Crysis Escalation - By Gavin G. Smith Page 0,3

. .’ Prophet was leaning down over Psycho now.

‘Where?’ Psycho demanded. ‘In your head?’

‘They were visions,’ but even Prophet realised this sounded weak.

‘What? Put there by an alien?’ Psycho said more softly now. ‘Reliable source, then. Prophet, we’re in uncharted territory. Fused with these suits, interfacing with alien technology, suffering from combat stress and we really have killed a lot of people. We’ve killed like gods . . .’

Prophet straightened up.

‘You think I’m mad.’

Psycho stood up to face his friend.

‘How could we not be struggling? Think of the things we’ve done, what you, especially, have been through.’

‘You don’t trust me anymore?’

‘Prophet, mate, you know I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth . . .’ Psycho laughed and held up his hands. ‘Because we’re here, now. I’ll push bullets at what you tell me to, but it’s been eighteen months and not a sign.’

Prophet leant in close to Psycho. Psycho didn’t shift. He just looked back at the helmeted face.

‘The thing is, I know. I know what’s coming. I can’t un-see it.’

‘Can you hear yourself?’ Psycho asked sadly. Prophet turned and walked away from the other nanosuited soldier.

‘So what do we do now? Become mercenaries? Go to work as guns for hire like you were when I found you in Mexico? Or do I just turn myself into a VA clinic for psych evaluation?’

‘I think you . . . we’ve been so obsessed with hunting for this thing that we’ve not been watching what’s going on. The world is being bought.’

‘CELL?’ Prophet asked, failing to keep the scorn out of his voice. Psycho nodded. ‘And you think I’m obsessed.’

‘At least they’re fucking real!’ Psycho snapped. ‘All I see is greedy corporate bastards taking over the world, killing anyone who gets in the way, and it scares the shit out of me.’

‘What difference does it make who’s in charge? That’s human politics.’ Psycho stared at him.

‘You cold bastard,’ Psycho said and turned to head back to his gear in the corner. Prophet grabbed him.

‘Psycho, wait . . .’

Psycho turned on him.

‘No, you fucking wait. Taking your call sign a bit seriously these days, aren’t you? We should be fighting the bastards who are actively fucking us and the rest of humanity. Not that you’re still one of us! We shouldn’t be chasing some mythical alpha-ceph! With these suits we have a chance.’ There was passion in what Psycho was saying that Prophet had not heard from the other man in a long time, if ever. The suit’s analysis of Psycho’s voice showed him that this was something that he truly believed in.

‘How do you fight a company? What? Do you want to go into the board room and start laying fire down?’ Prophet demanded.

‘If that’s what it takes,’ Psycho said firmly. Prophet checked the voice analysis again. Psycho was telling the truth. ‘Let’s go back to New York, finish what you started. Let’s tear the heart out of CELL and shove it down their fucking throats.’

It was tempting. Not because Prophet believed like Psycho did. He really didn’t care who was in charge. It was tempting because it sounded like a life. As harsh, violent and short as it might be, it sounded like something a human would do. But he knew that the images of what he had been shown, the future, would never stop playing through his head.

‘CELL aren’t the mission . . .’ Prophet started.

‘You were always a good little boy weren’t you, Prophet? Did what Hargreave told you after they got you out of that little jam. Has it occurred to you that they’ve done something to you, in the suit, that makes you not want to go after CELL, to do as your told, behave?’

Prophet was across the room. He had Psycho by the neck and lifted the other man up. He started squeezing.

‘Do you know what they did to me!?’ he screamed, but as quickly as the rage had come it was gone. He dropped Psycho.

‘Nobody puts their fucking hands on me!’ Psycho raged, his suit flowing and preparing for battle. Prophet could see the Londoner was seconds away from going for him.

‘Psycho, I . . .’

Something changed. It took a moment for Prophet to work out what. There was something different in the rhythm of the town. It had just got quieter. He cycled through various comm frequencies. Nothing. Even the company that handled the policing in Rovesky had gone quiet.

Dead lips smiled. A rictus grin. They were learning. Mainly about comms discipline,