Maximus

As his defiant challenge echoed away through the night, Maximus took stock of his opponent. It was Magnus. The same shifter that had almost killed him that night at the barn. Oversized, and with flat eyes that were devoid of emotion and morals. He had the look of a killer.

Maximus positioned his bulk between his enemy and Haley, making it very clear that their fight was not with the human women, but with him and his brothers. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gavin’s bear shielding Lena, as were his other brothers up and down the line. The women had held long enough for him and his brothers to stow the fallen Kronum shifters in the vehicles, so that they could get them to safety.

Now it was the Koche brothers’ turn to show their mates just what they could do. They were united at last, prepared to unleash the full arsenal of their power upon any that tried to stop them. Maximus pitied anyone who tried.

Magnus stopped. He didn’t slow, he simply stopped. His eyes oriented upon Maximus, and he felt the full weight of his enemy’s gaze hit him. It was considerable, like an anvil dropped by one of the gods had landed on his shoulders, pushing him down to the earth. It was clear that Magnus was used to getting his way when he directed such a look at someone.

“Surrender,” he said in the same cold, calculating tone he’d used the last time they had clashed.

Against many of his enemies, that might have worked. But this time he was facing Maximus Aurelius Koche, eldest of the Koche brothers, and foremost of the Blackjack Bears. Surrender wasn’t an option, and even if it had been, he wouldn’t have done so. Unfortunately, Magnus was too far out of range for him to smack him down. So he did the next best thing. He flicked his tail, turned a little more sideways while squatting, and deposited his answer on the ground.

Behind him he could hear Haley making a disgusted noise, and knew he’d probably have to apologize, but it had the effect he wanted. Anger burned through the hard, professional exterior that Magnus had constructed as the insult went home.

Against a calm, cool, and controlled Magnus, the fight would have been too close. His enemy had the advantage of numbers as well, even if their wild charge had slowed to a halt, blocked by the five massive bears preventing them from reaching the more fragile human women.

So he’d done what he felt was necessary to drive Magnus into a frenzy, where he could hopefully make a mistake that Maximus could then exploit, bringing the fight to a swifter conclusion. He didn’t have time or desire to spend fighting Magnus. The man was strong, skilled, and a large threat, but he wasn’t Reashallow. Maximus would have to put him down and move on, unless the leader decided to show his face.

“I am going to kill you for that,” Magnus said, and let the transformation begin to flow through his body.

That’s your second mistake.

In many instances, the distance between two fighters was such that the change could take place before they could close. Especially if both of them were in human form to begin with. Maximus had gambled on Magnus not having much experience with street-brawling techniques when he’d shifted on the run back to Haley. Now he was being proven right.

Instead of doing the “right and honorable” thing by letting Magnus finish his change, as soon as he saw the other man begin to shift, he darted forward and clobbered him with a paw to the face. Magnus went cartwheeling away, rebounding off another one of his men before rolling to a stop in the dust.

Maximus didn’t wait for Magnus to get up. He charged forward, and before they even realized they were under attack, he’d taken down another two shifters still in human form. They weren’t any of the five that had been with Magnus before, but they were a threat nonetheless. Though they were strong, against his bear it was no contest. Both men went spinning away, their throats a shredded mess.

His brothers were doing the same, and in moments the enemy had formed into two groups: Magnus’s prime cohort, and the remaining half-dozen shifters. The element of surprise was over, and now two-thousand-pound bears filled the courtyard outside the Institute building. Maximus couldn’t talk to Haley, nor did he dare turn around, but he hoped—likely in vain, knowing her—that the women had retreated and were going to escape in the vehicles. This battle wouldn’t be safe for the likes of her.

Hell, it wasn’t going to be safe for the likes of him either, but he at least would stand a chance, as would his brothers. If one of the bears cornered one of the women, it would be over faster than his surprise attack a few seconds earlier.

Magnus was back on his feet now, shaking off the concrete dust that had adhered to his fur when he’d fallen into the pile of rubble of the wall. His bear eyes burned with an intense hatred as he came right at Maximus. One of the random Institute shifters didn’t move out of the way fast enough and was shouldered aside by the rampaging bear.

Hmmm, I wonder if there’s such a thing as making someone too angry?

