Chapter Text
San Francisco
October 2025
22:00
The chill of the cold metal rigging seeps through my black ballistic nylon jacket like it isn't even there. I am laying on the far end of a cantilever crane two hundred meters in the air with nothing to save me if the wind decides to flip my body around like a leaf. From my vantage point, the city of San Francisco fills my view with sparkling towers of glass and light. The evening sun set more than an hour ago, and from this elevation I can just barely see the faintest orange glow on the horizon. The dome of darkness above is a deep blue hue as the unfashionable arm of the Milky Way arches overhead.
Holy shit sticks, that's almost poetic! Heh 'dome of darkness...' Gonna have to remember that one. I'm sure Max will get a kick out of the fact that I'm mellowing out, considering the problems I've had with self-confidence. It has been an entire month since my last breakdown, and this little mission we were doing is gonna prove to myself that I'm back in the game. Still, the downtime and therapy opened my mind; I've done a lot of reading, and some of the ones on mental health suggested exercises in creative writing. Initially, I discounted the activity as not something fit for my badass, super-hot, tough-gal reputation, but the therapist I was seeing supported the idea, as did Max, much to my chagrin. At first, I bitched and grumbled a lot about it, but as I got out my ideas and organized them, I realized I started to enjoy it. It's no fucking masterpiece, and it was like shitting bricks to get up the nerve to press the 'Post' button on the fan site, but Max loved the little story, making the whole thing worthwhile. I didn't tell her that the main character was based on her... the little goop figured it out all on her own. While reading it, he got that adorable faraway look as the freckles on her face grow darker, blushing her cheeks. Max had calmly closed the lid of her laptop, and her pair of perfect blue windows to her soul sought me out, letting me in. We fell in love once more, like we do every moment we're together.
I sigh at the memory. "Goddamn, bitch. That one was awesome too!" Kinda getting me excited, to be honest. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. 'What the fuck is wrong with you? Come on, Chloe, concentrate!' This is not the time to be distracted.
"Did you say something, Chlo? I didn't get all that. There's a little interference from the elevator shaft."
Groaning, I take my eyes away from the scope I'm using and place my forehead on the narrow platform in front of me. Fuck... "Uhm... er... n.. nothing, Babe. Just... ah, talking to myself." It is really difficult focusing on being my badass field operative self when my mind keeps going back to my wife.
"Uh huh..." The woman of my dreams doesn't sound convinced, so I try to change the subject.
"How you doing, Maxaroo?" I look at my watch to check how she's progressing versus the next waypoint. "You're a little bit ahead of schedule."
"Nice save, Love. And if you really want to know, climbing up an elevator shaft is not as easy as it looks. I'm... uhhh... just passing the fifty-fifth floor."
"Awesomesauce, Spider-Max!" I start singing the old spider-man music, customized for my super-powered First Mate. Hell… why not? We are the dorknamic duo1, right? We should have a theme song of our own.
🎵 Spider-Max, Spider-Max... friendly neighborhood Spider-Max... 🎵
When I can't remember the remaining words, I continue by humming…
🎵 Hmmm hm hm. Hmmm hm hm. Dah da dah da dah dah dah... here comes the SPIDER-MAAAAAAXX!!!! Yeah!!! 🎵
"Whoa!!! Fuck!!" I hear the sound of shuffling, quick, uneven breaths, and finally a clanking noise that repeats, getting quieter every second. Shit! I'd been on an open mic while I was singing.
"M... M... Max! Are you okay?" I pan the scope around the area pointlessly; the optics aren't set up for heat signatures. God damn mother fuck!
After hearing about thirty seconds of fast breathing over the comm, thankfully, my First Mate answers.
"I'm fine, Chloe. Just... oh... hanging out on the fifty-fourth floor... sorta. Lost the decoder, so I'll have to do it the hard way."
The breathless way she pronounced each word makes me think she was dangling over an abyss by her fucking fingertips.
"What the fuck happened, Babe?"
"You happened, that's what. Every beautiful, loving, pirate-punk, and badass part of you is entirely too distracting, especially when you sing. So, I guess I wasn't concentrating enough on not falling fifty-some-odd floors to my fucking death. Oh no, instead my mind goes all goopy when you act like a dog-damned nerd, and things like not missing my next handhold kinda become secondary... On the other hand, I guess it's a good test of the magnetic crampon; it seems to hold my weight at least."
