No, she thought. He’d need an anchor as heavy. That was why the Sequence had been doing those powerful, all-direction Pushes. He could Push with equal force in every direction and stabilize himself. He couldn’t move a specific truck unless he could Push backward against something equally heavy.
That was little comfort when a count of her people showed many bleeding as they hid behind cover. Several were down, immobile. Plus, their enemy was regrouping … it gave her a bad feeling. What kind of gangsters tried to outgun the constables?
The kind who are heavily armed, Marasi thought. And think they can win. We shouldn’t be fighting. Not this way.
Gunshots echoed in the room, and bullets banged on metal and stone.
“We have to retreat,” she said. She signaled to Kellen, one of her lieutenants. “We need to set up covering fire and organize a retreat! We’re out through that opening.”
“Retreat?” Kellen said, sliding closer. “But the enemy!”
“We’re officers of the law,” Marasi said, “not soldiers. I’m not going to perpetuate a full-on battle in the middle of a city! Mission is a bust. Time to get out.”
Kellen thought for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right,” the woman said. “What do you want from me?”
“Gather the others and help the wounded. I’ll coordinate with the Bilming group, then set up a distraction. Which truck has the real explosives?”
“Number six!”
“Wayne’s? Who decided that?”
“Ruin, apparently,” Kellen said. “Hadn’t thought about it myself.”
They broke. Marasi slipped her handgun from the holster on her metals belt, then dodged across the open space to truck number six, where Blantach was taking shelter. Remarkably it hadn’t been toppled, though Marasi didn’t think trying to drive out would be wise. Not when the Sequence had the power to overturn vehicles.
“We’re going to retreat,” Marasi said to Blantach. “You with us?”
“Rusts yes,” Blantach said. “I feel like I opened a picnic basket and found a nest of hornets. Who are these people?”
“They’re the ones trying to undermine our civilization,” Marasi said. She slapped the truck. “We have explosives inside this one. I’m going to toss some at the enemy to cover our retreat.”
“Give me a minute,” Blantach said. “I’ll get my people ready to join you. We have wounded.”
“So do we,” Marasi said. “Hopefully the explosion will give us enough time.”
Marasi took a deep breath, then pulled open the door of the truck and scrambled inside. There she was able to open the panel between the cab and the cargo area and slip into the back. It was dark in here, but she knew the box with the explosives would be at the rear — ready to show off on delivery.
She located a few conventional grenades by touch inside the box. And what she hoped was a firebomb, which would be clay and liquid, immune to Pushes.
Worries chased her as she squeezed back into the cab, then ducked low, counting on the plating in the passenger door to protect her from gunfire. The more she considered it, the worse she liked their position.
If we run, he’ll do another of those powerful all-out Pushes, she thought. We’ll be ducking out the doors while trucks roll over us.
But what else could she do? She slipped out of the truck with her explosives. Kellen and Blantach nodded to her, ready for the retreat. The warehouse was alive with gunfire, but on their side it was only a few constables keeping the enemy distracted while the rest helped the wounded.
Time for–
The Sequence dropped from the air, landing directly in the middle of the four trucks they were using as cover. Then he Pushed — two trucks on each side — shoving the vehicles out of the way with an incredible Steelpush.
In an instant, their cover was gone. The collection of beleaguered constables found themselves completely exposed, hauling the wounded to their feet. At the other end of the room, the gangsters had built a little fortification out of sandbags — and now one of them snapped a large multi-barrel rotating machine gun onto a tripod. Military grade, liquid cooled and chain fed, with bullets longer than a person’s palm. Those had been developed in case of a Malwish invasion, and were illegal to smuggle out of Elendel.
The full extent of how outgunned they were struck Marasi right then. The room fell strangely silent, though she thought she heard glass shatter somewhere. A part of her mind registered the sound, but she focused on that machine gun. She stood at the head of the constables, staring directly at the barrel. Realizing what was about to happen.
She’d brought barely armed police to a battlefield.
The machine gun started up with a ripping percussive sound, and spat a concentrated stream of bullets straight at Marasi and the others.
Then those bullets stopped in the air.
Then immediately went soaring backward toward the enemy fortification, hitting sandbags and shields and making the gangsters cry out in surprise. The machine gun cut off, and the warehouse fell silent for a moment. Unnerved, Marasi glanced over her shoulder — to find Waxillium Ladrian standing just behind her, mistcoat tassels flaring as he turned and aimed a pistol right over her shoulder. He fired with a single crack of gunpowder.
The shot drilled straight through the viewfinder on the machine gun and sent the man who had been firing it to the ground, a bullet through the eye.
“Sorry I’m late,” Wax announced to the crowd. “Had to wait for gunfire to lead me to you. Shall we carry on, then?”
24
Fighting someone in a fair way was completely unfair, Wayne decided. He connected with his dueling cane — which made a nice resonant crack against the cheater’s skull. She went down, but rolled and was back up in a second, grinning as the wound on her head healed — a little trickle of blood running down her now-pristine skin.
Of course they’d given her the ability to heal. Marvelous. Just rusting marvelous.
She became a blur, and he barely erected his own speed bubble in time to catch sight of her to the left. He crossed his canes to block her strike. Then he started swinging.
He pummeled her on one side as she did the same to him on the other side. Rusting Ruin and rusting hell! That smarted. And it made about as much sense as drinking the expensive whiskey once you were already drunk. Both of them backed off, wincing — but tapping their metalminds to heal.
“Harmony’s holy missing bits, woman,” he said, shaking his bruised arm. “You’re annoying.”
“You’re annoying,” she said. “You’re … yoer…”
“Stop trying to get my accent!” Wayne snapped.
“Can you say ‘my’ again?” she asked, tossing her dueling cane up in a little spin and catching it.
Rusting.
Cheating.
Woman!
Wayne had gotten his powers the fair way. By being born with them through pure luck. She’d gone and stolen hers from other folks. That was absolutely cheating. Everybody knew there was things you could take and things you couldn’t. Wax’s unused pocket watch? Fair game. The watch Lessie had given him? Off-limits.
People’s souls? Way off-limits.
The two circled one another, ignoring the rest of the chaos in the room. He did stop time as something hit near him — a bullet scraping the side of a truck — and he saw the sparks drop in slow motion. But Marasi and the conners would have to deal with the blokes with guns. Wayne had a very-much-not-at-all-clone-of-him to deal with.