RED DOLL: New Leads? [Chapter Ten]
First Chapter: https://steemit.com/steemit/@tsudohnimh/red-doll-old-school-cyberpunk
Previous Chapter: https://steemit.com/steemit/@tsudohnimh/red-doll-a-reaction-and-a-gunfight-original-story
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The fight continues as trapped within New Pittsburgh's hospital the DAC's agents fight for their lives against sinister forces.
“Mankind is a flawed and curious creature. Even after what is (and, what will hopefully remain as) the largest and most catastrophic war in human history, conflict continues. Indeed, in many places, it has gotten worse...”
Rochelle Lee, Lost Chances, 1994
10
Hogue stifled a yawn, leaning up against a wall and stretching himself out. The questioning, or at least his questioning, was getting them nowhere; Eun, as usual, was having more success.
“Mr. Burbank here seems to recall collecting the body from the local officer's who found it,” she said. She pulled up a map. “He remembers they met him here, near 23nd row st. He also recalls something about an alleyway, something he overheard the cops say.”
Hogue stared down at the map. A few small alleyways here and there were illustrated, but he was certain there would be hundreds of unmarked ones, just gaps between buildings, dark corners where equally dark things happen.
Hogue sighed. “Ok, that gives us a rough area. Maybe we can liaise with Sergeant Naylor and check with whoever was patrolling that...”
The noise was loud, almost ear-splitting, despite being muffled by the doors and walls. Hogue spun, weapon already coming up. Almost no vibration, though: Flashbang. All sound, no fury.
Eun went wide eyed. “What the hell was that?”
Hogue advanced to the door. “Stay here, watch the civilians.” he looked back at her; she seemed frozen. “Eun! Get your gun and protect these civilians!”
She snapped out of her fear and quickly pulled her pistol. “Everyone! Stay low and keep away from the windows.”
There was a sound of gunfire, rapid deep bursts that Hogue recognised as Submachine gun fire. He slid up to the door, cracking it slightly; as he did, he heard the higher pitched crack of an assault rifle on full auto. He hoped that was Rob, hoped he was alive.
He peered down the corridor; smoke and haze filled the room. Through it, several indistinct shapes shifted through, like shadows; here and there, a burst of light, followed by the crack of bullets.
Hogue keyed his radio. “Thomas! What's going on.”
Another burst of rifle fire. “Cyborgs!” came Thomas response, his breath ragged. “Their all cyborgs! Pulled weapons, opened fire!” Another burst. “I think there's something else; we were attacked from outside first.”
Hogue advanced into the hallway. “Hold on, I’m coming.” he shifted from door to door, resisting the urge to rush, to rescue his friend. His training came back, the training that had let him survive the battlefield, where so many others had fallen.
“This is Wyatt!” an excited voiced spoke. “I've been engaged, target unknown!” a distant sound of rockets and gunfire. “whomever it is, he's big, def cyborg. The yanks, they've all split.”
“This is McNally!” McNally was also breathing hard. “Sergeant Naylor just tried to shoot me. As of now, don't trust any of the camp security.”
“You ok?” Hogue asked. He was half way down the corridor.
“He winged me,” McNally replied, “But I nailed him. I'm calling the riot boys; for now, let's try and secure an entrance for them.”
“Roger.” Hogue was now well inside the haze. There were three figures facing away from him, firing on something back in reception; Hogue could guess what. He took aim and fired, nailing him in the back. The target grunted, then simply spun round and fired, seemingly unaffected.
Idiot, Hogue thought. What had Thomas said: They were all cyborgs; hollow points would be useless against armour. He ducked into a doorway as bullets splintered the wood around him. He had to reload, had to change ammunition; calm hands, guided by many years of practice, quickly slapped out one magazine and replaced it with AP ammo. Another fusillade of fire bracketed the doorway; then silence. Carefully, he peered round the doorway; the figures disappeared into a stairwell. He knew where they were going.
“Zlata!” he spoke into the radio. “Heads up; three enemies inbound!”
Zlata was already advancing, bolting back to the elevator lobby. She'd left Flynn behind to pack everything up.
“We might have to pull a retreat,” she said. “Get the heart and samples loaded, and protect Dr. Mycot!”
