Tunnel Rat Chapter 290 (Patreon)

Eric collapsed to the floor, gasping. Roger stood over him. "That's some good equipment you have there, boss. I thought it was standard issue crap, but I don't see exit wounds in your back and no pool of blood. I'm guessing hard plates and a layer of wound-sealing medical bandages. Let's take a look." He reached down, tearing off Eric's body armor with enough force that he tore through the straps and buckles. The bullets had penetrated the armor, shattering the hard plastic plates and Kevlar mesh. Underneath that was a layer of shimmering metal armor with two small deformities where the bullets had hit and been forced to skid along the armor. Roger poked it hard, getting a grunt from Eric, who was having trouble getting air into his lungs. "Neat stuff. It's flexible but deflected the shots, and these aren't cheap bullets. I may have to skin that off you and take it with me. I consider it a bonus. Gives me more time to talk about where little, lost Belinda is."

Eric glared at him"...No one knows...safer that way...go screw yourself!"

Roger shrugged and smiled. "You know, I believe you, Eric, but 4th quarter is no time to change the game plan, and I'm getting paid to find the girl and make you hurt." He pointed the gun at Eric's kneecap. "How about you make a good guess where she's at? Or who she's with?"

"Who she's with? Maybe the person that sent me this armor and tore the shit out of twenty mercenaries. Think about that for a second, Roger." He raised his voice, pointing to his chest. "Do you really want to screw with the people behind this tech? They've got an army of people!"

The thunderous sound of multiple gunshot wounds rang out, and it was Roger's turn to scream as Marisa fired six shots into his back. The big guard was knocked forward and onto the floor next to Eric.

"Eric, can you get up? We have to run!" She ran forward and grabbed his arm, pulling him upright. Eric saw Roger's gun on the floor, picked it up, and handed it to her.

"Can't run, but we can keep him covered if he's alive." He handed her the gun.

Roger rolled over and started to stand up. "Oh, I'm alive, Eric, and very hard to kill. Nice shooting, Marisa. I probably should have snapped your neck in the hallway. But I can fix that now." Roger didn't sound like someone with six bullets in him. He didn't sound like Roger anymore; his voice had an odd timbre to it. He was barely bleeding from the bullets Marisa had fired into his back. She tried again with his gun, firing ten shots until she emptied it. She aimed high, hitting him three times in the head, several times in the chest, and once in the shoulder. All of the wounds leaked blood and other fluids, then sealed. The skin on half of his face was missing, showing high-density plastic and metal fiber mesh underneath.

Maria screamed at Eric, "Run! Run, now! He's too heavily augmented. Get the hell out of here, and I'll try to slow him up."

Eric cursed, but the horrifying visage of Roger convinced him, and he started moving down the hallway, stooping over and breathing hard. Marisa produced her metal baton, stepped near Roger, and slammed the rod into his knee to cripple him. He didn't even wince and grabbed her right bicep in a tight grip.

"You should have run, woman. You messed up my face; now I'll mess up yours." Holding her with one hand, Roger beat her with his other, slapping her several times, breaking her cheek and nose. He had no intention of stopping, but Marisa had pulled a high-voltage taser from her holster and discharged it in his face. Roger lit up like a Christmas tree as she put the setting on maximum and kept the power on until the battery charge died. His grip had loosened immediately, and she could stumble away and run after Eric. As she did, she punched a code into her phone and yelled into it. "Rogue-augmented human attempting to kill me and the client. I need immediate assistance." She knew it was a long shot, but for Eric's sake, she had to try.

Roger got himself under control, parts of his hair and clothes smoking from the current. He started walking after her, talking calmly. "It's a shame, Marisa. Those security doors are closed and locked now. And the codes won't work for you. I spent a lot of time in the Manpower system while you played around with your new friend. Were you hired to keep him safe, or were you going to kill him yourself or go after the girl? Just professional curiosity. I think I'll take my time killing you and Eric. I'll do you first and see if Eric will play hero and trade Belinda for your life. He seems like the hero type."

Marisa had caught up with Eric, and the two of them supported each other as they tried to leave the area, but Roger's taunting had proven true. The security door to this area was down and locked tight. The intercom system was also down. Roger appeared at the end of the hallway, unfazed by the damage done to him by the pistol shots. "Hi, kids. Two-minute warning, you're down by nine, and I've got the ball on your goal line. Looking bad for your team."

