SWITCHBLADE (Choi Ziyi Book 1) Page 16

  As she reached a corner pillar, a man popped up out of cover and took aim. He got three rounds in his chest for his trouble.

  She let the column take a pounding from the defenders while she slammed another fresh clip into her assault rifle. She marked everyone's positions in her mind as she filled her lungs with oxygen again. She checked on Xiao's position again — he was still to the far right of the main room. Just a room of AFA between him and her. She shook her head. Could be easier.

  Shards of stone flew in every direction as round after round smashed into the column. Ziyi listened to the cacophony of gunfire, working out who was firing when, waiting for the right moment to attack again.

  Three of the Americans were positioned directly in front of her, behind a small table, and she heard the sound drop from their direction as they too reloaded. She didn't wait for a better invitation. She spun around the column, firing as she moved. The first rounds pierced the wood and one man jumped up in pain as he was hit. A double tap to his chest dropped him back down immediately. She ran forward, firing another burst into the table and a woman slid sideways with half her face missing. Bullets screamed through the air around her but Ziyi kept her concentration. She slid across the last few feet, coming in behind the table and face-to-face with the remaining terrorist. Her bullets tore lumps out of his lungs.

  A shadow fell over her, and Ziyi looked up just as a woman crashed into her. Her rifle went flying from her hands. The woman, hair flying and full of fury, slashed at Ziyi with her hands, ripping chunks of skin with her fingernails. Ziyi grabbed the woman's hands before she could strike again. Fingernails made with mek blades glistened in the light.

  Ziyi drew her knife and stabbed a hole through the woman's wrist and piercing her cheek. The woman howled in pain of her own but she didn't stop her assault on Ziyi. She pressed down, desperate to dig her nails into Ziyi's face. Spit flew from her mouth as they tussled on the ground, elbows and knees striking the other as they tried to bring their blades to bear.

  The woman slipped her hand free and raked her nails from one side of Ziyi's face to the other. Ziyi ignored the blood and the pain and tried to stab the woman once more, only to have her elbow blocked, so she slammed her knee into the woman's kidney. She followed it with an uppercut to the woman's jaw, cracking bone and teeth. It was enough to throw the woman off, giving Ziyi the chance to scramble to her feet. She drew her pistol as the woman lunged at her again, and fired. The round stopped the woman in mid-flight, and she crashed to the ground.

  Ziyi spun around, gulping air and wiped the blood from her eyes, trying to get her bearings on the remaining Americans.

  A shadow loomed over her just before what felt like a truck hit her square in the head.

  "Try your luck with me, bitch." It was the hulk from the ICBB. He ripped his shirt from his back and threw it on the floor. His skin shimmered beneath tattoos of roaring dragons as he stormed towards her, mek transforming him with every step. Within four strides, full body armour covered him from the neck down. Bullets had bounced off him earlier at the ICBB and now Ziyi knew why.

  Fear rippled through her as the hulk swung his fist like a hammer. Ziyi threw herself to her left. The floor shattered where she had been standing a heartbeat before, and she rolled to her feet as the fear grew inside her.

  The hulk punched at her again, and she only just managed to duck out of the way. Where the hell had the Americans got their mek? Not even the military had that level of tech.

  She snapped her foot out and caught her attacker's knee. She expected it to collapse, but it was like kicking stone. He caught her in return with a backhand across the face, and sent her flying across the room. Only her own mek that had kept her head on her shoulders.

  He came at her once more and Ziyi retreated, wary of his massive arms. One blow from them had been enough to confirm she didn't want to be hit by him again.

  They stared at each other, watching for the slightest opening that would allow one to destroy the other. Ziyi studied his mek for any weak points but the work was outstanding. It rivalled her own in terms of quality — it certainly wasn't the work of some underground surgeon. She shifted her body, turning sideways and raised her fists. The hulk bared his chest, daring her to strike, but still Ziyi waited, listening to the fear in her stomach. Her shifu had taught her about its value. Only the dead or the stupid were unafraid, he'd said. He'd shown her how to use it to sharpen her senses and her reflexes. Everything could be turned to your advantage.

