Saint Mary's Hospital

Intensive Care Unit

Elizabeth Miles was sitting beside her sister’s bed. Worry lines were etched on her face as she looked at the only person that meant anything to her in this cruel and callous world. The bruised and battered girl was unconscious, lying in a hospital bed with tubes and wires connecting her to the machines that were keeping her alive.

“I am so sorry Anna, I failed you,” she whispered in a trembling voice.

Silent tears were sliding down her face, making damp marks on the white bed sheet. She was saying goodbye because there was a chance that she would not survive what she planned for tonight.

Anna was her only family; they were orphaned when Elizabeth was eighteen years old and Anna only ten. From that moment, she had a compulsive drive to protect her sister and provide a good life for her. In the end—she utterly failed at that.

All her life she struggled to be better, that determination propelled her to be one of the best investigative FBI intelligence analysts of her class. From that dreadful day when police officers came to their house to tell them the life-shattering news, how their parents had died in a plane crash, Elizabeth knew it was her responsibility to create a better life for both of them and to do something meaningful with her life; something her parents would be proud of.

That life was destroyed on the day her sister was kidnapped while returning to the dorm from her classes; she was a freshman at a local college. A dark van and two masked men who grabbed her from the sidewalk was all that witnesses saw.

Elizabeth was frantic, but she knew that succumbing to panic would not help her find Anna. Despite being forbidden to work her sister's case by her superiors’, she did it anyway. Calling in all the favors and debts to get a copy of the original case files. She followed the leads, interrogated witnesses, analyzed every single piece of intelligence, and managed to find her sister two days later… it was two days too late.

A group of Albanian thugs involved in prostitution and white slavery was expanding their stable, and Anna was in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

The police raid on the old factory, where the gang held Anna and a dozen other girls, was categorized as a success in the reports. Many underage girls were rescued from that appalling and dreadful place. Unfortunately, Anna was beaten, raped, and filled with so many drugs that she slipped into a coma. It was the standard procedure the gang used, drugging and breaking their captives until the victims did whatever it was asked of them. Anna’s stubbornness and fighting spirit caused them to single her out, to be exceptionally rough with her.

After a few weeks, the doctors told Elizabeth that due to the severe damage to her sister's organs, the machines were the only thing keeping Anna alive. There was no chance that she would ever wake up, and Elizabeth should say goodbye to her sister while there was still time. Sitting by Anna’s bed, she knew in her bones that without her sister her life would be an empty and hollow existence.

The final thing that extinguished any respect she had for the legal system was that those thugs walked away on a technicality, with the help of a corrupt judge and a high-priced lawyer. They were supposed to rot in jail for a long time, but now she could not give her sister even that sliver of justice.

Elizabeth quit her job and decided to take matters into her own hands; the only thing left for her was to exact revenge for what happened to Anna. It went against the things she believed in, but the law she has sworn to uphold has been corrupted into a deplorable travesty; it was made to protect ordinary people, now it seemed it protected mostly the criminals. For her, that was an unacceptable outcome, and she could not let her sister die without settling accounts with those sadistic savages.

It took surprisingly little time to get her affairs in order, the hospital would keep Anna connected to the machines for a few more days but she didn’t want to wait for that final closure. The gang headquarters was in an extremely guarded location and any direct form of attack on it would be a suicide, but a window of opportunity opened and she intended to take it.

One of her informants told her that two of the men responsible for her sister's condition were making some kind of shady deal tonight, in an abandoned warehouse located in the industrial zone. That information hadn’t come cheap, but it was not like she had to save her money for the future.

There was one more thing for her to do before she left for the warehouse, to see her sister for one last time.

“I love you baby girl, and I’m sure we will be together soon, with mom and dad… we will be happy.”

Elizabeth kissed her sister's forehead while gently stroking her hair, took one more look at her failing body which solidified her resolve for what she was about to do, and walked out of the room.

