Reapers: The Shadow Soldiers (23 page)

He proceeded to a safe distance, back into the main street of the city, and set Alvarez down. The others then made sure the hostages were kept at that distance as well.
 

Burns looked back down the street toward the outer wall, and he saw the slight glint of Shamera’s riflescope once more. He felt slightly relieved. They were pretty exposed out here, but knowing that she had their backs once again was comforting. Regardless, it was time to get through with it.
 

He made his way inside the market and began to remove the explosives from his bag and set them in a circle pattern on the floor. With any luck, this would bust down into the passages below.
 

Clicking the explosives on and linking them with the detonator, Burns made his way outside to the minimum safe distance. He knelt down near Alvarez, lowered his head, and began to count.

“Three...two...one—” He pulled up the detonator and pressed down on the red button. Immediately, a loud crack ensued, and soon the small wheat market was engulfed in a fiery display of flames and debris.
 

“Hot damn!” he vaguely heard Shamera yell over the comms.
 

The chaos was over in mere seconds, however, and what was left was a decisive ringing in Burns’ ears and a dark billowing hole where the market used to be.
 

Standing, Burns made his way over to the destruction and looked down. A passage was indeed what he found. It stretched out toward the back of the Fort, where the mountains sat stoically frozen. He slightly smiled and then turned to the others.

“Let’s go—into the hole!” he exclaimed. The hostages moved first, and the Survivors loaded up to follow them down.
 

Only thing left was word on Brosi’s mission, and they could all pull out. Noticing no sign of ULC trouble, Burns quickly made a call to the man.

“Brosi—update! We’re at the exfiltration point. What’s the status of the cannon?” he asked. There was no response. “Brosi?” he exclaimed again, fearing the worst. A slight shuffle was heard on the comms and then Brosi spoke up.

“Connector located. I just have to insert the EUC spike, and I’ll be granted access to the cannon’s main directives,” the man confirmed. Burns opened his eyes wide.

“Do it!” he shouted, but more muffling emanated from Brosi’s end.
 

“Sorry, boss, it seems your diversion didn’t fully work.” The connection then fizzed out. The man didn’t sound like he was breathing very hard, which meant he wasn’t in a firefight. He was being held hostage, but what sort of militant would hold a high-value target hostage?
 

“Gambi!” Burns exclaimed out loud. The commander himself had intervened.
 

From everything Burns knew about Gambi, which was a lot, Brosi was going to need assistance. Burns turned on his comms with Shamera.
 

“Sham, get down here and get Alvarez out,” he ordered.
 

“I heard what was happening—this is a trap. Don’t go alone. I’m coming down,” she told him, but Burns shook his head.
 

“That’s not an option. The ULC may follow the hostages, and Alvarez needs help out. This may be a trap, but it doesn’t mean that I’m in danger. I know Gambi better than he knows himself. I hunted that man for nearly twenty years. I’m the best suited to handle him.” She grumbled a little in response.

“I was hunting him too—remember?” she reminded him. Burns growled back.

“Sham, you wanted to be one of us, then you follow orders like one of us. Get down here and proceed to the extraction. Those are your orders. Move out!” he yelled, switching off his comms and proceeding toward the stem of the observatory.
 

He supposed everything had come full circle at this point. He was going to face down the man who’d caused him so much pain. Everything that had happened to him in the last twenty years had been caused by Gambi. Everything that had happened to Silverset in the past few weeks had been caused by Gambi. He was a monster, and Burns was going to stop him. This would be the last ride. There was nowhere for either of them to run.
 

FIRST BLOOD

The lift doors opened, and Burns stepped out into the entryway of the observatory. Weapon at the ready, he was fully focused.
 

A battle had been fought here—he noticed that almost immediately. A fallen Survivor lay dead just outside the lift.

The doors of the observatory slid open with a hiss, revealing the domed room.
 

A large control stem sat in the center, and wide-ranging windows wrapped all around. They were quite impressive, and the view was equally grand. Though Burns didn’t have much time to see the sights, because he found Fodor and Ordai lying at the base of the stem. Large cuts had been slashed across their bodies, but the wounds seemed to have already clotted. Burns didn’t have time to investigate though because Gambi was here. Peering around the center control stem, weapon drawn, Burns saw him.