  "Come. Time to die." The hulk lunged, his arms sweeping in like a pincer, and scooped Ziyi up, crushing her in his embrace. Her arms were pined by her side as he squeezed the life from her. Her own mek complaining under the pressure and Death whispered in her ear, eager to claim her.

  But somewhere in the blackness, another voice spoke up. It told her failure was not acceptable. Xiao needed her. The Empire needed her. Choi Ziyi hadn't been trained to give up. She forced her eyes open, saw the hulk leering down at her. She screamed in his face, and as he laughed at her, she bit into his lower lip. Blood filled her mouth, warm and salty. She pulled back with all her strength as he tried to snatch his mouth away. Skin stretched and tore. The hulk screamed, shrill like a little girl, blood pouring from the jagged mess that had been his mouth. He dropped Ziyi as he staggered back and Ziyi gulped oxygen back into her lungs.

  The hulk wiped the blood from his chin, hatred filling his eyes. He swung both fists down in a hammer blow. She forced her body into a backwards flip, leaving the hulk only empty floor to smash. Back on her feet, she concentrated on staying out of the hulk's reach as she assessed how badly hurt she was. Every movement caused her pain, but Ziyi prayed to the Heavens nothing was permanently damaged.

  She had to finish the fight, had to get to Xiao. She unsheathed her knife and hoped it would be enough. The hulk threw another punch at her and she weaved out of its way, slashing back with her blade, ignoring the man's armour to concentrate on his face. The knife nicked the skin just below the eye, and Ziyi was relieved to see a blood-red scratch appear. Another reminder that the man she faced was human still, and she'd learned at the academy that all men could be killed.

  She leaped onto the hulk, wrapped her legs around him and hacked down with the knife. The hulk grabbed her wrist, stopping the blade inches from his eye, while his other hand squeezed her throat. Ziyi accepted the pain and ignored it. She focused all her strength into pushing her knife into the hulk’s eye. The blade moved another centimetre closer to the hulk's iris. The pressure on her neck intensified. Both were in a battle to see who's mek was better.

  With a scream, Ziyi rabbit punched the hulk in the face with her free hand, destroying his nose. She hit him again and again. He released her neck to seize her other wrist so she head butted him. Again and again she struck. She didn’t stop. Blood covered her face as she pounded her forehead into his face. She could feel his strength falter.

  Her blade hovered in front of his eye. The hulk's eyes widened, finally full of fear, and she thrust the knife into his brain.

  Ziyi used the hulk's falling body to launch herself across the room as the remaining terrorists opened fire once more. She hit the ground hard and rolled behind a knocked over desk as bullets zipped through the air. She scrambled deeper into the room, wishing to the heavens she had a rifle in her hands. She may have dropped six terrorists but there were still another five quite capable of killing her.

  "I got her! I think I got her!" A young voice shouted as the gunfire died down. "Anyone else see if I got her?"

  "Fuck man," said another, voice quaking with fear and adrenaline. "She's killed over half of us. Ain't seen no one move like that."

  "Shut up Charlie. Can't hear anything over your yammering." The third voice was older, confident, with a New York twang. "Anyone got eyes on her?"

  Ziyi kept crawling, hugging the shadows, aware of time running away from her. In her mind she used the voices of the AFA to pinpoint their positions.

  "There
she is," Charlie called out and he let rip another long burst from his assault rifle. Floor tiles, desks and paper shredded under the barrage — all a good twenty feet from where Ziyi actually was.

  "Cease fire! Cease fire!" screamed New York. "No one shoot until I say so. Charlie, John — make your way around. Harry, Bob — you take the other side. Keep your eyes fucking open and only fire if you see her. Wasting bullets on empty space ain't gonna help any of us. Got it?"

  "Roger that."

  "On it, boss."

  Ziyi's stomach clenched. Five against one and everyone had a weapon except her. She moved into a crouch, ready to spring, and filled her lungs with air. Footsteps approached to her left. Closer, closer, closer. The top of a man's head appeared out of the darkness.