“What about you?” Flynn asked, pulling his pistol.
“Don't worry,” she said, activating her arm gun. “It's nothing I’ve never faced before.”
A rumble and the lights went out, red emergency globes sputtering to life seconds later. They must have hit a transformer, Zlata thought, hoping to beat us in the dark.
She switched her vision to star-shine, the world taking a sickly green appearance. There would be no disadvantage for her.
Perhaps her enemies were prepared for that.
She heard it before she saw it: something clattering to the ground. A small, cylindrical object.
In her mind, she closed her eyes; the doll responded by putting the filters to their maximum. It did much to dull the light of the flashbang; what should have been blinding became no worse than a camera flash. The sound was harder, her audio pickups crackling under the stress.
She slid into a small alcove, gun up. The first of her targets burst from the door, rifle up, scanning for targets. He saw her too late.
A flick of her wrist and the arm gun burst into life, ten Vulkan rounds down range. Six found their target; Where the bullets found flesh, their plastic bodies warped, creating horrific wounds. Where they found armour, the small tungsten core shot through, piercing the heart of the enemy.
Her targets screamed as the bullets ripped into him. Sending him tumbling, but not out of the fight. He was still moving, his cyborg body still barely holding on, enough for him to loose a short burst in her direction. He was joined by his compatriots from the doorway, and Zlata soon found herself under withering fire.
Zlata let off another burst, then pulled back along the corridor, a few rounds pinging off her ceramic skin. Another small object landed close to her, this one round'; she backed into a room just as the grenade exploded, the concussion force tearing away the door.
Great, she thought, they don't care we're in a hospital anymore. She had hoped their use of flashbangs had been to avoid casualties; they clearly didn’t care anymore.
“Flynn!!” she shouted into her radio. “How's that pack upcoming?”
“We've got the heart on ice,” Flynn replied, his voice cool. “You need assistance?”
“I got one, but there's two more,” she said, inspecting the damage to her skin. “They're using hollow points for now, but I expect that to change.” She loosed off another long burst up the corridor, causing the two figures to shift back. The room was hazy now, filled with gun-smoke and the remains of the grenades.
Suddenly, a bright light, like a magnesium flare, burst into life, and Zlata could hear a sizzling sound; the fallen enemy, the one she had shot, had burst into bright flames. Internal thermite charges, she thought. Burning out the body, to prevent identification.
“Everyone, be careful! These guys have internal thermite charges; watch out if you manage to drop one of them.” She reloaded her arm gun and resumed moving back up the corridor, using short bursts to keep the two assailants heads down. She only had one more magazine left, and she was certain her pistol would not be enough to take down a cyborg. Had to conserve ammo.
“McNally! Where are the riot squad?” she called.
“Five minutes out,” McNally replied, panting. “They came under sniper fire but their moving through. Looks like this was an ambush!”
“This is Jack,” Hogue's voice came through. “I've secured the ER reception; got two burned out bodies in here. Looks like we have a third party in play; I’m moving too...” there was a sudden squeal on the radio and a sound of someone in pain. It sounded like Hogue.
In her mind, Zlata's eyes went wide; a sense of dread flowed through her. “Jack?” She called out involuntarily. “Jack!”
Moment's earlier, Hogue advanced into the now chaotic ER reception; a fire had enveloped part of the room, blacks smoke rising to the ceiling. The automatic sprinklers hadn’t gone off, so Hogue pulled a manual alarm. Water burst from sprinklers, doing much to suppress the flames.
He moved with caution. He couldn't see much, and at the moment he didn't know how many more enemies there may have been.
A noise drew his attention; someone shifted behind the reception counter. “Rob?”
“Yeah!” came a weary voice. Thomas rose slowly from behind the counter, rifle in hand. “Two of them are dead; they got nailed from behind.”
Hogue moved quickly now, striding in. He could see now the source of the fire; two vaguely human shapes burning with an unnaturally bright flame. The sound of gunfire and explosions emanated from the outside.
Hogue looked over the counter and saw the nurse, whimpering and cradling her arm. She was covered in blood.
“She took a round to the arm,” Thomas explained, kneeling next to the girl. “we need to get her out of here!”
