"On the floor! Hands where I can see them!" The clinic door blew off its hinges and hit the far wall before I could blink.
"Elara, down!" I grabbed her wrist and dragged her behind the counter as the flashbang popped.
White light ate my vision. My ears rang.
"Contact! One male, one female!" A hound in matte black armor stormed in, rifle up. "Don't move!"
"Kyle, stay down," Elara hissed. Her fingers dug into my forearm. Her skin was cold. "They'll shoot."
"Yeah, noticed," I said. "You got a plan or are we just dying behind your desk?"
"I have a plan if you shut up for two seconds!" She slapped her palm on the floor panel. It didn't open.
"Great plan," I said.
"It's jammed!" She hit it again. Harder. "Come on, come on!"
"Hands! Let me see your hands!" The hound rounded the counter. Red laser dancing on my chest.
I put my hands up. My blood was buzzing. Like static under my skin.
"Don't," Elara whispered. "Kyle, don't use it. Not yet. You can't control it."
"I can't control getting shot either," I said.
"On your knees! Now!" The hound jabbed his rifle at me. "You, scrapper. On your knees!"
"Okay, okay!" I started to kneel. Then I saw his chrome.
His whole right arm. Chrome plating, black cables, a glowing seam at the elbow. Corp military grade. Expensive.
And my blood wanted it.
"Last warning!" he shouted.
"Kyle, no—" Elara grabbed my shirt.
I didn't listen. I lunged.
I got my hand around his rifle and yanked. He was stronger. Way stronger. The chrome in his arm whined as he twisted.
"Let go!" he snarled.
"You let go," I said, and slammed my other palm straight onto his forearm chrome.
The second I touched it, it happened.
Heat shot up my arm. Not burn-hot. Rot-hot. Like acid eating metal.
"What the—" He stared as the chrome under my hand turned dull. Then pitted. Then black.
"Get off me!" He tried to punch me with his other fist.
I didn't let go. The rot spread. Fast. The glowing seam flickered. Crackled.
"The hell are you doing to my rig?" He screamed it. Actually screamed.
"I don't know!" I shouted back. "You tell me!"
Elara was staring. Eyes wide. "Kyle, your veins—"
My veins were lighting up. Dark red, almost black, glowing right under the skin. Crawling up from my hand into my arm.
The hound's chrome arm made a sick crunch. Like rusted metal folding.
"Get it off! Get it off!" He beat at my hand with his good arm.
I twisted. I felt something give. Not the gun. The arm.
"Stop!" Elara yelled. "You'll kill him!"
"He was gonna kill us!" I yelled back.
The chrome plating flaked off in chunks. Underneath, the synthetic muscle was withering. Turning to dust.
The hound dropped to his knees. His rifle clattered.
"Please," he gasped. "Please, stop—"
I pulled. Hard.
The whole forearm assembly ripped away with a wet, metallic shriek. Wires sparking. Black fluid leaking.
I was holding his titanium spine-link in my bare hands. It was still warm.
"Holy shit," I breathed.
Elara's mouth was open. "You ripped it out. With your hands."
"Yeah," I said. My hands were shaking. But not from fear. From the rush. God, the rush. Power flooded up my arm into my chest. Like I'd mainlined pure adrenaline and chrome at the same time. "I did."
"Drop the augment!" Another voice. Two more hounds at the doorway. Rifles up.
"Elara!" I shouted.
"The hatch!" She kicked the floor panel and it finally popped with a hiss. "Go! Now!"
"You first!" I shoved her toward the hole.
"I'm not leaving you!" she snapped, even as she dropped down.
"That's literally leaving me!" I tossed the dead arm at the hounds. It sparked when it hit the floor.
They fired. Bullets chewed the counter where my head had been half a second ago.
I dove for the hatch. Rolled. Fell.
We hit the sewer water hard. Ankle-deep, freezing, stinking of rust and rot.
"Move!" Elara grabbed my hand. Her palm was slick but her grip was iron. "This way!"
"Which way is 'this way'?" I said, coughing. Water in my mouth.
"Any way that isn't up!" She pulled me down the tunnel. Her lab coat was soaked and sticking to her legs. Her breath was fast against my shoulder.
Boots pounded above us. Shouts. "They went down! Cut them off at junction three!"
"They know the sewers," she panted. "They mapped them."
"Of course they did," I said. "Rich assholes always map where the poor people hide."
She actually laughed. Short, sharp. "Shut up and run faster."
My arm still glowed. Fainter now, but pulsing. Like a heartbeat under the skin.
"How long does that last?" She glanced at it as we ran. Her fingers brushed my wrist. Light touch. Then she pulled back like I'd burned her.
"I don't know," I said. "You tell me, doc. You're the chrome expert."
"I'm not an expert on you," she said. "You're not supposed to exist."
"Thanks. Really helps my confidence."
"I'm serious, Kyle." She stopped at a junction, chest heaving. Water dripping from her hair onto her cheeks. She was close. Too close. I could feel the heat coming off her despite the cold water. "What you did up there — that wasn't just corrosion. You absorbed it. The energy. Did you feel it?"
"Yeah," I said. My voice was lower. "Felt like I could rip the whole tower down."
Her eyes dropped to my mouth, then snapped back up. "Don't get cocky. You'll burn out."
"You worried about me?" I said.
"I'm worried about my sample dying before I cure myself," she shot back. But her hand was still on my wrist. Her thumb pressed lightly over my pulse. It was hammering.
"Right," I said. "Just a sample."
"Don't," she whispered.
"Don't what?"
"Don't do that." Her breath hit my chin. "Don't look at me like that when we're about to die."
A searchlight swept the tunnel behind us. "There! Movement!"
"Go!" I pushed her ahead of me.
We splashed down the left tunnel. My legs were burning. The glow in my arm was getting brighter again, not dimmer.
Elara's scanner was on her belt. It started to beep. Soft at first.
Then faster.
Then screaming.
"What is that?" I said.
She grabbed it. Looked at the screen. Her face went white.
"No," she whispered. "No, no, no—"
"What?" I grabbed her shoulders. "Elara, what?"
"Your blood," she said. She held the scanner up. The whole screen was red. Pulsing in time with the light under my skin. "It's spiking. It's broadcasting. Kyle, you're glowing like a flare."
"So turn it off!" I said.
"I can't turn it off! It's you!" She stared at me, eyes wide, water running down her neck. "Every Corp satellite in a hundred miles can see you right now. Every hound, every drone—"
The scanner screamed louder. The light in my veins flared, bright enough to light the whole sewer tunnel.
Above us, through the grate, we heard the whine of drones locking on.
"Kyle, your blood is—"