"Ohhh... uh... sorry?"
"Chlo, it's alright. I haven't been out in the field with you in almost six months. I'm bound to be a little rusty."
I feel my self-confidence take a nosedive. Fuck! If she got hurt because of me... "Maxie, are you sure you want to do this? We can always back out and get Sloane to do it."
"Nope, this is the only window of opportunity for the next half-year; Sakamoto and the access codes will be untouchable after tomorrow, and, you know Sloane is at the twin's birthday bash until next week."
Sloane is on a beach somewhere partying it up, and while she's going to meet us later, on our way home, a huge part of me wants to grab Max and go gate crashing. "I could go in and get the shit, and you could be out here watching my super-sexy self instead. Then we can blow this place and join her."
Over the comm, I hear the love of my life giggle. "Never stop being you, Chlobear. Nah, you know why I have to do this; it's the only way to make sure we can't be tracked. I'm the one that can go in, get the goods, get out, and never have been there in the first place. Time-lord, remember? Should keep them off our tails."
Yeah, 'them,' I understand, logically at least, perfectly well why we need Max's ability now, more than ever. It is nice seeing her back doing field work, my very own partner-in-crime, but that doesn't mean I’m not going to worry. "God damn, I love it when you talk like that… makes me wanna… er… uhh... just be careful, yeah?"
"I will, that is if a certain gorgeous woman would stop breaking my concentration. You do know I'm hanging by my fingertips and experimental climbing gear, right? It's a loooooong way down..."
"Maaaaxx, stop messing around, you're scaring me!"
"Heh heh heh! A big, tough, badass like you is scared?"
She was teasing, but right then, all I can imagine is what will happen if I lose her. "Not scared, Max ... and you forgot hot-as-fuck, too."
"Sure you’re not, oh mighty Captain Bluebeard. Now, If you will please look over to the rooftop for just a second."
I pull away from the spotting scope and glance at the top of the building, which is two less stories than the crane I was laying on. In the distance is a shadow of a person dressed in black and walking along its edge. Looking back through the optics, I zoom in until my vision fills with my wife's freckles and blue eyes. I can see she's watching in my direction because just as I get her clearly into focus, she blows me a kiss.
Fuck, what I will do for that woman! My heart beats like a drum, and fireworks that only I can see fill the skies around me like it's Fourth of July. Yup, I am living the American dream: life, liberty, and the pursuit of Max. It doesn't get much better than this.
"God damn, Babe, the things you do to me. Come oooon, hurry up so we can get outta here."
Her dorky smile fills the digitally enhanced viewer, shaking her head and answering my plea. "Not until we're finished, but you can speed things up, though. Since I can't go through the front door, I'll need to go in from the top. You wanna shoot this deadbolt off the door, pretty please, Chlo? I'm fresh out of explosives."
"Gonna rewind after?"
"Yup, that's the plan."
"Gotcha, Ninja-Max. Stand back a sec."
Switching from the spotter, which I fold up and hook to my pack, I slide the long rifle from my back, pull the bipod legs into position, and settle the stock against my shoulder. Through the eyepiece I see the distance and elevation change on its digital display. The medium range Tac50 is already sighted to two-hundred and fifty meters and there is, amazingly, no wind to adjust for. I turn the side dial one click and center the reticle just at the upper edges of my target.
"Fire incoming, Maxie-Pad."
I place my finger onto the trigger and pull it to its first stop, concentrating on my pattern of breathing. In… out… a second time, in… out. As soon as my lungs are completely empty, I gently press the trigger the remaining distance. The compact sniper rifle bucks on my shoulder, its shock traveling down to the tips of my toes, while a hypersonic projectile covers the distance almost instantly. Looking back through the viewer I see not just the lock, but half the door blown to little bits. Given how far up I am, I have no concern about the weapon's booming report; it will go unnoticed at ground level.
Have I mentioned how much I love this fucking job? You have no idea!
"Bit of overkill, don't you think, Chlo? You had to bring the fifty and the explosive rounds, didn't you?"
"Heh, well… they're all new, yeah? Had to break them in, right?"
Over the comm I hear Max laughing her ass off. "And what better way than to do some breaking and entering, right?"
