Michael rested his head against the sands of the beach and let the sounds of the ocean wash over him. This was it; this was what he fought for, and the reason he couldn’t afford to take any breaks just yet.
Michael shifted his focus to a man issuing commands to soldiers, then to a man leading a country and then to another walking through the SCP foundation.
He shifted his perception from person to person, not that he needed to. All their information was already in his head. He knew what they did and could have them do practically anything he wanted.
All nine thousand eight hundred and fifty-two of them. Not a large number, but truthfully that was all he needed. He’d given up control of the U.S. president, but that was mainly because of the number of eyes on him. Everyone important knew he’d been compromised, but Michael had willingly given him back. Which probably caught them by surprise. The O5 council and any other shadow organization had most likely seen his speech as a foolish attempt at rebelling, and perhaps it was, but they’d overlooked one thing. One overwhelmingly important thing.
Powerful people talk, they meet up, they shake hands. And the president was a sick, sick man. That’s all Michael needed. The truly powerful, that small number of individuals was enough to make great changes to the world.
There was a trick to getting things done right. Do them yourself. It’s as simple as that but sadly it requires more work and is often overlooked because of that.
Unfortunately, more often than not it tends to be necessary. Especially when some asshole was wiping people's minds. Which was an issue, but one with an easy solution.
Michael grinned as he watched the clouds float on by, he could perfectly remember giving that speech. The faces of the crowd, the joy he'd felt wholly undermining the foundation. His memories of the event were completely intact.
Which opened the route for a new plan. They'd wiped everyone's minds. That's the only reason they'd been able to hide that speech. But what use was wiping people’s memories when the policies they set up could just be reinstated. If the people in charge remembered everything, a mind wipe would be meaningless, which meant there was nothing the foundation or anyone else could really do to him.
Especially when wiping the memories of everyone watching the president's speech had likely cost them greatly.
Keith had assured him of that.
So with that Michael sat up and stretched his arms before speaking to nobody in particular, “Alright, do it.”
And with those simple words the world was changed as each of those individuals got to work.
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The O5 executives had gathered around their table late in the night, and the tension present in the air was palpable. Seemingly every world leader, every billionaire and every major figure in the world had suddenly begun acting completely outside of their own self interests.
They’d revealed things that they shouldn’t have even known and enacted policies they never should've been able to. Which left one major suspect, Michael Stevens, the living crown. And everyone present at the table knew it.
A man stood at the head of the table with a dark expression on his face, “I’ve tried making a deal with 738. We can’t afford it this time. The bastards ingrained himself too deep in the system. The damn demon actually laughed when I asked him how much it would cost to permanently solve this issue.”
A member of the table, cloaked in darkness, spoke, “And if he were to die?”
The man shrugged, “Then perhaps we could make a deal.”
Immediately he stood up and left, nobody moved to stop him.
A woman with purple skin scoffed as he rushed his way through the door, “We should’ve just terminated him when we had the chance.”
The man at the head of the table grimaced, “We don’t operate that way. We only terminate when completely necessary. Besides, we already did try to terminate him. It’s part of the reason we’re in this situation to begin with.”
“Then perhaps we should be more liberal with our terminations. Do them before it becomes this big of a problem”, she said sternly.
“Did you not notice John leaving? That's your termination. Michael’s as good as dead.”
She scoffed, “We can hope.”
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Michael picked up Keith from the pile of acid he was soaking in. The mannequin body hadn’t lasted particularly long, which was to be expected.
He fastened the mask to his belt and motioned for Calder to head over to him.
It only took a moment for the demigod to arrive beside him as he pointed up towards the rocky slopes behind them.
He could feel eyes on them, their intent clear as day. But when he tried to teleport away from the beach he found that his ability wasn’t working.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He refocused his attention on the rocks before sighing, “I don’t know who you are, but you really don’t want to do this. There are easier ways to die”
A moment of silence passed before a cloaked figure jumped from the ledge, fell some forty feet, and landed silently amongst the sand.
He watched the duo from behind his hood before another figure jumped down from the cliff with a sword raised.
He descended upon Michael with a greatsword poised to strike, and despite his speed Michael’s mace met the tip of the weapon and sent it hurtling into the cliffside as its wielder used the forward momentum to flip over Michael and pull out another sword from seemingly nowhere that he stabbed towards Michael’s left eye.
The force behind the thrust made audible noise, and Michael caught the blade in his hand and stared down at the extremely fit man covered in runic tattoos.
“Hey Able, it's been awhile.”
Able let go of the blade and rushed Michael as he pulled out two large, curved blades that he swung independently from one another. Each one was aimed for a different set of vitals.
And Michael chose to take a quicker path. The man's blades bit into his body, but found no real substance behind the cuts, and in the next instant Michael punched Able in the stomach and sent him rocketing off into the ocean.
He then turned his attention towards the cloaked figure and could see a blade held in his right hand.
Calder watched him with a bored expression, “This one’s yours Michael, I only fight monsters, and honestly I don’t know what this thing is.”
