The elevator descended to the second level before Drake let go of the handrail.
His chest still hurt. The red marks left by the webbing stretched from his wrists to his elbows. He had scraped at it twice with a blade, but still hadn't gotten it all off.
Leave New York first.
Losing the Underground Laboratory and failing to secure the patent could both be remedied. The backup servers still held the data, and his overseas accounts had enough money to rebuild the equipment.
As for that doctor...
Drake looked at himself in the mirrored wall and moved that name to the bottom of his revenge list.
Four test subjects. Eight seconds.
He didn't want to become the fifth.
His trouser leg suddenly clung to his calf.
Drake looked down. A drop of black slime crawled out of his shoe and climbed up his sock. He raised the blade, but his wrist stopped at his waist.
His fingers still gripped the handle.
He could no longer let go.
Black tissue slipped into both sides of his spine and connected to his nerves. Drake opened his mouth, but only half a breath escaped his throat.
The elevator display changed to level B4.
His head tilted half an inch to the right, then turned back.
Corruption was adjusting this body.
Images came through the retinas, balance returned to the inner ears, and the previously racing heart slowed. Corruption sifted through Drake's memories, looking first for an exit, then for the security system.
Underground parking garage, dedicated vehicle, private airport.
Account passwords, authorization codes, overseas research stations.
This body couldn't fight, but it could make plenty of people do things on Corruption's behalf.
Corruption put away the blade and straightened the cuffs.
A memory concerning an aerospace project caught Corruption's attention.
The Life