Chapter 39
"You don't think Kingpin will decide to hide?" I asked Blade while the Charger's roar devoured miles of asphalt. "Learning that someone like you has declared hunt on him, any sane person would lie low."
"Nah," Blade shrugged, not taking his eyes off the road. "He is alpha predator. Those do not run and hide. Their strength is in aura of invincibility. The moment they show weakness, their own jackals will sink teeth into throat to take throne. He cannot afford to look weak. Not now."
I had different opinion. My meta-knowledge screamed that this bastard was slippery, cunning creature capable of wriggling out of any situation. But I did not try to convince Blade. In any case, this raid had already paid for itself with interest: Shocker's vibro-gauntlets in inventory, strengthened relations with Blade and, strangely enough, with Gwen. Was it even normal that I thought about trophies before thinking about these two?
While I indulged in these thoughts, we pulled up to unremarkable five-story building on Sixth Avenue. After wandering couple minutes, Blade found narrow, dark alleyway and, killing his monster, parked. And as soon as we got out of car, familiar black-and-white figure silently jumped down from fire escape shadow. Well, of course. Had followed us entire way.
"You killed him!" was first thing she exhaled, appearing before us. Her gloved finger pointed at Blade. "Why?! You cannot just take other people's lives like that!"
"And why the hell not, actually?" Blade spread his hands, absolutely not seeing problem. He walked around her like she was annoying obstacle and began examining walls for entrance. I followed.
"It is not right! John, tell him!" She turned, presumably, desperate gaze on me.
"I agree," I began slowly, feeling her pleading look. "With Blade."
"B-but..."
"Gwen, world lost not a 'person' but serial killer whose hands were elbow-deep in children's blood. He was tool in hands of monster. I consider it no great loss," I answered evenly, asking myself: could I do it myself? Would I have guts? Under NZT, more likely yes than no...
Blade meanwhile found what he sought, inconspicuous steel emergency exit door in dead-end alley. Not suspicious at all.
"We are not judges! And certainly not executioners!" Gwen hotly objected, catching up to us.
"And who are judges and executioners, Gwen?" I stopped and turned to her. "Corrupt officials in robes? Who decided they are worthy of that title? If we handed Shocker to police, lawyers bought by Kingpin would get him out next day. And he would continue killing. These are your praised judges?"
"You speak truth, kid," approving grumble came from Blade at door.
"But, by killing them, how are we any better?!" Her voice trembled. This argument seemed very personal to her.
"At everything!" I cut off, feeling this demagoguery begin to tire me. "At minimum, we save lives of all those innocents whom bastards like Shocker would kill in future. Between solving problem and temporarily patching it, I will always choose first."
I approached door, touched it, and it disappeared. Small corridor sloping downward was empty. I let Blade go first, and when we with Gwen entered after, returned door to place.
"Please," Gwen asked much quieter, almost pleading, addressing Blade. "At least here... try not to kill anyone."
"Promise nothing," he snorted, not turning around. "And here questions are more for your buddy. He is rookie, might not calculate his strength."
We approached next door, massive, armored, with couple cameras under ceiling. They obviously already knew about us.
"Strength?" Gwen asked with genuine interest, shifting gaze from Blade to me.
Instead of answer, I silently took from inventory two auto-injectors. First, with muscle stimulator, I hissed as I injected into my neck. Second, with "Absolute Predator" serum.
Effect came after several seconds, and it was like inserting quantum processor into old computer. Chemical fire flooded my veins, muscles under suit swelled and filled with strength, gait became fluid and feline. Entire world narrowed, cutting off excess. Only threat vectors, movement trajectories, attack angles remained. Combined with mental clarity from NZT, this was incredible feeling of omnipotence. I saw lenses on Gwen's mask widen when she noticed these changes.
"I... will try not to stick my neck out," I nodded to her.
I stepped to second armored door and touched it. It disappeared. Same second I stepped back, hiding behind Blade's back and activating plasma shield. As I expected, we were awaited.
