Neon Blood (Neon Helix Universe Book 3)
Neon Blood
by
Nik Whittaker
Copyright
Copyright ©2021 Nik Whittaker
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Rebecacovers
About The Author
Nik Whittaker is the science-fiction and fantasy author of the Neon Helix Universe series.
Having started his self-publishing career in early 2019, Nik Whittaker has written fast-paced novels that hook the reader in both the cyberpunk and space opera genres and is currently working on his first full-length fantasy novel.
Nik Whittaker spent many late nights studying for his bachelor’s degree in English Language and Literature from the Open University whilst working full-time to pay the bills.
Now, fueled by coffee, bourbon, and imagination, he enjoys creating new worlds and characters for readers to explore.
You can join Nik on his writing journey at www.nikwhittaker.com and sign up for his newsletter to stay up-to-date on upcoming releases.
Also Available
Neon Helix Universe
Neon Helix
Neon Cortex
Neon Blood
Other
The Omega Drive
Thanks
Thank you to Kate Milbourne for her continued support and motivation.
Also special thanks goes to my Prime ARC readers
Robert Newell & Douglas Shore for their invaluable time and feedback.
Dedication
Neon Blood is dedicated to everyone who bought, read, and enjoyed Neon Helix which helped make this sequel a reality
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Chapter Eighty-Four
Chapter Eighty-Five
Chapter One
Prologue
Tonight, an update on the spate of killings shocking the Metro. Police have today identified the latest victim as Laurence Johnson, the head of a major crime Sliders gang. He bore the same marks as several recent murders, the numbers ‘235711’, carved into his chest. The nicknamed ‘Prime Killer’ is still at large.
In other news, heavy snowfall has fallen again this evening across the Metro. As it continues for the thirtieth day straight, the impact is being seen around the Boulevard. The Boulevard's self-heating pavement has been keeping it clear, but the issues of snow piling up in the surrounding areas continue to cause disruption.
Finally, the reconstruction of the former site of CyBio Headquarters is to be completed today, six months since its collapse. In its place, a newly developed park area has been built, giving citizens a place to enjoy artificial greenery for the first time in decades.
Chapter Two
Prime
Prime pulled his sheepskin coat tighter around his body, trying to stop the cold creeping in.
He’d been searching the back alleys for half an hour, kicking up the snow that had piled up amongst the garbage. The cold of winter was sharp and despite wearing the several layers, it still seemed to chill him to his bones. He couldn’t believe he could get any colder, but when his eyes settled on what he was looking for, a chill shot through him.
Just up ahead, a line of red was splashed across the perfect white of the snow. The colour seeping into the wet slush blotted like ink on paper. Following its trail, Prime moved further into the alley until he found its source, a body dumped face down into the snow like a rag doll, its limbs splayed out at the wrong angles.
“Shit,” he signed, visible vapour escaping his lips.
Rolling the body over, Prime revealed the dead man’s wounds. An open shirt gave him a view of the man’s frozen chest, where a string of numbers had been carved into the flesh, the clotted blood now tinged with ice. He knew the numbers were meant for him, Persephone’s calling card. The numbers 2,3,5,7,11 were prime numbers, a twisted personal message.
Another one? She has been busy. Prime ignored the voice in his head as he pulled out his Personal Augmentation Device, and set a timer for five minutes. The PAD was a retro device, which allowed for the remote control of any technologies he had, rather than the control being embedded into the body as a more modern Personal Digital Assistant allowed. It could still be hooked directly into the body as an augmentation, but Prime preferred not to have too much tech plugged into his body. All the Augs he’d gotten were accessories he could take off at any time, other than the cortex receiver that was too deeply embedded into his brain.
Using the PAD to connect to his contact lens allowed Prime to take more detailed pictures, and working fast, he examined the body and the area around it. He took several photos from various angles before removing a small disk from his jacket and placing it on the floor five feet away from the body. Stepping back, he tapped a button on his PAD and watched as a maze of laser beams shoot up and out from the disk. The beams moved across everything in the alley, scanning and recording. A second later, the lasers stopped, the disk now blinki
ng with a flashing green light.
Prime checked the time, sixty seconds had passed since he found the body.