There was a small noise from the ceiling, and then a metal panel fell to the floor, followed by a small figure in shimmering metal armor with rat ears and claws. An eerie, deep voice came from it.

"New game, my rules."

Roger was about to say something funny about rat ears, but Milo was already moving toward him. Roger wasn't prepared for an opponent faster than him. Against normal humans, it really was just a game to him. They couldn't cause him pain, and cosmetic damage could be repaired. The taser had come closest, and that was just a small jolt and the annoyance of his body seizing up. The game was about to get much tougher as Milo ran at him, then jumped to a wall, dodging his clumsy punch and slashing the arm as it went by. Two claws skidded along the armor of the forearm, and the third cut deep into the elbow joint, cutting a series of cables and wires. Then he was leaping behind Roger. A slash to the spinal area confirmed the armor was thick and would take time to get through. His second strike to the back of the left knee cut deeper.

As Roger turned, Milo rolled between his legs, sliced behind the other knee with both claws, and flipped again to gain distance. Roger stumbled as he turned, his knees giving him trouble, then righted himself. "You're fast. That calls for a change of plans. Catch." From somewhere, Roger produced a small grenade the size of a lemon and threw it down the hall, aiming for Eric. Milo leaped and spun, his tail slapping the small globe back to Roger, where it detonated a second later. The shrapnel didn't bother the cyborg much, but the force knocked him forward and face down. Milo was on him instantly, clawing at the right shoulder joint. As Roger regained his feet and Milo gained some distance from him, the arm hung down, almost removed from his body. Blood and oil poured from the shoulder, and loose wires sparked. Screaming, Roger tore the arm off and swung it like a club at Milo, the extra length catching him by surprise.

The blow was hard, but part of Milo was already dodging while the rest of his brain was surprised, and some small part clapped at the move. The blow knocked him back and hurt, but only for a moment. Roger took steps forward, swinging again, and Milo got closer instead of retreating. Every time Roger swung his improvised club or tried to kick him, Milo deflected the blow or dodged. The dodges turned into spinning kicks aimed at Rogers's face, and his claws attacked the joints at the knees, elbow, and shoulder over and over. Roger lost an eye, and then a knee gave out, leaving him leaning against the wall, leaking onto the floor.

Roger's last move was to go for two more grenades and throw them both with his remaining hand. Killing Eric would give him a paycheck. The clumsy move didn't fool Milo. As Roger threw, he leaped forward, grabbed both, and landed on top of Roger's shoulders. He dropped the grenades and jumped away. The blasts caught him mid-air, bouncing him off the ceiling and down to the floor. He got up as fast as he could, but the fight was over. The high explosives had destroyed most of what was left of Roger, leaving a smoking ruin of metal and flesh. Milo checked to ensure, then walked slowly up to Eric and Marisa.

She looked from Eric to Milo. "Is this where you got that body armor?"

Eric shrugged. "Came in an unmarked delivery tube with a note that said, 'Wear this. Belinda is worried about you.'

Milo nodded. "And she is. Will there be more of those?"

Eric stared at the smoking remains of Roger. "Depends on how much money Victor has and how pissed he is."

Marisa laughed. "He's pissed, but trust me, he's out of money. The news traveled like wildfire through the mercenary and security groups. He can't pay for the people he has already hired. Roger would have been disappointed even if he was successful."

Milo nodded, then stood up. "The door should be open soon. Dave found an override." He turned to leave.

Eric yelled. "Wait, who the hell are you?"

Milo paused. "No one, really. Just a friend of Belinda's who wants to help keep her safe. We'll be in touch." Then he was around the corner and gone.

The security door opened a minute later, and people poured through, yelling at once and asking questions. Eric was put on a stretcher; early diagnosis was several broken ribs and torn muscles from the impact of the bullets. Marisa was sitting next to him when he woke up from surgery, her face swollen and bandaged.

Eric looked at her. "You look gorgeous. If we didn't have rules against dating employees, I'd invite you to dinner."

She said something he didn't understand in Russian. "Sorry, gutter slang. I'll teach it to you someday. I'm sad because I have to quit. I have a new job that officially started when you were out of danger. I've been on vacation the last couple of weeks."

"Damn, I was just getting used to you. Let me guess, other side of the world?"

"Nope. Close enough that I'll take you up on the dinner invite once I don't look like this. I'll be working nearby as the Head of Security for Rhebus. So please go ahead and practice your Russian and find us a restaurant with good vodka.