Connor
Neither Andre nor Milos responded.
Outside of the vehicle the Extremis Agents began to close in, taking slow, measured steps that brought them inexorably closer to the vehicle. Connor figured the only reason they didn’t charge was that they were still hoping that the three occupants might fight amongst themselves first, saving them some effort.
“I’m going to get out of the vehicle now,” he said calmly. “I can’t just let them kill us. They have Maddy, and I need to help her. Whatever Flint may have said, she’s an innocent in all this, and he just sent her into a trap. That’s not right, and I think you two know it.”
Trusting his gut, he unlocked his door and slowly pulled the handle, keeping himself hyper-alert in case they decided to attack him anyway. But they didn’t, and he exited the car smoothly, his presence bringing the Extremis Agents to a halt. Oddly, he didn’t see the big brute among them. Could he have possibly killed him with those few blows back in the van? Connor didn’t think so, but perhaps that was why he wasn’t present.
“You can leave now,” he said aloud. “If you do, I won’t come after you. Not today at least.”
The pair in front of him exchanged looks, while he heard the pair behind him laugh out loud at his threat. They had him outnumbered; they knew it wasn’t a fair fight.
“You can’t be serious, silly man,” said the bigger of the two in front in a big, booming voice, thick with an accent. “We are four. You are one.”
Connor smiled. “So get a few more, and it’ll be a fair fight.”
The Agents looked at each other in confusion, thrown off by his casual arrogance.
“You talk like you’re going to win,” one of the men behind him said.
“That’s because I know something you don’t,” he replied.
“Oh?”
He smiled, baring his teeth at them in a wordless challenge. “I know you’re going to lose. People like you will always lose.”
One of them snorted loudly. “Why is that?”
“Because people like me will always be there to stand up to you. If you kill me, someone else will rise up to take my spot.” He growled angrily. “And you had better believe I’m taking at least two of you bastards with me.”
“You will still die,” one of them said with a laugh.
“Yeah, but I’m gonna start by taking you with me,” he replied, staring directly at the man who had spoken.
The Extremis Agent noticeably swallowed, glancing over at his partner.
Connor rolled his eyes. “Are we going to do this, or what?” he snapped, becoming impatient.
The other men tensed, spreading out into a shallow semicircle around his side of the vehicle.
Something clicked.
Connor looked around, trying to find the sound. His eyes settled finally on the rear door to the truck as it opened. Andre climbed out. He could see Milos doing the same thing on the far side.
“Made a decision, did you?” he asked them warily.
Andre nodded.
“And?” Connor prompted.
“This is my town,” Andre said, his voice angry. “I’m sick and tired of these assholes coming in here and ruining the place.” He turned on his heel and charged at the nearest Agent.
Connor snarled in agreement, moving at the same time. He heard Milos do the same.
The fight was on.
The Agent he faced went for his knife, but Connor was there too quickly. He slammed a palm into the man’s elbow as he reached for the sheath on his waist. The move jarred the Agent’s hand away from the pommel of the knife, and twisted him away from Connor.
The Sentinel training in him guided his blows. He used the force of his blow to spin him around, delivering a flat-bladed chop of his hand to the side of the Agent’s neck. Something collapsed, but the Agent only staggered, not going down. The move took Connor past him and into line with the next Agent, who did have his knife out.
Connor reached behind him, fingers wrapping around the knife of the Agent he had momentarily incapacitated. He yanked, pulling it free just in time to swing it into the path of the attacker’s jab. Metal clanged on metal and he deflected the blow.
Connor darted inside the man’s extended arm, delivering an elbow to the Agent’s nose. Bone cracked and blood immediately began to gush down his face. The man cried out in pain, but he didn’t drop the knife.
Behind him, he heard the first Agent curse, a sign that he was about ready to reenter the fray. Connor chopped down on the Agent’s knife hand, numbing the grip and sending the blade spinning to the ground. He kicked it away, and in the same motion opened a wound from the man’s stomach to sternum. The Agent screamed and fell to the ground.
A weight hit Connor mid-thigh as the first Agent tackled him, sending him to the ground, his own knife skittering across the pavement and under the truck. A fist smacked the back of his head, sending his face down into the pavement. He cried out as skin was ripped from his face and stars blossomed across his vision from the impact.
Another blow into his side broke a rib, sending waves of agony through his entire core. Connor managed to get his hands under him and rolled, but his attacker came with him, snaking his hands under Connor’s chin and locking in his grip. Eyes bulging from the lack of air, he watched with his back to the ground as the Agent with the broken nose stomped over to him, leaving a trail of falling blood across the parking lot that had become their battleground. The wound on his chest bled even more profusely, his shirt and pants soaked. Connor could see his skin already going white. The wound was quite likely a mortal one, as it would not heal. He had seen the green non-healing paste on the knife blade before cutting the man.
Something glittered in the lights at the corner of his rapidly dimming vision as the Agent raised a booted foot, intending to bring it down on his face.
A knife! The first one that had been thrown from the man’s hands. In their rolling fight, they had come right next to it. Connor stopped fighting the grip on his neck, reaching out to snag the knife. He flipped the blade up and drove it firmly through the sole of the Agents boot as he stomped on him.
The Agent howled, spinning around, blood droplets flying from his stomach as he fell to the ground. The move almost ripped the knife from Connor’s hands, but he held on by sheer force.
He was almost out of air now. He needed to do something. He couldn’t pry the man’s entire hand loose—his grip was too good. But he could get a finger. Feeling his throat begin to collapse under the hold, he moved rapidly. His free hand worked one of the man’s pinky fingers free.
Connor’s other hand swooped in, and in one strong strike, he severed the finger completely.
The Agent’s grip immediately loosened as he screamed in agony. A rush of breath shot into Connor’s system and he sat up, inhaling huge mouthfuls of air into his greedy lungs. The inhuman wailing of the man under him reminded him of his predicament.
Connor rolled off the man onto his knees, drew his arm back, and shoved the knife up under the Agent’s ribcage and into his heart. The metal snapped, leaving a useless handle in his fingers, and the blade impaled inside the Agent.
He glanced over at the other man, the one with the stab wound through the foot. The Agent’s convulsions lessened, and he was barely moving now. A large pool of dark liquid had begun to surround him.
Feeling stronger as he continued to breathe deeply, Connor stood up and approached. He only needed one look at the slack-jawed, dull-eyed expression to know the man was dead.
A cry sounded from the other side of the truck, reminding Connor that he wasn’t alone. Rushing around, he quickly took stock of the situation. With his aid, Andre and then Milos’s opponents were quickly dispatched. The other shifters hadn’t escaped harm either. Milos had a broken arm, and Andre was holding a knife wound on his upper leg closed. He was going to need some stitches.
“Take the truck, get back to the club,” he told them. “Tell Flint that I fought you two, but then the Agency got ahold of me. Pretend like I’m in their hands. Stall him for as long as you can!” he shouted as he headed straight for one of the Agency vehicles now idling.
“Where are you going?” Milos called.
“To save Maddy!”
Tires squealed under him as he took off.