She arrived at the warehouse long before they did. There were a lot of old rusting machinery and big piles of old cardboard boxes inside. Finding a good hiding place, with the best vantage point, was not hard. Now the only thing to do was to wait for their arrival. Her car was hidden a mile away, she didn't want to take any chances they would see her.

Tonight, she would get justice for Anna.

Elizabeth waited there for hours until a black sedan with dark tinted windows entered through the large industrial sized doors and parked in the middle of the vast space. Two people got out of the car and took two heavy army bags from the trunk. Trying not to make any sound, she stealthily crept closer to the car. The acoustics in such a big space were not ideal; still, she could hear them speak.

“He better come soon Yuri, or it will be your neck on the line.” The bigger man said, with a thick foreign accent.

“Da, yes, he will come, I made a deal, and everything will be as I promised.” The other, shorter and nervous one responded fearfully, in what sounded to her as a Russian accent.

“You put yourself in trouble, if you didn’t borrow money from the Boss, none of this would be happening. If the man with the gold doesn’t come, we will kill you.” The bigger one snarled.

The Russian cringed after hearing that, and Elizabeth saw his Adam’s apple going up and down, while he was looking at the man with his eyes wide open.

“What will you do to him?” The Russian asked in a small voice after a few moments.

“What do you think we will do? Our money stays with us and his gold will be ours too—after he is dead,” he replied, with an evil grin showing his yellowed, crooked teeth.

Elizabeth's heart was beating fast, and her hand gripped the handle of a gun she bought from her informer. She recognized the big man as one of the thugs that had taken and raped Anna. The last time she saw that ugly face was in a courtroom, giving her a mocking leer and a nasty wink.

Even so, she did not want to act prematurely and needed for the other scumbag to show up; her informer was sure that both of them would be here tonight. Her mind was going in circles; will I really be able to do what I planned… become a killer?

Then an image of her sister lying in a hospital bed waiting to die crossed her mind… yes, I will.

A few minutes later, from the opposite side of the warehouse, an old pickup truck slowly drove in. Her jaw clenched, and all her stomach muscles tensed.

Soon… soon will be time for her to act.

***

Michael was driving his grandfather’s old Dodge pickup truck, painted dark blue, with rust stains on most of the chassis. He didn't want to use his own car; it was easily identifiable with modern technology. One camera shot of his license plates and the authorities, or the criminal he was about to make a deal with, could easily track down his identity. A generous coating of mud on the old truck's plates prevented that.

He didn't believe the old rust bucket would even be able to start when he pushed it out from the old shed, but Max instructed him to place a small container filled with the construction nanites on the motor, and an hour later the engine was purring like new.

Approaching the old warehouse, where the gold sale was to take place, gave Michael a very uneasy feeling. Quite similar to the one he felt while he was still in the military before the action was going to take place.

“Max, I have a bad feeling about this,” he said as he slowed down and took a long look at the terrain around the warehouse.

“You can always turn back; we could try to sell the gold somewhere else. This deal was the fastest I could make for cash, probably not the best.”

He thought about it for a minute, but he organized the schedule by which some steps needed to be finished, and who knows how long it would take to line up another gold buyer.

“No, let’s get it over with now.”

Michael looked at the shotgun that he brought along just in case, it was a shame he didn't have something more portable, like his favorite Smith & Wesson SW1911 he had for years. That gun was with one of his friends since his last girlfriend abhorred weapons, and against his better judgment, he had to take it out of the house. The fact that he missed his gun more than he did her, told a lot about that relationship and particularly about the girl.

The shotgun was his grandfather's, a necessary tool when living deep in the woods and certainly better than nothing. Michael carefully drove the truck through the open warehouse doors, seeing something he didn't expect.

In the middle of it, the light of the setting sun was streaming through the broken windows on the side of the building, and two men in suits were standing in front of a big black sedan.