Hogue nodded. “The riot team is five minutes out.” he keyed his radio. “This is Jack. I've secured the ER reception; got two burned out bodies in here. Looks like we have a third party in play; I'm moving too...”
There was a high pitched crack; Hogue felt what seemed like a bowling ball slamming into him. He grunted in pain, tumbling against the reception desk.
“Jack?” he heard someone distant call. “Jack!”
Behind him, an assault rifle spoke; Thomas firing at whoever had just shot him. The shadowy figure fired back, peppering the desk around him. The nurse screamed.
I've been shot, Hogue thought. Nonlethal, probably hollow-point. Get up old man, your not dead yet.
He curled himself up and pushed outward, leaping fast and low along the ground. Gun up, he let loose with a burst from his submachine gun, pushing the unseen assailant back. He came to rest against one of the walls.
“Rob!” he shouted. “get her back with Eun and stay there, I'll cover you!”
Thomas reply seemed distant, drowned out by another burst of assault rifle fire, but then he was up, half carrying the nurse away from the battle. Hogue took this as his cue and opened up, his cybernetic arm easily handling the recoil on full auto.
He heard the sound of shrieking metal, someone swearing, the accent familiar. He'd landed a hit, the shadowy target pulling down a side corridor. Within a second, Hogue was up and after him; they had to secure this entrance. Cautiously, he slid up to the corner. A shattered SMG lay on the ground
His weapon gone, Hogues target resorted to close combat; two metal arms burst through the thin plaster walls, followed quickly by the rest of him. The assailant slammed into Hogue full force, sending them tumbling into the burning room.
Hogue was on the ground, his enemy on top. With well-drilled reflexes he parried a blow that would have killed him, unbalancing his opponent and giving him an opening. He landed a savage blow on the enemies midsection, feeling the familiar shape of subdermal armour beneath the skin. No real damage, but enough to force the bastard off him.
His enemy rolled off him, springing quickly to his feet. Hogue did the same, rolling away and rising, bringing his pistol up in a wide arc. To wide; the assailant lashed out with a leg, kicking away his sidearm.
Now Hogue could see his enemy in full. He was a rebuild, no doubt; artificial legs and arms, and sub-dermal armour. And his head....
Hogue froze. For a second it was like he was looking in a mirror; that ring of cameras, the fusion of flesh and metal. His enemy seemed to pause as well. For he too recognised a fellow veteran.
In the flickering lights of the flames, he saw it: the tombstone. The ring of flame.
First RID. Suicide Division. Another survivor.
The cyborg smiled. “Well met, soldier.”
Memories flashed in Hogue's mind; the blinding light. The crash. Turkey. The red horde. Watching his friends die by the dozens, the hundreds. Being all that was left.
And now fate had brought a comrade, one of few left, to be his enemy.
Something glinted in the light; a knife. Former brother or not, his enemy would give him no quarter. And Hogue knew what kind of knife that was.
He had one too; and in seconds, it was slicing through the air.
The windows shattered in a hail of gunfire. Zlata ducked down, then let off another short burst. Not enough; the two assailants were still advancing. She was now back in the morgue.
“were ready to go,” she heard Flynn call out. “He had his SMG up and ready, AP ammunition loaded. Doctor Mycot cowered in a corner.
“Mycot!” Zlata called out. “Is there another way out?”
Mycot looked up. “Yes! Yes, there is a fire escape! It leads up to the garage!”
“Flynn! Take the Doc and the head there now!” Another burst of fire. “I'll try and hold them off longer.”
“Got it!” Flynn replied, pulling up the doctor and grabbing the sample box. “We're heading up to the garage!”
Another grenade bounced to the ground beside her. With rifles honed by too many battles, she scooped up the offending object and hurled it back into the corridor. The blast shredded what was left of the windows and wooden partitions.
“Zlata! Update!” It was McNally. “Have eyes on the riot team. Situation?”
Zlata, half crouched, quickly pulled up behind one of the tables, tipping it sideways. A few rounds pinged off it; others went straight through it.
“Flynn has the samples,” she managed. “He’s got the doc, their heading up to the garage.”
“Roger, moving to meet them!”
“What about Hogue?” She asked. Something moved in the darkened corridor.
