Read Online The Next Chronicle (Book 1): Next by Joshua Guess - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joshua Guess
Tags: Superhero/Sci-Fi
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and grabbing a hidden weapon could be disastrous.
She lobbed a flash-bang at the stairs leading to the bottom floor to buy a little time. Another advantage to her abilities was the blessing of nearly perfect reflexes and aim. The grenade slid over the edge and went off just below the lip of the stairwell, eliciting shouts from below.
She worked quickly, unloading the guns around her and breaking them down. Not as thorough a job as she would have done given more time, but the bundles of zip cuffs at her waist would help. Once the weapons were scattered around the room she dashed from person to person, cuffing them together ankle to wrist.
“Second floor clear,” she murmured into her headset. “Be advised, attackers have injuries.” After a moment's thought, she added, “You might want to tell someone to bring a knife. They're restrained.”
Archer's chuckle echoed in her ear.
She stood, facing the last set of stairs. The pain in her gut was fading, so she quickly checked the vest. The outer layer of Kevlar was shredded. Whatever had been in those shotgun rounds wasn't standard, that much was sure. Low-velocity rounds shouldn't have been able to go through the top layer.
Her fingers found the edges of the overlapping ceramic plates below the Kevlar. There didn't seem to be any damage to them. They'd stop anything short of armor-piercing rounds, even rifle bullets. Not that it would matter if she were hit in the head.
Kit was about to toss a smoke grenade down the stairwell when Archer's voice cut in loudly. “Wait, Agent Singh. Ben says the guards at the bottom are lined up behind a row of tables. They're waiting for you to come down to fire. They know they're trapped. They have to have heard us park the truck against the back door. You're standing in front of their only way out. His only way out, anyway.”
A brief silence, then, “I'm going to give you a distraction. Give me a mark. Ten seconds from then.”
With a sigh, Kit pulled her sidearm, holding it in her right hand, the smoke grenade in her left.
“ I really wish I wore a helmet,” she muttered.
“ Why didn't you?” Archer asked. “Didn't want to limit your visibility?”
“ Fuck, no,” Kit replied. “I didn't want to screw up my hair for this big date.” She took a deep breath.
“ Mark.”
Ten seconds later, a reverberating crash sounded from the end of the bottom floor, somewhere in the vicinity of the back door. Kit had already dropped her smoke bomb and pulled another at top speed, both clattering down the stairs. Instead of going down after them, she waited.
Gunfire erupted in a wall of sound. Bullets bit into the stairs and wall below her, though she could hear rounds slapping into metal elsewhere. Kit stomped hard, the sound lost in the din, and broke the top three steps in half with three sharp thrusts of her boot. The hole they left behind was small, but big enough for her to fit through.
Probably , she thought.
She took aim and fired at the second smoke bomb just before stepping forward. She hadn't pulled the pin. That was deliberate.
The hollow-point made short work of the grenade, sending a burst of smoke behind the first as well as giving her opponents a new target to reflexively fire at.
She dropped. Luckily, she fit through the hole without getting hung, and as soon as her feet hit concrete she ducked and ran sideways. Automatic fire followed her, raking the floor behind as she desperately dove for cover.
She risked a glance back. The hail of bullets trended upward on the wall. Whoever this Charmer was, he wasn't a professional. Full-auto was almost impossible to control. Had they been firing bursts, she wouldn't have made it to cover. Whoever the goons under his mental compulsion were, they probably didn't have experience fighting this way.
Kit flattened to the ground, looking under the table she was hiding behind. She could see an array of knees in front of her. Five sets.
Perfect aim, perfect reflexes.
The will
She lobbed a flash-bang at the stairs leading to the bottom floor to buy a little time. Another advantage to her abilities was the blessing of nearly perfect reflexes and aim. The grenade slid over the edge and went off just below the lip of the stairwell, eliciting shouts from below.
She worked quickly, unloading the guns around her and breaking them down. Not as thorough a job as she would have done given more time, but the bundles of zip cuffs at her waist would help. Once the weapons were scattered around the room she dashed from person to person, cuffing them together ankle to wrist.
“Second floor clear,” she murmured into her headset. “Be advised, attackers have injuries.” After a moment's thought, she added, “You might want to tell someone to bring a knife. They're restrained.”
Archer's chuckle echoed in her ear.
She stood, facing the last set of stairs. The pain in her gut was fading, so she quickly checked the vest. The outer layer of Kevlar was shredded. Whatever had been in those shotgun rounds wasn't standard, that much was sure. Low-velocity rounds shouldn't have been able to go through the top layer.
Her fingers found the edges of the overlapping ceramic plates below the Kevlar. There didn't seem to be any damage to them. They'd stop anything short of armor-piercing rounds, even rifle bullets. Not that it would matter if she were hit in the head.
Kit was about to toss a smoke grenade down the stairwell when Archer's voice cut in loudly. “Wait, Agent Singh. Ben says the guards at the bottom are lined up behind a row of tables. They're waiting for you to come down to fire. They know they're trapped. They have to have heard us park the truck against the back door. You're standing in front of their only way out. His only way out, anyway.”
A brief silence, then, “I'm going to give you a distraction. Give me a mark. Ten seconds from then.”
With a sigh, Kit pulled her sidearm, holding it in her right hand, the smoke grenade in her left.
“ I really wish I wore a helmet,” she muttered.
“ Why didn't you?” Archer asked. “Didn't want to limit your visibility?”
“ Fuck, no,” Kit replied. “I didn't want to screw up my hair for this big date.” She took a deep breath.
“ Mark.”
Ten seconds later, a reverberating crash sounded from the end of the bottom floor, somewhere in the vicinity of the back door. Kit had already dropped her smoke bomb and pulled another at top speed, both clattering down the stairs. Instead of going down after them, she waited.
Gunfire erupted in a wall of sound. Bullets bit into the stairs and wall below her, though she could hear rounds slapping into metal elsewhere. Kit stomped hard, the sound lost in the din, and broke the top three steps in half with three sharp thrusts of her boot. The hole they left behind was small, but big enough for her to fit through.
Probably , she thought.
She took aim and fired at the second smoke bomb just before stepping forward. She hadn't pulled the pin. That was deliberate.
The hollow-point made short work of the grenade, sending a burst of smoke behind the first as well as giving her opponents a new target to reflexively fire at.
She dropped. Luckily, she fit through the hole without getting hung, and as soon as her feet hit concrete she ducked and ran sideways. Automatic fire followed her, raking the floor behind as she desperately dove for cover.
She risked a glance back. The hail of bullets trended upward on the wall. Whoever this Charmer was, he wasn't a professional. Full-auto was almost impossible to control. Had they been firing bursts, she wouldn't have made it to cover. Whoever the goons under his mental compulsion were, they probably didn't have experience fighting this way.
Kit flattened to the ground, looking under the table she was hiding behind. She could see an array of knees in front of her. Five sets.
Perfect aim, perfect reflexes.
The will
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