionic on the ground. In the same instant his ears began to pick up the sound of police sirens, growing louder as they rapidly drew closer.
"You should've finished me off when you had the chance, Silvermane," Mordecai growled as he stepped from the hole in the concrete wall, surrounded by a glowing aura of blue light as he lightly dusted himself off. Then, with the static rasp of discharge, two psyken fields formed around his hands. Slowly the big man brought them up to a guard position.
"Now you get to deal with me with my gloves off."
For a moment Silvermane stared dumbly at the big psionic, stunned that the man had managed to survive getting slammed through a concrete wall. Then his face was twisting with lupine rage.
"Take this asshole down, boys! I don't want any bit of him left. Tear him apart!"
Snarling animalistically, those werewolves not involved in holding Jeriko down, slung themselves bodily at the black clothed psionic. And in that instant any veneer of humanity was stripped away by the blood lust boiling in their golden eyes and they were transformed to wolves on the hunt. Fangs were bared in vicious grimaces of bloodlust and claws were readied to tear into naked flesh.
Aware of the inherent nature of werewolves, Mordecai braced himself. This wasn't going to be pretty! Then they were on him and all thought was gone as the big man in black reacted instinctively to save himself.
The first werewolf to touch down in front of the big psionic received a surge of psyken and pyroken blended together to form an unstoppable battering ram of energy known as a plasma pulse. The pulse splashed across the woman's chest, the impact smashing her back into a number of her fellows, the lot of them going down like bowling pins.
Shockwaves knocked two more aside before the werewolves were too close to employ anything other than short-range weapons on. His feet also sheathed in psyken energy, Mordecai side kicked between two male werewolves, going back and forth, side to side, to strike first in the midsection then climbing to strike the head, sending both flying aside. He was then ducking a deadly slash at his face before thundering a psyken-aided uppercut into the werewolf's jaw, catapulting the wiry body into the air like he had been shot out of a cannon.
Silvermane silently snarled as he watched the psionic cut down his people with almost no effort. It was supposed to be perfect, the plan to take the two psionics prisoner for the Brotherhood. The rush to overwhelm them, binding their limbs and the transport; it wasn't supposed to fail like this. No psionic had ever defeated a werewolf pack, not like this.
With a screech of rending metal and the whine of dragging rubber, the car the first werewolf had died against lurched into the air. Heads snapped around in a vain attempt to find the source of the sound then air parted with a rough hiss as the car swept forward, a good half meter off the ground. Startled gasps were jerked from open mouths of astonishment before the car rammed into a handful of werewolves, sweeping them past a grim Mordecai to pin them brutally against the same wall that the man in black had been smashed through.
Hoarse screams filled the air as the werewolves were crushed, their bodies, as powerful as they were, unable to withstand the force of the car and it's psionically enhanced momentum. The pain-filled sounds were enough to pull the attentions of the werewolves pinning Jeriko up and away from the lone gunman. Seeing her opportunity, she struck, taking advantage of the chaos generated by Mordecai's counterattack.
Reaching out with tendrils of psyken, Jeriko took hold of a light standard that loomed just overhead, it's graceful metal and glass arcing up and over the street to shed light whenever the natural light no longer sufficed. She could feel the cool metal, the fragile glass with her mind as she took command of its very molecules. Then she was exerting her will.
The first werewolf that held her captive, didn't even see it coming; bending as sensuously as a swan's neck, the glass and steel lens at the street light's tip whistled through the air as it snapped forward. Hearing the whistle, the werewolf looked up. And caught the lens in the side of the head.
The impact instantly stove in the werewolf's skull, the follow through slinging the abruptly limp body out into the street. Then the light was swinging backhanded to sweep two more out of the way, hammering them through the massive bay window of the cafe behind them with a loud shattering of glass.
"Holy shit!" the werewolf holding one of Jeriko's arms gasped, eyes wide after seeing his companions which had been holding her legs knocked aside like insects by the suddenly very much alive light standard.
Then the air was whooshing out of his lungs as a shockwave battering ram punched him directly in the chest, flipping him over at the same time as it tossed him casually out into the street to join his quite dead fellow werewolf. A short, rough static crunch of discharge later and the other two were gone as well, knocked almost contemptuously aside by powerful tendrils of raw psyken energy.
Jeriko quickly rolled to her feet. Just in time to see a handful of police cars, black and white coursers of steely intent and deadly purpose, screech wildly around the corner, their lights flashing blue and red brilliance as they then surged towards them.
"Mordecai!" she barked and the big psionic looked up from taking care of the last werewolf attacking him. Following her pointing finger, his face grew grim at the sight of the police cars rapidly closing on them. They had perhaps fifteen seconds before they were surrounded. His head eyes then found the stunned Silvermane.
"Looks like the Brotherhood's experiment in recruitment of werewolves is over, Silvermane," he hissed, dropping the limp body he had been holding in his hands and the werewolf pack leader jerked in response, his golden eyes falling upon the man in black.
His face then hardened.
"This time, psionic!" He snarled as the leading police car swerved to avoid the bodies in the road and came screeching to a halt up on the sidewalk. As the two uniformed officers tumbled out, weapons ready, Silvermane pivoted and sprang into the air. He landed with a crunch of failing metal on the police car's hood, the two officers falling back with oaths of surprise. He then pivoted tightly to point a quivering finger at Mordecai, his face a mask of lupine rage.
"But this ain't over, psionic. Not by a long shot!" Then he was hurling himself through the air, the three or four werewolves that managed to regain their feet after their beating, running after him as they swiftly disappeared.
"Without his pack, he's nothing," Jeriko said grimly as she stepped close to the big man, more police cars sliding on complaining rubber into view.
Mordecai, however, wasn't so convinced. He was still frowning thoughtfully when he pulled open a teleportal with the police officers staring after the running werewolves and the two lone gunmen winked out of sight, leaving the police shaking their heads at the scene of carnage that now unfolded in front of them.