The Iron Fist Read online

The words broke him from his stupor and he sprinted towards the Iron Fist exhibit. He hadn’t formed a conscious plan, but his muscles appeared to be working on instinct alone.

  “Dev!” Lot shouted as she and Mason caught up with him. “Don’t touch it! You saw what happened to that guy.”

  But Dev had fixed his goal firmly fixed in his mind: get Iron Fist and get out of the Inventory as swiftly as possible. He was so focused on the Iron Fist that he only saw Kwolek at the last moment

  But before Kwolek could reach out to grab Dev, the massive rolling form of Eema struck the bionic mercenary from the side like a bowling ball. The robot rapidly unfolded, four legs securing her in place – two gun arms whirling in position. Her emoji face had turned from yellow to red.

  Eema was back – fully downloaded in her battle husk, and straining for a fight.

  Kwolek was on her feet in time to bat one of Eema’s arms aside. The energy blast hit the ceiling, destroying several lights and causing a section of supporting girders to collapse.

  Before Eema could fire again, Kwolek unleashed a series of savage punches, her bionic exoskeleton repeatedly denting the husk’s advanced armour.

  Dev was stunned by Kwolek’s speed as she ducked another energy blast and sidestepped a vicious punch from a pair of smaller service arms that had unfolded from the recesses of the husk.

  Every punch Kwolek landed on Eema kicked up a fury of sparks. The emoji face registered each hit by glowing redder and redder. Although Dev knew the AI robot was incapable of feeling pain, he still felt sorry for her.

  Eema tried to swing at Kwolek with a gun arm, but this time her opponent grabbed hold and vaulted gracefully on to the arm. Kwolek delivered a series of bionic punches at the robot’s shoulder, intending to snap the gun away from the body.

  With each blow, Eema reeled. Dev realized that if he didn’t do something, then Kwolek was going to win this fight.

  With a bellow, Dev rushed for Kwolek, whose back was to him as she rained blows on Eema. He knew there was no way he could leap up on to Eema, but still he knew he had to do something.

  But he was wrong. Just like when he had first punched Mason, Dev’s body surprised him by performing a feat of strength way beyond what he could normally achieve. He soared through the air and landed on the gun arm, just behind Kwolek.

  The mercenary turned and threw a mechanically assisted punch over her shoulder, the impact of which would cleave his skull in two. Dev didn’t duck. He didn’t see the fist until it was centimetres away from his face. He focused instead on her exoskeleton, staring at the pulses of colour that criss-crossed the metal; colours that only he could see. Discordant chimes filled his ears, which changed to mellow musical tones as he reached his fingers towards a single hidden circuit. His fingernails dug in and he felt something pop.

  “What have you done?” Kwolek screeched. She was frozen in position, her fist hanging in the air a millimetre from Dev’s nose. No matter how much strain registered on Kwolek’s face, she couldn’t move.

  “Looks like you froze,” grinned Dev. He had found the crucial control on her shoulder. His unique synaesthesia had guided him to this one chip that would cause a short circuit the moment he pulled it free. Kwolek was frozen in place, a prisoner in her own bionic exoskeleton.

  Dev leapt to the ground as Eema threw Kwolek across the room. She landed hard on the floor, without shifting position.

  Dev ran a hand across Eema’s dented armour. The robot’s furious red face turned back to a familiar smiling yellow one.

  “I thought they had partitioned you in the network,” smiled Dev.

  “Once your uncle entered this room, the automated security system opened up. It’s separate from the rest of the Inventory so I was able to download into this husk.”

  “It’s good to have you—” Dev began, but Eema suddenly moved and arced around him – absorbing the sonic blasts from Fermi and another soldier, who were both charging forward.

  Lot had seen them make their move too. She fired the AirCannon, but her aim was off and instead she struck Lee, who was scrambling towards a fallen rifle. Lee howled in pain and tumbled back against a wall.

  Eema whirled the gun on the remaining mercenaries. Instead of a deadly energy blast, a yellow gloop shot out and struck them in mid-run, instantly covering them. The slime crystallized over them, bonding them to the floor, able to breathe but not move.

