Number Five, shocked by Broga’s sudden cybernetic display, raised his S747, ready to shoot.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Broga caught the agent’s movement and extended his other arm toward him. Like the right glove, the left one shredded apart, but instead of revealing another cannon, his fingers transformed into small projectiles, primed to fire at the slightest provocation.

  Alarmed, Number Three stopped using his rifle as a crutch, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and placed his finger on the trigger.

  A storm of conflicting emotions surged through Adam. Moments earlier, he had felt grateful for the arrival of reinforcements. Now, watching events unfold, he wished they would leave. Vicky and the agents had ruined his chance to uncover the truth about the Binary Project. Broga was a profound mystery from the very start of this odyssey, and Adam had the feeling that a conversation with him—maybe even over a real cup of coffee—could’ve provided answers. Knowing Broga could’ve meant uncovering his own origins.

  Unfortunately, that opportunity, as Broga himself had put it, had been postponed indefinitely. Now, if he didn’t want things to spiral even further out of control, he had to step in.

  Adam placed himself between Broga and Vicky.

  “You said you can show us how to get out of here,” he reminded the bearded man.

  “I said I came to show you how to get out of here,” Broga corrected.

  Entertained by the little scene, Number Four moved to retrieve his rifle, which lay on the ground. Meanwhile, Vicky confronted Broga, her throat tight with emotion.

  “You’re responsible for Juzo’s death, and I don’t forget that so easily.”

  “Everyone makes their own choices,” Broga replied. “Your friend chose his fate, and you chose to let it happen.”

  “I would’ve stopped him if your Eddanian friend hadn’t put me to sleep. Remember that? Because I do, very well.”

  BANG, BANG! Gunshots rang out, and the parrots in the trees, unable to fly, flapped their wings. Number Four had fired into the ground.

  “I’m sick of all this talking!” he shouted, aiming his rifle at Broga. “If you know how to get us out of here, you’ll tell us, won’t you, big brother?”

  Number Three addressed Broga. “We’re stuck in this, just like you, whoever you are,” he said, appealing to reason. “This sphere, whatever it is, has all of us trapped.”

  “Speak for yourselves,” Broga said, nodding toward Adam. “He and I have a way out.”

  Vicky clenched her fists. “And what would that be?”

  “Our DNA,” Broga replied, giving Adam a slight nudge. “Now move it. The longer we stay here, the worse it’ll get.”

  “What do you mean?” Number Three asked, both intrigued and uneasy. Just minutes earlier, while examining the invisible wall surrounding the camp, he had warned of the dangers of staying inside the Kappa radiation field. The bearded stranger might know more.

  Broga made a gesture with his hands as if to say, ‘Haven’t you figured it out yet?’

  “The electric field has turned this place into a giant reactor oven,” he explained. “In a few hours, every living organism here will start to die. By tomorrow, this part of the jungle will be as lifeless and dry as the ground around the rock.”

  Fear flickered across everyone’s faces.

  “You’re lying,” Number Three accused him.

  Numbers Four and Five kept their fingers tense on the triggers.

  “Tell us how to get out of here—now!”

  Vicky grabbed Adam by the arm and shoved him toward Broga. “Take him,” she ordered.

  Adam stared at her, stunned. “What the hell are you doing? I’m not leaving without you!”

  Ignoring him, she pushed him toward their enemy.

  “Well? Are you going to take him or not?”

  “Vicky, I’m not leaving you here!” Adam shoved her away and stepped back from Broga.

  “Adam, listen to me. If what this bastard says is true, this might be your only chance to survive.”

  “And what, you expect me to leave and just forget about you?!”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  BANG! Number Four fired another shot into the ground. “No one’s leaving unless we all leave!”

  “Hey, idiot!” Vicky turned on him. “Why don’t you shut the hell up?!”

  “Sorry, but I’m with the idiot on this one,” Adam said, stepping in.

  “That’s enough,” Broga cut in, silencing the argument. “There’s a way for all of you to get out. You just have to eliminate that.”

  Everyone fixed their eyes on the spot Broga was pointing to. Beyond the trees, about forty or fifty yards away, they could just make out the clearing where the Ita-Hu stood—and where the mutant lay sprawled.

  “If you mean… the creature, it’s dead,” said Number Three.

  Broga clicked his tongue. “The creature is just a puppet. It’ll keep living no matter how many times you blow its head off.”

  Keeping his rifle trained on Broga, Number Four glanced at the giant mutant. “Looks pretty damn dead to me,” he muttered, his finger tightening on the trigger. His patience was wearing thin.

  “Does it?” Broga also turned toward the mutant. “I think it’s just knocked out.”

  Letting go of Vicky, Broga raised his hand toward the giant. The electrode-like fingers on his robotic hand condensed energy at the cannon’s mouth, forming a glowing sphere that shot out. It tore through the trees, reaching the clearing and exploding against the creature’s chest.

