The convoy accelerated, churning up great drifts of dust. Connor pushed himself faster, giving his body a dose of adrenaline and supercharged fuel to get there. He flew over the ground in great, striding leaps. To his right the carrier was taking off. The lead SUV passed by him, followed by the truck. Connor sprang forward with arms outstretched as the last SUV sped past him. He fired the tendrils in his wrists. They smashed through the driver’s side window. Connor latched onto something solid inside of the vehicle as he hit the ground. His body whipped around to the back of the vehicle, dragging behind it over the coarse gravel road. The vehicle came to a screeching stop, the truck and lead SUV sped off down the prairie. Connor retracted the tendrils as the doors were flung open and sprang to his feet.

Three Reyes in gold and black clothing hopped out, each armed with a compact machinegun. They froze for a moment as they caught site of the dark, bone cased monster which had assaulted them. Connor leapt forward, charging at the closest gang member and taking advantage of their momentary confusion. He swung a fist at the first, connecting with his head. The gangster went limp as the armoured fist struck, the gun flying from his hands as he fell to the floor. The other two retreated several steps, keeping the SUV between them and Connor. He rounded the vehicle, advancing toward them in measured strides.

“What the fuck is that thing, bro?”

“Fucking shoot it!”

They opened fire in tandem, aiming centre mass at the giant bone golem that stalked after them. Connor pushed at the stream of bullets; arm raised to shield his head. The bone cracked and splintered with each forceful hit, sending waves of pain throughout his body. Connor shrugged it off, wading within arms reach of the Reyes. He felled each one with a rib-breaking blow to the chest. They dropped to the dirt, sucking air through grimaces of pain. Connor turned. He could make out the taillights of the fleeing vehicles.

He strode back to the SUV, retrieving the fallen machinegun from the first Reye. The driver sat in the seat, bleeding from a score of minor cuts to his face and coughing. Connor opened the door. He looked up with blood filled eyes.

“Yo…”

Connor ripped him from the seat before he could utter another syllable and dumped him next to his unconscious friend. The chair was too small for his bulky frame. He leaned on the back rest until it snapped back. He clambered in straddling the broken seat and gunned it. The SUV spun dirt and took off. Connor gripped the wheel like he was about to tear it in half. He checked himself over as the SUV accelerated across the stony, uneven ground. The armour simply was not dense enough to resist conventional small arms fire. He bled from a number of minor wounds beneath the shattered plating on his chest. He ached all over, the bone itself bruised and broken. Connor damped down the signals and kicked in his healing ability, patching up the worst cracks. If they switched to min-ex, he’d be dead by his estimates.

“Don’t let them shoot. Close the distance,” he chided himself.

He gained on the slower truck, driving the SUV at reckless speed over the treacherous terrain. Rocks and dips in the track had the vehicle bucking up and down like a rodeo horse. The truck driver noticed him in his rear mirror and swerved side to side as Connor reached him. Connor faked taking him on the left and the driver pulled to the side to stop him. He floored the SUV and swung out to the right, pulling up beside the truck’s passenger door. A boy, probably no older than him, stared back, his pale face drawn in fear. Connor paused as a feeling of guilt overcame him. The boy aimed his compact out of the window and fired erratically at Connor and the SUV. Bullets slammed through the thin metal, hitting both Connor and the dashboard. The SUV started groaning and shuddering.

“Damn it!” roared Connor, pushing the dying SUV to overtake the truck.

Gunfire barked behind him. The back windows blew inward, and the seats were torn to shreds. Ahead the lead Reye SUV had slowed down. Several more guns pointed his way.

“Oh shit.”

Connor floored it, ramming into the other SUV as the bullets started flying. He hit the Reyes on their rear left wheel. His world spun as both vehicles locked up and flipped. His SUV landed on its roof in a tangle of parts. Connor found himself sprawled in the back seat, battered but whole.

“Man, I’m terrible at this…”

Blood leaked from the seams of his armour and pooled in the back of his throat. He shifted his position and kicked open the side door. Connor crawled from the wreckage, dragging himself through the dust and gravel until he could stand.

Connor inspected the area; the other SUV was not far from him on its side. A teenager pulled himself out of a shattered window and fell to the ground crying and clutching a broken wrist. Behind him, the truck had come to a stop, its path blocked by the crash. The driver and the passenger approached him; weapons drawn.

“The fuck are you, freak? Do you know who you are messing with?” shouted the older of the two.

Connor held his hands toward them, palms up, as if showing he was unarmed. “Just go your own way, boys. Nobody else needs to get hurt.”

The younger gangster shifted his grip on the gun nervously. “I think he’s a Pro. Just look at the size of him.”

“He’s no Pro,” countered the Reye. “Who sent you asshole? Who wants a war?”

Connor ignored him and addressed to teen. “I’m alone. Were your suppliers the A.R.C? Have you had dealings with them in Boise?”

“Fuck you, man. I’m no snitch,” he spat. “Let’s light this fool up and get out of here.”

“Not until he talks,” said the older. “We need answers so we can kill whoever sent this bitch.”

Connor took a deep breath and dropped his hands. Bone darts shot from both wrists, skewering the Reyes in the chest. They dropped to their knees and keeled over as the fast-acting toxin spread through their blood stream.

“I told you,” said Connor retrieving their guns. “I work alone. I just wanted your stuff.”

The teen stared at him through tear streaked eyes, mouth opening mutely like a fish on dry land.

“You’ll survive,” said Connor. “The effects will wear off in a couple of hours.”

He surveyed the carnage. None of the Reyes were in any kind of state to fight or pursue him. “Well, fuck me. I did it.”

He walked to the idling truck and tossed the guns inside. As he was about to seat himself in the driver’s seat, Connor paused. He got down and marched to the rear. Connor pounded on the tail door and stepped back. The rolling door slid up to reveal two more gangsters and the military crates scattered throughout the deck.

“What the hell is going on? Your driving is shit, Homes. There were boxes falling on us…” said one, rubbing a fresh bruise on the back of his head.

The other reached for his weapon as soon as he registered that Connor wasn’t there to help them. Connor lassoed each man with a tendril and pulled them violently from the deck, slamming them on to the hard gravel. As they fought to breathe, he injected them with the stinger needle in his left hand. They stopped struggling. Connor retracted his tendrils, closed the roller door and picked up the fallen weapons.

“Allan’s going to have enough firepower to take on the army at this rate,” he chuckled to himself.

He pulled up to the parking lot where the meet had happened. Connor honked the horn twice. He peered out of the window, scanning the landscape with his heightened vision. He picked out a large heat signature running closer. He switched back to his normal vision. Allan ran up to the truck and let himself into the passenger’s seat.

“You made it.”

“Yeah.”

“Kill anyone?”

Connor shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“And the suit? Does it work like you hoped it would?”

Connor shook his head. “It’s broken in a million places. It did keep me alive though. It’ll need upgrading if it’s going to help save my family.”

Allan nodded his head and rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “There a back way out of this place?”

“Truck’s GPS says we go that way,” said Connor, pointing down the road. “It will add an extra couple of hours to our trip. Better than going back that way though.”

Allan sighed. “Who cares?” He sniffed the air and made an odd face. “Hey, can you drive ok?”

“I don’t have my licence if that is what you mean.”

“Scoot over,” motioned the vet. “I better do this part. Hate for the cops to pull us over after what you’ve been through.”