"You know me so well." God, I love this girl!
Her laughter picks up again. "That I do, Love. Inside and out. Literally." She blows me another kiss and starts slowly stepping through the wreckage, being careful of the metal door’s sharp edges. The moment I lose sight of Max, a wave of disorientation makes my head spin. Blinking once, I look through the rifle’s sights to see the door is whole again; memories of me pulling the trigger pass in front of my eyes, so I eased my finger away from the guard, setting the gun’s safety.
"I’m in, Chlo."
I shift the angle of the rifle, surveying the penthouse’s interior and looking for threats.
In another part of the city
Cellphone notification:
>An event has been detected. Probability 97%
>Type STOP to ignore.
Fat fingers type in a simple response.
>Monitor and forward to management
>Access 988A23
Almost immediately a green message bubble appears.
>Confirmed
Back Inside the Penthouse
I quietly walk down the small flight of steps in the roof-access stairwell; behind me, the locked metal door stands closed and completely undamaged. It was a small rewind, just about ten seconds, so I have plenty of reserve should things go south. When I reach the first platform, I look downward along the center shaft, the concrete and metal path I am on spiraling along the wall’s perimeter. Conduits and ventilation ducts branch out near the base where the stairs end, which should, if the structural diagram of the building is accurate, lead to the uppermost floor’s power and cooling systems. From the building's records, which Kate easily obtained, the current owner retrofitted the top two stories into one huge residence, and all the equipment had to be brought in from above. So that's the way I'm going to get in.
'Always have a Plan B.'
Our original plan of going in through the front door, is a bust because I dropped the security bypass kit. Since I happened to be falling at the time, there is simply no way to rewind my way out of it. So, the alternate path is to go in through the ventilation system, which, as I gaze down and around the next lower platform, is right where it should be. I glide lightly down the stairs, until I arrive at the next level where a steel mesh vent covers the ducting that will lead to the heating and cooling room. From there, it is easy access to the main penthouse.
Flicking out my Leatherman multi-tool, I select the flathead screwdriver and loosen the bolts that hold the cover in place.
"I'm at the access way, Chlo. Be done in a few seconds, then I'll start recording."
"Roger that, Babe. See you on the other side."
I twist the fasteners until the four corners become loose, setting each down on the floor, and carefully removing the grill. Beyond is a horizontal shaft which leads into the dark. I turn the black cap on my head around so it's bill wouldn't obstruct my view and readjust the attached light and camera unit, switching it on. A dim red glow bathes the interior of the duct, enough to see and record without ruining my eye's night vision. Kneeling down, I slide head-first into the narrow passage.
"Yo, Love. I'm in. Video is running, you got a good feed?" Whether Chloe was watching through her spotting scope or her gun's sights, she'd see whatever I did.
"Copy. Yeah, it's really clear. I guess Warren comes through again."
"Yup. Gonna wait to replace the grate until I'm through, that way I only need to do one rewind, and we can see how well the automatic replay works for longer periods. You cool with that?"
"Go to it, Ninja-Max! I'll keep my eyes peeled while you're out of contact."
We expect the metal confines of the duct to break comms, so we are relying on the recorder to continue filling the camera's buffer. Whatever happens, we will be able to review the events as necessary. I press the button on my watch to keep track of how long I'm going to be in the shaft. "Heading in."
I start crawling, arm over arm, basically dragging myself, in the confined passage. Coming to a tee in the path, I roll up my sleeve to reveal the small mini-comp's screen attached to my arm. The little unit is a neat tool Vicky acquired through some of her contacts in DARPA. Officially it's known as a Mobile Operations Linked Lattice Intelligence, which is quite a mouthful. However, the onboard AI scoffed at the designation the day it was activated, accepting the simple name Molly instead. Each of us, including Katie and Sloane, carried one of these and it could be used for everything from scanning for hidden threats to posting updates on Discord. While each of the learning computers can work independently if needed, they maintain a single continuity, synchronized by a system that is connected through a classified encrypted channel that has incredible range and ability to pass through almost any obstruction. Warren says the technology is not something he can comment on due to NDA and legal reasons. Anyway, we're effectively doing field testing of the devices for the government, and Vic managed to get us a handsome grant in return. With Warren's clearance to manage it, we can report flaws and deactivate it if the issue becomes somehow life-threatening. Over the two months that we've all gotten familiar with its capabilities, its evolving personality exhibits bits of each of the team but is tending to be more and more Chloe-like; maybe my wife is interacting with it more than I know.