The large man was pointing his shotgun decisively at Brosi, who had his hands in the air. Gambi was still wearing his tactical pants and bullet resistant vest, only now his right arm seemed to have been replaced by some sort of bulky prosthetic. Apparently, that rooftop hadn’t completely shielded him from the blast. The vile man looked over at Burns while still holding Brosi hostage.
 

“Welcome, Colonel,” he teased as Burns came fully into view, aiming his gun squarely at the man’s bald head. Shamera was right—this was a trap. Gambi must have known he’d come to rescue Brosi; it was why he let the comm out. It was only a mystery as to why Brosi had surrendered. What edge did Gambi hold?

“Drop the weapon, come quietly, don’t die. Deal?” Burns proposed, trying to handle this situation without violence. Gambi chuckled a little.

“You think you’re pretty tough, yes?” he mocked, “
The Reapers of Silverset.
It’s impressive, but I won’t be intimidated by you. I have the upper hand!” he exclaimed. Burns noticed that the spike pin for the external uplink connector was clipped onto Gambi’s belt. This situation was always hard. Burns could probably get the pin, but it may leave Brosi exposed to Gambi. If Burns moved to rescue Brosi, he could fail to retrieve the pin. Without it, the EUC couldn’t be neutralized and the
Duchess
wouldn’t be able to descend. It was either man or mission here.
 

“You have me, Gambi! Please, let the man go!” Burns called out, trying to negotiate Brosi’s freedom so he could focus solely on retrieving the pin. Gambi wasn’t a fool. He knew what cards he held in this game.

“So, you know my name,” he said, shrugging off Burns’ plea. “Strange, because I don’t know anything about you. Only that they call you Colonel
.
” Burns tried to not let this get to him. The only thing worse than hatred was apathy. This man knew him personally, and he didn’t even remember him. Not even after he’d destroyed his life.
 

“I’m one of the survivors of the Mardius attack, and I’m here to return the favor,” Burns growled, finger hovering just above the trigger. The comment seemed to confuse Gambi.

“A survivor?” he grumbled. “That attack had a one hundred percent casualty rate. No one survived Mardius,” he hissed, seemingly proud of the death percentage his attack had earned. Burns shook his head.

“I’m not lying.” Despite being obviously peeved, Gambi slightly smiled.

“Then you saw firsthand what happened on that glorious day. The planet had almost succumbed to the Dominion, yet today it’s free and returned to the Isolation. Soon it’s going to be time for another day like that. Only larger—a day when all of the galaxy is purged of Dominion tyranny,” he exclaimed. Burns still held his submachine gun forward.

“Forget it, Gambi. It’s over!” The bald man shook his head.

“No, this is only the beginning! This is only a stepping stone.” Burns squinted his eyes.

“You keep popping up, and I’ll just have to keep swatting you down,” he guaranteed. Gambi chuckled.

“Oh, I know you’ll try. Which is why I lured you here. Time to die, Colonel.” Now was the time. At any moment Gambi could lash out.

Pull the trigger,
Burns thought to himself, but his finger wouldn’t budge. He’d done it so many times before, but Gambi was different than those other men. Burns had imagined himself in this spot for many years. His hand began to tremble.
 

Pull the damn trigger,
he thought to himself again, holding the submachine gun a little more stringently and going for it. He heard a loud crack and felt some recoil. He’d fired the gun.
 

Only, as he lowered it, he saw that Gambi was still standing. In front of him, a shield of hard light was being generated from his prosthetic arm. Burns couldn’t believe it…this was Gambi’s edge,
 
this was why Brosi had surrendered.
 

Aiming the submachine gun again, Burns held down the trigger and fired off the capacity of the clip. The shield didn’t let up and a very much alive Gambi was still aiming his shotgun at Brosi.
 

Burns lowered his empty weapon as he backed up, unsure of what move to make. He’d never seen anything like this before.

“Like my tech?” Gambi asked with a sinister smile. Burns looked for options, but it was Brosi who made his move.