“Can't raise him. Thomas said he was alright, though, went after one of the attackers.”
“This is Wyatt!” the young voice came through. “I've linked up with the riot team. We have an XL cyborg out here, but I don't think he's with the guys inside. Guys huge; built tough too.”
In Zlata's mind, something clicked: A large, powerful cyborg, suddenly appearing while they were investigating, and apparently not on the side of the other attackers.....
“McNally...” She said.
“Yeah, I know,” he replied. “Wyatt! Where's this cyborg now.”
“Got him on the run,” Wyatt replied. “He's heading for the garage!”
In her mind, Zlata's eyes went wide. “Der'mo!” She shouted, standing quickly, arm gun up and firing. She retreated for the rear door. “Wyatt! Get after him! He's heading straight for Flynn!”
“Got itArg!” More distant gunfire. “Another sniper! Where the hell do these guys keep coming from!”
Zlata had broken into a full sprint, relying on her armoured skin to protect her. Bullet impacts peppered the wall around her, a few even glancing off her. She knew the other two would be right on her tail.
She bolted up the stairs, taking them three at a time. The attackers soon followed, gunfire echoing up the stairwell.
“Flynn! Flynn!” no response, the radio remained quiet. Der'mo! Was she already too late?
She burst into the near empty garage, a huge enclosed space populated by the odd ambulance and civilian car. No sign of Flynn and the doctor; no sign of the cyborg. And then....
Something burst through the roof. Something that was eight foot tall, something that was gunmetal grey; something that was built like a war machine from a Luddite's nightmare.
It had the appearance of a huge man, steel shaped like a muscle. Its head was inhuman, a rounded rectangle, featureless save four red lights that appeared like glowing eyes. Eyes that were focused on her.
Gunfire; from behind her. The other attackers, having seen the new arrival, decided he was obviously the bigger threat and opened fire. Bullets pinged off its skin; it hunched down, then shot forward with incredible speed.
He slammed into Zlata, flinging her across the car-park like she weighed nothing. She slammed into a concrete wall, the force enough to rattle her brain. For the first time in a long time, she felt winded.
The cyborg didn't stop; in seconds he was upon one of them, and with a horrifying wrenching sound, tore one's head from his body.
The other assailant, obviously spooked, opened up at point blank; that just seemed to piss the huge cyborg off. With a swift motion, it wrapped one of its huge hands around the remaining killers head and squeezed. The effect was as spectacular as it was gory; blood and brain matter oozed from between the huge fingers as the cyborg effortlessly crushed the man's head. With an almost dismissive movement, he tossed the body away.
Zlata was up now, but shaky. Something was loose; she had been damaged. The impact had been harder than she thought.
The giant cyborg looked at her, but did not move; instead, it spoke. “Sorry I hit you like that, missy,” he said, in an obvious American drawl, “But you were in danger standing there.” It tipped its head in a curt nod. “I do hope you aren't too hurt.”
And then, in a Single bounding motion, the cyborg jumped back through the hole he'd made, and was gone.
Zlata just stood there for a moment, perplexed. Had she just encountered their killer? He certainly matched the profile; she had seen what he could do first hand. But then, why not kill her? Why let her live....
Gunfire; close by, but muffled, outside. She turned, saw an open door. Flynn!
Limping with speed, she bolted for the door. It led outside, to some sort of walkway running between the buildings. She could see two figures, lying face first on the ground. In the distance, shadows retreated into the night.
“Dermo!” she shouted. Into the radio, “Man down! Man down! The rear of the garage! Get here now!” She moved forward. Doctor Mycot lay against a wall, his torso a bloody mess. Flynn lay face down; when Zlata knelt next to him, he made a noise, a painful wheezing.
“Flynn!” she said. “Talk to me!”
Flynn coughed. “w...waiting for us...” he shifted, moaning.
Zlata looked down the alleyway; another group of attackers. She could only guess whether or not from the same group, but whomever they were, they had nabbed the samples.
This wasn't a revenge attack; This wasn't an ambush. They had come for the heart ; They had come for their killers handiwork.
Someone else, someone powerful, organised, was interested in the case.
And they were willing to kill to get what they wanted.