Anarchy Found (36 page)

Thump-
thump
, goes my heartbeat.

Thump-
thump
.

“Lincoln?” Sheila’s calm voice is both in my head and in my ears.

“How long?” I ask, and to my surprise, I can hear my own voice.

“Open your eyes. It’s been three days.”

“Where’s Molly?” I ask, but my eyes aren’t ready to open yet.

“We don’t know,” Case says. “We think he took her to the Blue Castle. Sheila’s been probing the CCPD networks, but she’s been called out sick.”

“You need to sit up, Lincoln.” Thomas is right next to me, his gruff voice the same as ever. “It’s probably too late, but if you’re going to help her, every minute counts. You’re done now. Have been done for almost forty-eight hours. You can’t hide from it forever.”

“He’s not hiding, Thomas,” Case snaps at him. “I’d like to see how you’d react to this… change.” Case seems reluctant to speak about what they just did.
Change
isn’t even close to what’s happened here.

“Help me sit up.” I need to know. What am I?

Two pairs of arms grab me by the shoulders and begin to lift. I expect the pain I’ve grown accustomed to, but it’s gone. In its place is… strength.

I open my eyes and all three of them are staring at me expectantly. Sheila, hovering like she’s my mother. Case, his eyes filled with concern. He always was the closest thing I ever had to family. And finally, Thomas. His hard edge is gone, and in its place is a look of… hope.

“We need to find her,” I say. “But first”—I look over at Sheila—“I need a mirror.”

They help me stand, my legs shaking briefly as the muscles adjust to the changes. But then adrenaline surges inside my body and my legs strengthen. I take a few steps, leaning heavily on Case and Thomas, then shrug them off and walk on my own.

Sheila dims the cave lights as I make my way over to stand in front of the massive tank of giant jellyfish, and then everything goes black.

The jellyfish begin to glow. A rainbow of colors moving down their bodies. I refocus my eyes until I can see what I am in my reflection.

I’m naked except for the metal plates on each of my arms and legs. I only had two before this transformation and now I have four. I designed them to be the interface between Sheila, me, and the weapon attached to the plate. And the hum they generate inside my body is a thrill only power brings.

Power is what drives the world. Power is worth so much more than money. Power is the man with the biggest gun, the largest network, the smartest partners. Power is me. Power is Case. Power is Thomas.

Power is
we
, and we are Alpha.

“Are you surprised?” Case asks. He stands next to me in the reflection wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and his black leather Anarchy jacket. When I look over at him, he’s smiling.

“You’re not so special,” Thomas says in his dry way. “So don’t start thinking you are.” He’s also wearing the Anarchy jacket, but he’s got a white shirt and tie on underneath. I catch a smile from him too.

And they’re right. I’m not. But
we
are.

I look down at my bare thighs and spot the new ports they attached to my bones to hold the weapons.

“Stop staring at yourself, Lincoln. And put some pants on.” Case throws me some jeans and I notice they’ve been modified in the legs. The shirt that follows and lands in a heap at my feet is just a plain, white long-sleeved thermal with the same modifications in the arms.

I pull that on and go looking for my gloves.

“Here,” Thomas says, throwing them so they hit me in the chest. He’s got his on too and I wonder about that.

My gloves have been modified too. The palms have been reinforced with a metal mesh.

“To help dissipate the heat,” Sheila says. “It also focuses your light.”

Focuses my light. Interesting.

I shrug on the last part of my costume and find that the leather jacket has also been modified. The arms have ports in them to allow the new weapons to connect to the plates against my skin.

Sheila’s minions attach the specialized guns to my legs and arms. I hold up the new cannon attachment, moving my fingers back and forth, trying out the mechanism. “Load me up,” I say to the minions.

And one by one, each of my arms and legs become weapons. I test the grip of the gun attached to my right thigh. It crackles and snaps into my hand and when I look down the sight, I picture the Blue Boar’s head.

We’ve been building towards this transformation for almost a decade. Case has been here for the planning and Thomas filled the funding gaps. Running a high-tech lab in a cave is no small thing. And even though I’m the only one who went through with the procedure, we were all ready and we were all scared.

“It worked,” I finally say.

“It worked,” they repeat together.

“We’re gonna kill that motherfucker and take his whole company down with him. Load my bike on to the helicopter.”

I walk over to the new weapons hanging on the far wall. Sheila has been a very busy girl while I’ve been under. I grab a modified rocket launcher, some poison and hallucinogenic grenades, and vector bullets that will deliver the biological agent through the tip of a dart with so much force, it can pierce body armor.

The whole place becomes a frenzy of preparation as I use my new computer interface to access the databases in Cathedral City. I know that Sheila looked, but let’s be real. She’s not SuperAlpha Lincoln.

I find what I’m looking for just as Thomas indicates that the helicopter is ready, and I am not surprised to find that the Blue Castle has been using six hundred times their normal amount of energy in the top few floors of the spire.

