There was the tiniest pause—much less than a second—where the two men saw each other, less for who and more for what they were.

And then the battle was joined with savage, murderous intensity.

CHAPTER 176

THE PAVILION

BLUE DIAMOND ELITE TRAINING CENTER

STEVENS COUNTY, WASHINGTON

Bunny staggered back, his chest on fire from that blow over the heart. Fireworks exploded in the air, and he knew he was in real trouble. The Fixer was superhumanly strong, and that blow had done serious damage.

The choices were slim. Backpedal and try to run, or attack like a sick bear and try to drag the man down to the ground and see who knew the best dirty tricks. In both cases, the Fixer had the edge. He was stronger, faster, and he was not yet hurt.

The killer solved the matter by rushing Bunny, howling like a monster.

Top Sims was in hell, and the fires were really damned hot.

He fought to clear his head, to make sense of what was happening, and clarity of mind brought no comfort. He lay inside Hot Mama, and the fighting machine was wreathed in flame. Most of it was burning debris from when the Fixer in the body armor had exploded, and even though the shell of his cybernetic battle suit was heat resistant, the driver could still cook.

Top fought to make the K-110’s arms and legs move. They did, but not well. The blast had seriously damaged the servos. He threw all his muscle into turning over. It seemed to take an age, but he finally thudded down on his chest. Next he brought the hands up. No … just the left was working. The right arm of the machine wouldn’t move at all. Lifting the ponderous suit one-handed was agony. His back was burning in a different way. Something was wrong. A sprain, a strain. He prayed to god it wasn’t worse. When the blast happened, he’d been thrown and hit rolling. The suit was never intended to protect the driver from something like that.

He heard gunfire and knew the battle was still going on, so he couldn’t have been out for more than a few seconds. Where was Andrea? He’d been by the pump house but had no tech to shield him from either blast or blaze.

Top got to his knees, and after ten thousand years, to his feet.

Walking was a special kind of hell, but with each step, the burning debris fell away, and after ten steps, he was out of the fire.

He hit the release, and the dying K-110 spilled him out into the dirt.

Mia Kleeve clung to the roof of the cab, fighting to steady herself, sloughing off the extra momentum from her jump while compensating for the semi’s acceleration. She grinned. They didn’t teach this in the regular army.