“They’ve got Franks pinned down,” Foster told them as he turned on the siren. “The second my guys are out, I’ll blow the charges and make a mess of the place. It’ll be over soon.”

He resisted the urge to smile. You do not understand what you are dealing with. You do not understand Franks. Kurst knew this was only just beginning.

* * *

The ground rushed up to meet him, but Franks had so much grip strength that merely squeezing harder threw the brakes on his descent. He immediately slowed down, and then let go and dropped the last ten feet to land in a crouch.

There were enough trees around him that it was relatively dark here. There were red and blue lights flashing on the street. The metro police would be setting up a perimeter in conjunction with the MCB. There wasn’t much time before they had it locked tight.

His suit was torn and bloody. He would stick out. There were more security cameras in this city than anywhere else in the country. He needed a vehicle. However, it was one in the morning and the police would be blocking the streets. It made his decision easy.

Franks pulled out his cell phone. As soon as the response team had their shit together they would track it. He speed-dialed Dwayne Myers, and then picked the stealthiest path through the landscaping to the street. He set out in a fast walk, sticking to the shadows, while it rang. Franks could imagine “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” playing on the other side. Myers had been using the same ringtone for years. Franks liked that Myers was so consistent.

He also didn’t sleep much. “Franks?”

“Listen carefully. I’ve been framed. Someone disguised as me attacked headquarters. At least twenty casualties. No idea how many dead. They shot Stark too.” Franks rattled off what he knew. Myers was smart enough not to interrupt him. “There were at least two attackers. They weren’t human. Super speed, strength, and regeneration.” Franks quickly rattled off physical descriptions of Kurst and the other one.

“Were they—”

“Nemesis. Possibly, but much better than the last batch if so.” Franks couldn’t tell Myers about the spirit that was inhabiting the body he’d fought, because to explain Kurst was to explain himself, and there were things that even Myers didn’t need to know. “There were human assassins among the responders. I killed one.”

“STFU?”

“Unknown . . . I’m on the run.” Franks walked through the bushes. He was getting close to the nearest police car. The officer had gotten out and was looking up at the broken window.

“Franks, wait!” Myers sounded unusually desperate. He was normally cool, even in the worst situations, though this situation probably qualified as desperate. “Is Strayhorn okay?”

Why did Myers particularly care about the rookie? “He was shot. Status unknown.”