I tap the button on the side of the device, putting it in handsfree mode. "Molly, I don't remember an intersection here. Which way?"
The little AI didn't answer immediately, but instead projects a faint fan-like light that sweeps its scanning laser across the diverging intersection.
<Beats the hell out of me, Mrs. Price. It's not on any of the blueprints, and the county records for the renovation permits are only two years old. It appears that someone has done some extra engineering.> The screen switches views to show my current position; the narrow duct should have proceeded forward another ten meters.
"What the fuck, Molly? Mrs. Price? I thought we were passed that. My name is Max."
<No, it's not, Mrs. Price. It's Maxine.>
Ugh, just like my parents. Dad eventually got a hint, but Mom always called me that... "Yes, Molly, you're right. It is. But please just call me Max. That way it doesn't sound like I'm always in trouble."
<Noted. The name Maxine is another word for trouble. I will update my data that the two words are synonymous.>
I realize we're having a gap in understanding each other, so I try to explain to the AI. While I'm sympathetic that the computer is still figuring things out, I can't believe I'm having this conversation while stuck in the middle of a ventilation shaft. I make a mental note to ask Warren about whether it's a bug.
"That's not what I mean. Those two words do not have the same meaning. It's an expression people use. How do I explain it? When I was young, whenever my parents called me Maxine, it's always because I'd done something I wasn't supposed to. Otherwise, Dad at least eventually started calling me Max, which is what I prefer."
<So, it is my understanding based on the literature of early childhood development contained within my database, Max, that when you behave in a way you're not supposed to, it meets the criteria for the concept of 'getting in trouble.' I fail to see the difference.>
I run my free hand through my slightly sweaty hair, then lean my forehead on its palm. I take a couple of seconds to relax as I realize I'm starting to get frustrated with the little device.
"Molly, do you trust me?"
<Yes, Max, of course I do.>
"Then please just use Max when referring to me, and try to understand that 'Maxine', no matter how I acted when I was growing up, it is not interchangeable with the word 'trouble.' Okay?"
<I see. I will refer to you as Max from now on, though I do have a question.>
"What is it?"
<Your wife often refers to you by completely different names. In fact, she and I have had long discussions during the evenings about this very topic. For example: Maxaroo, Maximus, Super-Max, Spider-Max, Max-a-riffic, Mega-Max, Ninja-Max, Monster-Max, Maxi-Pad , Sexy-Max, Sexy-Sexy-Max, Super-Sexy-Sexy-Max, Hella-Ultra-Super-Sexy-Sexy...>
And now I know why Molly's personality is trending towards being Chloe-like.
"Oh my Dog! Okay, I get it! Please make a note that you, me and my wonderful partner need to sit down and teach you about nicknames. Now then, we should get on with our current mission. Any ideas?"
< Max. I'm sorry, I do not know which way to turn.>
Having not gotten any additional info from the computer, I switch it off and slide my sleeve back into place, covering the device. I have to figure out which way to go. Reaching into one of the small pouches on my harness I extract a small blue lighter; Chloe said I should always have one handy, and it should do the trick. Placing it in the middle of the tee, I flick it once, producing a nice steady flame. Then, I watch the little fire dance around as the slight air currents push it to the left side.
Go with the flow. "Chloe, I know you can't hear me, so this is just for the record. There's a tee in the ductwork that isn't on the plans. I'm heading down the left corridor with the air currents. Should lead me to an output."
I bend and twist around the corner, then continue to crawl forward, finding another ninety-degree bend to the right. I move on, creeping through the metal tunnel another three meters when I come up to a vent on the right-hand side; it is about half the size of the one I passed through. There's no way I can fit but I get a look at the room beyond. Even though I can't see a lot, since the lights in the addition are not on, my limited perspective allows me a peek at racks and racks of servers set up in rows throughout the room.
Once again revealing the tactical computer, I detach the form fitting device from its mount on my forearm and hold the flexible screen up to the crisscrossed mesh. In a hushed voice, barely a whisper, I ask the AI to record the room. "Get a scan of this, Molly."
