Hammer of Angels: A Novel of Shadowstorm by G. T. Almasi Page B

was one of the only official buildings. Then the Reich converted most of the schools, meeting halls, and even the theater into government offices. The Gestapo moved into a long, low rectangle of stone that used to be a fine arts academy. The first two floors are original and fit in with the street’s Olde England vibe. The top three floors were obviously added much more recently by some blind, piss-drunk bureaucrat with absolutely no sense of style.
    This is one of the most feared buildings in England. Streetlights strike the facade at odd angles and obscure its shape instead of revealing it. A razor-wire-topped fence circles the property, but the razor wire slants inward to keep prisoners from escaping. Nobody tries to break
in
to the Gestapo.
    My mission brief made it clear we can use “unlimited force” against Gestapo officers. Apparently the secret police are so reviled—even by Greater German citizens—that the suit-and-ties back home aren’t worried about us turning popular opinion against the Rising by liquidating as many Gestapo creeps we can.
    A puff of wind shoves tiny icicles into my eyes. A voice behind me whispers, “Shit, I’m fucking freezing.” It’s Jade, the other Level on this job. She snuggles up against her Info Operator, a quiet, thin, brown-haired twenty-two-year-old named Pericles.
    Even though Jade is a couple of years older than me, I’m senior to her since I graduated from Camp A-Go-Go before she did. At Level 5, she’s also four Levels junior to me, but that doesn’t matter too much tonight as our assignments are so different. Jade and Pericles are here to conduct certain people to safety while Brando and I are here to ferry certain other people to the Great Beyond. Jade’s an Interceptor like me, but her Skill Ratings lean toward sneakier missions, more like an Infiltrator. This contrasts with my Skill Ratings, which skew toward the bada-boom things a Vindicator does.
    We picked up Jade and Pericles from Arvid’s dairy. I have no idea how they were transported to Yorkshire, and if I asked them, they wouldn’t tell me. We compartmentalize our contacts and sources in case any of us are captured by the Fritzes, but everything else is fair game. Brando and Pericles spent the drive back to York syncing their intel. They looked so serious I suggested they do a Vulcan mind meld. Jade laughed, held up her fingers in a V shape, and said, “Live long in jodhpurs.”
    While the boys transferred their mungobytes of data, Jade and I compared our gear. Her sidearm is the sturdy and reliable .30-caliber Lion Ballistics LB-502. We’ve got a lot of the same Mods and Enhances, except for our defensive systems. I’m protected by my reinforced skeleton and my SoftArmor vest, and I use Madrenaline to help me evade incoming gunfire.
    Jade doesn’t need any of that. She’s equipped with an amazing radar grid called Vapor. The Vapor Mod senses incoming objects like fists and bullets and zaps instructions to her muscles to slip her body out of harm’s way. Vapor makes Jade almost impossible to hit and plays into her stealthier mission style.
    At 5'8" Jade is four inches taller than I am. This is why she can sprint faster than me, although my deeper Madrenaline reservoir means I can maintain my maximum speed for greater distances. She would beat me in the quarter mile, but then I’d catch her before we’d run a mile. We bench-press identical loads and reps. Our matching stats for in-field vertical leap illustrate the small price I pay to be nearly indestructible. I’m naturally lighter than Jade, but my defensive Mods are heavier than hers.
    She’s very pretty. Her father’s family is from Norway and her mother is from Thailand, so Jade has a gorgeous combination of black hair, fair skin, and ice-blue eyes. Her face is kind of round, with almond-shaped eyes and very long eyelashes. She and I dress similarly: black