  Ziyi screamed for all she was worth and threw herself at the American. He tried to bring an assault rifle to bear on her but she was on him in an instant. She smashed the palm of her hand into her opponent's larynx. She didn't check to see if he was dead, just spun her leg around to swipe his companion’s legs from under him. She grabbed the barrel of his rifle as he fell, ignoring the bullets still pouring out of it and her skin burning on the hot metal. Somewhere, elsewhere, men and women were shouting as she shoved its barrel under the man's chin. It only took a single bullet to punch his brains out the side of his skull.

  Two more down, three left but she had a weapon now. She stood up, rifle in hand. Two Americans were by the far wall, eyes wide in shock and in the centre of the room, gripping a pistol two-handed, was New York. The two dropped down behind some turned over desks so she gave New York a burst from her rifle as he brought his own weapon up. He jerked from side to side as the bullets tore his guts out and punctured his heart and lungs.

  Gun smoke clogged the air as she moved fast, heading over to the last two terrorists, firing as she ran. She didn't expect to do any real damage except force them to keep their heads down until she could close the distance.

  One of the men attempted to get a shot off at her, but Ziyi clipped him with a bullet in the shoulder before he could pull his trigger, then raked another three rounds across his torso. He was still in his death throes when Ziyi reached his friend. He was no more than a kid, all blonde hair and blue eyes, as all-American as you could get. How'd he'd gotten involved with the AFA, the Heavens only knew. He dropped his weapon and raised his hands up in surrender, tears staining his cheeks, clothes soaked in the blood of his fallen comrades, screaming for mercy.

  Ziyi double-tapped him — one in the heart, one in the brain. Mercy was for the innocent.

  She stood, surrounded by the dead, weapon-ready, and scanned the room for any other hostile. Satisfied none were left alive, she headed towards the area her locator showed Xiao.

  A door leading to a second room hid amongst the debris covering the far wall. Outside, neon danced with moonlight on the oil slick waters of Aberdeen Harbour. Further in the darkness, the spaceport on Lamma Island glowed like a lone star.

  Ziyi replaced her rifle's magazine with a full clip, hoping it would be enough for whatever waited for her on the other side. With a deep breath, she kicked the door open.

  18

  Wing

  Wing hit the roof of the monorail hard. His bad ankle took most of the impact, smashing more pain through his leg, before he went down onto his arm and shoulder, adding to the battering his body was taking. He rolled to the left and screamed, expecting to tumble off the side of the monorail at any second. Then Song's body was on top of his, covering him. He pressed himself as tight as possible against the cold metal surface, feeling the monorail vibrate through him, with his eyes shut, still convinced he was going to die.

  The police agreed and opened fire en masse from the bridge, and all Wing could do was squeeze his eyes tighter still, praying that none of the bullets would hit them. He felt every impact on the metal, flinched at every ricochet. The sound of breaking windows mixed with the screams of struck passengers, but at least the monorail didn't stop.

  Wing only realised he was still screaming when Song told him he could stop. He praised his eyes open to see the bridge growing smaller in the distance. Wind whipped through his hair as Song lifted herself off him.

  "Told you to trust me," said Song with a smile. "Second time tonight I've saved your life."

  "You're mad," said Wing. He crawled over to the central pillar connecting the car to the overhead rails, and hooked his arms around it, securing himself as tightly as possible. Only then could he bring himself to look at Song. "Fucking insane."

  "You're not dead yet. If we'd stayed up there, we would've been."

  "It was all for nothing though. I lost the jack kit," replied Wing.

  Song's grin grew wider. "No, you didn't." She swung around to show the bag hanging from her back. "Snatched that before I picked you up. Got priorities."

  "I don't believe it. I don't believe you. You're like some super secret agent."

  "Just keeping my wits about me. Nothing more than that."