  “OK, you go and get my uncle,” Dev instructed Eema. “I’m getting the Iron Fist.”

  Eema swivelled around. “It’s too late for your uncle.”

  Dev looked across the warehouse to see Lee pointing a shaking pistol at Charles Parker.

  “It’s time for you to leave,” said Eema urgently. One of her arms indicated the domed cage at the far end of the chamber. “Use the teleporter.”

  “What about my uncle?”

  “I will look after him. You’re more important, Dev.”

  Eema almost sounded as if she was pleading. “OK, but not without the Iron Fist.” Dev turned back to the shimmering energy shield and concentrated. As he focused on the chaotic fizz of dots, they slowly resolved into a solid shape: a gauntlet, constructed from tiny metallic-blue plates, as he had seen in the Inventory’s archive picture. Small spheres poked from the surface, which Dev recognized as miniature Tesla coils. It was old, a relic; not the impressive gadget he had been expecting.

  Lot’s warning almost broke his concentration. “Dev!”

  Dev’s eyes hurt as he kept the Iron Fist in focus. He slowly reached for it.

  “Dev! Don’t!” screamed Lot.

  But it was too late – Dev’s hands sunk into the energy shield that had annihilated Volta…

  Dev felt a fizz of electricity as the hairs on his arm stood on end, but there was no lethal energy pulse to tear him apart. Although he had never seen energy shields like this before, Dev instinctively knew what to do. He knew it was nothing more than a potentially deadly optical illusion.

  Dev had never been a good listener, especially when his uncle had delivered his sermons on quantum physics. Nevertheless, he recalled Charles Parker talking about particles able to be in two places at once, only settling on a place – or state – once they had been observed. It was called the “observer effect”. He had asked his physics teacher about it, but had been met with a perplexed look and told to go home before he was placed on detention.

  Once Dev had focused on the Iron Fist it snapped into view like an optical illusion, and the swarming particles vanished because they had formed into the solid invention now sitting on the plinth. By simply switching his perception, Dev could force the particles to switch between the object and the shield. All anybody else could see was the energy vortex. They were not observing it correctly. Only Dev could see the truth. He wondered if that was part of his artificially created abilities.

  But the moment he picked up the Iron Fist he heard a collective gasp from around him. Clearly, to everybody else’s eyes, the shield had vanished and the gadget had instantly appeared.

  “Dev! Don’t try to leave.” Lee shoved the pistol against Charles Parker’s head.

  Dev looked between the thief and his uncle. Charles Parker was watching curiously, with a hint of a smile tugging the corner of his lips.

  “You’ve lost,” Dev snarled defiantly at Lee. “Eema – cover us!”

  The Iron Fist was heavy. Dev had expected it to be light, like most modern carbon-fibre gadgets. He was forced to hold it with both hands as he sprinted towards the teleporter at the top of the tiered steps. Lot and Mason kept close, with Eema rolling just behind them. Lee fired several shots, but they pinged harmlessly from Eema’s armour.

  Ahead, a dozen steps led to the raised platform that overlooked the warehouse. The teleporter was a circular platform surrounded by curved metal poles that formed a spherical cage with gaps easily wide enough for Lot and Mason to enter.

  Dev heard his uncle shout a warning. He couldn’t make out the words – but Charles Parker
was silenced as Lee cracked him over the head. Dev watched his uncle crumple unconscious to the floor.

  Dev hesitated between returning for his uncle and fleeing. He knew the Iron Fist was too dangerous to fall into the enemy’s hands. He forced himself to think of the greater good. “Eema, come with us!”

  “My place is to protect the Inventory and you. If you go, I will still have achieved a significant portion of my protocols.”

  Dev wanted to argue, but Mason pulled him into the cage. “You heard the robot. It wants to stay. We want to leave.”

  “Activating teleportation procedure,” said Eema.

  Before Dev could protest, the bars around them began to spin, each overlapping the next with increasing fury. They moved so fast, it became impossible to distinguish between the individual bars, and Dev felt as if they were becoming encased in a solid metal shell.