Maximus waited for Magnus to fully commit in his charge, and then he flung himself to the side at the last second. He made no attempt to inflict injury on his foe. Instead all he was doing was taunting him, staying just out of range. Magnus stumbled to a halt, spun, and came back at him like an angry rhinoceros, head down, eyes unwavering on his target. Again Maximus moved out of the way at this last second. This time Magnus was ready for it though, and he altered course, slamming into Maximus just as he landed. The blow was stupendous, and he flipped end over end as he fell away. It shook him up a little, but it didn’t daze him. He was on his feet in a flash and this time he charged.

The two bears collided, the force of four thousand pounds of body meeting at an appreciable combined speed enough to shake the earth and produce a sound like a thunderclap. Paws batted back and forth, ripping giant clumps of fur and tearing flesh open in long ragged strips. Maximus trumpeted in pain as one particular strike bounced off bone, but he was giving as good as he got. Half of Magnus’s face was hanging loose, and his front right arm looked like it’d been fed through an industrial cheese grater.

As if by mutual agreement the combatants backed away, falling to all fours. Maximus did so gingerly, ensuring his limbs could support his weight. They protested in pain, but they held. Magnus did no such thing, simply landing on his paws heavily, without a care.

Which is why the one Maximus had specifically targeted at risk to his own person collapsed, no longer able to support weight. It had cost him a number of wounds himself that he might not have otherwise suffered, but now it all proved to have been worth it.

Before Magnus could recover, he shot forward, dodging the belated effort by Magnus to strike as he angled in at his enemy’s rear. His jaws sunk deep, ripping a large chunk of flesh right off of Magnus’s hind leg, before he used his own claws to slice tendons and gouge muscle. The back leg wobbled, and Magnus sat down with a sudden thud. Maximus circled back around to the front of his foe.

For the first time, an emotion besides anger was displayed on the bear’s face. He’d lost, and in abrupt fashion as well. Maximus knew it should have taken far longer, but he’d gotten lucky. Magnus looked up at him, defeat visible in his eyes.

Maximus nodded once, and then his right paw came up and sliced open the huge black bear’s throat. Blood sprayed everywhere and gushed to the ground, forming a puddle before the massive body even collapsed, the lifeless head hitting the ground a split second after the rest of it.

All around the clearing the other shifters paused. His brothers were still battling the same shifters they’d faced off with two weeks earlier, while the others waited. Now, with the realization that their leader was dead, the half-dozen secondary shifters did the one thing he’d hoped they wouldn’t.

Moving as one, the six of them all came at him.

Oh. Shit.

Although his fight with Magnus had been ended swiftly, he had still been hurt from it, and blood was starting to mat the fur on his forelegs and chest. Any one of the approaching shifters he could likely still take. Maybe even two, depending on their skills. Maximus Koche was a confident shifter.

Even he knew that six was just too many. He braced himself anyway, angling his less wounded side forward and trying to spot a flaw in their attack pattern that he could exploit.

There was none. He was screwed. Royally, and completely, screwed. So he went on the attack instead. It was the only thing he could do, as maybe, maybe he’d get lucky and they’d scatter at the unexpected move. He hoped for it, prayed for it, but Maximus could honestly say he didn’t expect it.

So when the first oncoming shifter tumbled away, he stutter-stepped in surprise. An instant later a second one simply toppled over mid-charge. He was intimidating, sure, but enough to force two shifters to do that? No, no way.

That was when he started hearing the hissing noise of the tranquilizer guns firing, and his eyes were drawn to the other bears. The darts were six inches of steel filled with a liquid tranquilizer. They weren’t small. But the animals had so much more flesh than the human form that the darts often sunk in so deep only an inch or two remained to be seen. Maximus had completely missed it.

All around him the shifters started to go down as the women returned. Knowing the battle was won, he immediately shifted back to human form.

“Are you insane?” he asked as Haley walked up to him, reloading her gun with another magazine she pulled from a strap around her shoulder.

“Good to see you too,” she said in a calm voice, her head swinging left and right to survey the battlefield.

Maximus watched as the gun moved with her head, always pointing where she was looking. He blinked. This was not the Haley that had come running from the Institute that first day. This Haley was tougher, rougher, and any number of words he could think of. Yet he knew that she was still her same self, because most nights he went to sleep with that Haley curled up tightly in his arms.

“You are an amazing woman,” he said, the words coming out before he could stop them.

She smiled, a tinge of pink appearing in her cheeks. “I think that was a compliment, so thank you.”

“It was,” he said, surveying the battlefield.

