Crossover

Prologue

The flash grenade was cold in Agent Six's hand. A plastic bulb, filled with gunpowder, magnesium dust and a loop of copper wire. Having been so silent for so long – swimming through the maze of storm water drains, crawling slowly through the rubble-strewn courtyard – it was hard to convince himself to throw it.

But stealth had taken him as far as it would. A ring of soldiers surrounded the facility, goggled eyes sweeping the darkness, gloved fingers trembling on the triggers of Eagle automatic assault rifles. If Six was going to stop Soren Byre from activating the machine, he was going to need a distraction.

The grenade had no pin. Instead there was a switch – when it was flicked, the wire would heat up and up until it was hot enough to ignite the powder. It would take about three seconds.

Six adjusted his anti-flash goggles, inserted his moulded earplugs and pulled on his gloves. He removed the cap from a syringe, steadied his thumb on the plunger and tapped the chamber to remove the air bubbles from the grey fluid inside. Then, with his other hand, he hit the switch on the grenade.

He held it tight for one second. Two. Then he swung his arm and hurled it as far as he could.

The bulb sailed through the black fog over the heads of the soldiers, none of whom seemed to notice it until it blew apart at the apex of its trajectory. A flash rippled out across the sky, as if lightning had struck the compound. A tremendous crack left Six's ears ringing, even through the plugs. The sound doubled the adrenaline pumping through his system as he scrambled out from behind his hiding place and sprinted to the nearest soldier at a superhuman speed.

The young man was staring up at the sky, just like all his colleagues. At the last second, he saw Six in his peripheral vision, or perhaps heard his footsteps – but he turned too slowly. Before he had a chance to cry out, Six jammed the syringe into his neck and depressed the plunger.

The soldier shuddered as the paralytic pumped through his veins and leaked into his brain. By the time he stopped quivering, Six had already dragged him behind a mound of broken cinder blocks and wrestled the rifle out of his twitching hands.

Another soldier turned back to look at Six.

'Where did that come from?' he demanded. 'Do you see anybody?'

Six kept his face impassive behind the goggles. 'No-one,' he said, hoping that the other soldier was too disoriented and deafened to notice that his voice had changed. 'You keep watch. I'll warn them inside.'

He jogged over to the facility door – a thick rectangle of steel, framed by reinforced concrete. Without giving the other soldiers the time to wonder why he wasn't using his radio, he heaved the door open, slipped through, and pulled it shut behind him.

~

The inside of the facility reminded Six of a submarine. Narrow, damp tunnels ringed with piping. Metal grates underfoot. The Deck hadn't been able to recover any blueprints for the building, so he would have to navigate the labyrinth on his own.

'Hey!' A muscular soldier stood beside the door, a Hawk 9mm pistol in his hands. 'What are you doing inside?'

'Sorry,' Six said. 'I only brought one syringe.'

'What–'

Six lashed out, thumping his boot into the soldier's belly. The soldier doubled over, wheezing. He swiped his clumsy fists through the air, but Six sidestepped around him. He clapped his palm over the soldier's mouth and wrapped his other forearm across the throat, and squeezed.

The soldier gurgled helplessly as the blood flowing into his brain slowed to a trickle. It only took a few seconds for him to go limp. Six waited a moment longer to be certain, and then lowered him to the ground.