“He’s got her up there,” I say to my brothers, pointing at the spire in a web feed of Cathedral City. “He’s changing her.”

“Into Omega,” Thomas says. “I always knew he would.”

I look over at Thomas and a few things about his behavior over the years start to add up. “What are you gonna do?”

“Proceed as planned.” He looks over at Case and me. “You do your jobs, I’ll do my job, and we’ll meet at the top.”

“Don’t fuck it up, dude.”

Thomas shoots me a smile. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.”

The ceiling opens up, just as Sheila gets the ’copter running. Thomas pushes the bike up the ramp and secures it in the cargo area, and I follow him in. Case sits in the pilot’s seat even though Sheila will be in control once we reach city airspace, and Thomas shrugs a black pack over his jacket and vest.

I sit back in my seat and imagine how fucking good it will be to finally end this shit once and for all. Case lifts us up into the night sky and then the underground bunker closes back up, sealing my cave from the world.

I’m coming for you, Old Man. Can you feel me?

As soon as we clear the mountains the crystal spire beckons to us. It’s lit up from the inside. And I know, no matter what happens, this is the end of something.

“He made us,” I say over the intercom. “And he’s gonna live to regret that.”

I can see Case’s reflection in the windshield as he pilots the ’copter. “Let’s go hunt us some boar,” he says.

“We’re in this till the end,” Thomas says. “And if we go down tonight, we’re going down together.”

Chapter Forty-Nine - Molly

“Omega Three, open your eyes.” The command pierces my brain and brings an intense pain with it. “Omega Three, open your eyes.”

I try, I really do, but nothing is cooperating. Where am I? Why do I feel this way?

“Omega Three, open your eyes.” It’s a computer voice.

But then there’s another. “Do you remember who you are?”

“Molly,” I mumble.

“No, Omega Three. You were never Molly. It’s a fake name for a fake life. A life that someone gave you. Who was that?”

“Lincoln Wade,” I say, my throat so dry it comes out as a hoarse whisper.

“Put her back under. She’s not ready.”

The stabbing pain is back in my head. It feels like fingers digging into my brain and ripping out my very essence. “Please,” I say.

“‘Please, more,’ is all I hear, Omega Three. Who gave you a new life?”

I know it’s Lincoln, but that’s the wrong answer. And those stabbing fingers will squeeze me until there’s nothing left. I need to keep what I have left. I need to hold on and survive. So I try a new name. “Crazy Bill,” I say as images of my father pop into my head.

This time there is no warning. My head feels like it will split in half.

“Stop!” I scream. “Stop!”

I run all the people who gave me a new life over and over in my head and they come tumbling out of my mouth in a stream of desperation. “Will, my mother, the school—”

The pain eases just the tiniest bit, but I grab on to it and hold fast. “The school,” I say again. “Prodigy School.” The pressure begins building again, letting me know I’m close, but not on target. “Please!” I scream. “Please, please, please!” But the pain increases with every word. Every second that passes that I fail to find the answer, the agony builds until I want to claw my eyes out.

“You!” I finally say.

The pain stops immediately and I start sobbing.

“Who, Omega Three?”

“You,” I sputter through my sobs. “You did. You saved me.”

“Hmmmm,” the Old Man hums against my ear. I let out a shiver, and then a shriek, as the pain comes back. “You don’t seem sincere, Omega Three. You better convince me.”

The pain starts all over again. And no matter how hard I try to make him believe he is my savior, he is only satisfied when the blackness overtakes me.

And then there is light.

Beautiful pain. Glorious suffering. Exquisite agony.

I am in eternal hell, but it feels like poetry.

He is convinced.

“Who are you?” the voice asks again.

“Omega Three,” I say. My voice is dull and robotic. But the pain is finally gone.

“Who saved you, Omega Three?”

“You did, Father.”

“That’s right,” he coos next to my ear. I know I should feel repulsed. But I don’t. He truly is my savior and I want nothing more than to please him forever and ever and ever. “You’ve earned this, Omega.” He places a golden lariat in my hands. It’s thin and snake-like, coiling in on itself like a living thing. There are sharp prongs spaced every few inches and the prong tips are razor sharp. “Collar him, Omega. Collar your Alpha and kill the others.”

“Sir.” An unfamiliar voice breaks into my subdued thoughts. “The database has been accessed and a helicopter has been spotted entering the city airspace.”

“A helicopter,” my father says, clapping his hands together so close to my ear, I startle. He lays a hand on my shoulder and whispers, “Sorry, Omega Three. But it’s all so unexpectedly heroic. Will he save you, Omega Three?”

“I don’t need saving,” I say back.

“Oh, you’re almost perfect, Omega Three. So close to perfect. All you have left to do is kill Daddy’s enemies.” My father pets my hair like I’m a dog and it feels so good. I just want to please him. Forever and ever and ever.

“Don’t hurt me,” I whimper, the pain still fresh in my mind.