The Kasparov Agenda (Omega Ops Legion Book 1) (38 page)

“Well, you’re the only one with a gun,” Varick told Frank. “Work your magic.”

Outside the manor at ground level, the attack was intensifying. Scorcher watched in silence while his army slowly decimated the building. A hailstorm of bullets pummelled the walls and shattered windows—
it was unrelenting
.

Tony Calzone and Ulysses Frost stood alongside Scorcher. “Should we send some guys into the house, Scorcher?” Tony waited for an answer, but Scorcher said nothing. He was uncertain whether he had even heard him.

Scorcher watched the manor, with unblinking eyes. “Bruce Kasparov has stood in the light of glory for a long time. There will be no glamourous finish for this man. I will burn it all
to
ashes
.”

“...Scorcher?”

“You two are standing here... Get more heavy armaments from the trucks.”

Tony was slightly surprised by the coldness and intensity. “Err—sure thing, boss.” Frost and Tony walked away obediently. He glanced back at Scorcher, then stepped in close to Frost. “Does Scorcher seem different to you, Frost?”

“Why do you ask?” Frost continued to walk.

“I don’t know, he just seems...scarier. I mean, he’s
usually
scary, but now—I can’t quite place it. He’s more focused.”

“Maybe this is him taking things seriously.”

Tony looked over his shoulder at Scorcher, who remained standing in the same spot, unflinching. “Maybe...”

Bruce and Santos were positioned by the windows. Their backs were against the wall and, at the moment, safely out of the line of fire. Bruce looked to Santos. “Ready?”

“On your mark.”

Bruce looked down at his fists and began to focus. Flames consumed his fists and slowly began to spread. The energy travelled up his arms and towards his shoulders. Bruce gritted his teeth as his entire body became super-charged with energy.
Santos had reached the same elevated state
. Without the exchange of words, they synced their attack: Energy blasts roared out of their open palms and drove back Scorcher’s forces. With their bodies illuminated, any chance of stealth had vanished. Scorcher’s men took cover behind vehicles and fired on their glowing targets. Bruce and Santos were pelted with gunfire, but the bullets that struck them simply disintegrated in their fire.

Scorcher’s amber eye locked onto Bruce. He stood his ground and destroyed every energy blast that came his way with two fiery fists. “So...the flea shows himself.” He knelt down on one knee and launched a signature Scorcher flamethrower attack. Bruce hastily leaned against the wall as the fire shot through his window.

“Bruce, get to the second floor—I can keep them distracted from here,” said Santos. “Get a good vantage point and strike them from above.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. We’re not going to get anywhere like this. Get going.”

Bruce nodded and left the front line for Santos to cover. He rushed up the stairs and took sight from a second level window. He could see it all clearly from here: the heads of Scorcher’s thugs, pressed up against their vehicles. Bruce aimed his hand and unloaded a barrage. Being pelted from above, they ran into the open, where Santos had a clear line of fire. Between Bruce and Santos, Scorcher’s army was being picked apart, one by one. Scorcher looked up. Bruce gathered energy and fired a powerful blast that would’ve been fatal for any normal person. Scorcher grunted as he defended himself from Bruce’s attack, with both hands over his head. The impact caused Scorcher to take several steps back. But his recovery was immediate, and he retaliated with terrifying ferocity. Bruce hit the deck as Scorcher shot an energy blast at him which destroyed the window and surrounding brownstone.
But the projectile didn’t stop there: It
bore through the ceiling, went clean through the attic, and tore open the roof. Bruce looked up at the night sky through the gaping hole in the manor.
That attack was from Scorcher?
 

Varick and the others were startled out of their wits when the energy blast ripped past them. Stanley watched the projectile go straight up into the night sky and dissipate into the atmosphere. “Ho-ly...
crap
.”

“Well, looks like they’re having fun down there...” Varick muttered.

“Varick, we only have one option here. I provide cover-fire, and you go for the shed door. How fast can you get it open?”

“If they have a good shot, not fast enough.”

“I’m betting they don’t, but it’s gonna be your butt on the line.” Frank shrugged. “Your call.”

“Well, if I don’t, we’re gonna be here for a while...so let’s get to it.”

