The Exile's Wrath

CHAPTER 7: A Fractured Reunion

The revelation hit John harder than any punch he had ever taken.

Ivy. His sweet, innocent sister who used to cry when she scraped her knee. An assassin? A killer?

"You're lying," John said, his voice low and dangerous.

"Check the files!" Arthur frantically pointed at the computer. "It's all there! The payments! The hit list! Chimera has killed twelve people in the last year. Politicians. Judges. She's Viper's masterpiece."

John looked at the screen. He shoved Arthur aside and rebooted the terminal using a decryption drive Drax had given him.

Files scrolled past. Photos.

There she was. Older now. Twenty years old. Cold eyes. Holding a sniper rifle. Standing over a dead body in a hotel room in Paris.

It was the same face from the photo in his pocket, but without the ropes.

"No..." John whispered.

Victor Sterling, nursing his hand in the corner, started laughing. It was a wet, gurgling sound.

"Irony is a bitch, isn't it?" Victor sneered. "You came to save her, but she's the one who's going to put a bullet in your brain. She hates you, John. Viper told her you abandoned her. That you sold her out to save yourself."

John turned on Victor. The rage was blinding.

He walked over, grabbed Victor by the throat, and lifted him against the wall.

"You let them turn her into a monster," John hissed.

"We just realized her potential," Victor choked out.

WOOP-WOOP.

Sirens cut through the air outside. Not one or two. Dozens.

"Commander," Drax’s voice came over the comms. "We have a problem. The building is surrounded. Police. SWAT. And... federal agents."

John looked at the security monitors. The street below was a sea of flashing blue and red lights. An armored vehicle was ramming the front doors.

Standing at the front of the police line was a woman in a trench coat. Detective Leyla Thorne. She held a megaphone.

"John VANCE!" her voice boomed, amplified. "WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! RELEASE THE HOSTAGES AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"

John looked at Arthur, then at Victor.

"Hostages?" John muttered. "They think I'm the villain."

"Of course," Victor grinned, showing bloodied teeth. "I called them ten minutes ago. Told them a terrorist had seized the server farm. You're trapped, rat."

John looked at the window, then at the door.

"Drax," John said calmly. "Prepare the extraction."

"Sir, there are fifty cops out there. We can't shoot our way out without casualties. Innocent ones."

"I know," John said. He looked at Arthur. "Grab the hard drive. We're leaving."

"How?" Arthur stammered. "We're forty floors up!"

John walked to the window and shattered it with the butt of his gun. The wind howled into the room.

"Do you trust me?" John asked Arthur.

"No!"

"Good answer."

John grabbed Arthur by the belt. "Jump."

Gravity took them.

Arthur screamed as they plummeted forty stories toward the asphalt. The wind roared in their ears, tearing at their clothes.

Victor Sterling rushed to the broken window, watching them fall, a triumphant grin on his face. "Splat."

But ten floors down, John pulled a cord on his tactical vest.

FWOOM.

A rapid-deployment base-jump chute exploded from his back. It wasn't designed for a soft landing; it was designed to stop a lethal fall just enough to be survivable.

The chute caught the air with a violent jerk that nearly snapped John’s spine. Their descent slowed abruptly, swinging them toward the adjacent building, a parking garage.

"Brace yourself!" John yelled.

They slammed into the side of the garage, John taking the brunt of the impact. He rolled, cutting the chute, and they tumbled onto the open roof deck of the parking structure.

Arthur vomited immediately.

John stood up, wincing. His shoulder was dislocated. He grabbed his own arm, gritted his teeth, and slammed it back into the socket against a concrete pillar.

Click.

He exhaled sharply. "Let's go."

"You're insane!" Arthur wiped bile from his mouth.

"I'm determined. There's a difference."

A black van screeched around the corner of the parking deck. The side door slid open. Drax was driving.

"Get in!"

They dove into the van just as a police helicopter rose over the edge of the building, its spotlight blinding them.

"Stop the vehicle!" the pilot ordered over the PA.

Drax floored it. The van smashed through the parking gate, caught air as it launched off the second-level ramp, and landed hard on the street below.

"Where to?" Drax shouted, weaving through traffic.

"The Foundry," John said. "District 9."

"That's a suicide run," Drax said.

"Ivy is there."

Arthur, sitting on the floor of the van, looked at John. "John... if she really is Chimera... she won't hesitate. She's been brainwashed. Viper uses drugs, psychological torture... she doesn't know who she is."

"I'll remind her," John said grimly.

Suddenly, the rear window of the van exploded.

A bullet hole appeared in the headrest of the passenger seat, inches from John’s ear.

"Contact rear!" Drax yelled.

Two black motorcycles were pursuing them. The riders wore sleek, silver helmets and carried submachine guns. Syndicate cleaners.

"They're trying to silence Arthur!" John realized.

He climbed into the back, kicking the rear doors open. The wind rushed in. John raised his assault rifle.

The motorcycles weaved, hard targets. The rider on the left opened fire. Bullets sparked off the van's armor.

John took a breath. Time slowed. He squeezed the trigger.

Pop-pop.

The front tire of the left motorcycle blew out. The bike flipped, sending the rider cartwheeling into a parked car.

The second rider accelerated, pulling a grenade from his belt.

"Grenade!" John shouted.

He didn't shoot the rider. He shot the grenade in the rider's hand.

BOOM.

The motorcycle vanished in a ball of fire.

John slammed the doors shut. "Clear."

He turned to check on Arthur.

Arthur was slumped against the wall of the van. His hands were pressed to his stomach. Blood was seeping between his fingers, dark and fast.

"Arthur!" John scrambled to him.

A stray bullet from the chase.

"I... I..." Arthur coughed, blood speckling his lips. "Tell Elena... I'm sorry."

"Hold on," John pressed a compress to the wound. "We're almost there."

"The Foundry..." Arthur whispered, his eyes losing focus. "Sector 4. That's where... the conditioning room is. Save her... John. Save... my daughter... from the truth."

Arthur’s head lolled back. His eyes stared at nothing.

John checked for a pulse. None.

He closed Arthur’s eyes.

"Drax," John said, his voice hollow. "Drive faster."