Read Online Epic: Book 03 - Hero by Lee Stephen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lee Stephen
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blow. They all stopped and stared.
Nicolai said nothing for several moments, before finally nodding. “Yes, lieutenant. I hear what you say.”
The moment Svetlana stepped inside the Pariah , her arms broke out in goose bumps. For several seconds she stood in the bay door. Then she stared at the wall-mounted speaker. The last place she’d heard her boyfriend Anatoly’s voice.
Becan was right beside her. “Hey…yeh all righ’?”
She swallowed. “Yes.” The words were barely above whispers. “It has been a long time.”
Becan squeezed her shoulder and made his way in.
Most of the operatives had already taken their seats by the time Svetlana claimed one of her own. She held her helmet in her hands as the Nightmen filtered in and sat down. Though she occasionally glanced Scott’s direction, his eyes never met hers.
Esther watched Svetlana silently from her own seat, until her stare caught the medic’s attention.
Svetlana smiled as warmly as she could. “You must be Molly.”
Esther froze. Her eyes widened.
“ Molly?” said Becan.
Svetlana hesitated. “You are Molly, right? Molly Brooking, from Cambridge?”
“ Molly Brooking?” The Irishman looked puzzled.
“ That is the name on your medical records,” Svetlana frowned apprehensively. “Is it not correct?”
Esther’s face flushed cherry red. She looked down at her boots, furiously tightening her straps. Her voice trembled with irritation. “Yes, it’s correct. I’m Molly Brooking.”
“ Your name is Molly ?” Becan asked, his voice rising.
“ Yes, Becan! I don’t think everyone heard you—would you please try again?” Her sarcasm was thinly veiled.
Svetlana covered her mouth. “I am so sorry—do you not go by Molly?”
“ I go by my middle name,” Esther quietly answered.
Becan slowly put it together. “Molly…Esther.”
“ Yes,” the Briton murmured. “Molly Esther.”
“ Hey! D’yeh know wha’ tha’ sounds like?”
“ Let me guess! Molly Esther? Polyester? ‘Molly Polyester!’ Becan, that’s bloody wonderful! You’re so brilliant. Because believe me, I never heard that for the first seventeen years of my life!”
The cabin fell awkwardly quiet.
Scott sat in the back of the troop bay, surrounded by his Nightman comrades. He contemplated the situation in silence, his eyes focused in the distance and his elbows propped on his knees.
According to the log of the mission so far, the city’s EDEN stations were occupied with the Bakma Carrier, leaving few forces to defend other areas. Local police were effective but outmanned, leaving several hotspots almost defenseless. That was where the Fourteenth came in. They would hit what the stations couldn’t.
He’d seen the map he’d requested from Travis. He knew what his Nightmen would face. They’d be among the first to drop down, on the western end of the city. A strike team of Bakma had captured a multiple-story building. Hostages were involved, but he didn’t know how many.
That part made it a challenge, because hostages were not the Nightmen’s forte. Their specialty came in outright brutality. Strike hard and violently. That kind of recklessness didn’t work well with civilian lives. Already Scott was considering the tools he had to work with.
Egor Goronok. The freak. A tower of muscles so grotesque, the sight of him was enough to cause psychological dread. He was Scott’s human wrecking ball. Had he been with EDEN, he would have been a model demolitionist.
Auric Broll. The competent. Unlike Egor, the German slayer wasn’t a brute. He was consistent; he could do any job well. Scott only had to tell Auric something once.
Nicolai Romanov. The supplementary. He was their jack of all trades, masterful at nothing but adept at everything. No one made a better complement. No one made more of a creep.
Viktor Ryvkin. The cunning. The slayer-medic wielded his intelligence like a sword. That tenacity made him one of Scott’s most able slayers. It also
Nicolai said nothing for several moments, before finally nodding. “Yes, lieutenant. I hear what you say.”
The moment Svetlana stepped inside the Pariah , her arms broke out in goose bumps. For several seconds she stood in the bay door. Then she stared at the wall-mounted speaker. The last place she’d heard her boyfriend Anatoly’s voice.
Becan was right beside her. “Hey…yeh all righ’?”
She swallowed. “Yes.” The words were barely above whispers. “It has been a long time.”
Becan squeezed her shoulder and made his way in.
Most of the operatives had already taken their seats by the time Svetlana claimed one of her own. She held her helmet in her hands as the Nightmen filtered in and sat down. Though she occasionally glanced Scott’s direction, his eyes never met hers.
Esther watched Svetlana silently from her own seat, until her stare caught the medic’s attention.
Svetlana smiled as warmly as she could. “You must be Molly.”
Esther froze. Her eyes widened.
“ Molly?” said Becan.
Svetlana hesitated. “You are Molly, right? Molly Brooking, from Cambridge?”
“ Molly Brooking?” The Irishman looked puzzled.
“ That is the name on your medical records,” Svetlana frowned apprehensively. “Is it not correct?”
Esther’s face flushed cherry red. She looked down at her boots, furiously tightening her straps. Her voice trembled with irritation. “Yes, it’s correct. I’m Molly Brooking.”
“ Your name is Molly ?” Becan asked, his voice rising.
“ Yes, Becan! I don’t think everyone heard you—would you please try again?” Her sarcasm was thinly veiled.
Svetlana covered her mouth. “I am so sorry—do you not go by Molly?”
“ I go by my middle name,” Esther quietly answered.
Becan slowly put it together. “Molly…Esther.”
“ Yes,” the Briton murmured. “Molly Esther.”
“ Hey! D’yeh know wha’ tha’ sounds like?”
“ Let me guess! Molly Esther? Polyester? ‘Molly Polyester!’ Becan, that’s bloody wonderful! You’re so brilliant. Because believe me, I never heard that for the first seventeen years of my life!”
The cabin fell awkwardly quiet.
Scott sat in the back of the troop bay, surrounded by his Nightman comrades. He contemplated the situation in silence, his eyes focused in the distance and his elbows propped on his knees.
According to the log of the mission so far, the city’s EDEN stations were occupied with the Bakma Carrier, leaving few forces to defend other areas. Local police were effective but outmanned, leaving several hotspots almost defenseless. That was where the Fourteenth came in. They would hit what the stations couldn’t.
He’d seen the map he’d requested from Travis. He knew what his Nightmen would face. They’d be among the first to drop down, on the western end of the city. A strike team of Bakma had captured a multiple-story building. Hostages were involved, but he didn’t know how many.
That part made it a challenge, because hostages were not the Nightmen’s forte. Their specialty came in outright brutality. Strike hard and violently. That kind of recklessness didn’t work well with civilian lives. Already Scott was considering the tools he had to work with.
Egor Goronok. The freak. A tower of muscles so grotesque, the sight of him was enough to cause psychological dread. He was Scott’s human wrecking ball. Had he been with EDEN, he would have been a model demolitionist.
Auric Broll. The competent. Unlike Egor, the German slayer wasn’t a brute. He was consistent; he could do any job well. Scott only had to tell Auric something once.
Nicolai Romanov. The supplementary. He was their jack of all trades, masterful at nothing but adept at everything. No one made a better complement. No one made more of a creep.
Viktor Ryvkin. The cunning. The slayer-medic wielded his intelligence like a sword. That tenacity made him one of Scott’s most able slayers. It also
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