Free Final Empire by Blake Northcott

guns. They’re Model One Zungenbrechers.” I handed one of the pistols to Peyton, allowing her to inspect it.
    “Zungen- what ?” She flipped it over, poking and prodding at it from every angle. “These aren’t like anything I’ve seen before, and I grew up around a lot of guns.”
    “Exactly,” I explained. “They’re new Frost Tech...well, Moxon Tech now, I guess. Zungenbrecher is a German word that basically means ‘tongue twister’. They’re urban peacekeepers designed for crowd control: the bullets penetrate the flesh and cause a little bleeding, injecting a non-lethal dose of diazepam into the target.”
    Peyton creased her brow. “Diazepam is just valium – we use it to calm animals before surgery.”
    “Right. But combined with a few different high-potency barbiturates it gets delivered fast enough to work as a tranquilizer. Dizziness, disorientation, unable to speak...then a few seconds later your target is sleeping.” I snapped a clip into one of the guns and handed it to Gavin. He nodded and accepted it, but Peyton looked far less convinced.
    “So...the person you shoot will be lying unconscious in a pool of their own blood...but they’ll be alive. That sounds lovely.”
    “Look,” I reassured her, “you saw what McGarrity could do in the Fortress.”
    She had, along with the entire world. He routinely used his ability to bend light into a construct of a broadsword – a weapon that sliced through everything from titanium to solid rock like it was made of warm butter. He was on our side then, but now I didn’t know who to trust, or what kind of a nightmare we could be walking into. I knew Peyton and Gavin were going to come with me whether I wanted them to or not, and since that was the case, I wasn’t going to let them come empty-handed.
    Peyton blew out her cheeks and nodded in surrender. Without further protest she unbuttoned her fitted leather jacket, sliding the weapon into the inside pocket.
    I zipped on my ragged red hoodie while Gavin adjusted his wool overcoat, all of us careful to ensure our weapons were out of sight.
    “I’ll put you guys down on the rooftop,” Karin said, slipping back into the pilot’s seat. “This should be in-and-out, but if there are any issues you have multiple exits; if you can’t make it to the roof I’ll grab you from a balcony, or the alley behind the hotel.”
    “Wait,” Gavin said, “what about Interpol? You know, the whole ‘most wanted man in the world’ thing? What if someone recognizes Mox?”
    I’d already checked ahead. “I haven’t been on any news feeds in the UK, and even if I had, the authorities wouldn’t be able to mobilize fast enough. We’ll be in the air and cloaked before they get a single squad car in the vicinity.”
    “What about London?” He added. “Shouldn’t you have brought her along for support?”
    “She’s was damaged during my escape in New York – I need to make some repairs before I can use her as riot armor again.”
    “Will you guys stop worrying?” Karin shouted from the cockpit. “You bunch of babies are acting like you’ve never been on a mission to capture a homicidal superhuman before. Now hold onto something – I kinda suck at landings.”
     

    The Savoy Hotel’s hoverpad allowed us easy access to the top floor. No confirmation code required – just pull up and land. The security was surprisingly light, especially considering the caliber of guests who frequented the famous establishment: rock stars, politicians, royalty, gods of the business world, and now – for reasons I will never fully understand – Steve goddamned McGarrity.
    We padded across the snowy tarmac and down a flight of stairs into a small marble lobby. It was white and crisp and ultramodern, in stark contrast with the rest of the hotel’s décor. It had been obviously retrofitted to accommodate the more affluent guests once the hoverpad had been installed, and opened to the exclusive penthouse level. Once inside