Tick Tock Prime! Better be moving!
The voice sang in the back of his head again. Sighing, he snatched up the disk and headed towards the exit of the alley. Before he reached it, flashing blue and red lights bounced off the snow and walls around him.
“Damn it!”
Uh oh! Too slow, Prime! What are we going to do?
He turned and hurried back down the alley, looking for another way out.
Seeing a fire escape hanging down to his right, he jumped and grabbed onto it, heaving himself up to the first set of stairs. Jogging briskly up, he glanced down as two MPD Officers started to make their way down the alley, their searchlights were scanning the area as they walked. Prime had just made it to the rooftops as they passed underneath. They didn’t lookup.
Prime had become accustomed to the five-minute head start Persephone gave him once he found the body. She allowed him just enough time to gather information before she called the police to the scene. Six months they’d been playing this game, her trying to get him to embrace the darker side of his mind, the part where Peter still resided, whilst he tried to track her down. So far, they’d been at a stalemate.
Prime peered over the edge of the building at the officers below as they found the body. Muffled voices drifted up through the snow as they shouted to each other.
That was a close one, we need to be more careful!
A feeling washed over him, triggered by the sight of the blood on the snow, the dead body and the wounds. He knew the feeling well, the dark side of Peter seeping in once again. Ever since the Fall of CyBio, when Prime had taken control of the remaining clones and felt that power, there’d been that part of Peter edging to take over his mind. It would be easy to just let it take over, no more fighting with his shadow.
A beeping from his PAD brought him back, an alert saying the victim had been identified by the facial recognition software processing the photos. The snow began to fall heavier around him as he stood on the corner of the building, pulling up the information.
Samuel Underwood, 34, a technical adviser for Silverstone Corp. No previous records.
Why would Persephone target him? Curious.
So far, most of the murders had been criminals of some form, ranging from heads of the large families down to petty Sliders. This was the first variation to the MO.
The sound of a helicopter filled the air, muted by the snowfall but loud enough for Prime to notice it coming closer, MPD back-up was on the way. The ‘prime number murders’ had risen in attention since the last victim, Laurence Johnson, a very public crime lord.
What’s the plan now, Prime? Let me take over. I’ll find her!
“Peter, be quiet, I’m trying to think.”
Since the fall, Peter’s voice had been getting louder inside his head, like a subconscious that wasn’t his own, trying to take control. Between that and Persephone’s encouragement, Prime was in a constant battle to keep him at bay and had forced him to distance himself from the people he called friends.
A spotlight began to trace it’s way across the rooftops, illuminating the snow with an intense white. Prime needed to get out of the area. Walking across the rooftops, he headed down a fire escape a few blocks over, rejoining the Boulevard.
*
Prime made his way to the hideout he had built for himself under the now-abandoned Grand Falls Hotel where he had first been created. It was now a deserted shell of the building it once was. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him there initially. After the Fall, all the clones had died at CyBio and, with no-one to look after it, the hotel had become desolate. The large clone chambers had all been destroyed, Prime wasn’t sure if it was Jacob or Peter that had burnt them all down, but little remained other than shattered incubation pods and haphazard wiring.
The small workspace he had set-up for himself consisted of his living area and also several computer terminals and other bits of equipment he’d scavenged from the hotel above.
He sat down at a desk and placed his PAD next to the computer. It hummed into life as he attached a wire that ran from the computer into the device.
The computer began to download all the information from the device, and moments later, it had processed the data. Turning, Prime pulled at part of the table, a large rectangular base rolled out, a mesh of circuits on its face. A digital layout of the alleyway flickered into life and was recreated in a miniature, complete with a computerised render of the dead body.
Prime took his time in examining the hologram. It was an exact copy created by the device he had used to photograph and scan the alley. He zoomed into the dead body, seeing it in clear digital form. Looking at the numbers again, 235711, the first five prime numbers, he could see that wounds had a slight charring to the sides of them.
“Persephone wanted to make sure they were well defined,” he spoke out loud. The PAD’s dictation software kicked into gear as he spoke.
She does have a skill at cutting into flesh, Prime tried to ignore the voice as it chimed in again.
