Public reaction to the death of the Lord Marshal of the Guardians was tempered by the fact that details of his execution remained hidden from mainstream viewing; the strictures of the force field ensuring the epic battle remained unseen—either by those in attendance or those watching at home.
Fortunately, the number of Guardians on site prevented an even greater tragedy, as they were able to absorb the potential of the explosion, protecting bystanders from the blast that heralded the destruction of the deathtrap into which Earl Foster had unwittingly stepped.
Be that as it may, once the circumstances of the slaying emerged, everyone united in grief and universal condemnation of such a craven act. That someone would dare such a thing, on such a special day, caused disbelief and outrage. So much so, that it soon became clear the killers would have no place to hide.
Rallying behind the Guardians, the world’s law enforcement agencies and media quickly circulated the vague descriptions of those believed responsible, but try as they might, no actual video footage, photograph, or valid record of them could be found.
It was as if they had never existed, before or after the inauguration.
The Overlord arrived as the sonic boom from the detonation reverberated off across the city. To protect those present, he ensured to form his teleportation nexus over a hundred yards up in the air. Nevertheless, when he crashed into the ground like a cyclone ravaged meteorite, he bowled over everyone else in the vicinity—Guardians included!
Having regained his composure, he summoned the Shadow Lord and Lord Inquisitor to his side and together, they spent over an hour examining the esoteric afterimages infused into the surrounding structures by the energies released during the conflict. They also labored for a considerable time, trying to locate the quantum ruptures through which the killers had fled. Finding nothing of value, they concluded their escape route must have been prepared beforehand so as not to leave any form of telestic echo.
In a moving act, the Overlord used his stupendous abilities to restore the monument to its former glory, adding a poignant modification. The face of the male Guardian was altered to an exact likeness of the now deceased Lord Marshal. Needless to say, his gesture raised no objections whatsoever.
However, those close enough to observe the Overlord as he retrieved his friend’s blackened plasma staff from its resting place, reported seeing a chilling transformation.
The Overlord carried himself stiffly, tucking the ruined weapon away within the folds of his robe in a reverential manner reflecting the depth of his grief. Having done so, he pulled his cowl forward and bowed his head, whereupon his demeanor changed, darkening into a storm wracked visage filled with a hatred so cold, so rabid, that witnesses were adamant: had he been looking directly at them, they’d have suffered nightmares for the rest of their days.
*
The reinforced cover slid back to disclose the unsullied face of Psi-edon, still ageless despite his long years of enforced oblivion.
Adam signaled, and Victoria deactivated the adjacent pods, releasing the prisoners within from stasis. Immediately, all three of the black-clad visitors raised their shields, just in case, only to find it wasn’t necessary. The forms on the beds didn’t stir.
In fact, they seemed barely alive.
Andrew leaned over Psi-edon and sent his enormous redactive faculty burrowing into the supine figure beneath him. Within seconds he had his answer.
Sharing his findings, Andrew declared: They’re catatonic. Almost all of their life force has been drained. What with the involuntary complexus substitution on top, it means they’ve scant vitality left.
Can you do anything for them? Victoria asked.
Hell, Sis, I’ll try, but in the end it’ll come down to their will to live. They’ve been driven over the edge, so my ministrations might snuff what little spark that’s left, out. Once I get them back to Moon Base, I’ll feel more comfortable and will be able to give you a more accurate estimation.
Adam nodded gravely: Son, before you do that, I’d like to know what psidetic ID you’re registering?
Gently and with the greatest of care, Andrew slipped his lightest probes in beneath the chaotic neural layers stuttering on the brink of dissolution. His skill was paramount, dwarfing that of even their fabled Lord Healer, Corrine Jackson. Adam and Victoria followed with admiration as he first caressed and then invigorated his patients’ frayed sanity with the most soothing esoteric balm he could manifest: Can you see what we have here?
Deep within each bruised and battered ego, Andrew uncovered the minutest kernel of identity that was the only remaining residue of their former selves. Prying the pith of those delicate personas apart, he was then able to discern the parasitical mental signatures that had been forcibly bonded to their true personalities. In so doing, he was not only able to reveal the genuine character of each individual, but the strange new duality that had been forged. “Got it,” he proclaimed aloud. “Good call. Now we can track them wherever they go.”
He transferred the unique binary auras of their adversaries to his father and sister. “Of course, they’d have to be pretty stupid to drop their barriers and let us spot them . . . though it has been a long time.”
“But if they trigger their transcension programs, mutated or not, we’ll be able to recognize them if we’re close enough, right?” Victoria stressed.
They regarded their father, waiting for a definitive answer.
“You are correct,” Adam affirmed. “Even warded, their transformation will alert us to their presence if we’re within five hundred miles. And if they’re not—which is highly unlikely—we’ll ping them from as far away as Kalliste.”
“Excellent!” Andrew enthused, “So who do we let in on this?”