Long corridor ahead exploded with fire and thunder. Six of Kingpin's mercenaries in full tactical armor opened torrential fire. Air filled with whistle of bullets. Several of them with dull hiss stuck, having rammed into translucent sphere of my shield, then into suit, having almost lost all speed. I, shielding face with hand, moved forward, staying in rear guard.
Blade and Gwen were ahead, and in their case this was not battle. It was slaughter.
Blade turned into blurred spot, and he did not even run, he glided between bullet tracers, closing distance with inhuman speed. First mercenary did not even have time to cry out, Blade tore rifle from his hands and with butt strike broke his jaw. Second received kick to knee that bent it backward with disgusting crunch.
Gwen was his perfect complement. She soared to ceiling, and from there poured sticky rain of webbing. Rifles were torn from hands, mercenaries' legs tangled, one was simply cocooned and stuck to wall. Fifteen seconds. Exactly that much they needed to neutralize entire six. And judging by groans, all were still alive. Excellent.
Thus we advanced deeper into base, which went lower and lower underground. Blade went in vanguard, using his mental, as he called it, garbage to sense ambushes beforehand. He was super-fast, super-strong and super-tough ram. Gwen fluttered around him like deadly butterfly, disarming and immobilizing enemies with her webbing. Despite Gwen's request, couple unfortunates still had no luck, Blade, obviously used to hitting vampires at full strength, did not calculate blow, and necks simply crunched. Mercenaries, for all their equipment, were too fragile compared to bloodsuckers.
Another nuance, Blade did not draw his katana, working exclusively with hands and feet, wrapped in barely noticeable aura of Chi, which under such amount of stimulants I could not help but notice.
Finally, we entered huge hangar-like space. Ahead, behind barricades, awaited dozen armed-to-teeth bastards. And in center, towering above them, stood three-meter figure in massive, futuristic gray armor with huge horn on helmet. Rhino.
"Oooh," Blade's fangs glinted in semi-darkness. "Finally something interesting."
"Get rid of small fry," my voice under stimulants sounded lower and more confident. "Big guy I take for myself."
I stepped forward, understanding I needed this armor. How much technology, how many rare alloys and electronics in it! This was literally millions of dollars, and all I needed was one touch.
Fortunately, both Blade and Gwen understood without words. They rushed in different directions, beginning methodical annihilation of cannon fodder. And Rhino, living up to his name, enraged by my arrogance, charged at me. Floor trembled under his feet. For such bulk he moved incredibly fast.
I stood in place. My mind, revved to limit, saw everything in slow motion. I saw servos in his legs tense, his center of gravity shift, his single eye-visor focus on me.
Second before collision I deactivated plasma shield. Thanks to accelerated reaction, I did not just jump aside, I made smooth, calibrated step, letting multi-ton bulk fly past me. At moment when his side was level with me, I lightly touched armor.
It disappeared.
Two-meter, pumped-up thug in simple black jumpsuit, stripped of his armor, continued flying by inertia. He crashed head-first into steel doorframe behind me at huge speed. Sickening wet crunch sounded. Body fell limply to floor. I think I heard his neck break. Hopefully, just seemed so.
I reactivated shield and, pleased with obtained loot, turned around. Blade and Gwen were already finishing cleanup. Ahead, Jeffrey Wykle's office was visible. How ironic, this intestinal base leading only downward had become mousetrap for its own inhabitants.
"Good," Blade threw me look, wiping blood from knuckles. "We would have been picking at this tin can for long time."
"Well, had to bring some benefit," I answered with half-smile. "Cannot let you monsters have all glory."
"Yeah..." Gwen muttered, tying up last mercenary. "Who is talking about monstrosity..."
Jeffrey Wykle, short man in expensive suit with expressive jaw twisted in grimace of hatred, hid behind backs of last handful of mercenaries. He obviously already understood this round was lost, but desperately clung to illusion of control.
"Building is anyway surrounded by Kingpin's people! You are dead!" he squeaked, pointing trembling finger at us. "Fire!"
Twenty seconds later, everything was over. For his people, of course. They were swept away by whirlwind of black leather and black-white spandex. When dust settled, Blade already stood over Wykle, whose face changed from defiant to mask of horror. Hunter did not even touch him, just looked into eyes, and corporate arrogance of Fisk's deputy fell away like husk. He stared at Blade mesmerized, ready to spill everything.
