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said as he turned.

ā€œWhat are you?ā€ the second guard cried out as he saw Rickā€™s glowing eyes and metallic face. The man reached for a high-voltage stunner on his belt. He jammed the conductive tip into Rickā€™s metallic abdomen, triggering a 50,000-volt discharge. The Ɔsirā€™s hybrid batteries registered a 12% increase in power.

Rick sighed and backhanded the man, sending him cartwheeling to the side, where he landed in a heap. Spinning around, he found only one opSha still moving, but Sato was on his knees, the alien on his back, and its hand around his neck. Sato was screaming and writhing. Rick moved in a blur.

* * *

Just like the time heā€™d apparently fought the men in Houston, Sato didnā€™t remember any of it from the instant before the fight began until the end. This time the ending was different.

His feelings of self returned with a crash; awareness of his situation instantly sent him into a panic. Around him, three of the opSha were sprawled, contorted in either death or unconsciousness. The final one was on his back, scrambling to get a grasp around his neck. Along with his feelings of self were the sensations of many bruises and scratches. This hadnā€™t been a one-sided fight like the one with the street toughs in Houston.

ā€œHold still, damn you!ā€ The opSha on his back snapped, its fingers trying for a grip in his hair.

Sato had never taken to combat courses while in the Winged Hussars. He was a scientist, not some grunt in a CASPer. This strange part of him was disturbing. ā€œProctor,ā€ the opSha had called him. His knuckles ached, likely from smashing them into the alienā€™s face or other parts.

ā€œGet off,ā€ he cried and tried to shake it off. He was at least five times the size of the opSha, but it was amazingly nimble and strong for its size. Then he felt tiny hands scrambling to reach his pinlinks, the external access ports for his pinplants. Fear exploded in the pit of his stomach, and he somehow knew it wasnā€™t the first time. It had touched them moments ago, briefly, and attempted to access his mind through them! It must have some sort of interface in its hands.

Sato did the only thing he could think, he threw himself at the ground, backwards. It was a wild reverse jump, almost like a dive toward the water. It was a completely instinctual move, with no concept of the repercussions, and it was the best move he could have performed.

Halfway to the ground, the opShaā€™s hands touched his pinlinks, and he felt the attack. A brutal lance of thought, the way a laser focuses light; boring, cutting, probing into his pinplants andā€¦reachingā€¦

Then he hit the ground, crushing the opSha between himself and the concrete walkway outside the museum that had become a battleground. He clearly heard the hollow thwack of the opShaā€™s head striking concrete, and the grasp lessened. The loosening upon impact was also accompanied by the cracking of bone, which was transmitted through their flesh. ā€œGrahh!ā€ the opSha cried out in pain.

Heā€™d had a simian cushion between himself and the unyielding concrete. Still, he added another handful of bumps to the already long list. He hadnā€™t felt this beaten up since heā€™d returned to New Warsaw after the Keesius incident. With a groan, he rolled off the opSha, who raised a weapon pointed at Satoā€™s head.

ā€œSo be it,ā€ the alien snarled, and pulled the trigger.

The pop of the tiny projectile weapon firing and the clang! of the bullet striking Rickā€™s armored hand were nearly instantaneous. So close together Sato jumped, fully believing the round had split his skull.

ā€œYou okay?ā€ Rick asked, hovering a meter up and casually dropping the bullet. The opSha struggled with shaking hands to reload the apparently single-shot weapon. Rick moved an arm, and a tiny laser pulse split the weapon in two, taking some of the alienā€™s fingers with it. ā€œThatā€™s enough of that,ā€ Rick said to the alien.

Sato struggled to his feet and stared at the defeated being, holding a savaged limb and glaring at him. The face held pain and hate in equal parts. ā€œWhat is this all about?ā€ he demanded.

ā€œYou should have stayed hidden,ā€ the opSha said. ā€œSaisho knows and will find you.ā€ It took a calming breath and closed its tiny eyes. A moment later an electrical spark arced from the beingā€™s pinplants, and it spasmed for a moment before falling limp.

ā€œWhat the fuck was that all about?ā€ Rick demanded as he landed next to Sato.

ā€œI-I donā€™t know,ā€ he admitted. His left knee and ankle hurt badly. He was afraid his ankle was broken. He pointed at the other three opSha. ā€œAre they dead?ā€

Rickā€™s head turned fractionally as he used his suitā€™s sensors. ā€œYes, all from various blunt force trauma, and one broken neck. I wish you could turn that shit on and off when you wanted.ā€

ā€œMe, too,ā€ Sato admitted and moved closer to the last one. He quickly pulled a logic probe from his little toolkit and touched it to the alienā€™s pinlink. The computer diagnostic tool quickly told him the pinplants were completely destroyed. ā€œBurned out his own pinplants, killed himself,ā€ he said aloud.

ā€œSurprised he didnā€™t say ā€˜Hail, Hydra,ā€™ or some shit like that,ā€ Rick mumbled.

Sato didnā€™t have time to wonder what Rick meant. The two guards Rick had disabled were slowly coming around. At the entrance to the museum, people were screaming and running about. The sound of sirens in the distance was growing closer. But he couldnā€™t leave immediately. He bent over the body and started searching.

ā€œWhat are you looking for?ā€ Rick asked. ā€œWe gotta get outta here.ā€

ā€œClues,ā€ Sato said.

ā€œThe police are coming. Weā€™re all over their dispatch.ā€

ā€œThen the faster you help, the quicker we can get out of here!ā€

Rick cursed quietly but went to one of the fallen

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