  "Yeah?" Wing stared at her, trying to see the shy girl he used to work with. "What about the gun? Where'd you get that? Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

  "My dad taught me to use a gun, ever since I was a little girl. We've always had them around the house. And considering so many people seem intent on killing us, I thought it best to bring one with me." She dropped the smile and gave Wing a look of her own. "You should be thanking me — not interrogating me."

  "I know, I know. It's just... just... the whole world's turned upside down in the last twelve hours."

  Song gently touched his face. "We'll get through this. We just need to find out who's behind it."

  Wing wasn't so confident but he wasn't going to argue the point there and then. He leaned back against the central pillar to catch his breath.

  An hour later, they stood in the darkness of an alleyway, watching the front of the building on level Ninety-Eight, where Wan Chai met Happy Valley. Not as dangerous as being in the heart of the Chai, but a man could still get his throat cut for the change in his pocket if he wasn't careful. Somewhere overhead, the early morning sun chased away the night sky, and a soft golden glow crept along the edge of the starscrapers.

  Wing stifled a yawn and rubbed at the weight gathering under his eyes. "You sure this is the place?"

  "Best love hotel in Hong Kong," replied Song.

  Wing didn't ask how she knew. Didn't want to know how she knew. There was nothing about Song that surprised him anymore - she just wasn't the girl he thought she was. The word Eden sparkled in neon above the door with a naked man and woman entwined next to it. They were characters from a fairy tale or something similar but Wing couldn't place exactly where. It didn't really matter. Only staying free mattered. "We'll be able to jack in there?"

  "They've got a thing called a mind meld room for couples who want to share their thoughts while they have sex. Crazy intimate shit. We can use that to join our minds together while one of us jacks into the system using my kit. It's not perfect but we should be able to start digging around."

  "And we'll have privacy?"

  "You've never been to a love hotel before?"

  Wing didn't bother answering. He was feeling inadequate as it was, without adding further to his shame. There was no need to tell her that he couldn't remember the last time he got laid. It was bad enough his trousers were still damp from earlier. He kept his eyes on the hotel.

  "The room door stays locked for as long as we've got credit. These places don't care who's doing what to whom in there as long as they're getting paid. And they definitely won't ask for any names."

  A granny pushed a cart of durian past the front of the hotel, with a mangy stray dog yapping at her heels. They waited for her to disappear from sight and the street had settled down into silence once more.

  "Let's go," said Song. "And remember to act like you want to have sex with me."

  Wing stood up and slipped his arm around her shoulder, forced a grin to his face. A few hour
s ago he wouldn't have had to pretend, but the truth was Song scared the crap out of him now. He'd fancied her when she'd been a jack-in nerd like him. Now she was a gun-totting, kung fu assassin, he wasn't sure if he liked her more or less. He just knew if he put a foot wrong, she could easily break his neck.

  His ankle screamed in protest with every step, making his impression of being loved up even harder to maintain. The fall on to the monorail had done some serious damage to it. He hoped it wasn't broken.

  The inside of the hotel was everything Wing expected and more — it had been a long time since the floor had seen a mop and bucket of water and the Heavens only knew what was growing on the various surfaces, an ancient movie poster hung onto one of the walls for dear life and a whisky brand promised a life worth living next to it, and the air stunk of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no-smoking sign. The man behind the reception desk ignored them as they entered, his eyes fixed on a crackly holo-screen playing across the right hand wall, full of the Tsim Sha Tsui bombing. Wing's heart skipped a beat, expecting his own face to appear at any moment.

  "Five hundred yuan for the basic room," said the man without looking at them. "Buys you two hours. A hundred more if you want clean sheets. The management accepts no responsibility for anything that may or may not happen on the premises. Cash only."

  "We want the mind meld room," said Song.

  That got a reaction from the man. Enough to make him look up and cast an eye over the two of them. Wing managed an embarrassed smile in return, no acting required. "That's two thousand. You burn your brains out, that's your fault. You die, we won't notify next of kin — just chuck your bodies out with the trash. Okay?"

  Song nodded. "We know the risks. We've done this before." She placed a wad of used notes on the desk without counting it. In a world of retina banking, Wing hadn't seen that much real money in a long time.