“Not impressed!” he exclaimed, pushing Gambi’s shotgun out of the way and kicking a boot into his stomach. Yet Gambi was unfazed by the hit. He aimed his shotgun and fired, blasting Brosi in the chest and sending the man slamming into the glass wall. This left an opening for Burns.

Burns leaped forward, kicking Gambi to the ground. The man fell into a roll and quickly recovered, pulling the shotgun up. Burns grabbed the weapon and pulled it into his own chest as Gambi pulled the trigger. The blast certainly rattled his teeth, but the bullets didn’t penetrate the armor.
 

Full of adrenaline and rage, Burns activated his armor and ripped the barrel of the shotgun clean off and then slashed Gambi across the face with the severed piece.
 

The man began to bleed but was unperturbed; he minimized the shield into a smaller, diamond shape and swung upwards at Burns, searing a line right through Burns’ chest armor. Baffled, Burns was left open to a left hook from the man. His metal fist didn’t seem to have any problem with Burns’ helmet and sent the energy through the metal exterior, colliding with Burns’ cheek. Stunned by the pain, Burns left his guard open and was slashed across the left side of his visor.
 

The momentum from the hit caused Burns to stumble backward, and he could hear bits of visor glass crackle and split as they hit the floor. Indeed, Gambi had damaged his display system. It could still be accessed, but it flickered and buzzed.
 

Breathing hard and feeling a bead of sweat running down his brow, Burns looked over his shoulder at his unbeatable foe. The man stood, prosthetic raised, ready to deal an incapacitating strike. Burns could possibly counter it, but he didn’t know how much longer he could last afterwards.

Suddenly, he saw Brosi leap from his position behind Gambi. Using his thrusters, the man landed a crushing blow to the back of Gambi’s head.
 

Gambi grunted as he turned and swung at Brosi. The man dodged that attack but not the follow-up kick to the chest. Gambi then slashed upwards across Brosi’s right shoulder before finally striking down quickly across Brosi’s left thigh. The man let out a howl as he crumbled to the ground, blood instantly pooling.
 

“Brosi!” Burns shouted, suddenly gaining some resolve and standing. Brosi needed pressure on the wound before he bled out.
 

Activating vertical functions, Burns ejected the charged leg right into Gambi’s side, sending the man across the room and colliding hard with the glass walls. They cracked but did not break.
 

Burns then knelt down next to Brosi. The man put a hand up, and Burns grabbed it.

“We need to get you medical attention,” he explained.

“Don’t worry, boss,” Brosi assured him, pulling his hand out of Burns’. Burns then realized he now had something inside his hand. It was the spike pin. Brosi had managed to swipe it off Gambi’s belt.
 

He then heard some shuffling from behind. Turning, he saw Gambi had recovered and stood.

Burns pulled off his buggy helmet and grabbed the severed end of the shotgun from the ground. Gambi lightly chuckled as he saw Burns’ battered face.
 

“I do remember you,” he began. “You were the soldier who was injured. I wondered what had happened to you and that medic that saved your life,” Gambi murmured as he and Burns began slowly walking toward each other.
 

“You want to know what happened?” Burns growled, eyes flaring under the cover of his long, matted hair.
 

“Do enlighten me,” Gambi mocked, using the words as a distraction as he attempted to strike Burns across the face. Dodging the attack, Burns jabbed the shotgun shard into the prosthetic. The hard-light shield quickly dissipated, leaving Gambi powerless.

Unhinged, Burns threw an unrelenting wave of fists at Gambi’s head like it was a punching bag.
 

“You really want to know what happened?” Burns yelled. “You—you killed her!” he screamed painfully, blood spewing from his face as he continued his onslaught on the defenseless terrorist. Every vicious strike across the man’s face came with a sting of pain but also a feeling of irresistible freedom. He’d waited so long for this—nearly twenty years, and it was everything he had hoped for. Gambi managed to last a lot longer than the normal person, but that was only an aid to Burns. It kept the fantasy alive. The more punches he could throw, the better he felt. Society didn’t appreciate this—society didn’t understand such violence—but he didn’t care. He had begun to see a mirage of faces of the people that had been killed on Mardius, each of them fueling an even more primal rage in Burns’ attack. This was justice—this was true justice.