  Their ears popped – then the bars slowed down before jerking to a halt.

  Dev blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness around them. It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings. They were in one of the barns. The cold winter’s air smelled like a bonfire.

  “Did we make it out?” asked Lot, looking around.

  Dev walked cautiously towards the door and stopped as a spotlight suddenly illuminated, picking him out. Carefully he raised his arm to shield his eyes, not wanting to drop the Iron Fist in the snow.

  “Devon?”

  Instantly he recognized the woman’s voice from the ELF transmission. His eyes quickly grew accustomed to the light and he saw Sergeant Wade. She was looking at him as if she were seeing a ghost. He became aware of dozens of World Consortium soldiers behind her and beyond them, the smouldering remains of what had once been his home. The farmhouse was missing an entire wing, which was now a tangle of scorched bricks.

  Dev felt Lot’s hand on his shoulder. “Dev, your house … you’ve lost everything.”

  Dev stared at Sergeant Wade, who was quick to compose herself. “Dev … you have the Iron Fist. Well done! We’ll take that from here.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Are you all OK? Not hurt?” She reached for the Iron Fist, but Dev moved back protectively.

  “I don’t think so. We risked our lives and the intruders are still trapped below, with my uncle.”

  “Well done,” repeated Wade with a big smile.

  “Which makes me wonder why it was so important to get this out.” Dev lifted the Iron Fist a little.

  Sergeant Wade’s smile stayed in place, but the rest of her face betrayed a sudden nervousness. “In the wrong hands it could be used for terrible things. That’s why you must hand it over for safety.”

  Dev didn’t move. Mason and Lot shuffled closer to him, feeling stronger as a unit. They had detected the subtle shift in the surrounding soldiers’ body language. They were tense, as if waiting for an order to spring into action.

  “And you’re the right hands?” said Dev. He kept his gaze on the woman and saw a twitch at the corner of her mouth. A smile? Or had he touched a nerve?

  “We are the World Consortium, of course we’re the right hands!” Wade looked at her soldiers, then waved at them to back away. “You’re alarming these poor children. Give them some room; they’ve been through hell down there.”

  Dev’s thoughts flicked back to the cloning chamber. He was unsure who he could believe.

  “There’s one thing that puzzles me,” said Dev in a low voice. He twisted the Iron Fist around to get a proper look at it. “This was already held safely down there. How would the Collector know how to use it? It’s not as if anybody can use what’s in the Inventory.”

  Wade shifted from foot to foot and rubbed her chin in an attempt to mask her discomfort. “The Collector … that’s a name he gave himself. He doesn’t have a name. All he has is a number…”

  That struck a chord with Dev. “A number?”

  “He was called Seven.”

  The dominoes in Dev’s mind cascaded into a full picture. “That’s because he was a clone.” Wade’s silence confirmed this. “He was manufactured down there. Just like me.”

  Wade couldn’t hide her surprise. “Devon … look, there are things you need to know – but nobody had wanted you to find out like this. You don’t remember your mother, do you?”

  Dev was speaking as if the words were being pulled out of him. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  “Wow,” said Lot. “This is like one of those bad daytime-TV shows.”

  Wade burst into puzzled laughter. “What? No. Of course I’m not. Do I look that old?” She pressed on before Dev could answer. “It’s important that you know—”

  A blue flash burned Dev’s retina. His ears thumped as the air pressure changed and the noise around him fell into thick silence. He felt himself sway as a wave of dizziness rattled through his head. The effect was over in seconds.

  Wade stood before him, perfectly motionless, like a movie on pause. Even the snowflakes were suspended in the air around her. Dev drew in a breath as he looked around. The Consortium soldiers were motionless. A Chinook was frozen in mid-air, rotors rigidly in place as it defied gravity. Lot was by his side like a waxwork. He pressed a finger against her cheek – it felt like solid marble.

  “A stasis bomb,” said a voice from behind.

  Dev slowly turned. He knew what to expect, but seeing the towering figure of the Collector in the flesh was somehow creepier than anything his imagination had been able to muster up.