Adam looked thoughtful for a moment. “For now, this intel stays between us. You can appreciate why. But maybe there’s something we can do with the automatic sensors on the unmanned sentinel satellites and orbiting stations.”
Andrew caught his drift instantly. “What? Like a covert security sub-routine running in the background, set to alert us if the scanners sweep across their actual patterns or anything similar?”
Adam nodded. “How long do you think that would take?”
“Transcended? About a month if we want to ensure nobody gets to know what we’re up to.”
“Good, then let’s get on with it.”
As they prepared to depart, Victoria raised an intriguing point. “While we’re on the subject of transcension, what do we do if we run into them and they try to prevent us from assuming our true aspects?”
Placing his hand on each of their shoulders, their father replied, “We need to discuss that. You’ll find you are both a very different kettle of fish—as am I—to Earl or any other magnified Guardian. Once we’ve completed the adjustments aboard our various installations, I think it’s time I talked to you about the specifics of your unique heritage.”
Turning, he stomped toward the exit, leaving the twins speechless as to the implications of what he had just said.
*
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
As his private elevator ascended toward the boardroom level, Lei Yeung took the time to study the prevalent mood among his twelve most trusted advisors via the sophisticated surveillance video interlink fitted into the car’s control panel.
It was plain to see the Apostles of the Council were decidedly on edge, and he couldn’t blame them. It had been a month since the outrage in New York, and though no information to the contrary had been forthcoming, they must have known their boss was involved in some way. Why else would he have been absent since then—and his terrifying new acquaintances along with him?
Yeung had been taken into protective custody and, according to media reports, subjected to all sorts of tests, interrogations and straightforward interviews. Because of that, he was sure his team was under the impression he’d been locked away and left to rot in a dungeon somewhere and that it wouldn’t take long for the knock at the door heralding the moment their own tribulations began.
Despite their fears, no Guardians or any other law enforcement agency ever came calling; no news bulletins interrupted normal services announcing the identity of the offenders or their accomplices; no charges were laid. In fact, Yeung had come out of the affair smelling of roses and being hailed as something of a hero.
Then, forty-eight hours previously, the telephone calls started, ordering the Apostles to meet in conclave in Tokyo where they would at last discover the new path the Council would be taking.
And here they were, waiting with bated breath to find out exactly what was going on. Now the moment had arrived, Yeung could barely contain his excitement. Let’s see how they react to my opening statement. After all, a picture does paint a thousand words.
The door to the conference room opened and a surprisingly rejuvenated Yeung—looking ten years younger and without a care in the world—strode confidently into the room, followed by a trio of sinister shadows radiating ill-concealed malice.
He was happy to note the astonishment his appearance elicited from each and every single member. Making no reference to their surprise, he began, “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to the co-leaders of our corporation.” He nodded toward the three newcomers. “From this day forward, the Council will operate under the direction of a quorum, with each of the four primary executives exercising equal authority.”
Angelika Papadakos spoke out. “Sir, I’ve known you for a good few decades now, and this is most out of character. Are you sure this is wise?”
Overwhelming contempt radiated from two of Yeung’s companions, in particular, Esther Perry and Harry Johnson who loathed having their motives questioned.
But Angelika wasn’t one to back down. Dismissing their obvious irritation, she taunted, “I rest my case. We have always had your back. What’s with the snotty attitude?”
Yeung raised his hands. “Angelika, your loyalty is a delight to behold. Do not worry yourself unnecessarily. These changes are not coerced, far from it. They are crucial and freely made. In fact, they will ensure our power continues to grow unhindered.”
“How so?” she pressed, boldly. “Remember, I was there the day the bluntest of ultimatums was delivered. How are you going to guarantee we keep our heads?”
Stepping forward, the most amiable of the imposing new associates interjected. “Perhaps I can answer that?”
All eyes turned toward Simon Cooper. He commenced strolling around the table and made a point of holding the gaze of each Apostle for a few seconds before moving on to the next one. “My friends, I know these changes seem disturbing. Let me assure you, they will guarantee your dominance of the world, its markets and its affairs without fear of interference from these erstwhile superhero do-gooders.”
“Yes, but how will you guarantee that, exactly?” Angelika retorted, tartly.
Simon turned, an appraising, if calculating veneer on his face. “You saw a clear demonstration of our power a month ago. Earl Foster was second-in-command of their infernal organization. Not only were we able to prevent his transformation, we also subsumed his potential. We are much stronger than before and will be more than capable of deflecting the worst those meddlesome busybodies can bring our way.
“If you need further reassurance, you will have noted Lei Yeung is free to enjoy his liberty, yes? That is due to good planning and the micro-chip technology incorporated within his brain; bio-engineered hardware that not only protects its user from the effects of the modified MEMU emitters, but any form of mental intrusion by Guardian Inquisitors as well.”
The entire board stared Yeung’s way.
“And he looks younger, too, doesn’t he?” Esther interjected.
