Necropolis 3 (19 page)

“
Jesus,” he muttered. “At least it's dead.”

“
Yeah...come on. There's another way back we can use,” Linda replied.

She closed the door, and they turned and began making their way back through the area. A few moments later, they'd found their way into the warehouse containing the part. It was empty of life. It seemed the only thing that had been hanging around down in the underground was the giant spider, for which Greg was grateful.

They spent another few moments hunting down the spare part.

“
Here it is,” Linda said, pulling it from a crate. She stared at it for a long moment, and then turned to face Greg. “You take it.”

He looked down at the same piece being offered to him. “Why?”

“If anyone's going to get out of here, it's you.”

“
I don't have any more chance than you do,” Greg replied uncomfortably, but he accepted the part and tucked it away in a protected pocket with the four spare infoclips of all the data they'd stolen from Dark Ops.

They headed back.

* * * * *

By the time they got back and made their way deeper into the compound, it became obvious that the fighting had only gotten worse. While they had a free moment, Greg tried to get back into contact with Campbell.

“What's happening?”

“
A whole bunch of shit. We picked wrong, Williams isn't where we're going. We've managed to figure out he's in the other likely location. We're pressing on to deliver the bomb, so he'll just get taken out in the blast,”
Campbell replied.

Hot rage tore at Greg's chest. “No. I want to see him dead, personally.”

“Your choice, but I'd advise against it. He's probably got something really nasty hidden up his sleeve. If you're dead set on it though, his HQ is set up in the hangar. Linda should know where it is, Mike says.”

Greg glanced at Linda, who nodded. “Okay, I'm on it.”

He closed the channel and looked at Linda and Kyra. “Tell me where it is, then go link up with Campbell and help with the bomb.”

“
We're not playing this shit again, Greg,” Kyra said. “If you're going, I'm going.”

“
I'd like to go, too. I really want to see that asshole dead,” Linda added.

Greg sighed, too tired to argue. “Fine, lead the way.”

Linda nodded, shouldered her rifle and set off. Greg and Kyra followed her.

“
So this place has a hangar, too?” Greg asked.

“
Yes, but it's pretty disused compared to the other one. Pure luck we managed to snag the hangar with the only real working ship,” Linda replied.

As they came to a messhall, the time for talking suddenly ceased. A dozen Dark Ops troops mopped up some Undead resistance. Greg let off the first shot while they still had the advantage, shattering a dark visor
in a spray of blood and glass. Linda and Kyra each took down one before the three of them were forced to retreat to cover. The next several minutes were spent playing a very deadly game where everyone came out from behind their cover to take potshots at each other. When it was over, the Dark Ops troops were dead, lying on the ground in pools of ever-widening blood. Greg hastily reloaded as he emerged from cover.

“
Come on,” he said.

They moved through the messhall, pausing briefly to salvage whatever magazines they could from the corpses they'd produced. As they did, it came to Greg that he didn't even see Dark Ops personnel as people anymore. They were as inhuman and empty to him as the Undead or the Augmented.

The thought disturbed him on some level, but he also knew it was for the best. Dark Ops couldn't be reasoned with and they showed no mercy. The trio finished up and left the messhall, hurrying down a series of battle-stricken corridors, managing to stick to the background and let the three armies battle it out.

Greg’s pulse quickened. Williams. He was just up ahead, his head missing a bullet that Greg would be happy to deliver. They came to the hangar at last. It was accessible through a pair of open doors at the end of a long corridor. It looked like the Augmented had beaten them to it. Greg hurried forward. He worried he wouldn't get to kill Williams.

“Let's clear it out,” he said.

He, Kyra, and Linda hung back, picking their targets carefully, putting down as many of the Drones and soldiers as they could. Greg sigh
ted heads and faceplates, spraying blood and sparks on the air, dropping corpses. His body immediately shifted into an automatic mode, his muscles taking over for his mind, eliminating thought from the process of events, leaving only action. He stared down his sights at a Drone tearing into a Dark Ops trooper, waited for it to make the killing blow, then fired, putting three rounds in the thing's skull.

His sights shifted, finding the faceplate of a trooper and he fired, shattering it and dropping the bastard. Another turn, another squeeze, another corpse. The bullets went in and the blood sprayed out in a beautiful crimson mist.

Greg continued like this, reloading twice, until the last body dropped. As the battle haze lifted and thought returned, Greg looked around, hunting for Williams. He knew that he hadn't seen him the entire time.

Where was he?

The hangar was full of crates, tables, large pieces of equipment and machinery. Dozens of corpses littered floor. Blood ran like a river, rising like a tide from all the death. Spent shell casings carpeted everything.

But no Williams.

An intercom clicked on.

“
I'm genuinely impressed, Greg. That you've managed to make it this far is nothing short of a miracle. I wonder...is it you, or is it the Cure, somehow enhancing you? I notice you're a few friends short since our last encounter.”
Williams' voice came rolling out.

Greg spied a closed off area made of steel and glass in the back right corner. A control room. Williams stood in it, alone, smiling, wearing a bloodied uniform. Without saying a word, Greg aimed and fired.

The bullets hit the glass.

Nothing happened.

Williams laughed.
“Don't bother, Greg. Miners make things to last around here, for the most part. Glass is among them. I'm quite safe in here. You, however, are well and truly fucked out there.”

“
Don't count on it, Williams. How long do you think it'll take us to cut into that room?” Greg replied, making for the door.

“
Unimpeded? Probably a couple of minutes. I assure you, you will not be unimpeded,”
Williams informed him happily.

