I looked
into the alleyway and saw nothing. I knew that at the end of that particular
alleyway there were two short inlets on either side where one could hide, so I
waited for Preem. If I went in alone I would be put at a disadvantage.
Preem came
silently along behind and when he understood the layout he naturally went before me, leaving me with his cover.
The inlet
area smelled strongly of urine. We found nothing, but both of us glanced towards the sky. Our
instinct was confirmed when we saw the imp bounding from each side of an inlet
to the other, hopping from the lips of the window ledges, making fast progress
upward. He may have been ten or more stories above us, and would reach the
rooftop - double that height - in a matter of moments.
Preem drew
his weapon and aimed above our heads. I touched his shoulder.
“Someone
may look out the window,” I said. He grinned at me guiltily and holstered his
revolver. I motioned for us to leave the alley and return to the street where
HRXT would be awaiting us. I took my com from its pocket and spoke to the
primer.
“The
rooftops between 17th and 18th block, underway 8. Do you
have someone on overway 8? End.”
“Margoles.
End.” The primer clicked back.
“Uh. Margoles
is a moderate shot,” Preem quipped coolly.
“Alright,”
I said, impatient with him. We boarded HRXT who seemed agitated. This
particular Impression seemed to make
him anxious.
We came to
a stairway within a dilapidated vestibule, one frequented exclusively by the
industrial servicemen who maintained the functioning portions of the block. A
Cell-laborer helped us pass to the restricted upper floors, and we made our way
quickly to rooftop access. Two long ranged shots rang from Margoles’ revolver,
but went unanswered. The sound reverberated hauntingly through the stairwell. When
we reached the top I opened the door carefully, signaling Preem to find a spot
and cover. I dashed out ahead to find my own.
He com’ed
me once we settled in.
“Are you
going to keep me guessing on this imp, buddy?” he said.
“You like
games,” I said, mimicking his tone. He snuffed on the other end of the com but
I knew he was ready for action.
“Unregistered
Erimha,” I said. “Turn your com to the primer. You can listen too, you know.”
Preem
laughed in response. “But I’d rather hear it from you Captain. Sara and I find it sooth-“
Four shots
rang out overhead suddenly . I dipped, and changed position from one enormous rooftop
exhaust vent to another only a few yards away. Margoles allowed his revolving
rifle to bark down and ahead of us, to where I assumed he had spotted the rouge
Erimha. Preem countered my movement and took the lead, planting at another
vent. Margoles came through my com. I was preparing my own revolver.
“He’s fast
Musa. He hasn’t returned a shot yet but even from this distance I can tell he’s
modified and I’m sure he’ll pack a punch. End.”
“Don’t
worry,” I replied. “We aren’t exactly trying to start a fight. We want to
follow him for a bit. Whoever set fire to that data complex was hoping for the
diversion, and it worked. He’s worth more to us intact. End.”
The exhaust
vents along the rooftops were situated rows, to create a long, narrow space
between the columns as far as I could see. It was possible that he hid amongst
them as he escaped, or that he leapt into one of them to burrow into the
network of factory spaces that populated the entire strip underneath the 8th
overway.
I narrowed
and extended my vision and saw further; a figure darted from one one column to
the other.
“He’s
nearing the end, moving away from the overway. End.” Margoles chirped.
Preem and I
rushed with our weapons drawn. He had strung us along the roofs and now sought
to leave us hanging here as he escaped in the direction he wanted us to believe
he was going. Cutting through the buildings would take too long; going over the
edges would leave us open to his shots.
HRXT sent a
series of clicks that indicated he was engaging the target. I was surprised.
Preem and I came to the end of the series of rooftops away from the overway,
and spotted the automaton. By a stroke of luck, he had circled away from our
location and returned using an elevated street ramp a leap away from the block,
but some eight to ten stories down. The Impression had already made a landing
on the ramp, a hundred yards or so before HRXT, who shifted into his humanoid
form and extended his turrets.
Preem and I
were nearly directly over the action. One of us would have to stay on the roof;
the other make their way down to support HRXT. I com’ed Margoles, and a party
was sent searching for a position to intercept the imp at each escape route
they could find.
