dreams to play or to talk. At this special place he taught her how to leave messages that no one else could find.
She simply thought, "I love you," and watched the words appear on the stone. She waited, hoping she'd be lucky enough to catch him dreaming too, when a dark sensation crept up on her.
Her face stung under the force of a blow and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Petra put a hand to her tender lips, but when she checked, her hand was clean.
She leaped into the air, to escape the dream and the wicked laughter swirling around her.
The laughter ripped Petra from her dream into a new vision. A vision filled with a deadly battle.
She saw him circle the struggling victim and recognized him as the assassin from the genetics lab. She saw the blood on his lip and Petra felt how the fight made the kill all the sweeter for him. She watched him dodge the next desperate swing, felt his disgust for the pitiful scientist. With a single blow of hand to throat, he crushed the scientist's larynx. Unable to resist, he skipped the paralytic agent he'd used the last time and gutted the mute scientist with a horrific delight.
Petra woke in conflict, hating the sensations he'd pressed on her, wondering how it was even possible that he'd torn her from her own dream. Her body shook and her mind reeled from the vulnerability.
She reached blindly for the cell card and dropped it. She found her pad of paper to sketch what she'd seen. But her grip was weak and the room spun as a heavy darkness enveloped her.
Gideon stood in the main lobby of the Sears Tower and considered the various power struggles that had been planned and resolved within these walls. Funny how people just came and went in their day-to-day lives with no clue about the plotting and planning taking place a few stories up.
He took the elevator to the tenth floor, then the stairs to twelve. Exiting the stairwell, suite 12-A was the first door on the right. He paused, realizing he shouldn't be trashing ordinary citizens for ignorance since he didn't have much idea what took place behind the other doors on this level.
He opened the office door and froze. Something was wrong. Only silence greeted him. This office had a 24/7 AID. The Automated IDentification program would sound a greeting the moment the door opened. If the guest was cleared, the door on the opposite wall would open. If not, the intruder would be treated with a memory-altering drug and escorted to a more benign office to recover.
Along with most other operatives, Gideon had tried to circumvent the AID in his early years with the special operations group. Neither he, nor any of his predecessors, had ever succeeded. This particular office had the longest running record for non-discovery.
If this place had been blown, no place was safe.
As if answering his concerns, the rapid tremor in his biceps wasn't the normal summons, it was the emergency pattern.
Damn, the last thing he needed was a project emergency.
Gideon's brain went into overdrive. He could leave immediately and pray his own cover hadn't been blown. Or he could stay and gather clues to who shut down the AID and why.
His debate ended when the sub-dermal pager beat another urgent tattoo in his arm. The door he'd expected the AID to unlock slid open revealing three men, all strangers. Their blank eyes and somber expressions combined with the bulky, popping muscles told Gideon he was up against professional juicers out for blood.
He slammed the outer door closed, feeling his blood warm to the challenge of combat.
Time slowed for Gideon. He saw each moment crystallized and separate from the next. The lead man stalled for a split-second, long enough for Gideon to capitalize on the miniscule advantage of surprise.
He dove for cover behind the reinforced AID desk as all three opened fire. Not stunner or taser-shot. No, the sound of the ammo slamming all around him said these juice-jerks were packing retro, one hundred percent lead
She simply thought, "I love you," and watched the words appear on the stone. She waited, hoping she'd be lucky enough to catch him dreaming too, when a dark sensation crept up on her.
Her face stung under the force of a blow and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Petra put a hand to her tender lips, but when she checked, her hand was clean.
She leaped into the air, to escape the dream and the wicked laughter swirling around her.
The laughter ripped Petra from her dream into a new vision. A vision filled with a deadly battle.
She saw him circle the struggling victim and recognized him as the assassin from the genetics lab. She saw the blood on his lip and Petra felt how the fight made the kill all the sweeter for him. She watched him dodge the next desperate swing, felt his disgust for the pitiful scientist. With a single blow of hand to throat, he crushed the scientist's larynx. Unable to resist, he skipped the paralytic agent he'd used the last time and gutted the mute scientist with a horrific delight.
Petra woke in conflict, hating the sensations he'd pressed on her, wondering how it was even possible that he'd torn her from her own dream. Her body shook and her mind reeled from the vulnerability.
She reached blindly for the cell card and dropped it. She found her pad of paper to sketch what she'd seen. But her grip was weak and the room spun as a heavy darkness enveloped her.
Gideon stood in the main lobby of the Sears Tower and considered the various power struggles that had been planned and resolved within these walls. Funny how people just came and went in their day-to-day lives with no clue about the plotting and planning taking place a few stories up.
He took the elevator to the tenth floor, then the stairs to twelve. Exiting the stairwell, suite 12-A was the first door on the right. He paused, realizing he shouldn't be trashing ordinary citizens for ignorance since he didn't have much idea what took place behind the other doors on this level.
He opened the office door and froze. Something was wrong. Only silence greeted him. This office had a 24/7 AID. The Automated IDentification program would sound a greeting the moment the door opened. If the guest was cleared, the door on the opposite wall would open. If not, the intruder would be treated with a memory-altering drug and escorted to a more benign office to recover.
Along with most other operatives, Gideon had tried to circumvent the AID in his early years with the special operations group. Neither he, nor any of his predecessors, had ever succeeded. This particular office had the longest running record for non-discovery.
If this place had been blown, no place was safe.
As if answering his concerns, the rapid tremor in his biceps wasn't the normal summons, it was the emergency pattern.
Damn, the last thing he needed was a project emergency.
Gideon's brain went into overdrive. He could leave immediately and pray his own cover hadn't been blown. Or he could stay and gather clues to who shut down the AID and why.
His debate ended when the sub-dermal pager beat another urgent tattoo in his arm. The door he'd expected the AID to unlock slid open revealing three men, all strangers. Their blank eyes and somber expressions combined with the bulky, popping muscles told Gideon he was up against professional juicers out for blood.
He slammed the outer door closed, feeling his blood warm to the challenge of combat.
Time slowed for Gideon. He saw each moment crystallized and separate from the next. The lead man stalled for a split-second, long enough for Gideon to capitalize on the miniscule advantage of surprise.
He dove for cover behind the reinforced AID desk as all three opened fire. Not stunner or taser-shot. No, the sound of the ammo slamming all around him said these juice-jerks were packing retro, one hundred percent lead
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