"To receive a name personally bestowed by the honored Twins is an incredible honor."
The moment the Eredar Twins officially named the armor the Predator, G’north bowed so deeply it was a wonder his forehead didn’t hit the floor.
He even turned his head slightly as he bowed, giving Adrian and the Benjamins a subtle look.
They had no choice but to bend at the waist as well.
"Yes. Exactly. An honor."
Inside, however, all three were cursing him.
How much do you owe these people, old man? Did you sign away your soul?
If G’north was determined to be this shamelessly servile, fine. But did he really have to drag them into it?
Of course, none of them dared say any of that aloud.
After nearly a month at the company, even the slowest among them had realized something was deeply wrong.
This was not a normal company.
A quick search for the so-called Gospel Corporation described it as a recently registered medical-device company dedicated to producing mechanical prosthetics that could help amputees and other disabled people live normal lives.
That wasn’t exactly a lie.
It simply wasn’t the whole truth.
Adrian had learned that firsthand after being brought into the company’s research.
None of the projects he’d encountered were aimed at helping the disabled.
They were designed to create weapons.
Weapons capable of producing more disabled people and corpses.
Worse, the company was attempting to merge Chitauri alien technology with its own weapons research.
When Adrian had first learned about the project, he’d assumed it would take years. Chitauri technology was completely alien to human science. Even understanding its basic principles should have been a monumental undertaking.
Instead, they’d made a breakthrough in less than a month.
And they were already putting the results into practice.
The Predator was proof.
Its power system alone was based on energy technology reverse-engineered from the Chitauri.
What kind of technological capability allowed someone to accomplish that in such a short time?
Then there was G’north.
Adrian had never truly understood the phrase a scholar without equal until he’d met the man.
Faced with completely unfamiliar extraterrestrial technology, the thin, unpleasant-looking old man could dissect it as casually as if he’d spent his entire life studying it.
Adrian and the other assistants barely needed to do any actual research.
Their job was mostly to explain how the technology should be adapted to human standards and practical human use.
The whole arrangement gave Adrian an unsettling impression.
It was almost as though G’north already possessed technology far beyond anything humanity currently had.
Yet somehow, he understood modern human behavior and values with extraordinary familiarity.
More than once, Adrian and the others had wondered whether the old man was secretly an alien himself.
And this scientist, a man who could probably present almost any one of his discoveries to the world and walk away with a Nobel Prize, became remarkably humble whenever the subject turned to the company’s upper management.
Not merely humble.
Terrified.
His behavior just now had demonstrated exactly what true servility looked like.
So perhaps things like employee benefits and personal dignity were a little beside the point.
Gospel Corporation might be a top-secret government research facility.
It might be a front for some powerful organization.
Either way, ordinary employees who knew nothing important could resign whenever they wanted. They could walk away without consequence because they didn’t possess any secrets worth killing over.
But Adrian and the others were different.
They’d already seen too much.
Once you knew enough, did anyone really expect you to simply walk out the door?
Adrian sighed inwardly.
He had a family to support.
And, to be fair, the company treated him well.
His wife had been given a position at the front desk. His daughter’s tuition was covered by the company. Food and housing were provided.
So far, nobody had mistreated him.
For now, he would just have to accept his circumstances.
"The armor is satisfactory overall," Salorath said.
G’north immediately straightened.
"But its offensive capabilities are rather lacking."
"Oh, please rest assured, my lady."
G’north hurried forward, head bowed.
"This is only the prototype. We haven’t installed many of the weapons yet."
"Hm."
Salorath nodded.
Olesis, however, frowned.
"What about that computer on its arm?"
She pointed at the small interface.
"Don’t you think it’s unnecessary? Or did you expect the operator to sit around playing Candy Crush while waiting for orders?"
G’north stared at the computer.
"Yes. Exactly."
He caught himself.
Then hurriedly continued.
"Under normal circumstances, the armor will be directly connected to the wearer’s nervous system. Human neural signals will control every function of the suit, so the computer won’t actually be necessary."
He gestured toward it.
"We simply haven’t conducted human testing yet. The computer is there to help us calibrate and debug the prototype. Once the system is complete, it will naturally be removed."
"Then finish it as quickly as possible."
Olesis seemed satisfied with the explanation.
"I assume one month should be enough."
"More than enough."
G’north thumped his chest.
One of the Gallaragn demons’ specialties was precisely this kind of neural-mechanical integration. Human nerves might be considerably more fragile than those of a demon, but with a full month at his disposal, G’north was confident he could complete the modifications.
"Good."
A cold smile appeared on Olesis’s lips.
"In one month, I want to see a soldier wearing this armor."
Her smile sharpened.
"A soldier capable of completing our mission."
"Oh, and we should bring Ross here," Salorath added with a smile of her own.
"We’ll give him a show he’ll never forget."
A show.
A feast of blood and suffering.
A slaughter that would horrify some people beyond measure.
And delight others.
The main course was already being prepared.
Elsewhere, however, New York had no idea what was coming.
The city had become increasingly chaotic.
Gang warfare was spreading.
Armed robberies were becoming more frequent.
Every day seemed a little more dangerous than the last.
Evenson couldn’t have cared less.
His own life was going remarkably well.
Ever since he’d finally made his relationship with Clea official, the two had simply started living together.
And after several nights together, they’d unlocked more than a few new achievements.
"Heh heh..."
Sitting behind the counter, Evenson had his feet propped up on the desk while he grinned like an idiot.
Life was good.
Far too good, apparently.
Because the universe clearly had a sense of humor.
His happiness didn’t even survive the morning news.
The television was reporting on the destruction of a notorious criminal organization known as the Scorpion Gang.
The gang had engaged the police in a firefight the previous night.
Then a mysterious figure had appeared.
And annihilated them.
The reporter’s voice became dramatically serious.
"Hero... or demon?"
Footage from the scene began playing.
The video showed the Scorpion Gang completely overpowering the police. Their gunfire had driven the officers into a desperate defensive position.
Then something enormous entered the frame.
The figure stood nearly three meters tall.
His entire body was covered in black leather.
A huge sack had been pulled over his head.
And in his hands was a massive battle axe almost as tall as he was.
The giant charged straight into the Scorpion Gang’s formation.
Then the slaughter began.
Left.
Right.
Down.
Men were thrown aside as the enormous warrior carved through the gang with terrifying efficiency.
Evenson’s smile disappeared.
He stared at the television.
The silhouette.
The weapon.
Those unmistakable movements.
He knew them.
All too well.
"You’ve got to be kidding me."
Evenson immediately opened the mental link and started shouting.
"Tyler, what the hell are you doing?!"
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