I sent a
command to HRXT. To avoid crossfire, he angled himself and I followed it in my
stride to create a triangle with the target. The imp, knowing full well his
risks, chose to engage the automaton before addressing me. He understood where
the superior force was, and knew he had a few moments to react.
I leapt
down. From my landing I realized it was more like eleven stories. My frame was
jolted upon impact and it took a moment to recover.
The imp
attempted to cross our plane and direct HRXT’s explosive rounds to my
direction. When the automaton paused, the imp made his way towards it and
turned his torso full around to me. He extended a hand, and from the hand a
small turret projected itself.
Modified
was right.
I dove as
enormous rounds were let off. It sounded like the air was being unzipped near
my ears and the percussion of the blasts beat against my chest like human
hands.
Preem
returned fire from the rooftop. HRXT couldn’t shoot in our direction, but our
bullets would do little damage to him. From my position on the ground, I sent a
few of my own to the imp.
Only sparks
replied. At least a shot apiece made contact, but no damage was remarkable.
HRXT and
the imp were in close combat now. Preem clicked through.
“I’m coming
down.”
“Wait-“
HRXT let
off two close range blasts. The imp ducked away from both with unbelievable
agility. From one of his arms, a two-sided blade was produced – from the other
his turret remained deployed. I watched in horror as the imp overcame HRXT with its superior
speed, violently severing one of the automaton's arms from underneath it. HRXT shifted his weight to compensate for the attack and
replaced his turret with his enormous, powerful hand, seized the imp by the
torso, and lifted him from the ground with destructive intent. He left himself unguarded. I had already begun
to move, and let off some four desperate rounds before reloading as I ran to save our
automaton. Scarcely concerned, the imp placed his turret before the faceless
head of HRXT and shattered it with a single blast from the powerful weapon. He was released then, and
landed squarely on its feet. I heard Preem’s footsteps behind me, and signaled him to
remain where he was. I was within yards of my own close combat with the imp,
but it stood motionless – weapon down - before the wrecked body of the
automaton.
I could
hear its speaking mechanism click into place.
“Stay
there.” It said.
I stood. My
own weapon was down.
“Where are
you going to go?” I asked.
“I will retreat,
as I may. Where I go will lead me to my overseer. We’ve accomplished
our initial objective and must discuss our following. Pursuing me any further will end badly for you, Arclier.”
I was
silent. I knew he was right. He was modified with top quality body armor and
weapons unlike any Erimha I had ever seen. Whoever his ‘overseer’ was, it was
someone with the means and the motive to ensure an expensive apprehension.
Still, a part of me wanted to collect a piece of him for testing. The imp must
have read my thought in the shift of tension.
“Don’t,” he
said.
I hesitated, then relaxed.
“Who
is the overseer?”
He clicked.
“I’m sorry. That is classified.”
His tone
was drone-like. It hummed deeply in his torso, and rang with a bitter peal,
likely because of the additional metal that surrounded the source of the
Impression voice. It was not unpleasant, but more inhuman than I was accustomed
to from an Erimha.
He stood silent, and I noticed at that moment that his opaque
façade was also more imposing than any other imp. Most are blank semi-humanoid faces; some with
rank own façades fashioned after the face of their Impresser, or their current
benefactor.
His was a transparent, grinning skull. A glass visage of death that smoldered in the sunset.
I sent a
word through the com that we were to hold. There was a soothing, dead calm in
the atmosphere. It was peaceful. I was grateful for the reprieve of gunfire.
“What is
your name then, Erimha? Surely you can tell me that at no cost.”
The imp
raised a hand and tilted his head in resignation. He began to become dark,
and I realized that the sun was setting behind him. The sky was the color of
rust. Then again, it always was.
“I am Golgotha.”
Golgotha glanced to his left. He walked purposefully over
to the edge of the ramp, and leapt. His leap was unearthly; he covered a dozen
stories upward, and regained position on the rooftops perpendicular to the
overway.
I marked
his direction, but said nothing to the team on the com.
Preem came
up and stood next to me. We stood listening for a moment until he spoke.
“His name
was-“
“I heard,”
Preem said, and chucked. “Let’s try not to run into him again, huh?”
