Connor
What the fuck was he thinking?
Connor pulled down his mask, keeping his features concealed. It garnered him some looks from civilians, but it was worth it to keep his identity safe from the Agency. His size normally gave him away, but without his face they couldn’t put him on any of the wanted billboards, as they had done to some others. It allowed him to move normally through the city when he wasn’t expecting to confront them, at least.
Kissing Maddy? His thoughts strayed back to her.
No. Madison. Her name is Madison, he forcefully corrected himself, trying to keep thoughts of her in his mind formal. That would also mean ignoring the way she had felt, pressed against him for that brief second. If he closed his eyes, Connor could still remember the heat of her skin as it touched his.
For just a moment, in the barest of instances, he let himself bask in that sensation once more. His steps slowed along the sidewalk, and he came to a halt.
A glow started from within, expanding rapidly until it enveloped his entire body, holding him within that trancelike pleasure state as he remembered her lips, soft skin staying firm as he kissed her.
She hadn’t recoiled from him. Then again, she hadn’t melted into him either. Perhaps—
No. You have a job to do. Accomplish that. Then you can daydream.
His mind was right; he had to ensure her safety before he could even begin to contemplate the crazy idea that was taking shape in his head.
Connor’s eyes snapped open, the pleasant glow vanishing as his eyelids narrowed, allowing him to focus on the street ahead and survey it for any Agents. Beneath him his legs began to work, slowly at first, but then churning along as he picked up speed, racing down the sidewalk.
The houses gave way to the shops, and he approached the intersection. Like half an hour earlier, the SUV was still there. The same Agent was still leaning against it, though now he was looking across the street at Myles’s shop. Connor glanced over and saw another Agent emerging from within, food in hand.
At least they had good taste. Maybe there was some humanity in them after all.
Connor immediately shut that idea down. The last thing he wanted to do was humanize his enemy. That would only work to their advantage, not his. For him to do his job properly, to protect Madd—Madison—he had to think of them simply as a faceless enemy. No names. No identities. Just targets to be eliminated with extreme prejudice.
Sunlight faded suddenly as a thick cloud blew through the sky, obscuring it from view. The Agents looked up at the sky. Connor used that momentary distraction to his benefit. With a burst of speed he came alongside the Agent leaning over the car.
“Hey!” he yelled in his ear.
The Agent jumped.
Connor grabbed his head mid-air and slammed it down, impacting it into the side of the vehicle, leaving a dent, as well as a chunk of skin with hair still attached to it. He let the Agent fall to the ground as others screamed.
Either now or never, Madison, he thought as the shifter across the street shouted.
Connor took off running down the sidewalk some more. The building ended, and a parking lot for the area was next. To his surprise, a sleek four-door sedan shot from the parking lot in response to the action, tires peeling as it took off down the road in the direction of the safe house.
Behind it, a big black cargo van with the windows blotted out followed. This one screeched to a halt, however, blocking Connor’s progress. He slowed and ran around it, hearing the door open as he did.
To his surprise, both doors were opening. From the far side a tall figure emerged, stepping into his pathway. Connor lowered his shoulder and prepared to send the blocker flying. Something was off about the man in front of him. As the distance closed he tried to figure out what it was.
At the last second he got it. The man wasn’t afraid. He was simply standing there. He wanted Connor to hit him! With this new knowledge in mind, Connor dropped to a crouch, just as the man’s elbow whipped up and through the space his head had occupied a moment earlier.
Shoulder met stomach and the pair of them went down. Mostly. The other man grunted and fell backward, while Connor whoofed in both shock and pain as his bones reverberated from the impact.
What the fuck is this guy? The hit had been worse than the time he had tackled a steel pole painted to look like wood by one of his prankster friends. Connor’s shoulder went numb and his right arm hung uselessly at his side as he rolled away from his attacker.
The other man, clearly some sort of new Extremis Agent that he had yet to encounter, slowly rose to his feet and came after Connor.
With a snarl the shifter launched a left hook at the man.
He caught it.
Connor’s jaw dropped in surprise.
“That’s not possible,” he gasped. The blow had sent the man back a step as he absorbed the force of it, and it had bent his arm backward until his fist almost touched his face, but he had blocked it!
The man’s right hand snapped out and impacted perfectly along Connor’s temple. The shifter went down, the world spinning from the blow. The man hit harder than any bear shifter Connor knew. And he had been hit by some of the best in the business.
He’s not even a full-blown shifter…
Clearly the Agency had found some way to improve their serum. That had to be the answer.
A chill shot through his body, even as he tried to recover his wits.
Had the Agency gotten their hands on an Alpha?
Sunlight reemerged as the clouds dissipated in the sky, only to be blocked out by shadow once more as the Extremis Agent loomed over him. He pulled back a fist and hit Connor again.