Shifter bodies and corpses were littered everywhere. His brothers were all alive, though like him, they bore injuries. Kassian in particular had taken a mauling. Rosie was currently pressing a flap of skin to his face, looking like she was trying not to vomit as she waited for his body to heal enough that it stayed in place. Maximus couldn’t blame her. It looked pretty nasty. But Kassian was alive, and that was all that mattered.

“Still no Reashallow,” he said angrily as the wind rose. “I’d really hoped that this was it. That he was going to make his presence known.”

The others nodded, making their way closer to him, staying close to their mates, like he was with Haley.

“We should go,” she said from his side, raising her voice to be heard over the wind. “Get those prisoners somewhere where we can help them.” Her hand pushed her hair back from her face as it was whipped free of the bun.

He looked around as the cornfield behind them began to sway crazily. She was right, he knew. The Kronum shifters needed medical attention. Badly. So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that something was wrong? That they were missing something?

“What is it?” Haley asked, her voice making it obvious she felt the same.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his eyes narrowing to slits against the wind as it pounded down against them.

Wait a minute. Wind doesn’t come down. He jerked his head upward just as a pitch-black helicopter descended out of the sky. Its rotors spun, but they made barely a sound. If he hadn’t looked up it would have landed in the space between them and the vehicles and they wouldn’t have known about it until it was down, so distracted were they by the fight they’d just had.

“Get back!” he shouted as the vehicle landed and the door opened.

Out came two men dressed in black. He recognized them immediately. They had been with Reashallow the last time they had encountered him. When he had shot Kassian, almost killing his brother as he tried to free Maximus.

He’d been unconscious himself at that point, but the gunmen had been a constant sight during his stay with the Institute.

“He’s here,” he hissed just loud enough for Haley to hear.

This was it. This was their chance. Somehow they had to get past the gunmen and take on Reashallow. If they could do that, then it would be over. The Institute would fall apart, he was convinced of it. They could free the women being used as breeders, and any of the other shifters that might be imprisoned, dismantling the whole operation.

“I’m going to kill him,” he said as the leader of the Institute finally emerged from the interior of the helicopter.

He was tall, with bright blue eyes that had no warmth whatsoever in them. His hair was perfectly coiffed, and it barely moved in the wind, evidence of far too much hair product. His face was all angular lines, like that of a model, his strong jaw pronounced and currently clenched with anger.

The suit he wore was expensive. It just reeked with money and arrogance, amplified by the way Reashallow held himself and looked at Maximus and his brothers with a natural disdain that had to be seen to be believed.

“Come to surrender?” Kean called angrily.

Reashallow’s gaze had been fixated on Maximus, but now it shifted to Kean. His curved eyebrows twitched slightly, and he tossed his head minutely in Kean’s direction. Without hesitation one of the marksmen raised his gun and shot his brother.

Maximus bristled as he saw his younger brother go down, taking the bullet in the upper shoulder. The low groan told him he would live, which was the only reason he didn’t charge right at Reashallow.

That, and the fact that both gunmen had swung the muzzles of their weapons to point directly at him, as if expecting that.

“I shall talk,” Reashallow said, his voice barely containing the fury within it.

Maximus just gestured for him to go on.

“You have failed,” the Institute head called across the distance.

Maximus looked over at the corpse of Magnus, and all the other downed shifters. Finally he reoriented himself back at Reashallow, and after a long pause, he simply shrugged. The message was clear: It doesn’t look like I’ve failed. It’s your men strewn all about.

“I’ve let you shifters try to sort this out on your own. Magnus was very insistent that he be given the chance to track you down and put you out of your misery himself. He’s been very helpful to me in the past, so I let him. Now though, I see that was a mistake. You are dangerous, Maximus, I will give you that. I didn’t get to where I am by not respecting an opponent when they deserved it.” He paused for dramatic effect. “But I also didn’t get here by being unprepared, or afraid to do what was necessary.”

“And what is necessary?” he asked, knowing a prompt when he saw one. Reashallow was all about the theater and putting on a show. It was really rather wearisome. But if he didn’t play along, he wasn’t sure how he’d get a chance at the leader.

“Well, when you have pests that insist on doing things like attacking all of your support systems, you can’t always rely on relocating them.” His expression grew harder until it looked like it was chiseled from granite. Reashallow reached into the pocket of his suit. “Sometimes you have to exterminate them.”