This deal was already coming off the tracks; the agreement was that they would both arrive alone. He seriously thought about putting the truck in reverse and leaving quickly. Still, he was armed and highly trained ex-soldier, and the gold buyer was most likely uncomfortable carrying all that cash by himself.

Michael stopped the car some thirty feet in front of them and exited the car.

Two men looked at him with a heavy dose of suspicion. One was a big bodybuilder type, and the other small and nervous, his eyes darting all over the place, with sweat shining on his forehead.

“Did you bring gold?” The big brutish looking one asked, raising his chin. There was something menacing in his eyes, the same thing Michael saw in his past vocation, the gaze of a predator. He had a heavy Eastern European accent, definitely not Russian. Michael’s spidey sense was giving him all kinds of danger signals; something was not right with this picture.

“Did you bring the money?” Michael replied, instinctively feeling that this man was an enemy. This situation and the palpable tension were setting his teeth on edge, but backing away now would be dangerous.

The man knelt down and opened the zipper on one of the big army bags that were beside him. Inside of it, Michael could see many stacks of rubber-banded dollar bills.

“Here’s money, show the gold!” The man barked while taking out a few stacks of cash in his hand and letting them drop back in the bag.

Michael walked a few steps backward and opened the cover on the back of the truck. Taking one of the heavy containers Max made, he put it on the ground and opened the lid. The fading sunlight shone on small gold bars, reflecting in rich yellow hues.

“I hope this satisfies you, shall we make the exchange?” Michael said, never taking his eyes off the brute.

A greedy, savage smile appeared on a big man’s lips, something primal and dangerous. With a practiced move, the man reached for his side and in the next second was holding a gun aimed at Michael. He recognized that weapon, a Czechoslovakian vz. 61 machine pistol, also known as Škorpion, with a rate of fire of 850 rounds/min.

The gun was hanging from a strap underneath the big man’s armpit, which explained the long suit-jacket he was wearing. The move was simply too fast for Michael to do anything, so he held his hands, palms turned towards the men, non-threatening as possible. His mind was calculating how fast he could move to reach the shotgun that was, inconveniently, between the front seats of the truck. He should have listened to that voice of caution earlier, but as they say ‘Pride goeth before a fall’, and he made a rookie mistake. Civilian life had dulled the common sense of a warrior, and now he was paying the price.

The smaller man was backing off, and three more men got out of the sedan, carrying the same submachine guns in their hands.

“Max, this whole deal just went FUBAR!” He shouted in his head.

“I know Michael, and I need you to buy me some time. I’m trying to activate some systems within you, it will take a little while, so be ready when it happens. Don’t think, just react.” The AI promptly replied, but he couldn't fully conceal the alarming note in his voice.

“I thought we had a deal, money for gold,” Michael shouted, while his eyes tracked all his opponents. Four dangerous and armed men, with the look of experienced and hardened killers in their eyes, and the scared one, completely out of his element.

The big brute laughed loudly while walking closer to Michael. “People in this country are so trusting, it is like your saying, taking candy from a baby. We do what we want, and if we pay certain people, we do not even go to jail when we are caught. Don’t worry, I will kill you slowly so that before you die you can learn that only strong men like me survive, and the weak like you always die.”

The barrel of the man’s gun was aimed at the side, in his sadistic gloating, he got careless. His three helpers didn't even aim their guns at Michael, just stood behind their leader, their stares filled with anticipation of the show that had every indication of turning into a bloody one.

Several things happened at that moment; Michael's consciousness seemed to expand and new strength infused his body while his sense of time got distorted. He could feel his muscles tensing, and his heart hammering in his chest like one of those Chinese drums, loud, fast, and unnatural. The big man was still talking, at least Michael thought he was because his movements were slowed down and his voice had the quality of a video played at half speed.

“Now Michael!” Max shouted.

He considered going for his shotgun, but that would take a few seconds and it would give these men enough time to fill him full of holes, their weapons rate of fire was unforgiving.

