Marshal Victor Vaughn moved to chase them through the door—
A powerful hand clamped down on his shoulder and shoved him aside.
“Out of my way!”
Vaughn barely had time to register the man barreling past, a human bull made of fury.
Carlos.
***
Minutes earlier, Blackfire and Bop had dragged Starling and Linneya down this same corridor at a dead run.
At the far end, they burst through a door—and skidded to a startled stop.
The space beyond was laid out like a giant grid: corridors crossing at right angles, forming a broad hall. Along both sides stood enormous cages, one after another.
Bop glanced around, half-laughing even as he ran. “What is this, a zoo? The Tower Clan’s got taste—bringing pets along for the apocalypse.”
Blackfire’s eyes flicked cage to cage. Each held a different animal, some of them unmistakably dangerous: twin-tusk beasts, rhino-horn tigers, scythe lizards, umbrella bugs. Bears and wolves paced and snarled as well, the noise rising in a ragged chorus when they sensed people nearby.
“These aren’t pets,” Blackfire said. “They’re rare stock.”
Bop didn’t care. He yanked Starling forward. “Sweet thing—there still a route from here to the shuttle bay?”
Starling hesitated. “There’s. Let her go, and I’ll take you.”
Bop glanced at Linneya’s tears with open irritation. “Blackfire, they don’t even care about hostages anymore. Why are we still carrying this dead weight? Kill her. Keep the sweet thing.”
Starling’s eyes went feral. “Do that and I won’t take another step. I’d rather die.”
“Probably not your choice,” Bop muttered.
A door clanged somewhere behind them.
Both men froze and melted into the shadow of a wall.
“They caught up,” Blackfire whispered, clamping a hand over Linneya’s mouth.
Bop tilted his head, listening. “Only one set of footsteps. Probably that marshal.”
“I’ll handle him,” Bop said. He shoved Starling into Blackfire’s grip and slid away.
In a place like this, you couldn’t just “find” someone. The hall teemed with shifting animal shapes and angry howls. Sightlines were broken by bars and cages.
Bop checked two intersections, then found his spot: a clean line of fire down the entrance. Anyone coming through the main door would be exposed.
Sure enough, a moment later Carlos’s head appeared at the far end, peeking around a corner.
They saw each other at the same time.
Bop fired first.
Carlos yanked back hard. Rounds rang off the metal railing he’d used as cover—one shot so close it almost took his head.
Then the firefight began in earnest. Between the narrow gaps of cages, they traded shots at close range. Both men wanted it over fast, and neither conserved ammunition.
Carlos’s stolen rifle was already low. He burned through the magazine.
Bop’s pistol clicked empty.
Carlos made his choice.
As Bop reached to reload, Carlos surged forward in a full-body charge.
Bop’s mouth curved in victory. His reload was lightning—two seconds.
He raised the pistol and fired at Carlos’s head.
Carlos brought up his mechanical arm.
Bullets sparked off metal.
Bop’s expression snapped from smug to stunned.
Carlos hit him like a battering ram.
Bop tried to bring his gun around again, but Carlos caught his wrist and twisted.
A sickening crack.
Bop screamed as the bones gave way.
But training kept him moving. With his left hand, he drew a knife and slashed for Carlos’s throat.
Carlos rocked back just enough. The blade missed—then stabbed for his chest.
Carlos threw his left forearm up, deflecting the thrust, and drove his right fist into Bop’s head.
Bop went limp.
Carlos hit him again.
And again.
When Carlos finally stood, his left forearm was a mess of blood where the knife had scored him. He checked the wound quickly—painful, but not deep enough to slow him down.
Behind him, Marshal Victor Vaughn stared, eyes wide and unblinking.
Carlos tore a quick wrap around his arm, then stepped up to Vaughn and held out his hand.
“Can I borrow your pistol?”
Vaughn handed it over without a word.
“Thanks,” Carlos said, and took off running again.
While Carlos fought Bop, robot police had flooded the hall. There were too many of them, and they found Blackfire fast.
Blackfire hadn’t helped his teammate because he couldn’t. He was already boxed in, carrying Linneya in one arm and firing the stolen electromagnetic rifle with the other as he retreated.
He was running out of space.
Then an idea hit him.
He swung the rifle toward the cages—and started shooting locks.
The barred doors blew open. The animals inside roared and spilled out, crazed from confinement.
Blackfire targeted the most dangerous cages first. Within seconds the corridor was chaos: heavy bodies slamming into railings, claws and tusks tearing at anything in reach, beasts attacking robot police and each other alike.
His rifle ran dry.
Blackfire tossed it and pulled his pistol, still firing as he fled. He spotted a small side door at the end of the hall, kicked it in, and dove through.
Carlos pushed forward—only to have a three-ton twin-tusk beast crash into his path. By the time he fought past it, Blackfire was gone.
The hall had turned into a storm of teeth and metal. Even the armored robot police struggled as the animals surged.
Inside the side room, Blackfire reached to close the door—
—and saw Starling rush in after him.
He slammed it shut, breathing hard, and stared at her as if she’d grown a second head.
Starling’s eyes flicked to his shoulder. Blood had soaked half of it.
“Just a scrape,” Blackfire said, dismissive. “Plando or Tower Clan—robots are all the same. Disgusting.”
When Starling didn’t answer, he let out a short, ugly laugh.
“Still… you had a chance to run. Why’d you follow me? Afraid of the animals?”
Starling looked at Linneya—eyes red, shaking—and forced a small, encouraging smile.
Then she turned back to Blackfire, her face icing over.
“I’m saying it one last time,” she said. “Let her go, and I’ll take you to the shuttle bay.”