“Today’s the day. I can feel it.”
Fury scowled, “You can’t feel anything. You’re just a voice in my head.”
The laugh was cold and hard. It was a laugh of a killer without remorse. “For now, but we both know it’s only a matter of time when you lose control, when you’ve pushed yourself too hard too fast, then it’ll be my turn.”
Fury woke with a start. The voice’s last words still lingered in his mind. Before he had a chance to consider them, dull explosions and piercing screams drew his attention back to reality. Panicked passengers scrambled away from the car in front of him, running for dear life. He got up from his seat, grabbed his duffel, full of his gear and weaved through the crowd, heading in the opposite direction of the crowd. The passengers didn’t bother looking at him as they parted just a couple steps ahead, not wanting to slow down their escape from the danger. Once he reached the end of his car, he reflexively ducked to the side as a stray bullet whizzed by.
“Shit.” Fury spat. He despise surprises like that, especially when his body needs to tap into his augmentation just to handle it. If he's not careful about how much he relies on his augmentation, he could lose control to that voice in his head. He pushed the thought aside and fished out his AR visor, a “gift” from one of the Divers hired to hunt him down a few months ago. It may be damaged and only holds a charge for all of five minutes, but it’s good enough to give him a quick glance.
His vision filled with green lines and text as the visor loaded the HUD. Shortly after, faint lines traced the shapes of people in the car in front of him. There were a couple hunched over, holding what appears to be assault rifles. He barely made out the figures hiding in cover further ahead of them before the visor died.
"Get in there, just kill them all. It’d be much faster." The voice goaded him. Fury hissed, "Just shut up for ten minutes. Can you do that?"
The voice didn't respond, which suited Fury just fine. He opened up his duffel and pulled out his weapons. He slung his carbine over his shoulder while slipping his sword--the wakizashi with a twisted sentimental value--into a loop on his belt. He took a quick breath to center himself, thumbed the carbine's firing mode over to single shot then tapped the controls for the car's door. The door slid open as Fury took aim at where one of the man's knee would be. The element of surprise gave him the extra time he needed to align his shot, squeeze the trigger and take out his target's knee. The man went down howling, but he didn't let go of his weapon. The man was taking aim just as Fury ducked back into cover.
“Good training...probably enforcers from a rival corporation. Maybe after that mysterious box I was brought along to guard?” Fury noted to himself. The voice wasted no time to chime in, "Just go in there with the sword, it'd be faster."
"You're not helping."
"I could do this in my sleep."
The voice wasn't wrong, he was the stronger swordsman between the two. While Fury retained memories of the training and the muscle memory, SP-2834—that voice in his head—had a way with the sword. Of course, SP refused to share his secret.
“Oh, I’ll share as soon you relinquish control over your body.”
“Forget it, asshole.” He’ll figure it on his own someday.
Once the firing stopped, Fury stuck his head out. He came face to face with the second hostile. The two froze, but Fury sprung into action a second sooner. He took hold of his sword's hilt in a reverse grip, unsheathed the sword and sliced the man's leg in one forceful arc. The man dropped to one knee clutching his injured leg as his weapon fell to the other side. Fury vaulted over the man's body, dodging a hail of bullets from the one he kneecapped earlier. He kicked the weapon aside and then thrusted knee to the man's throat, pinning him against the side of a seat’s backrest. The man fought harder than Fury expected, forcing him to push into his throat harder. He could feel the augment at the base of his neck buzzing slightly as it released the nanites to help with the effort. Fury ignored the feeling, keeping the pressure on the man’s neck. Now was not the time to think about the consequences.
The kneecapped man poked his head out of the door and took a few pot shots at Fury’s general direction. One of them dug through the suffocating man’s helmet, splattering his brain matter all over the inside of his helmet. Fury dodged to one side, avoiding the rest of the bullets without much effort. He returned fire, putting three into the man’s leg as he closed the distance between them. With a swing, he sliced through the man’s gun strap and separated the hand from the his arm. The man clutched the newly formed stump and screamed, the bullets in his leg forgotten. Fury dropped to one knee and the man’s larynx with a spear hand, stunning the man and forcing him to gasp.
"Stay here, don't cause trouble and I might let you live." He promised the man with little expectations he could keep it. The man nodded desperately between gasps. Fury nodded with a curt smile and made his way inside the next car.
At the opposite end of the car stood an exceptionally tall man. The height coupled with the white faceplates made him instantly recognizable as Crash, if the dossiers were anything to go by. There were others behind Crash but a barrage of bullets forced Fury into cover. When the gunfire stopped, he poked his head up and quickly took in the surroundings. There are two more of those men, both taking cover just like him. One was holed up between him and Crash with his focus on the tall guy. The other was still facing Fury, sighting him down with his rifle. Another hail of bullets and Fury’s back in cover. Two hostiles and one possible friendly, and what are the chances Crash would recognize him? He could only hope Crash remember the dossier’s details or this will get interesting really fast.