  The massive chest, covered in gashes and oozing purple sap, trembled. The tiny blue lights left behind by the neurotoxin dimmed until they vanished completely.

  Everyone saw it from afar, but no one had time to react.

  Broga’s attack hadn’t been a harmless ball of light. It was an energy bomb as real and potent as it would’ve been outside the Kappa radiation field. Its effect was immediate. After the first spasm in the mutant’s chest came another, and another. They weren’t spasms—they were heartbeats.

  “Hey!” Number Three shouted, realizing Broga’s intent. “What the hell did you just do?!”

  “Cardiac stimulation,” Broga replied.

  BANG, BANG! Teeth clenched, panicked at the thought of facing the horror his comrade had become, Number Four opened fire on Broga. BANG, BANG, BANG!

  One after another, the man in the purple shirt neutralized the bullets with effortless precision. Each round disintegrated before reaching him, vanishing in ultrasonic bursts. Wherever Broga aimed, a bullet shattered into fragments.

  It all happened so fast that Adam couldn’t focus. What had Broga done to the mutant? Was it what he feared? One thing was clear: everything was going to hell.

  So much for the tense conversation with Broga. So much for the chance to learn more about his powers. Welcome, instead, to the glorious chaos—where he could easily be killed by a stray bullet from a furious Number Four, or where his strange nemesis might simply get tired of toying with them and wipe them all out… including Vicky, who had done more than enough to piss him off.

  Because, come on—he had to face it: Vicky Viveka was an excellent hand-to-hand fighter, no doubt. But Broga had gone up against an entire damn squad of Grenadiers at Bellatrix—and won. If Vicky didn’t already have a bullet in her forehead, it was only because Broga didn’t want her dead… yet.

  Of everyone present, for some reason, Broga was the sole one capable of unleashing any type of energy attack without restrictions. And if there were still doubts, Number Four’s futile assault should have cleared them up. The only person too stubborn to see that was Number Four himself.

  “Damn reckless idiot,” Adam growled under his breath. He barely knew Four, but it was obvious the agent wasn’t going to lower his rifle willingly. Adam had to stop him before things got even worse.

  He lunged for the rifle, but Vicky yanked him back.

  “Are you crazy?! You’ll get yourself shot!”

  Suddenly, the ground trembled, and a cascade of leaves rained down on them. That could only mean one thing…

  Adam looked at Vicky—and when he saw her arms hanging limp, mouth open, and eyes fixed on some distant point in the clearing, he knew. Behind him, the giant was back on his feet and coming for them.

  He could hear the unnatural growls, the wheezing of that monstrous breath, the sound of the dry ground cracking under the weight of its massive footsteps, and the splintering of trees torn apart by those hairy, powerful hands. He moved closer to Vicky, hoping she had a plan because he was too terrified to think of one himself.

  Number Four, still firing at Broga, hadn’t noticed the creature behind him.

  “Watch out!” Number Five shouted, already assuming his partner was doomed.

  Number Four was so focused on trying to hit Broga that he’d lost awareness of his surroundings. When he finally took his finger off the trigger, the rifle fell silent, and the ambient sounds rushed back to him. Those cracks, booms, and snaps were…

  He turned just in time to see a massive foot descending toward him. Where had that thing come from? It was going to crush him!

  Number Four shouted—not in terror, but in rage—and dove to the ground, landing hard on his chest and knocking the wind out of himself. But nothing else happened. The giant stomped past him.

  Number Five helped him to his feet, and the two ran for their lives.

  Number Two was awake! How?! They shot the damn thing full of lead! Blood had poured out in streams!

  Sure enough, the troglodyte’s head was a complete wreck. Its skull was fractured, its forehead a mess of flesh, black hair, and violet tar. Its jaw dangled loosely with every step, like the bumper of a wrecked car. Its blood-soaked eyes, rolled back in their sockets, wept purple. Now, more than ever, it looked less like a caveman and more like a towering undead nightmare.

  But its intentions hadn’t changed—it still wanted to destroy them.

  Broga leaped onto the tip of a massive araucaria tree and perched there, observing the scene with detached interest.

  Vicky watched him. How had he managed to defy the intensified gravity caused by the radiation? How did his energy retain its destructive force? Then, it all clicked. She understood what was happening and how they might escape.

  “It’s his genes!” she whispered, a sudden realization washed over her.

  “Vicky!”

  Adam’s scream came too late. She turned to see a massive, hairy hand crashing through the underbrush, barreling toward her like an out-of-control truck careening off a cliff.

  The image of Number One flashed in her mind—his head shattered, his neck twisted unnaturally. The leader of Force Team had met his end the same way: one careless moment.

  I don’t want to die like this. I don’t want Adam to see me like this, she thought. But there was nothing she could do.