I half expect bullets to explode through the window. If I was next to Skarisa I could ask her. Why do we not just turn ourselves in? I thought the police were supposed to be prepared for this. She said Kaloaan knew we were coming. 

I shimmy forward, underneath the window. “See for yourself.” 

Deqar peers. “That’s the chief. He’s addressing the officers. That’s your bro, right? I’ve got a shot, I can take him out. He hasn’t seen us.” 

“Don’t,” Skarisa orders from behind him. “We’re here for the EMP. You shoot while we’re out here and its a  slaughterhouse.” 

Deqar nods and follows me. We move painstakingly slowly past two more windows, until we reach the opposite hall. The armory should be three floors down. Bullets don’t shatter the glass. That means Kaloaan is silent. He’s quiet. For me. 

He knows why I’m here. 

He’s still quiet. 

Fucking idiot. 

The window is locked. “Deqar, gimme your thing.” 

“My what?” 

“You’re knuckle thing.” 

“Right.” He hands me the miniature blade he keeps between his second and third knuckles. I punch the window, making a tiny mark. I punch it again, making a spiderweb. The third punch and it grows. The fourth and it shatters. I give it back him, the skin between my fingers torn, blood running down my hand. 

I kick away broken glass and climb in. 

There are only two ways into the massive office. The other door is locked. As soon as Kaloaan stops talking, fifty or so policemen will burst through this door. Or, I could go through myself first, turn myself in. 

Kaloaan will protect me. 

But he might not be able to anymore. Not after this. 

“We gotta fucking go,” Deqar says, tumbling through. He cuts a gash in his arm but doesn’t seem to notice. He goes straight for the stairs, down. 

I lean back as Skarisa climbs in. Before I can say anything, she’s cut me off. “Keep moving.” 

We rush down the first flight of stairs, then the second. On the ground floor, chaos and gunfire rages. It’s coming from the other side of the building. How much damage is this Oresek fucker managing to do alone? 

“It’s one more down,” Varan says, passing us. 

Needless to say, the massive metal door to the armory in the basement is locked. Varan kneels and begins working on it. 

At the bottom of the staircase, with the door locked, there is nowhere to go. I can almost already hear the sound of dozens and dozens of officers rushing us. 

Deqar is pacing, his mohawk wilted from the rain. He pulls off his belt and ties it around his arm, sticking a needle in his elbow. 

Skarisa pushes a gun into my hand. “Can you use this?” she asks. There is a surprising tenderness in her voice. “You’ll have to.” 

I glance to the others. Varan is sweating, moving precariously into the military grade lock with his makeshift tools. Deqar is focused on finding a vein. I whisper to her. “What is happening? I thought you said they knew we were coming? I thought this was just going to be a turn over?” 

“Things are more complicated than that.” She puts the gun into my hand. “Can you use this?” 

“No. Fuck you.” I drop the weapon. 

There it is. The sound of fifty policemen rushing down the stairs. 

“Varan,” Deqar urges, slipping his belt back on. 

“Don’t rush me.” 

The storm of officers descend another flight of stairs. 

“It’s not me rushing you.” 

“I need thirty seconds.” 

“We have five.” 

They descend the next flight. They’re directly above us. 

Deqar darts to the flank of the stairs, rifle ready. 

Skarisa drops to one knee, pistol aimed at the top of the stairs. 

I pickup the gun she gave me. What a shit way to die. 

But they don’t storm down towards us, guns blazing. They’re charging through the ground floor above us. 

Bless this Oresek motherfucker. He’s holding down an entire barrack. 

“You ten, with me,” an officer barks. It’s that bitch, I recognize her nasally voice anywhere. The deputy chief Firida who had me interrogated with the fucking sun. “Odds are they’re here for the armory, we’ll lock it down and then join the others from the east side.” 

Ten of them. Four of us. We have first shot. It’s possible. 

Skarisa has began open firing as soon as their feet are within view. 

“Got it!” Varan exclaims, and the door hisses open. 

Deqar barrels through first, and I chase after him. He sprays blindly. 

“Idiot!” Varan screams. “Do you know how many explosives are in here?” 

“Well I didn’t hit any, did I?” Deqar shouts back. Two engineers slump down, dead from his blind onslaught, dropping their guns.