The sound of police sirens was drawing close. Tony Calzone and Ulysses Frost were standing beside a crate of heavy weapons they had taken out of their supply truck. “We’ve got company,” Tony muttered. He picked up an M4A1 with the grenade launcher attachment.

Scorcher approached the two of them. “Rally your troops and fortify our flanks. Engage the intruders, and put them down with
extreme
prejudice.”

Tony made his way to one end. “Ramon! Freddy! Your guys with me!” he called. Ulysses went to the opposite end with another handful of men. As police cruisers closed in from both sides, Scorcher’s troops welcomed them with heavy firepower. Frost fired off an RPG that exploded into the asphalt and forced the cruisers to screech to a halt. The officers evacuated their vehicles and took positions behind them. Scorcher’s forces were now sandwiched between two walls of police cars. Roy Cameron and Henry Schucker were among the first wave of officers on the scene, and many more were coming to deal with such significant numbers. The streets of Greenwich Village had been turned into a war zone.

Santos watched in horror as the police and Scorcher’s army engaged in a large-scale firefight. The b
odies were dropping on both sides
. He focused himself and fired off energy blasts in a desperate attempt to aid the police. Between Bruce and himself, the stragglers had all been knocked out. Everyone else on Scorcher’s side was safely behind cover. The ones that Bruce could get a bead on from his vantage point had also managed to scurry behind the larger trucks. Nearly a dozen men had targeted the gaping hole that used to be Bruce’s window and were now firing heavy rounds through it. Bruce stood against the wall while he waited for a break in their firing.

Santos was specifically trying to target the danger men: the ones with explosives. Santos knocked out a thug preparing to throw a grenade into the manor. He fell to the ground and with him, the unpinned grenade... “Get back, get back!” Scorcher’s men scrambled to get out of the grenade’s blast radius as it exploded. Santos’ demeanor was intense—
this was do or die for everyone
. Suddenly, the front door of the manor was smashed open. The reinforced door was knocked clean off its hinges by Scorcher’s boot. Santos turned in shock and was caught completely off guard.
How did he reach the door?
He didn’t even see his movements. With lightning-fast speed, Scorcher charged at Santos before he could react. Scorcher’s glowing palm struck into Santos’ chest, right through his energy shield. He flew back into the wall, where he hit the stone and collapsed. As he approached Santos, Scorcher sensed something else moving towards him. Bounding from the hallway, Leonardo leapt into the air and clamped his jaws firmly onto Scorcher’s gauntlet. His teeth sunk in. Scorcher looked down at the canine hanging from his forearm. His amber eye narrowed. He swung out his arm and smashed Leonardo against the wall. He yelped in pain and released his hold on Scorcher. He glanced down at the deep bites in his forearm, but there was no blood. Scorched watched as the marks slowly began to heal and miraculously disappear. He turned his attention back to Santos, as if there was no interruption. He was clearly unconscious, but Scorcher decided to address him nevertheless: “You’re not the one I want... You can burn here.” Scorcher
looked up to the ceiling and smiled.
 

“You two—just stay here,” Varick instructed to Alex and Stanley.

Stanley turned his head to Alex. “Can you do that, Alex?”

“Yeah.”

Stanley nodded repeatedly. “Yeah-yeah, we can do that, Varick.”

Varick opened his wallet and withdrew the shed key from his coin pouch. It was all about nerves and keeping a cool head and a steady hand. Varick nodded at Frank. “Do it.”

Frank peeked around the corner, stuck his arm out, and fired. His eye followed his arm all the way down to the end of his pistol sight. The instant Varick heard the first gunshot, he turned the corner and ran for the shed door.
He stuck the key in the lock, unlocked it, and frantically turned the door handle. He could hear bullets pinging off the shed. He kept turning the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge—it was frozen shut.
C’mon, you bastard!
He gritted his teeth, applied all his strength, and finally managed to force the door open and ran inside. “ARGH!” He closed the door behind him and hit the shed floor with a thud.
 

“Varick!” Frank called from outside the shed. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?” He had stopped firing and was safely back behind cover.