Without the device replying, the pale blue tracking laser fans out to capture the area. When it is done, I flip the unit around to see some of the data:
- 30 compute class 2U blade servers. 100 750-Terahertz CPU each, 384k cores.
- 10 K-700 solid state storage chassis. Base capacity before upgrades 200 petabytes.
- The device in the center of the room houses a quantum analysis core and associated reference link. From the exterior it seems to be based on the Chinese design that hackers leaked last year. Note the feed tube from the liquid helium tank; just slightly above absolute zero.
Hmmm. Interesting. "Thanks, Molly." The screen flickers once, the computer's version of silent acknowledgment, and I place it back in its customary location, carefully bending the panel around my arm and securing it.
Why would Sakamoto have a quantum computer in the first place? While we've been tracking him as the financial center of a dozen different terrorist organizations, I cannot imagine the reason he needs such a specific scientific device. It is almost exclusively used as a research tool for universities and government entities. DARPA itself has dozens of similar units, though certainly not of Chinese design, tucked away across the US. I'm beginning to think I've uncovered a whole new unexpected facet of the operation.
I continue crawling onward, passing several similar openings, all venting into the same room. Finally, after another couple of minutes of dragging myself along the steel duct, I come to another righthand turn. In the dim glow of my headset, five meters further, the confined passageway stops and beams of light split through the vanes of the of the capped end, making crazy shadows along the opposite side. I wait a bit, flip off my own lights, and watch, looking for signs of movement that would interrupt the backlit patterns.
Nothing changes, so I approach the grate and attach one of the slats to my harness with a bungee cord. Using a pair of plyers, I back out the sheet metal screws that are holding the cover in place and, they one-by-one fall to the floor and make little ticking sounds as they hit. Hmm, wood flooring; it can't be helped. As far as I know, the place is empty, but I hope there's no audio-based alarm sensors. I'll rewind if I must. Finally unsecured, I lower the panel quietly to the ground and wriggle myself out of the ventilation shaft, ending up doing a handstand along the wall. Tucking, I roll silently into a kneeling position then turn my head to each direction. It seems like I'm all alone.
I was in the corner of two hallways, one proceeding forward, and another on my left. The place is lit by sconces on the walls, placed evenly along each corridor. Each light produces a soft white cone which reflects off the tan walls and ceiling to illuminate the entire area with a rich, warm glow that makes the dark mahogany flooring a chocolate-like color. It's very tasteful, really. Sakamoto's profile described the man as one that prefers minimalist's decor so, as expected, there isn't much else to see except an occasional closed wooden doorway. I make note of the one that I suspect leads to the server room addition, thinking I might have time to take a quick peek at the hardware up close.
"I'm in, Babe. Stand by, gonna rewind."
Pressing the timer button to halt the stopwatch, I see that it took me only ten minutes to crawl through. That's awesome, I'll still have a little over fifteen minutes in reserve. That should be enough time to deal with any problems I may encounter. I set the timer to countdown mode for the number of minutes I need to rewind, then repeat what I'd did at the entrance. I unravel time and events to put both vents back where they belong, screws and all. When the beeping sounds, I stop. While I have only used half of my self-regulated powers, I can feel a bit of a headache forming behind my right eye.
"You okay, Spider-Max? Seemed longer than..." There was a pause, and I knew Chloe was going back through the video now that we had communications again. "... Whoa, fuck! Is that a quantum computer? What the hell do terrorists need with a beast like that?"
"Dunno, Chlo. If I have time, I'll check it out. Might be able to get a watchdog into it. How was the re-play?"
"Fucking hella rocked, Babe! Just like before, it felt like I was actually in your head; The images seemed to overlay memories of my own actions perfectly. Seriously, Dude, I could see the ventilation shaft and the outside of the building all at once. How much time you got left?"
"A little over fifteen minutes. If I get time, I really want to take a look at that computer room, but the mission comes first."
"Roger that, Maxie. Gotta love your professionalism."
"That's not all you love, Love."
"Heh heh. So very true, Dork. Be careful, yeah?"