He pressed a button on a terminal he stood next to.

Greg hesitated as he heard hydraulics move. He looked around and spied across the room, a massive door slowly opening, rising into the ceiling. The next thing he saw were feet.
Big
feet. As the door continued to rise into the ceiling, legs became visible. They were bulky legs, rippling with raw muscle. The door ascended yet still, revealing a waistline, a torso, the hands...that weren't hands, but were big and metal.

An extremely broad chest made of carved muscle.

And then a head.

A Berserker.

Not an ordinary Berserker. This one was studded with metal. One hand ended in a wide-bore muzzle that reminded Greg of the flamethrower he'd used on Cage. The other hand ended in what appeared to be a minigun.

Its head was encased in glistening
technology and, perhaps worst of all, perched on its right shoulder like some kind of demented bird of old was what appeared to be a rocket launcher.

“
We've been busy, Greg. Did you think the Augmented were the only ones who could control them?”
Williams asked happily.

With one earth-quaking footfall, the Berserker took a step out. Then another. The titan opened its mouth and loosed a roar that froze Greg's marrow.

“Goodbye,”
Williams said smoothly.

Panic ignited Greg’s mind. He didn't even bother to open fire. He screamed when the Berserker raised one hand and opened fire with a barrage of red hot lead that chewing up bodies and the floor alike. Even as he moved, he heard a scream cut off abruptly.

Even in his terror he glanced back to see who had gone down. He felt relief, and guilt, when he saw that it was Linda who had taken the shot. Her body had been picked up and thrown across the room, back out into the hallway they had come in through. Kyra had gone the other way. Greg sprinted for cover, hiding behind a pile of crates.

He heard the thunder of its footsteps.

Greg's mind reeled, working furiously. How the
fuck
was he going to get out of this one? It seemed impossible. The Berserker was much bigger than normal, easily reaching ten or twelve feet in height. Its head was armored. Its body made of what looked like pure, solid muscle...just what the hell was he going to do?

It was close now.

Greg prepared to move, realizing it chose him. Then he heard gunfire. Greg peered cautiously around the far side of the crates he'd hid behind. The Berserker was facing towards Kyra now. He saw something, but then his mind became overwhelmed with pure terror as the rocket launcher mounted on its shoulder fired towards Kyra. He heard her shout, then an explosion. The Berserker turned back to him.

Greg screamed and ran, flames licked out after him as it fired what he realized
was
a flamethrower. He felt an immense heat at his back, but the suit did its job. For now. He continued running and barely managed to get his ass behind a large, bulky piece of machinery as he heard the sound of the minigun firing again.

What had he seen?

It had been something, something deeply important, when he'd looked at its back.

But
what
?

It would come to him, when his mind wasn't so full of terror. Greg peered from around the machinery and took a few potshots at the Berserker. The bullets struck true, hitting its broad chest. They drew blood, but seemed to have no other effect. The titan opened fire again and Greg went back behind the machinery.

Was Kyra still alive?

He couldn't imagine what his life would be like if she was suddenly subtracted from it. He made himself focus. If he didn't get his shit together, he wouldn't be alive to comprehend it. The Berserker made its way around the machinery, trying to get a better angle. Greg took the time to bolt. He needed to think.

The minigun started up again, chewing up the deckplates behind him as he sprinted towards a huge earth-mover. He heard Williams laughing in the background. Greg tripped over something as he made it behind the vehicle. He grunted as he slammed into the ground, then twisted back around to see what it was.

“
Oh my luck,” he whispered.

A rocket launcher, same model as the one he'd used on Cage. He turned, snatched it up and stood. Checking it, he found a pair of rockets had been loaded into it. Greg shouldered the launcher, not giving himself time to think, stepped out and fired literally the second the sights lined up on the broad chest of the modified Berserker.

The rocket sailed through the air and crossed the distance in less than half a second. The force of the blast picked up Greg and threw him back several feet. He hurriedly stood back up and went to see if he'd done it.

The Berserker was down for the count...and then it moved.

Greg's jaw dropped. He raised the launcher again, but hesitated. He only had the one rocket left. The Berserker continued to get back up. What had he seen? As the Berserker hunched forward, getting back to its feet, he caught a glimpse of metal on its back.

Then he had it.

As the terror fully cleared from his mind, Greg knew what he had seen. A fuel canister, for the flamethrower. A no doubt
volatile
fuel canister. He looked down at the rocket launcher and grinned. Okay, he could do this.

“
Come and get it!” he screamed.

The Berserker let out a roar and charged towards him, firing its minigun as it did. He turned and hurried back behind the earth-mover. He moved to the far edge of it, waiting for the Berserker to come around. As it did, he kept moving around the big vehicle, ultimately circling around behind the Berserker.

He didn't hesitate. Greg shouldered the launcher and fired his last missile. As he was picked up and thrown across the room by the force of the blast, he saw the Berserker disappear in a great plume of flame. Greg let out a shout of pain as he hit the ground and rolled several feet.

Again, the suit took the brunt of the hit, but he didn't know how much more it could take. Slowly, painfully, he pulled himself to his feet.

He noticed a figure coming for him.

Greg raised his rifle, still attached to his suit via the shoulder strap.

“Greg, wait.”

Relief flooded him. It was Kyra.

“Oh, thank
God
,
” he groaned, lowering the rifle and walking towards her. They met halfway through the ruined hangar and embraced briefly, then turned their attention to Williams, who was still locked away in his control room.