Several Apostles’ nodded, and a few mumbled openly as to the veracity of Esther’s statement.
“That, my human friends, is due to my efforts,” Esther took a little bow. “I am a scientist of exceptional talent, and have been able to adapt a number of your human genome projects to produce the results you see before you now. Mister Yeung, would you please tell the members how you feel?”
There’s my cue. “I’d be delighted, Esther.”
Yeung virtually skipped to his feet. “As you can see, I have been infused with enough fresh life-essence to remove the burdens of the last ten years. Ten years with just one treatment! This regimen will be extended to all Apostles of the Council in the coming weeks so you can experience for yourselves what it’s like to become so . . . so invigorated.
“You might also like to know we are examining the likelihood similar results can be achieved through technical adaptation alone. I don’t have to tell you the benefits that particular breakthrough would entail, especially as Esther is sure her bioforming methods can be adapted to enhance our extra sensory abilities too, or even add to them in some cases.”
Simon cut in. “Do you see now why we feel these changes will be good for our enterprising little consortium? Do you appreciate why you will no longer have to fear your adversaries? If our manipulations are successful, all of you will be a match for whatever comes your way. Tell me honestly, who here wouldn’t like to strike a blow as we did?”
That got them. No one spoke a word, but the mental exchanges flew thick and fast. Yeung motioned to his benefactors for a little patience.
Soon, an accord was reached. Angelika turned to her mentor. “Very well, then, Sir. What do we have to do?”
Yeung gestured toward Harry Johnson, who unfurled a roll containing a dozen state-of-the art hypo-needles on a nearby coffee table. He cracked a wicked smile. “What you can do is form an orderly queue. Each of you will receive a micro-MEMU implant to prevent any details about our plans from leaking out in the wrong places.”
“And then?”
“And then, dear lady, you can be the first to volunteer for the delights of nano-rejuvenation and the expansion of your existing talents with the new prototype Esther hopes to have completed in a week or two.”
Angelika didn’t need asking twice. She’d never forgotten the humiliation of her experience a year or so before when her team had stumbled upon the old Guardian headquarters. Payback had been a long time coming, and she was itching to cash in . . . with interest.
*
Three blazing concentrations of celestial light orbited in close proximity to one another, forming a miniature constellation within the still reverberating central zone of an aphotic abyss.
Though each of them flared—oscillating rhythmically in accord with the tempo of the harmonic rapport yoking them together in a bond of utmost intimacy—one of the dazzling pulsars was notably brighter and larger than the other two.
If an onlooker had been present with the skill to pierce the impenetrable barrier surrounding the ebullient trinity, he or she would have been party to a shocking discovery, for the Overlord of the Guardians had just completed a tale of such extraordinary substance, that his companions had been struck dumb.
Adam sighed: So now you both know.
Andrew and Victoria found it difficult to absorb what they’d just been told. They hung there mutely, their agitation betrayed by the plangent eruptions of scarlet radiance that coursed through every fiber of their beings. Their senses flicked to each other for mutual support, only to discover they craved the preference of their own solitude even more, impossible to achieve now they were committed to the strictures of their esoteric symphony.
After more than an hour had passed, Victoria was the first to find her voice: No wonder you said we wouldn’t need to worry about transmuting into our true forms when we catch up with those fuckers! Just how powerful are we?
Adam studied his exceptional daughter for an eternity before answering: Only time will tell, Victoria, and believe me, you will have that in endless abundance.
Andrew cut in. That’s all well and good, but what will we become when we eventually mature? His mind bloomed slightly as the perturbing truth sank in: Mature! That’s a good one, we’re thousands of years old and we’re still in short trousers. Oh fantastic!
Their father replied: Like I said. You are unique; a wonderful, unexpected legacy from an unusual union. Your heritage means you are the first of your kind and your eventual maturation will bring marvels and opportunities the universe has never before witnessed. I wish I could be there to see it.
The mood darkened.
So, you’re still determined to take the next step? Victoria asked, pensively.
I must, my daughter. For me, there is no other option.
But why, when you’re doing so much good here? Why leave?
My true nature calls to me Victoria . . . even now. The longer I am away, the greater the void inside me turns to ice. The deeper that petrifaction sinks, the closer I am drawn to the animus of my creation: conflict, ruination and chaos. Fortunately, the way of salvation has been revealed and my repentant heart draws me here, to the only solution that can lead to my re-magnification.
Andrew’s mind whispered. And you really have to go?
He showed the way, and I must follow.
Are you sure we’re ready?
My son, you’ve both been ready for a long, long time without even realizing it. Maintain your peace, there’s still time before my transmogrification to hunt our quarry and bring this business to an acceptable end. He glided closer to his progeny: Blend with me once more before we return and all will be explained.
The burning conflagrations came together again. Two were dulled by fear of loss and the pain of a separation to come, the other raged supreme, pouring consolations upon the wounded psyches before him. Each drew strength from the other, along with the resolve to see things settled—one way or another.