The big guy has turned his head a little to the side, telling his friends something funny in a foreign language, when Michael acted. He rushed towards the man, while part of his mind wondered if he was insane. Normally you run away from people with guns, but in this case, that was a recipe for a quick death. His only advantage was to do something unexpected.

He was faster than ever before, in little more than a second he reached the leader, as the guy's eyes were starting to widen; the barrel of his gun still pointing to the side. With all of his strength, Michael hit him in the face and in that split-second saw pressure waves expanding from the point of impact as if the man's flesh was made of jello. The other three men’s hands were raising in his direction, and part of him knew that he would never be able to take them all.

The piercing sounds of a large caliber gun discharging echoed through the warehouse, multiple shots, one after the other. The head of the one man in the back jerked sideways, a red cloud of blood and brain matter blossoming behind it. His head had acquired an additional hole, which was never good for one's health.

Michael didn't know who the shooter was, but he wouldn’t waste this opportunity, so he jumped at the second guy who was momentarily distracted by his friend’s sudden death. One of Michael's hands reached for the gun so it couldn’t be used against him, and the other went for the throat. A few more shots boomed inside the warehouse, and out of the corner of his eye, Michael could see the last man getting shot in the stomach, and falling back inside the car from the transferred kinetic energy of the bullet.

Rapid gunfire burst out, as the man’s hand squeezed the trigger while wrestling with Michael. They both fell to the ground and the gun went flying beneath the car. Michael was above him, choking his opponent with all of his strength. His fingers like a vise increasing the pressure until the man’s throat collapsed, he wasn't dead yet, but that was just a matter of time. The man’s eyes were wide open and his face was slowly turning blue from lack of oxygen.

There was no time to waste, he quickly got up and started to turn toward the leader he punched first when a great force hit him from behind and threw him back onto the ground. The analytical part of him knew what happened, the gun noise before the blow told as much… he was shot.

It was the leader, with blood pouring down his flattened nose and a bloody smile that was missing a few front teeth. Michael knew this was the end; the smoking barrel of that gun was pointed directly at his head.

“I told you I will kill you!” the man sneered.

As the gun went off for a second time, a body appeared in front of Michael, hitting the man against the car. By the spasms of that body he knew that the bullet meant for him never reached his flesh, it hit the person who saved his life—again.

Close to his hand he saw a gun beneath the car and reached for it, not even thinking, he pointed it at the big man who was raising his gun again and quickly pressed the trigger. Two in the chest, one for the head.

A heavy silence spread inside the warehouse. Michael’s perception of slowed time stopped after being shot. He got to his feet again, despite the excruciating pain that was spreading from his back.

A body of the person who saved him was lying in front of him with a face pressed to the ground. He fell to his knees and slowly turned it over. To his surprise, it was a 20-something girl, not at all what he was expecting.

The blood had stained her white shirt when the bullet intended for him caught her, so he pressed his hand over the entrance wound on her chest and applied pressure, old lessons from battlefield first aid coming to his mind.

“Max, can you do something!”

“I’m already doing it, keep your hand there.”

The girl slowly opened her eyes, looking confused and in pain.

“Hold still, I’m trying to help you,” Michael said, but in her eyes was the look of resignation.

“Why did you do it?” he asked her, “why did you jump in front of me?”

“I… I was out of bullets… and wanted to do one decent thing before I die, to save one life… for Anna.” She answered in a faint voice.

“Michael, the nanites transfer is too slow, I need you to cut open your hand and press it to her wound, so I can transfer a larger number of them,” the AI promptly instructed him.

He used an old pocketknife that he always carried with him, and made an incision across his palm. His blood had a metallic shine to it, millions of nanites concentrated within the life-sustaining fluid. He quickly returned his bloody hand over the gaping wound.

She was not even aware of what he was doing; the light in her eyes was dimming.

“What is your name?” Michael asked.

