Chapter 75 Seventy five
"Move!" Dax roared, shoving my father toward the stolen SUV. "The ceiling is coming down!"
But the loading dock wasn't empty anymore.
Standing between us and the exit was a nightmare of chrome and hydraulics. A Titan-Sentinel.
It was twelve feet tall, a bipedal tank with a rotary cannon for an arm. In the original timeline, this thing had killed three of our best riders. It had taken us six chapters to figure out how to scratch its paint.
My father froze, staring up at the machine he had helped design. "It's online... Oh god, it's online."
The Titan’s mono-eye flashed red. Its cannon spun up with a terrifying whine.
"Target Acquired," the synthesized voice boomed. "Threat Level: Extremis."
Dax didn't slow down. He didn't take cover. He kept walking toward the twelve-foot death machine like he was approaching a vending machine that had eaten his dollar.
"Mia," Dax said calmly. "Left knee. Vent 4."
"On it," I said.
I didn't even stop running. I slid across the polished concrete floor, passing right under the Titan’s massive legs. As I slid, I pulled the EMP grenade from my belt, primed it, and jammed it directly into the thermal exhaust port on the back of its left knee a design flaw I had discovered in the wreckage of Neo-Vegas five years from now.
"Eat static," I whispered.
I rolled clear.
ZZZT-BOOM.
The grenade detonated inside the joint. The Titan didn't explode; it seized. The massive machine jerked violently, its internal gyroscope failing. It toppled forward, crashing face-first into the concrete with the sound of a falling building.
Dax stepped onto the back of the fallen Titan, using it as a bridge to reach the SUV. He opened the passenger door for my father.
"Get in, Chen," Dax said. "We're burning daylight."
My father looked at the smoking robot, then at the man who treated it like a speed bump. He scrambled into the car without a word.
We peeled out of the loading dock just as the concrete ceiling behind us collapsed, burying Black-Site 4 in a cloud of dust and secrets.
ON THE HIGHWAY
The rain had stopped, leaving the asphalt slick and black under the streetlights. We were doing ninety in a forty zone, heading toward the industrial district.
"You knew," my father said from the back seat. He was staring at the back of Dax’s head. "You knew the exhaust port was unshielded. That design flaw... it wasn't in the blueprints. It only manifests after fifty hours of operation."
"I've seen them operate for five years," Dax said, his eyes on the road. "And I've seen them burn."
"Who are you?" my father asked again, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and scientific curiosity. "You aren't Board. You aren't military. You fight like you've memorized the future."
"I'm your son-in-law," Dax said casually.
My father choked on air. "My... what?"
"Technically, we haven't had the ceremony yet in this timeline," I added from the passenger seat, checking the ammo count on the SMG. "But we've been married for sixty chapters. Just roll with it, Dad."
"Where are we going?" my father asked, looking out the window as we passed the exit for the Safe House.
"We need an army," Dax said. "The Board is going to regroup. Vance will call in the heavy squads from the Capital. We can't fight them alone."
"So we're going to the Iron Wolves," I finished.
"The biker gang?" my father looked horrified. "They're criminals! They smuggle tech for the Cartels!"
"Not yet," Dax said, a dark smile playing on his lips. "Right now, they're just a bunch of angry mechanics and ex-soldiers looking for a leader. In the old timeline, I spent six months earning my patch. I fought Tank in the pit. I raced Reaper on the Dead-Man’s Curve."
He downshifted as we approached a derelict warehouse district.
"Tonight," Dax said, "I'm skipping the interview."
THE CLUBHOUSE
The Iron Wolves' clubhouse was a converted steel mill at the edge of the city. It was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Dozens of heavy bikes were parked outside Harleys, Indians, and custom choppers. Bonfires burned in oil drums. Loud rock music thumped against the metal walls.
We pulled the Board SUV right up to the gate. Two prospects young recruits hoping to earn a patch stepped out, holding baseball bats.
"Turn around, suit!" one of them yelled. "Private party!"
Dax rolled down the window. He didn't look at the prospect. He looked at the gate.
"Open it," Dax said.
"Or what?" the prospect sneered.
Dax didn't answer. He just revved the engine of the armored SUV. The prospect saw the look in his eyes the amber fire of a predator who had eaten things scarier than a chain-link fence.
The prospect flinched. He scrambled to unlock the gate.
We rolled into the yard. The music stopped. Riders poured out of the clubhouse, holding chains, wrenches, and shotguns. They formed a circle around the SUV.
Dax killed the engine. "Stay here," he told my father. "Mia, you're with me."
We stepped out.
The circle tightened. A massive man pushed his way to the front. He was wearing a cut with the President patch. But it wasn't Dax. It was a man named Goliath.
I remembered him. In the original timeline, Goliath was a tyrant. He ran the Wolves like a thug. Dax had challenged him for leadership in Chapter 20 and broken his jaw.
"You got a lot of nerve coming here in a Board truck," Goliath growled, spitting on the ground near Dax’s boot. "You looking to die, pretty boy?"
Dax looked at Goliath. He looked at the patch on Goliath’s chest.
"You're wearing my vest," Dax said.
The crowd went silent. Goliath laughed a wet, ugly sound. "Your vest? I took this vest off a dead man. You want it? Come and take it."
Goliath pulled a massive Bowie knife from his belt. "Circle up! We got fresh meat for the pit!"
In the old timeline, this fight had lasted three pages. It was brutal, bloody, and desperate. Dax had barely won.
This time, Dax didn't even draw his weapon.
"I don't have time for the pit," Dax said.
He walked toward Goliath. Goliath lunged, slashing the knife in a wide arc.
Dax stepped inside the guard. He caught Goliath’s wrist mid-swing. With a sickening crunch, he twisted the wrist 180 degrees. Goliath screamed, dropping the knife.
Dax didn't stop. He swept Goliath’s legs, slamming the giant man onto the asphalt. Before Goliath could breathe, Dax had his boot on Goliath’s throat and the dropped knife in his hand, the tip resting on Goliath’s eye.
It took three seconds.
"The old way is over," Dax announced, his voice ringing out across the yard. He looked at the stunned crowd. He looked at Tank, who was standing in the back, watching with wide eyes. He looked at Reaper. He looked at Sienna.
"The Board is coming," Dax said. "They're bringing Sentinels. They're bringing air support. And Goliath here?" He pressed the knife slightly. "He was going to sell you out to them for a payout."
"Liar!" Goliath choked.
Dax reached into Goliath’s vest and pulled out a datapad. He tossed it to Sienna.
"Check the messages," Dax ordered. "Last outgoing. To Commander Vance."
Sienna caught the pad. She tapped the screen. Her eyes widened.
"It's true," Sienna whispered, looking up at the pack. "He cut a deal. Safe passage for him in exchange for the location of the clubhouse."
The mood in the yard shifted instantly. The Wolves looked at Goliath with disgust.
"You want to be a gang?" Dax asked, stepping off Goliath. "Or do you want to be an army?"
He picked up the President’s patch that he had ripped from Goliath’s vest. He held it up.
"My name is Daximus Steele. And from this moment on, the Iron Wolves are under new management."
Tank stepped forward. The massive brawler looked at Dax, then at the fallen Goliath. A slow grin spread across his face.
"What are the orders, Prez?" Tank asked.
Dax looked at me. He looked at the SUV where my father was watching, stunned.
"We're going to fortify this mill," Dax said. "We're going to turn this place into a fortress that even the Architects can't breach. And then?"
He looked at the horizon, where the lights of the city were beginning to flicker as the Board realized what had just happened.
"Then we go hunting."
\[FACTION RECRUITED\]
\[ARMY UNLOCKED\]