Connor was tough. He had been hit by shifters stronger than he on any number of occasions. It was part of his training. He had even sparred with a gryphon shifter, one of the more powerful shifter races, a time or two. While the Agent didn’t hit quite that hard, it was damn close.
He didn’t black out, but he was in no shape to resist either. His head lolled from side to side as the Agent picked him up, tossed him over his shoulder like a ragdoll, and walked back to the van, where he threw Connor inside rather unceremoniously. The inside was empty, and Connor slid across the floor until his head impacted on the metal bump over the wheel well.
Ringing burst through his skull from the blow.
“Ow,” he moaned, blinking rapidly, trying to shunt the pain aside.
“Quiet,” a voice rasped.
He forced his eyes shut for several seconds to try and stop the spinning, then opened them, focusing on the source of the voice.
A metal panel separated the rear of the van from the driver. Along the panel a welded metal bench sat elevated off the floor, upon which sat an Agent. The Extremis Agent climbed inside, pulling the door shut. He kicked Connor hard in the side, then moved around behind him.
Connor started to get up, and received an elbow to the side of his head as payment. He fell back against the cool, dark metal of the floor, reeling from the blow. This was not going at all the way he intended.
Then again, the intervention of some sort of Extremis super-Agent hadn’t been on anyone’s radar. He frowned mentally at that, content to just lie on the floor for the moment. Neither of the two men in the back seemed inclined to do anything as long as he stayed still. In fact, his covert glances showed him that neither of them had tranq guns either. That was good, if he could find a way to beat the Agent.
Connor had always relied on strength to overpower his enemies, and a combination of strength and training when simple power didn’t work. It was scary to realize his biggest advantage had just been neutralized.
“What are you feeding him?” he asked the man sitting on the bench, pointing over his shoulder at the Agent.
Neither replied, but he saw the man—who he was now confident was not an Extremis Agent—roll his eyes.
“Take off your mask,” the man commanded instead.
Connor made no move to comply.
With a sigh the man gestured, and before Connor could do anything the Agent casually grabbed the mask and ripped it from his face, material tearing as it parted around the back of his skull. By ripping it from him and not pulling it off, the force of the Agent’s grip pulled Connor’s head up off the floor.
When the material parted, his head fell, hitting the floor again.
“Ow,” he said dully, more angered at that last insult than anything else.
“Where is your base?” the raspy voiced man spoke again.
It was becoming clear to him that for some reason that man was in charge, while the Extremis Agent wasn’t. Something in his head told him that was important, but he wasn’t sure why yet.
“All your base are belong to us,” he replied.
The man frowned. “What?”
“Nothing,” he replied, unsure of where that cryptic reference had come from.
The question was repeated.
“What base?” Connor asked.
“The one your silly little Underground operates from. Stop acting like some dimwitted buffoon.”
Interesting. So you know we call ourselves the Underground do you? I wonder how you came by that little tidbit of information.
As far as Connor was aware, the Agency hadn’t actually captured any of their operatives yet. Connor and his team had always been able to prevent that. Aside from them, the rest of the operation was mostly contained to internal people, those that the Agency would never know worked for the Underground, because they never did anything in the outside world that would call attention to them. If Connor was being truthful, he didn’t even know how many there were. Flint was the only one who knew that information, and he never involved himself in operations that might expose who he was.
In response to the man, Connor mimicked the noises of an ape. For that, he earned a swift blow to the ribs from the Extremis Agent. Something collapsed under the fist, and he sucked in a sharp intake of air, pain blossoming over his side as he did.
Broken rib, one for sure, possibly two. This guy hits too hard. I’ll need to find another way to beat him.
His eyes began to roam the interior of the van, looking for something he could use as an advantage when he made his move. Meanwhile, the “interrogation,” if that’s what it was, continued.
“Fine. The names of your comrades then,” the man said, switching avenues of question.
“Johnny, Freddy, and Georgie,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Are we serious? Is this really your version of an interrogation? I mean, come on! This is pathetic. If you want, I can show you how it’s done,” he suggested, putting his hands under him and starting to rise.
The Extremis Agent’s fist came at his face, but Connor dropped his hands just in time so that it was only a grazing blow. Playing a hunch, he faked being hit worse than he had. There was no follow-up. While that didn’t confirm his suspicions completely, it helped. It had been quite clear the blow hadn’t impacted him as hard as the others.
“Very well. If you won’t tell us, we’ll have to move on,” the man said, reaching into his jacket.
Connor tensed when the man removed his hand. He had expected to see a tranquilizer gun. Instead, the man held a needle, the tube filled with a nearly clear liquid. There was a hint of light green, or perhaps yellow tinge to it. Connor’s head was still hurting, and he couldn’t quite make it out, especially in the dim light in the interior.
He needed to get his hands on that vial.