Chapter 67 - The Blood Vault
The blackout turned the sterile laboratory tier into an abbatoir of confusion.
Ethan didn't wait. The moment the emergency lighting flickered to life in crimson hues, he slammed the stolen stun rod into the electronic lock of the observation lounge's blast door. The circuitry exploded in a shower of sparks, and the pneumatic seal released.
He sprinted into the lab.
Two medical technicians were frantically trying to disconnect the automated extraction needles from Clara’s arm. Ethan vaulted over an exam table, tackled the first tech into a rack of glass vials, and drove his knee into the second man's solar plexus.
"Clara! Wake up!" Ethan pulled the restraints from her wrists.
Clara gasped, blinking against the red haze of the emergency lights. "Ethan... he was inside my head... the data..."
"We're leaving," Ethan said, pulling her to her feet.
Footsteps pounded outside the heavy doors. A squad of six Iron Guard operatives, fully kitted in night-vision optics and body armor, stacked up at the threshold. Their commander leveled a tactical shotgun directly at Ethan’s chest.
"Step away from the subject, Mr. Whitmore," the commander barked.
A sound whispered above them—a metallic pop.
From the ventilation duct eight feet above, Naomi dropped directly into the center of the squad.
She landed like a cat, the gray fabric of her uniform blurring as she swept the legs out from under the commander. Before the remaining men could re-aim, she was inside their guard. A heel strike to a kneecap. A palm thrust to a throat. She took an assault rifle from mid-air as a soldier dropped it, fired three controlled bursts into the body armor of the outer flank, and swung the heavy stock into the final man's helmet, shattering the visor.
Within four seconds, six elite soldiers lay broken on the deck.
Naomi stood amid the wreckage, her breathing steady, her eyes locked on Ethan and Clara.
May you like
"The uniform needs washing," she said softly.
***