"Usually boss spends most time in his penthouse, in Empire State Building," he began in even, lifeless voice. "But also has number of especially protected bases and his country estate..."
"Stop, stop, stop! What the hell Empire State?!" Gwen suddenly cut in. Her voice trembled from sudden, terrible realization. "Upper floors there are all rented by Fisk Capital! Or... damn, are you serious?!"
"Yeah," I approached her, understanding that hiding information further was pointless. "Kingpin is Wilson Fisk."
"And you knew?! Knew and did not tell me?!" She sharply turned to me, voice ringing with offense and sense of betrayal. "What was point of all this farce with base infiltration? Why not attack Fisk directly? He is public figure, opportunities are plenty!"
"That is exactly why we did not tell," Blade answered grimly, not taking gaze from Wykle. "Do not be stupid, girl, and think hard. You propose breaking into fortress from front entrance that is guarded by hundreds of people and dozens of metas, just because you know owner's name? We came down here for map of this fortress. For information about forces, weaknesses, schedule. To go into flame not with bare hands, but with fire extinguisher."
"And also this base is good stress test of our abilities and cooperation potential," I added.
"Yeah, kid speaks truth," Blade nodded. "He may have beaten less than everyone, but how beautifully. And now do not interfere."
But Gwen would not calm down. She stepped to Wykle.
"Police Captain George Stacy. His death. What do you know?"
"Eliminated," Wykle reported evenly, as if about clerical error. "By ordinary street pawn, for refusal to cooperate. He was only non-corrupt captain in Brooklyn precinct. Spoiled statistics. Inefficient element."
I saw Gwen clench fists until knuckles turned white, saw her shoulders tremble. I stepped to her and put hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly. She flinched but fortunately did not snap. Blade meanwhile continued interrogation, pulling from Wykle everything: details of Frank Castle case, names of other deputies and list of Kingpin's active metas, his connections, contacts, delivery schedule... Entire interrogation took no more than seven minutes. When information flow dried up, Blade, without word, simply twisted Wykle's head at unnatural angle. Quiet crack sounded. Notably, this time Gwen said nothing. She only turned away, clenching teeth.
We silently moved upward, to exit.
"Goons ahead. Many," Blade informed us grimly when we approached last door leading to alley.
Nodding, I again took from inventory injectors and injected myself another dose. Feeling like under-Bane was strange but effective. Plasma shield again enveloped me in translucent cocoon. Damn, how good when you do not need to worry about power source.
"And here they are. Stars of our turbulent night."
As soon as we exited base, alley came alive. Clicks of dozens of safeties being taken off rifles merged into single continuous sound. We were under crosshairs. Mercenaries standing before us were equipped order of magnitude better than those left lying in base, expensive armor, modified weapons. And slightly behind them stood trio.
First, man in black, form-fitting suit with white target pattern on mask. He lazily tossed couple combat knives in hand, and it was he who delivered "greeting" speech. Bullseye. Memory, spurred by NZT, helpfully provided dossier. Never misses. Ever.
Second, two-meter thug with practically square face and ash-gray, stone-like skin. He wore perfectly fitted black three-piece suit. Tombstone. Classic, almost invulnerable meta-tank.
Third turned out to be man in futuristic, lightweight exoskeleton with mechanical wings on back, currently folded. Instead of gloves on his hands were attached some kind of energy blasters. Vulture.
Three serious metas, several dozen elite fighters. Party in full swing. Only Blade did not look the least bit scared. He stood relaxed, with slight smirk, and this calm transferred to us too.
But one of elite trio, Bullseye, having more carefully examined our figures, suddenly stopped juggling knives. His gaze stopped on Blade. Face under mask twisted in frightened, recognizing grimace.
"Blade? What the hell is he doing here?!" Bullseye squeaked, his bravado instantly evaporating, replaced by panic. "Nobody warned me about anything like this!"
"Fire," Tombstone ordered shortly, as if commanding voice assistant. His massive gray hand landed on Bullseye's shoulder, not letting him bolt.
