Weir Codex 1: The Cestus Concern Read Online Free Page A

realized it, and flopped to the nylon gray carpet. Seemingly of its own accord, Mal’s bladed right hand shattered the second man’s club in its grip, completely unaffected by the charge it held, and ripped through his chest, the Kevlar vest offering no more protection than a cloth t-shirt.
    The fight was over in less than a second and two of Mal’s unknown opponents lay at his feet, dead and nearly unrecognizable as having once been men. Barely breathing heavy, Mal stared at the implements of death his hands had become and shook with quiet emotion, ignoring the silent voice that spoke once more from somewhere deep inside his mind.
    “Four hostile units approaching at six o’clock. Unit Designate Gauss considered preliminary threat,” it droned.
    “What am I?” muttered Mal on the verge of collapse.
    “You’re dead is what you are, Cestus,” came the response from the doorway to Mal’s left. A spinning hook kick from a steel-toed combat boot took Mal by surprise as it landed in the center of his back and drove him face-first through the opposite wall and into a darkened medical room.
    All Mal could think as his head slammed into an examining table was that there was no way a normal man could have done that to him. It was impossible.
    Whoever he was fighting, they were no more normal than he was.
    “Gomer Units Theta-Nine, Theta-Ten and Theta-Fourteen, stand down, this asshole is mine.”
    Wiping blood from out of his eyes, Mal looked up to see the man his voice called “Gauss” stride out of the haze-filled hall, silhouetted by the flickering fluorescent lights in the ceiling behind him. Mal was shocked to see Gauss tear his shirt and Kevlar vest off with a quick motion, revealing a pair of slick, chrome metal arms underneath. Four two-finger thick bands of glowing material, spaced off every few inches, encased each arm.
    Unseen, the three remaining Gomers sounded off in unison, “Standing down, sir.”
    The stereo effect creeped Mal out, although it was quickly forgotten as cold metal fingers grasped his neck from behind and jerked him to his feet.
    “I’ve been waiting to take you down since they brought you in, Cestus.”
    A mouthful of spit and bile and blood accompanied a series of crushing blows to Mal’s chest. He was sure he felt at least three ribs crack during the attack. Metal arms or no, Mal wasn’t sure how much punishment he’d be able to take.
    Gauss held Mal two inches off of the ground with an unyielding grip. “Let’s see how much your “badass Ranger training” helps you after I’ve ripped your spine out.” The man’s mouth literally frothed with his anger and spittle showered Mal’s face.
    Chrome fist clenched so tight his fingers seemed to disappear into a seamless ball, Gauss delivered an uppercut that rattled Mal’s teeth and smashed him back through wood and drywall into the hall beyond. So furious was the blow that Mal found himself resting in a cratered floor on the verge of giving way to the level below.
    In spite of his confusion and injuries, Mal decided he’d had enough. While he had no idea how exactly his new arms worked, he figured the best way to learn was to picture what he wanted and, as Gauss pushed his way through the half-collapsed office wall, Mal greeted him with two hands ending in five matching, six inch long blades each.
    The two cyborgs rushed one another, each with death in his eyes. Mal was faster than the other man by far and left long gashes and bloody wounds on the man every time one of his claws connected. Unfortunately, Gauss was much fresher and far more powerful, with each fist strike or kick strong enough to pulverize concrete and shatter steel.
    After one particularly intense exchange of attacks, Mal noticed Gauss’s blows didn’t have to connect to do damage. Whenever he threw a punch, the bands on his arms pulsed and seemed to amplify the man’s strikes.
    Mal was feeling bone-jarring impacts from open-palm strikes that stopped four or