Just like last time, the Four Eyes slipped into acceleration—but now she had no intention of sprinting to a new position. Having achieved her primary objective and exposed the sniper's location on the second tier, the woman decided on a rather dangerous trick. Half-emerging from her cover, still under acceleration, she emptied an entire magazine into the opponent who had been hindering her.
Only five bullets made it through the suit's protection—three into the shoulder and two into the abdomen—but she noticed that only after returning to her original position, with one dead sniper added to her tally.
Being half-dead really is convenient, the scientist snorted to herself yet again.
Without relaxing after that fleeting victory, the vampiress switched weapons once more, cursing herself for not having taken a larger ammo from the laboratory she'd made her base. She leaned out again—this time only an arm up to the shoulder and part of her head, just enough to see whom she was shooting at.
After repeating this maneuver two more times, Yamata was left with only her "knife"—more like a heavily shortened katana, a nod to her ancestors on her father's side—and a handgun. Gripping the cold steel in her left hand (she handled such weapons worse with her right; apparently Japanese left-handedness had made itself known), the woman lunged forward, knowing she couldn't delay any longer. No armor would save them from a blow delivered with her strength—at least not when it came from razor-sharp steel.
***
The clash with the front line—her blade met no resistance and quite literally split the opponent in two at the waist. A reverse slash with a turn, and the second mercenary's head slid to the floor cleanly along the line of his jaw, his body collapsing a heartbeat later. I regripped the wakizashi with both hands and, with an overhead strike, cleaved the enemy before me into two equal halves.
Once more I clenched the blade in my left hand, flicking the blood away with a light motion in the same direction. The mercenaries remaining on the first floor began to try to close in on me. The two closest moved to flank me from either side, weapons trained, while the mercenary standing a couple of meters ahead shifted slightly to my left. Did they really think a standard encirclement would work? I'm no longer human, and bullets have very little chance of killing me—unless they hit the head, and you simply don't have the speed or reaction time for a shot that precise. While they were carrying out their maneuvers, I'd already mapped every one of them.
I rolled to my left, coming up on my feet as I severed that opponent's limbs; while his body was falling, I split his head. A dash—and I was already slipping among the containers and wide vertical pipes, beginning to clear out the mercenaries entrenched there. In barely a minute and a half, only two of the entire squad remained on the first floor, and the same number on the second tier. Fortunately, thanks to the faint highlighting I'd begun to see on people after the G-virus injection, I could see them clearly.
I quickly peeled away from one of the pipes I'd been using as cover and swept the legs out from under the first, slamming him to the ground. Without breaking my stride, I switched to a reverse grip and cut off the second's arms, using his body as a shield against incoming fire. With my free hand drawn aside, I pierced the first man's head. The remaining two on the second level kept firing as they retreated, backing into the corridor. Ha—like they'd get away!
I lunged after them, but right at the doors to the corridor leading to the lift I had to slam on the brakes. Damn it—they'd thought of everything! Motion-sensitive explosives. If I disarmed it, they'd escape. I could already see two red-highlighted silhouettes beginning to rise in the elevator, and I still had to neutralize the charge, then wait for the lift… They'd get away and return with reinforcements—I know the corporation's playbook. It's entirely possible that, thanks to lesser strength but the same genes, I'm now even more desirable than Cain. And they certainly don't need two samples… That's bad!
And not for me—for Cain.
I'm sure that when they encountered me, they reported everything to their superiors, and it's not hard to predict the reaction of Spencer—or those cursed Ashfords. Or of one of the triumvirate's trusted lieutenants who run the corporation: John Rize.
Dealing with the bomb quickly, I darted toward the elevator shaft. Damn it! I couldn't see the fighters' highlights—though the range of that vision is considerable; I'd tested it. Had they already escaped?
I didn't get the chance to finish the thought—the elevator doors slid open in front of me.
"Your carriage awaits," Cain said in a familiar voice—greatly changed, but still unmistakable.
"But how?"
"Jumped down the shaft, into the cab from above—and they were there." He nodded toward the two bloodless corpses behind him.
"Looks like I was late, and you handled almost everyone yourself," Cain continued, sounding as calm as possible—looking even more human than I did. "Right now I've only got one question left: what the hell is happening to me?"
"To the lab?" I asked, already savoring the prospect of fascinating research and unusual analyses.
"To the lab," he confirmed somberly, looking at me—apparently something had shown on my face.
(End of Chapter)
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