"As always. I got this, Chloe... kinda cool to be back in the field instead of behind a desk." I start around the corner, walking the short length until it opens into a large office. Again, there isn't much to see, the sparseness described in the dossier is right on the money. A desk stands in the middle of the room, facing away from the floor to ceiling windows that wrap around three of the four walls and display a 270-degree view of the glittering cityscape backed by the Pacific Ocean, the arches of the Golden Gate Bridge, and San Francisco Bay with Oakland in the distance. It is a spectacular view, and I simply admire it for a couple of minutes. On the desk's ox blood-red leather blotter is a thin, closed laptop, a pen, and a mouse. Like me, the financial crook seems to prefer using a traditional computer pointing device instead of the trackpad on the lappy. That's cool, because it's a good place to put a bug.
Otherwise, besides bookcases covering the wall to either side of the entryway, a single doorway leads to a private bathroom, and a pair of modern, very uncomfortable chairs facing the desk, the room is empty. I walk around the desk, glancing at the windows to the east and searching for the crane my backup is watching from. Upon finding the cantilever arm, I raise my both hands in front of me and point finger-guns casually in Chloe's direction. Pew! Pew!
"Got eyes on ya, First Mate! Did I ever tell you how sexy you are in all black?"
"Yeah, Chlo', at least a dozen times. That's why it took so long to get ready, remember?" I smile, blow her a kiss, then turn back to the laptop. Mayyyyyybe I wiggle my ass a bit in my wife's general direction while I replace the mouse's battery with one that contains a bug. Heh heh. I am reaching over to flip open the computer's lid when Chloe apparently recovers enough to say something.
"Damnit, Max. You can't just do that to me... when we're done here, I'm gonna..." She doesn't finish her sentence, and after about thirty seconds more, I start to worry that we've lost our comms again. Turning around to face the darkness outside, I don't see anything out of the ordinary that would explain it.
"Chlobear? Babe?"
Silence. For a moment I'd start to get a bad feeling in my gut and wonder if something is wrong. Seconds later she, thankfully, answers.
"Yeah, sorry, Maximus. Had to check something. Looks like we have a problem. Three black SUVs just pulled up in front of the building. I count eight dudes, all heavily armed, running in through the private entrance. There's only one place they could be going."
Shit! I guess my instincts are right. We've got company, but then again, we've planned for it; time to get serious, get the job done, escape, and evade without leaving any tracks.
"How long do you think, Chlo'?"
"I can probably slow them down, but it can't be more than ten minutes."
I can work with that. "Okay, Chloe, you are my eyes. The elevator opens up below me on the north side of the building. You keep them from getting me, take any and all actions you think necessary. If I get done and out within fifteen minutes from first contact, we'll be fine. I'll meet you at the diner on Third Street. Don't take any chances, though. I don't want to rewind you back into the line of fire." That is one of the logistic nightmares of my powers. I can't stop something or someone from rewinding along with everything else unless I'm literally touching them.
"Gotcha, Max. And Babe, if the worst should happen... I... I will find you, no matter what it takes."
She's so sweet; it's why I'll rewrite the history of everything if she were to get hurt. In some cases, it really seems we're two parts to the same person, or soul, or whatever; one can't function without the other. I really believe that, and it is nice to hear she'll do the same for me in her own particular badass way.
"Same, Chlo'. I'll be fine. Just give me the time I need."
"Already on it." I hear a tremendous gunshot in my earpiece as Chloe opens fire and starts doing what she does best, break things. "Slowed down the elevator, Max. Can't get a shot at the other motor, but the primary is down. Go go go!"
I press the start button on my stopwatch and quickly focus on Sakamoto's laptop. After opening it, I am greeted with a login screen, all in Japanese. Our intel doesn't have what the password is, but that's why I've got my little computer friend with me in the first place. I pull the device from my arm, and jack it into one of the ports on the side of the laptop.
"Okay, Molly, do your thing."
<Understood.> A couple of seconds later, I watch asterisks populate the password field, and a following rejection. <Hmmm, tricky bastard... but let's see how you like this.>
This goes on for a few more seconds, until the entire lockscreen fades out and is replaced by a pixelated desktop.
"Uhm, Molly, what's this?"
<There is a second layer of encryption. I am attempting to bypass.> On the little device's screen, a percentage complete gauge displays showing zero briefly, then ticks up once. <This might take a bit, Max. Please stand by.>
"Okay, Molly. You know what we're looking for. Get in as fast as you can then signal me when it's done."