“The wounds, most likely made with a scalpel, or similar blade, have been expanded after the initial cut. Then cauterised to prevent further bleeding,” he zoomed out to see the body in full again. “However, that seems unlikely to have been the cause of death. The wounds are too small for that.”
Hmm, definitely. She would have wanted to enjoy the kill. I do miss the feeling of someone's life in my hands. I wish you’d let me take over for a while.
Prime closed his eyes for a second as he fought the voice again. In the Fall, Peter had given him control of the clones, along with opening his own mind up to Prime. It was only later that Prime realised that all of the thoughts and skills Peter had acquired of his years had become part of his own. All the minds he had assimilated from the people he murdered integrated perfectly. Accessing them was dangerous, however, as Peter was always lurking in the subconscious, waiting to take control.
“Be quiet,” he whispered.
Prime examined the body further. Whilst he couldn’t move it from its position in the replica, the scans had collected some deep level information from varying wavelengths.
“It appears the body has been subjected to a strong beating,” Prime continued, “the scans showing bruise marks over the body, picked up by a surplus of blood in certain areas.” Prime paused, moving the view to the man’s neck. A mark seemed to cover the entire neckline. He cycled through several wavelengths and settings until one picked up a clearer view.
Uh-Oh, Peter’s voice sang.
“Shit,” Prime sighed, “it would appear that Persephone strangled the victim to death with her bare hands.” Two hand prints became visible, Prime was trying to get the best image of them he could. Once he did, he sent it to the computer next to the table.
“Primary scans underway to try to get a match from the handprints,” Prime knew what was going to happen, but he needed to see it for sure.
The scans complete, a photo appeared on the screen.
Match Found
The photo was of Peter Henshaw, the original. If Peter’s handprints matched the body, then so did Prime’s.
What a handsome chap! But that’s going to cause us some issues.
Prime closed down the replica and shoved the table away. He needed to work fast. Peter may be dead, but if the prints matched his own, then it would be traced to him. His only lead now was to head to Silverstone Corp and try to track Simon Howard's last movements. He pulled the PAD back onto his wrist and checked the address; it wasn’t far.
*
The Silverstone Corp building was an enormous monolith in ZetaCity, two-hundred floors with tinted windows giving it an eerie dark reflection of the surrounding lights.
Prime walked through the entrance dressed in a smart business suit in an attempt to fit in.
“Good Evening,” he addressed the woman at the reception desk.
; “Hello, may I help you?” she asked, glancing up from the computer. The desk was located in the centre of a large foyer area, with no other furniture around.
They don’t want people to hang around.
“I’m here to see Mr Simon Howard,” Prime said.
“Is Mr Howard expecting you?” the woman asked.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Okay, Can I take a name, please?”
“Reilly,” Prime used one of the names he’d had during his escape from the Hotel.
“One moment please,” the woman tapped on her computer, just out of Prime’s line of sight.
She looks suspicious to me.
Prime glanced around the sparse room that smelled of leather and sanitiser. Flashbacks of the foyer at CyBio headquarters came to mind, filled with bodies of Clones and Nano-replicas of Yuri.
“Mr Reilly, if you could head to floor one hundred and five, Mr Howard, will meet you there.”
Prime paused. He had expected to be told of Simon’s passing or just be thrown out of the building. He quickly composed himself and moved towards the lift at the far end of the room.
“Thank you,” he called back to the woman on the desk, who simply smiled and continued her work.
The lift was carpeted along all its walls, muting the music which piped in through the overhead speaker. Prime took the time to try to arrange his thoughts.
The body had been identified as Mr Simon Howard, Silverstone Corp employee. Either the ID had been incorrect, or Simons’ had been replicated somehow. Prime rolled his eyes, he really hoped it wasn’t another clone situation.
As the lift arrived at floor one hundred and five, Prime prepared himself for whatever might greet him. The doors opened, and from the other side, a gun was pointed directly at his forehead.
“Tell me who you are, why you are looking for Simon, and one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your brains out right here and now,” the female voice shouted at him.
Chapter Three
Julian
So far, they had taken down over fifty unlicensed augmentation clinics across the Boulevard.