“No, I’m not alright, you idiot!” Varick snarled. “I just got shot in the ass!”

Frank laughed, despite himself. “You know—when I told you it’s your butt on the line...”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Frank!” Varick could hear Stanley sniggering outside the shed as well.

“Hey, but consider yourself lucky, that’s the million-dollar wound. But seriously, are you going to be okay?”

Varick sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Let’s just get on with this.”

“Alright. So, I managed to get one of the shooters—and there were actually four total.”

“So then, nothing’s really changed. Still three on their feet?” Varick called back.

“Yeah. So, what’ve you got in there?”

“Let me take a look.” He was talking back and forth with Frank in complete darkness. He felt the wound on his backside.
Goddammit... Whatever. Focus on the task at hand.
He pulled out his cell phone
and used the light from it to find an actual flashlight. Once the real thing was in hand, he was quick to find the zip-line assembly—but something else caught his eye as well. “Alright, Frank, new plan. What I got in here is a riot-control tear gas launcher. I’m going to send a round at them, and once I do, that will leave you free to move right up to the ledge of the roof. They’re going to try to get clear of the gas, and once they do, you’ll be at a good range to take them out. Sound good?”
 

“Just don’t miss!”

“That goes for you too! On my signal!” Varick held the launcher in his arms and kicked open the door. He leaned against the wall as they began shooting into the open shed. He measured the distance, tilted the launcher just right, and fired off a round...
Bingo
. The canister had landed on the enemy roof. Upon impact, the gas dispersed and blanketed the area in a large white cloud.

“It’s good! Go, Frank!” Varick yelled. Frank rushed out from behind the shed and moved swiftly to the roof edge, where he crouched down and waited. Varick slung a thick rope over his shoulder, reloaded the launcher, picked up the zip-line assembly, and joined Frank at the ledge. He placed the zip-line kit down by his feet and aimed the launcher. He fired another round onto the roof. Now they could see a figure emerging from the gas. Varick held his hand up to Frank. “Wait for it...” Another could be seen now. The two were rubbing their eyes profusely and coughing. They still had their guns held out in front of them, but they couldn’t aim them. Finally, the third man showed himself.

Frank aimed his pistol. “Got ‘em.” He fired quickly and accurately.
He had dropped all three
.
 

Varick stood up. “Nice job. Now let’s go.”

***

Scorcher knew exactly where Bruce was positioned above him.
He could sense it
. He directed his arm up towards the ceiling...

Bruce was back on the attack and pummelling the opposition. He had taken out several of the weapon supply trucks, and the police were now beginning to turn the tide of the battle. SWAT had arrived on the scene as well. And with all the commotion, came the news crews. They were swarming around police barricades, with several cameras focused on Bruce. Bruce’s full attention was on the outside battle. A
nd then it happened.
The attack from below
. The very floor Bruce stood on was obliterated by Scorcher’s projectile, and he was blasted off his feet. He screamed out. His energy shield took the brunt of the attack, and that was the only reason he was still alive. He landed on his back, severely injured, but
alive
. As he attempted to gather himself, Scorcher rose up from the hole in the floor...

Bruce’s vision was shaky. He was disoriented, but his eyes were not deceiving him: Scorcher had appeared in front of him...levitating in the air. “This can’t be...” His palms pressed into the floor as he tried to stand. Scorcher’s amber eye glowed and suddenly discharged a shot like a laser—right through Bruce’s chest. He clutched at his wound, gasping. “Goddammit...” Bruce bared his teeth and was looking livid as he stared into Scorcher’s ghoulish face. Bruce’s right hand began to glow and then, just as suddenly—
faded
. The flicker of flames disappeared. Bruce wheezed. “My power...”

Scorcher gently landed on the second floor. He placed his arms behind his back and slowly walked forward. He then stopped directly in front of Bruce.
“Do you know why—you cannot gather your energy? It’s because you are dying. It’s slowly leaving your body...trickling away...” Bruce hung his head. Scorcher looked down at Bruce and took a moment to relish in the pitiful state that Bruce was in. “All it takes is one split second. You let your guard down...and everything changes. For every victory, for every great deed you’ve accomplished...now—
it means nothing
.”