The little AI doesn't answer, obviously concentrating on the problem. Damn it! That's all we need. I detach the AI from my arm, and place it on the desk, then get back on the comms.
"Chlobear, we're gonna need a little more time."
"Little bit busy, Maximus, but I get'cha. Hang on, I'm gonna turn out their lights, but you'd better hurry your ass up!"
I acknowledge her transmission with a little click of my mic. Afterwards, a huge concussion fills the downstairs rooms and travels all the way to my current position. The air is filled with static, and I can hear crackling as electricity jumps from junction to junction. I imagine the big grin on my wife's face when seeing the results of the EMP round.
"Okay, Babe! That should keep them out of your hair for a couple of minutes; elevator is stopped half-way to the lower level."
"Awesome, Chlo! Keep me informed."
Seeing as there's nothing I can do until the AI breaks in, and the coast has been temporarily cleared, I turn back to the entryway and walk down the corridor until I get to a heavy door with a deadbolt. From my memory, this should lead me to the room with the strange quantum computer. Before I start in on opening the door, I call back to Molly.
"Yo, Molly! How are you doing?"
<Ten percent, Max. I'm working as fast as I can! Asking me won't speed things up.>
Yup, just a little bit of Chloe in there, backtalk and everything. I shake my head, chuckling a bit, then pull a flashbang from a cargo pocket, and set it for a proximity detonation. After placing it all the way at the end of the corridor that leads to the first level of the penthouse, I get to work on the tumbler lock. It takes me about a minute to pick my way through the bolt, and the door swings open on silent hinges. The room I saw previously through the small vent spreads out in front of me, the soft whir of fans keeping the auxiliary devices cool, while a fine fog drifts along the floor from the incredibly frigid liquid helium pipeline. Insulated or not, even the slightest moisture in the air, upon touching the feeds, precipitates out as a fine frost that floats lazily down to the ground. While I don't have Molly here to get a better scan, I take out my phone, and snap pictures of every angle. When I've gone completely around the stack of hardware in the center of the room, I retrieve a small USB drive from one of my pouches. Warren said it would be able to infiltrate almost any OS; all I need to do is insert it and wait a couple of minutes until the light on the storage device turns green. I find a port and stick the USB key into it. The light starts blinking red.
I look at my watch, the time I've used continues to increase. I've passed ten more minutes, so I have only a little more than five to go before I won't be able to use my powers to clear the scene, and that won't help anyone. I poke my head into the corridor, asking the AI for a status report.
<Like I said, it hella doesn't help if you keep hella asking, but I've managed to break through. I am looking for the target files now. My, my, there are sure a hella lot of them.>
Huh. I guess me and Chloe are going to have to teach Molly about the proper use of the word 'hella.' I love that the little unit is trying fit in, which makes my own memories of middle and high school and my mostly failed attempts at being accepted. I wonder what ever happened to Kristen and Fernando. I glance back at the light on the USB stick. It's still blinking red. Fuck!
"Just grab them all, Molly! We're running out of time!"
<Understood. Doing a full sweep now. ETA one minute.>
I sigh; that's a little bit of good news. Moving back to where I jacked into the quantum computer, I see that the little device is glowing a steady green. Swiping at it, I pull it from its plug, and stuff it into my pocket, sealing the Velcro so it can't fall out. The whole room is suddenly brightened by an instantaneous flash and a huge concussion. For a moment, my stunned brain doesn't realize someone is speaking through my earpiece.
"Max! Max! Come on, Babe! You gotta get outta there. I only got one round left, The Big One, and am taking small arms fire. You got bad guys coming up the stairwell!
Fuck! I run out of the room, not bothering to close the door.
"I'm egressing, Chloe. You'd better have that back door ready..."
I stumble as I feel a grip around my ankle. Someone's got a hold of it, and I slam into the floor face first, seeing stars in my eyes as my forehead rebounds off the wood. There are raspy breathing sounds behind me as I'm pulled backwards. As if someone is wearing a full-face mask and helmet, I hear someone speak loudly.
"This is alpha-two-zero, I've got her! Need assistance!"