Hell broke loose.
I immediately darted back into dark corridor opening, leaving mop-up of mass to more experienced colleagues. Instincts screamed, hide, you are weakest link here. But I was naive, thinking they would not pay attention to me. Sharp zing and flash of blue light half meter from my face made me flinch. Knife that ricocheted off wall, stuck in my plasma barrier, then with clang fell to concrete floor. I had become personal target for asshole who never misses.
Well then. If I cannot stand against someone like Bullseye, what talk of more serious threats? Under deafening thunder of gunfire outside, I went deeper into base. Out of corner of eye, through opening, I saw black figure in target suit move after me. Being bait was shitty role, but right now it was most sensible tactical move.
From behind came dry click of shot, different from automatic bursts. Bullet from modified rifle pierced air and with dull impact rammed into my side. Plasma barrier flickered, absorbing most energy, "Proteus" under it distributed remainder, but sharp, burning pain still pierced body. Would leave unpleasant bruise. Fortunately, I already passed short corridor. Quickly standing in doorway without door, I deactivated barrier and, taking from inventory UV grenade and garlic grenade, threw them on corridor floor, in Bullseye's path.
Second. Corridor for moment illuminated by flash of light comparable to welding torch, and then filled with acrid cloud of garlic dust. This moment of disorientation was enough for me. I returned door from inventory. That same massive, armored one. Only I returned it not quite into opening, but ten centimeters further, and at angle, so that after light hand push it would collapse right onto spot where blinded and disoriented Bullseye should jump out.
No, there was also plan to try shooting him, but non-zero chance he would react to sound and blindly throw knife into my head or shoot from rifle did not suit me. Door, both as shield and as unexpected weapon. And it weighed three hundred kilograms, at least...
He did not die, of course it is not that simple. But when most of your body is pinned by steel behemoth, you cannot fight properly. Main thing was his head stuck out from under door edge. I calmly approached, stood on steel sheet, materializing Glock in hand. Restraining myself from stupid desire to pronounce some bombastic phrase, I simply silently fired. Right into center of white target on his mask. Hunter became prey. Head was crystal clear, no regret or other emotions from what was essentially first murder. Rhino did not count, that guy killed himself.
I exited corridor. Sounds of gunfire on street had quieted. Before me appeared ugly picture of slaughter. Dozens of crippled and knocked-out Fisk's thugs lay throughout alley. Vulture lay unconscious in corner, his limbs bent at unnatural angles. Next to him, decapitated body of Tombstone. Upper part of his head was perfectly cut off with one blow. Blade had drawn his katana after all. To side, bent double, Gwen was throwing up her dinner.
I silently approached Vulture and, touching him, expropriated into inventory his exoskeleton with wings and blasters. Today was definitely most generous night in my life. Befriending Blade turned out very profitable.
"Good job," Blade greeted me, wiping katana blade on one mercenary's vest. "Did not doubt you. Even had to hold back spider-girl so she would not rush to save your ass."
"If I died at hands of someone like that, I would resurrect to die again from shame," I chuckled.
"Ha, yeah, Bullseye is real piece of work," Blade nodded. "Had to cross paths with him once. He survived this long purely because he was used to killing those weaker than him from start."
"Sooner or later that tactic would fail," I shrugged. "Which, in fact, happened. What next?"
"First we get out of here," Blade began, and Gwen, attracted by conversation, approached us having collected herself. "And then... hell if I know, really. Storming Empire State Building is worst of options. In eyes of public we will instantly become terrorists. Come on, suggest ideas while night has not ended."
"Hmm, smoke Fisk out of penthouse?" I muttered thoughtfully. "With help of our heroine, pulling this off will not be difficult."
"Oh, sounds like beginning of awesome plan, would be better if you started with something like 'Watch what I can do,'" Blade grinned. "I am all attention."
"Me too," Gwen said grimly. In these couple hours she had seen so much shit and blood that she had not seen in all months of patrolling city.
"Let us get to car first," I nodded, thinking through details. "Will tell you there. On paper everything looks more than doable. And main thing, relatively simple."