“Elizabeth...” she quietly breathed out and closed her eyes.

“Max, what’s happening?”

“It’s OK, she’s safe for now, but you need to get her to the AutoDoc, the bullet is still lodged beside her heart, and doing anything where you are would be a risk. I put her to sleep; it is less taxing on her system.”

Michael lifted her as gently as he could and laid her in the backseat of his truck. He could see that her wound already looked different… it was not bleeding anymore. Similarly, the cut on his hand was scabbing over. Furthermore, there was no pain from his gunshot wound, in fact, his entire skin felt numb.

“Why don’t I feel any pain?” He asked after making sure she would be comfortable.

“I had to suppress all pain receptors in your body or you wouldn't be able to move. You have torn muscles, hairline fractures in several bones, and a bullet in your back. As soon as you can get to the AutoDoc the better, the nanites inside you are not sufficient to fix your body; they are now acting more as a Band-Aid.”

Now that Max mentioned it, his body felt different, slower. He was so tired and strangely detached.

“Michael, you need to take the money and destroy the evidence. There is enough of your DNA in this place that any forensic team would easily find you.”

He went back to the black sedan, seeing dead bodies everywhere; in the backseat, the last of the thugs was holding his stomach. Several gunshot wounds could be seen on his torso, so it was surprising that he was still alive. Michael picked up the gun from the floor and pointed it at the dying man.

“You cannot kill me, I am unarmed.” Whined the man through the pain, but without any remorse in his eyes.

Michael shook his head, “When you point a weapon at someone, you are making a declaration of intent, and your intent was to kill me. I am just returning the sentiment.” With those words, he pulled the trigger.

The last body was lying a few feet from the car, a dead body of the small Russian. One of the bullets found him while he was hiding behind the car.

He carried the bags with money, and gold container he previously took out, inside his grandfather’s truck. Money was not so bad, but the weight of that container took a lot out of him.

Ripping the shirt from one of the dead guys he made 6-foot long makeshift fuse which he stuck inside the sedan’s gas tank; there were enough old boxes and rotting piles of lumber inside to make sure no trace of him remained.

Michael set it on fire with his lighter, rushed to his truck, and drove out of the warehouse. A minute later, a loud explosion announced sedan’s destruction and very soon, smoke and fire engulfed the entire building.

“Talk to me Max, is she alright?”

“She’s fine, by tomorrow she should be as good as new. It is you I’m concerned about, your body is running on reserves, try not to fall asleep.” The AI worriedly said.

“I’ll make it,” Michael mumbled. “This feels like being back in the action, adrenaline keeps you awake sometime after the bullets stop flying.”

The trip back to the cabin was thankfully uneventful. One speeding police car with its siren on, followed by a fire truck, had passed by him, a few miles away from the warehouse. He did not think there was a chance for them to connect him with the crime scene he left behind.

The last part of the drive was the hardest, the old truck didn't appreciate the rundown road conditions, and the shocks struggled to absorb all the bumps and holes underneath them.

Michael smiled as he saw the familiar stretcher waiting in front of the cabin, it would make moving Elizabeth to the spaceship much easier. He transferred her unconscious body onto it and started walking toward the ship's entrance.

It took some time, and for most of the trip, he was holding on to the stretcher that Elizabeth lay on, letting it drag him along.

The stretcher repeated the trick with the controlled gravity, descending down the entrance shaft, while he had to struggle to climb down the metal ladder.

Max’s hologram was waiting inside the airlock, with a worried look in his eyes and a slight, guilty expression on his face. Once inside the AutoDoc, Michael laid her on the bed.

“Michael you need to lay beside her, your body is about to shut down,” the AI ordered.

A medical hologram of his own body appeared in front of the bed, with muscles, bones, and internal organs all colored red. He could even see a grey bullet, half embedded inside of his stomach.

There was enough room beside Elizabeth to lay down. And in the next second, he was out like a light.