Michael stretched and began walking towards the cloaked figure, “Yeah, sure. So, what shadow organization are you from?”
Keith chuckled at Michael’s side, “Want to bet on which one?”
“No, you probably already read his mind.”
Keith tsked, “Oh you’re no fun.”
With that the cloaked figure spoke in a stiff voice, “Michael Stevens, I’m only going to ask you this once. Release the people you’ve infected and stop this idiocy. You’re going to get us all killed.”
Michael shrugged and rested his warhammer on his shoulder, “Now why would I do that? The way I see it, you people are already hard at work getting us all killed. Doing nothing is often worse than doing something, and y'all seem adept at that. Especially when dealing with monsters.”
The cloaked figure sighed before shooting across the sand dangerously fast. His blade was poised to strike, and Michael eyed it suspiciously for a moment before moving around it and striking the cloaked figure with the warhammer resulting in the loud sound of metal striking metal.
Michael raised an eyebrow and backpedaled out of the man's reach as the man tossed away his cloak.
His body was an amalgamation of metal and wire with no flesh or skin, just the harsh metal of machinery that constantly whirred and moved. He held a sword poised towards Michael that was covered in gears that constantly moved and glowed ever so slightly.
“What the hell is that", Calder said with disgust present in his voice.
“I am what is necessary.”
“No, I’d say you just got cucked by the foundation. That’s where you’re from right?”
“It is”, Keith said.
The man of gears didn’t respond, instead simply taking a step towards Michael before breaking into a sprint.
Immediately Michael summoned a blade of blood that hurtled forward to cut the man in two, but the machine held his sword out in front of himself and upon making contact with the blood sent the liquid falling lifelessly to the floor.
Michael’s eyes widened slightly, “Ah shit.”
He quickly lifted up the mace and intercepted the sword, but the machine's movements were perfect and the blade moved as if it were alive.
It physically shifted around the mace, stretching and extending with the gears that made it up and it struck Michael in the left shoulder.
A loud pop emanated from the wound, and upon a quick glance Michael grimaced at the wound. It looked like a grenade had gone off next to the limb, and for the first time in a good while, he’d actually been wounded.
Michael immediately sent a wave of blood out from his body that carefully avoided the sword and pushed the machine back.
A second later Calder’s sword impacted the man of gears in the side and sent him rocketing across the sands.
Michael turned towards the demigod with a grin on his face despite his wound, “I thought you said you only fought monsters.”
He shrugged, “Anything that can actually injure you may as well be a monster.”
"Oh you big softy."
Michael returned his attention to the man of gears and watched as he stood back up, the metal making up his body regenerating at a visible speed.
Michael quickly sent out a spike of blood towards the machine and it simply shifted its body out of the way.
It moved with a fluidity that gave the two pause, yet Michael continued to send dozens of blades made from blood its way.
Some it blocked and some it dodged, but moments later Michael grinned and spoke towards the man of gears, “Hey, can I ask you a quick question? What would you define a door as?”
The machine didn’t respond, instead opting to eye them and slowly move closer.
“Too tough a question for ya I see. Well let me answer it for you, cause I actually put it to the test. It’s something that opens, has a lock on it and a handle. That’s all it takes. At least for my purposes.”
Michael and Calder moved around the machine, neither taking their eyes off of it nor giving it the chance to act.
“You know, I hid quite a bid from the foundation during my time there. For example, I have an ongoing deal with a god. She even gave me a key to her place. Can you guess where it is?”
Beneath the machine's feet, amongst blood was a key sticking out from the sand, and blood that had formed into something resembling a small door.
And using his control over blood Michael opened it, sending the machine falling through.
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Rust clung to the last of nine chains with an insatiable hunger. It dug deeper and deeper into the heavily enchanted bonds, piece by piece, bit by bit, until after centuries of wear it finally snapped and swung loosely from the ceiling.
The monster sat surrounded by pillars and watched the limp piece of metal for a moment before grinning. Which was the largest muscle movement he’d been able to make in centuries.
He reached over his shoulder and ripped out the hooks still embedded in his flesh and tossed them aside before standing.
Up above his pocket beneath the ground he could see a ritual being undertaken through the miles of sand. The same one they’d done for decades.
It felt disgust. It was a king, and one that should have never been sealed. Especially not by fools such as these.
He pointed a finger upwards, and in the next instant he could see the sky, the sand closest to him had turned to glass in an instant and the veritable mountain that had been atop him was gone. Alongside the dimension that had been holding him.
It stood and stretched its limbs. It was humanoid and covered in green scalelike skin. It had a single eye and antlers that stretched outward from its head.
It breathed in, and then out. The taste of chaos was fresh on its tongue, and it smiled with a wide toothy grin.
A moment later its chest split open, and a creature skulked out, and then another, and another.
The process sped up with each one it released, and moments later they poured out from him by the thousands.
This was his army with which he devoured words. And he was very hungry.