Unity Carl Stubblefield (read book TXT) 📖

the small of his back. “I’m getting too old for this,” he groaned, punctuated with a series of pops.

“I can’t see anything happening besides the light going out. Does anyone else detect anything?” Aurora asked, squinting her eyes.

“Nothing here.”

“Me neither.”

“Get read—”

Before Darik could get the words out, the floor became electrified. Everyone crumpled to the floor as muscles short-circuited. The soothing light winked out a second later, leaving only the occasional *snap* as energy arced. There was a hum, followed by a series of *thitt* noises, as tiny darts shot into the group, some rattling on the floor as they sprayed down. There were small flashes all around, as the darts hit their targets and rolled off.

Grimdark managed to push himself to his hands and knees, and more of the darts flared across his back as he made himself a target. A guttural growl escaped his throat as he activated his Drain ability and pulled the energy into himself. The pops diminished rapidly as Grimdark’s eyes began to light up from within. The growl turned into a roar as his last bit of MP was finally evaporated away.

At some point, darts had begun to stick and accumulate along his back. Energy dripped out his back around the darts like blood. Some even dislodged and fell, pushed from the inside out. It was only a small fraction though, and Grimdark’s eyes began to dim. He collapsed hard, hitting his chin as his arms and legs slid away from him.

“Someone deal with those blowguns!”

Anastasia waved a hand and darts rose like little spaceship fighters awaiting her command. She flung them into the barrel of the blowguns and they crammed in like ants, fighting to force their way back inside their home. She bared her teeth and there was a grinding noise followed by a loud *crack*. A hissing followed and the darts stopped coming. Anastasia dropped to the floor like a discarded marionette.

“How is everyone?” Yuki asked.

“These little bad-boys did the job, Aurora. I didn’t get hit by a single dart.” Darik saluted her. “Why has no one outfitted us with personal portable shields before? That could have been bad.”

“It is bad,” BoJack said as he began pulling darts out of Grimdark’s back. “His shield gave out and he’s got a massive dose of tranquilizers in his system. Everyone help me. Pull those by the flights and don’t touch the tips.”

“Flights?”

“The wings of the dart. Have you never been to a pub?” BoJack ripped the tattered shreds of Grimdark’s suit off his back to expose the area. The skin was already puckering and swelling and resembled acne from hell. He put his hands on a small section of Grimdark’s back clear of darts while the others frantically pinched and extracted the rest. A milky-yellow fluid began to slowly bead up on his skin.

“Hurry, his heart’s stopping! Get those darts out of there!” BoJack screamed as the beads grew then began to pool together and drip down his side. BoJack moved his hands to another section, leaving pristine handprints as he touched another bumpy swollen area.

“Gels! I need MP gels. Get him to bite on a red,” BoJack ordered as he continued to work, biting savagely on a gel and chewing aggressively as his hands trembled on Grimdark’s back. “More!”

The others fed him gels and the material just kept coming, flowing like toxic pus.

“There. He’s stabilizing. I’m not. Losing. Anyone. Else,” he gasped in fitful breaths. BoJack appeared to age visibly with the effort.

Everyone cheered when Grimdark moaned and asked, “Wha’ happened?” in a dazed voice.

BoJack slumped back on his heels, eyes drooping. “I’m tapped, cuz. Imma need a nap…” he slurred and his head dropped down on his chest. He almost fell forward onto a pile of extracted darts but Darik grabbed him and held him.

“That sucked,” Yuki said.

“Not only that, we’re still stuck here.”

Chapter Eighty-Four

Karma

The scanners couldn’t detect enough of his unique biopattern to identify him!

Mengele directed Focused Heal on his face. It itched like ants swarming over him but he resisted touching it. The action burned through a fifth of his total MP, a hefty price, but he knew what the defenses would do to him without his suit.

The pale light played across his head again.

Insufficient data. Scans inconclusive for authorized personnel. Evacuate this area in five seconds, or retributive actions will be taken.

Panels slid open and six turrets whirred to life as their cyclotrons began to spin as they powered up.

I definitely have to recalibrate these in the future to accept more than just surface scans. The healing was cannibalizing some of his own tissue for building blocks to create the skin at an accelerated pace. He hoped he wouldn’t go through all of this and his outward appearance would not be changed enough to satisfy the scans.

He held as still as he could as the burning itchy feeling spread over him, burning like a butane torch as it progressed over the rest of his body. He poured everything he had into the process, mentally counting down the remaining seconds until the turrets spun to life, squinting against the scanning light playing up and down him.

Identified. Welcome Dr. Mengele. Would you like to access the Vault at this time?

“Why yes, I would.” He nodded to Gus, tipping an imaginary top hat, then took one step.

And promptly collapsed to the floor.

Gus stood at the imaginary border where the scanners would kick in. Mengele had just taken a faceplant and was just lying there quivering. The system had recognized him at last, but the turrets were already in position and primed to fire. Angry barrels under the turrets spun, whined, and pulsed. He looked back between Mengele and the turrets. This was going to hurt.

But hasn’t this always been my problem? Indecision and doubting, afraid of imagined consequences that may never happen. Fear of pain, real or imagined. And no one there to support me in the moment of choice.

Really though, when the chips are down, the