  The Collector adjusted his yellow-lensed glasses with one hand, and gestured around with the other. “They’ll be held in place, unaware of our little discussion.”

  Even though Dev couldn’t see the villain’s eyes, he sensed they were locked on the Iron Fist. He found his voice. “So you’re a clone like me?”

  “You were created as my replacement, just as the others you saw down there will replace you.” The Collector looked him up and down. “I see they have improved some aspects. Your synaesthesia, those heightened surges allowing you to run faster and leap higher in times of crisis … they were all designed in a lab. Manipulated by the very cloning technology the Inventory was created to stop people using in the first place. Designed, as I was, by good old Uncle Parker.”

  Dev felt sick, weak at the knees. He stumbled against Lot for support, but she didn’t budge.

  The Collector continued with mocking tones. “When I escaped from this prison, the Consortium saw me as a threat, so they changed the Inventory’s entire security procedures – ensuring that I could no longer enter and objects couldn’t leave.”

  “But they can leave.” Dev held the Iron Fist aloft.

  “Only when taken out by the right key. A very special key.”

  Dev blinked in confusion. “I don’t have a key. It’s just me and…” He trailed off as he read between the lines. A chill ran down his spin as the Collector lowered his voice.

  “Dev. You are the key.”

  “Impossible…” Dev spluttered.

  The Collector slowly paced around him. “You are the Inventory’s greatest treasure. A living biological key able to bring any item out, designed with abilities tailored perfectly to fix, repair and keep everything within the Inventory running. All those years you smuggled out small items to play with on the farm … that was just your uncle testing the effectiveness of the system. You are the last line of security. You are the Iron Fist.”

  Dev’s mind reeled. The idea that he was a living key … it was something he couldn’t process. He looked blankly at the relic in his hand.

  “Considering you needed me alive, your mercenaries went out of their way to kill me.”

  “Trust me, Dev, they are not really such bad shots. You needed some simple motivation. Survival.”

  Dev scowled, feeling a growing sense of hatred towards the Collector. “So that makes me a superior version of you.”

  The Collector removed his yellow glasses, and Dev couldn’t contain a gasp of shock. The criminal’s eyes were white. Where other peo
ple had an iris and pupil, the fiend had nothing but a smooth milky-white eyeball. Dev turned away, repulsed.

  “I can see you perfectly,” said the Collector, tugging at the corner of his eye with one finger, revealing more sickening white. “My eyes never developed the way they should, yet I can see across a wider range of spectrums. I can see the ultraviolet waves pumping from the environment sensor in the grass. I can see the heat from your cheeks when you lie. I bear witness to the radiation pulses of supernova burning the night sky!” He extended his arms as if embracing the heavens.

  Dev took an involuntary step backwards. “I’m sorry you’ve got freaky eyes, but that’s not my fault. I thought we were running from a deadly clever enemy, when all along you were nothing more than a bunch of ordinary thieves, looking to steal this.” He indicated the gauntlet.

  “Ordinary thieves? Ha! We are exceptional thieves! You still don’t grasp the scope of what I have achieved.”

  “I take issue with the word ‘thief’,” said Lee, emerging from the barn and buttoning his jacket against the cold. He looked pale from his teleportation trip. “I’m a skilled technician.” He gave a respectful nod towards the Collector. “I gotta hand it to you, I never thought we’d get past the last line of security. That was a stroke of genius getting him to flee with this thing, believing it was of real value.”

  Dev looked at the Iron Fist in his arms. “I don’t get it … if you claim I’m Iron Fist … then this?”

  Lee scoffed loudly. “Ain’t you fifty shades of dumb? I switched the Inventory files when I gained access to the system just in case you got online. That way you would believe that this –” he waved at the gauntlet “– was the precious artefact. Really, you think a piece of junk salvaged from a bunch of scrap was what we wanted?”

  The Collector pulled a journal from his pocket, the same one Pavel had retrieved from the Moscow apartment. He wagged it in front of Dev. “It’s all logged in here. The private journal of Professor Yenin – the man hired by the World Consortium to dream up the impregnable security system. It was within these pages I discovered that you were the living key, Dev.”