Page 31 of Jump or Fall
Millon
I t was too convenient that a group, armored like enforcers, had taken down a mech.
Anyone purchasing personal armor would likely want some level of customization.
Additionally, the enforcers on patrol that night had all been accounted for, ruling out the possibility of a rogue faction retaliating over being replaced.
Though he hadn’t known yet who to suspect, Millon figured some of his own people had to be involved. Silva and Mara had come to mind, though the latter had seemed unlikely. She had access to everything in the Armory, but Knight had broken her a long time ago.
He flexed his metal hand, seething at the thought of that man.
Knight would show up unannounced and treat the place like his own personal residence.
Whenever he cornered Mara, Millon had to ensure the security feeds were switched off.
There wasn’t much he could do for her, but he could grant her that small dignity.
His father Kenji’s words were on his mind with every interaction:
“If you want a good seat in Hell, you must appease the Devil.”
“Why would you want a seat in Hell?”
“Trust me. You don’t want the place under his boot.”
And appease the Devil he did. His father indulged in their endless supply of women and skiff—but Millon had no interest. He never understood the appeal of fucking a woman who was paid to want it or one who had no choice.
The skiff made people unpredictable, dulling their minds.
It was no surprise Kenji had killed himself, crashing his car into a pole.
Millon had no desire to follow in those footsteps.
But he had continued playing along with the clawed tyrant. The tyrant with a stranglehold on the medical industry of not only Teichus, but the entire Domain. Those ridiculous metal fingers were into everything, ensuring his necessity.
At least, until now.
Change was coming.
Silva admitting that both he and Mara had been involved in the attacks had been a surprise—but a welcome one.
Knight and his associated scum had gone unchecked for too long, and now that bastard had the audacity to try and take his company?
No. The tides in Teichus were shifting, and they were stained red.
He would sooner burn Hyperion to the ground than let it go to Knight.
He took a long drag from his clove cigarette, savoring the intense, spiced flavor as it crackled.
This was going to be interesting.
He straightened his coat and tapped the door with a metal finger.
The thin armor was the right choice—slim ceramic plates sewn beneath the latest version of their aramid vest. Mara was a true master of her craft.
Once this task was over, he would send someone to move her to a safe location.
It was only a matter of time until Knight got wind of the rogue suits.
Getting her away was the least he could do.
Outside, his personal guards patrolled the perimeter.
The door opened, and Millon fired a single round into the housekeeper’s chest.
Her mouth fell open in shock before going slack, her body collapsing heavily onto the marble floor. He stepped over her without a second glance and made his way inside.
Knight had never been careful enough about hiding his spies.
Millon moved deeper into the house, casually blowing smoke rings into the air .
Such opulence.
Everywhere he looked, the wealth of old bloodlines screamed for attention—the high ceilings, the heavy velvet drapes framing the windows, and the intricate patterns woven into the rugs.
The walls were decorated with thick frames, each depicting scenes from a world long dead: hunts on horseback, leaders forgotten by time, and the landscape from before the terraformers had repaired the coasts.
A noise to his left caught his attention, and he fired again. The shot cracked like a whip in the cavernous hall. Screams followed, but they sounded more out of fear than pain.
An alarm blared through the house.
Now he definitely knew where to look. He had recommended the builder after all.
Millon reached the locked door and pinched the cigarette between his teeth. With a sharp jerk, he tore the brass knob off and drove his hand through the wood.
Too many of these old-money types favored aesthetics over security. A steel door would have held.
Inside, the room was neat and orderly. Books lined one wall while a very large display hung across from the desk.
To his left, the alarm panel flashed.
One shot and the house descended into a silence that left the echo of the alarm ringing in his ears.
Distant shouts and thumps in the house weren’t his concern.
Only his target.
On the desk sat a crystal decanter of wine along with a half-filled glass. The fresh lip stain on its rim told him it had been abandoned recently.
He plucked a new glass from the rack and poured the dark vintage. With a casual swirl of the glass, he took a seat and propped up his feet on the desk. The aroma rose up, filling his nose with the scent of earth and black cherries. The man certainly had expensive taste.
“Come on, Beck,” he called out. “We have some things to discuss. ”
Silence.
“I know you’re in there.” Millon toyed with his lighter. “If you’d prefer, I can set the place on fire and roast you in your little cage.”
A false wall slid open, revealing the pitiful, trembling excuse of a man—hardly worthy of the title Archon. Beck wrung his hands as he stepped forward, hesitating before finally lowering himself into the seat across from him.
“Now, you have two options.” Millon took a sip of wine, then placed it on the desk. “First option, you stop being Knight’s bitch and you start being mine. Though, truth be told, I don’t really need you.” He took a long drag. “Second—you die right here.”
Beck refused to meet his eyes. His thinning hair, combed over to conceal the bald spot, was a mess, sticking out in all directions. “I… I can’t, Millon. He has my sons. I can’t lose another child.”
Millon pointed his gun at Beck’s chest. “You aren’t taking my company from me.”
Sweat gathered on Beck’s flushed face. “The… the order ha-has been signed. Hyperion be-belongs to State Security. E-Enforcers will b-be there t-t-tomorrow.”
One shot was all it took.
The poor bastard didn’t even have the sense to put on his armor.
Millon positioned Beck’s arm on the desk and drew a large blade from his belt.
With the strength of his bionic arm, he cleaved his hand off at the wrist, slicing effortlessly through bone and muscle.
Spurts of thick crimson doused the desk, soaking into papers and dripping down the side to stain the rug.
Blood trailed behind him as he strode through the house, carrying the Archon’s severed hand.
He tossed it out onto the front steps, then rolled three remote heavies into different rooms.
“Five minutes!” Millon announced to everyone still in the house .
If Knight’s place wasn’t so fortified, he’d do the same to him. Breaching that perimeter was going to take more work.
He retrieved his bloody trophy and skipped down the steps toward the street.
His ear chimed.
“This is a late hour to call.”
“I’m going to gut you, Hirono,” Knight growled.
Glancing at the house, Millon replied, “Hmm, news travels fast.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Depends. Why do you want to gut me this time?”
“Your master tailor is either dead or in the Outskirts. Either way, she won’t be very pretty.”
Shit. He was too late.
“I don’t know if you’ve seen Lasko lately,” Millon said, “but he still works for me. What are you getting at?”
He had gone far enough away from the house, so he dropped the hand and began to spray it with silver paint.
“Stop bullshitting. I know you’ve been fucking her.”
Millon stopped painting and laughed. “Really? You think I’m fucking a woman you’ve so thoroughly brutalized that she can live by herself? I’ve got to say, I’m flattered you think I’m so alluring.”
“Who else could give her an override key?”
Laughing again, he flipped the hand over with his foot to paint the other side.
“I’d just fuck her at work like you do. Why would I bother with sneaking her out when we’re in the same building all day?”
“Are you admitting it?”
“Now that I know she was secretly working against you, I wish I was. For all your faults, you do have good taste in women.” He snickered. “Plus, I’m sure she’d appreciate a bigger dick.”
He let out a dry laugh. “Hyperion is mine, Hirono.”
“Get fucked, Knight.”
Millon pressed the detonator and hung up.