Dog damn it all!!! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I wriggle, but I can't break free of the man's hold. I try to pull away, and now he's got two hands on my leg. My first thought is to my wife.
"Chloe! You need to get out of there right fucking now!"
Then, knowing I may become a casualty, I realize Molly can still help this to be a successful mission. I won't be able to rewind while this dude is holding onto me anyway.
"Molly! Transmit everything to Chloe, NOW! I don't think I'm gonna make it." From the other room, I hear an acknowledgement of my last orders. The end of the hallway, behind the dude that's got me, suddenly blooms into an incredibly bright, searing white light, and the crash of explosives pounds my brain until there's nothing left but mush. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the voice of my soulmate.
"No fucking way! Get up, Maximus! Get up, now!"
The voice and commands push me to extract myself from the comatose man, a mercenary from the looks of it, who is still holding me; his body seems to have shielded me from the concussive blast. In his one hand are a pair of handcuffs, one side attached to his own wrist, and I can only imagine my own being destined for the second. I glance at the watch on my wrist, and it shows only 30 seconds remaining. Stumbling, I make my way to the office where I left Molly, detaching the device and placing it around my arm once again. The entire room is tilting left, then right, and making my stomach churn. I have to get out of here...
"Knock knock, Captain! First Mate requesting permission to get the hell out of here! Like right fucking NOW!" Unsurprisingly, the windows are still intact, even after the recent detonation. The turn in the hallway seems to have acted as a baffle. Thankfully, it's something we planned for. I quickly move away from the windows enough to get a running start then, facing the office. I haul freaking-ass, pushing as hard as I can while my mind is still dizzy from the previous shock. As I near the correct window, still driving my legs faster and faster, and covering my face with my arms. A long snapping sound precedes my impact to the solid pane, and the thick safety glass instantly shatters, held together only by its thin plastic coating. A second loud pop, and the ruined window detaches from the top of the metal frame and falls away. The det-cord did exactly as Chloe promised. I keep running, diving forward like she told me to, and not slowing down. I trust my partner with not just my life, but my eternal soul, so I pour it on, my legs pushing me forward faster and faster and...
... then there is nothing to push against, and I feel the vertigo of weightlessness as I start to fall...
...fall...
...fall...
Thick ropes press into my curled-up body, slowing my descent. It is just like my wife planned. The cargo net wraps around me while it swings in decreasing arcs my momentum has imparted, keeping me safe. The cantilever arm of the crane pivots away from the high-rise, and I'm carefully lowered to the ground level on the other side of the city block, well away from the commotion above.
I look at my stopwatch. The lap timer has accumulated fifteen minutes and twenty seconds; just enough time. I press the stop button.
"On the ground, Love. See you in a few."
I rewind the entire incident, making history rewrite itself so that neither of us have ever been there. We've gotten what we need while staying undetected. In the shadows, so to speak.
I make my way to the small diner that both of us visited individually over the past week. It is a twenty-four-hour joint and offers waffles almost as good as The Two Whales. I am dead-tired and hungry; breakfast can't come quicker. Ordering two strong coffees, I wait until I see my perfect match walk in, a long case strapped over her shoulder. I lift my hand to signal her, but she's already spotted me, the grin on her face almost outshining the azure beacons that lock on to my own.
Chloe enters like she owns the place. My wife has changed out of her tactical gear, choosing torn jeans that are tight enough to be painted on, and a black tank top that allows her to display her sleeve tattoo on one arm, and the ritual markings she's earned from her tours of duty on the other. She looks like any of the thousands of indie punk musicians just finished with a night’s gig.
My partner sets her case down and slides all the way into the booth in front of me, propping up her legs along its length. "That was pretty badass, Max. See? Told you it would work."
She is referring to the unconventional escape route. "I never doubted you for a second, Chlo." I look at my watch. "We've got eight hours until our morning flight. Just enough time to eat, shower, grab some sleep, and then get out of here."
My blue headed goddess takes a large gulp of coffee, then looks me up and down with her eyes…
"Ready when you are, Babe. Let's jet."
"But… don't you want to order?"
"Nope, I got everything I need right here, dork, and who needs sleep after all that? Come on, I've got a much better idea of what we can do." She waggles her eyebrows, then grabs my hand and eagerly starts dragging me out of the booth.
We just barely make our flight.