With an abrupt stop, the elevator let out a short ‘ding’, and the doors opened wide revealing the office within. Large windows covered three quarters of the walls, while several stands held small artifacts protected by glass barriers. Pictures dotted the only wall not taken over by the clear windows. At the far end of the room was a large table, with a computer monitor on top of it, and a small walk-in closet behind.
Sam let out a quick sigh. She was finally back at the Fall GriGri, and she was ready to take a shower and sleep off all the events that had happened over the past week. It was a much needed rest too. The flight back to America was definitely long and drawn out. She had to explain the events of the Raven to her friends, which only raised more questions, which led to more questions, which Sam had no answers to. Tentin was the most concerned of the group. She would never hear the end of his lecturing, of how she shouldn’t find weird and powerful creatures to pair up with. She was able to get rid of him as soon as they landed though. She rushed him straight to the hospital to get his chest in order. The red plant growing from his body wasn’t the best of sights for anyone.
Sam set her bags down by the closet and plopped down into her chair. She had to leave Brockly in Europe. He wasn’t able to return to the states, after all, he was a wanted fugitive. She left him standing at the airport with a promise that she would do everything in her power to help find his love, the elf maiden.
“Sorry I had to point my guns at you.” He said rubbing his arm, “It was the only way to get close to Hans without him blasting you away.”
Sam just brushed it off, “No big deal, we’re all alive right?” There was no use fretting over something that didn’t happen.
There was no telling when she would see him again. She didn’t even know if she could find any information for him. She gazed off at the wall of pictures. She hoped he could keep it together long enough for her to find anything.
Her eyes settled on the picture of Bartlett with his daughter. Anger started to boil up inside her. Lord Blud had offered her information on Bartlett if she helped him out with his problems, but when the time came, he had nothing to offer. It was just a con. He averted his gaze from her the whole plane ride. She quickly kicked him to the curb as they landed.
She thought it was her break. This was supposed to be what she needed to find him, and hopefully, set him free. She was right back where she started a year ago. Sam slammed her fist on her desk, crinkling an enveloped on her desk.
“You okay?” Keitha spoke up, looking at Sam through one of the glass displays. Concern dotted her face.
Sam laughed a little to ease her own tension, “Yeah, I’m fine, just tired is all.” She picked up the envelope from her desk. ‘Sister’ was written on the front in neat handwriting. Sam smiled a little. Hopefully this was some good news. She opened the letter and read how her sister had taken the money Sam left her, ditched their mom, and took off to travel the world. Some other things were written down, but Sam was just glad her sister was okay. At least something worked itself out for the better.
Keitha suddenly let out a small chirp of excitement. The girl rushed over to one of the display cases and pointed at an artifact. “Where’d you get this?”
Sam stood, not knowing what the girl was talking about, and moved over to her side. Sam had no clue what to do with the girl. If she were to leave her behind, she would just end up in another situation with cultists trying to sacrifice her. Keitha had shown great power and she even saved Tentin’s life, something Sam was eternally grateful for. Sam decided to keep her on with her crew at the GriGri. Keitha was also a nice touch in the sea of testosterone that surrounded the GriGri. Sam had a room made up for the girl, as well as a garden on the rooftop that she gave Keitha full reign over, something the Druid had jumped for joy over, literally.
“What are you looking at?” Sam approached Keitha.
“This, right here.” She was pointing a small, egg-like stone with a serpent engraved in its surface. The serpent wrapped around the stone several times before settling its head at the top. A small leather cord was wrapped around the stone and hung off one side in a loop.
Sam gazed on the stone. It looked like a small blue light was trying to break loose from inside the stone. She turned her gaze to Keitha. The girl’s tattoos were starting to glow as well. “Do you know anything about it?” Sam opened the glass and pulled out the stone.
Keitha scratched her head for a bit, “I don’t know too much about it, but it looks just like the stone my grandmother used to carry. She was our village’s healer when the Romans began to expand into our land. She marked it with our family’s symbol.” Keitha grabbed the stone from Sam and turned it over. On the bottom was a small carving of a serpent wrapping around a tree. “It is my grandmothers.” Keitah held it up to her forehead and began to speak in her ancient language.
Sam’s eyebrows rose. It was odd enough having all of these artifacts she knew nothing about, but the chance one of their owners would show up was astronomical. She felt a bit odd going through Bartlett’s stuff, but it was hers now. She could do with it as she pleased.
“Go ahead and keep it.” Sam smiled, “Just a small gift for saving Tentin.”
Keitha stopped her gibbering and looked up to Sam with a large smile, “Are you for real? Thank you!” She jumped up and hugged Sam, wrapping her bare feet around Sam.
“Okay, okay. Just let me go, alright?” Sam fought to keep herself from toppling into the display.
Keitha dropped down and put the loop around her head. The stone dropped down between her breasts and dangled with a slight blue shimmer. She grabbed it and placed it on Sam’s forehead. She spoke a few words in her language again and the stone started to glow. Keitha finished and pulled the stone back down, “We are family now.” The Druid smiled, “Thank you again.”
Sam nodded. “I’m headed to the hospital to see Tentin, if you’d like to join?
Keitha nodded profusely.
Sam walked over to her desk and picked up her axe. She was about to leave with it, but she hesitated. Keitha was holding the elevator for her. Sam turned and put her axe up on the wall. She hung it and took a step back. She looked at the pictures of Bartlett on the wall and then at Keitha. She thought of what she said, family. Her sister, Tentin, Eddie, Brockly, Andrelle, Red, and Keitha, they were all her family. All the guards at the GriGri, they had become her friends. She started for the elevator and decided she needed a new approach to life. The killing needed to mean something. Her axe needed to rest and she needed the same. Bartlett could be put on hold for now. The fact that the creature in Haiti was allowed to roam free, the troll in Germany, and the hit squad that tried to kill her, even the vampires in Italy, all these things were the duty of the Institute, and Breaburn was using it to his own ends, ignoring the duties that would normally save lives. Eddie was right. She needed to step forward to protect the ones she loved. Bartlett had to wait. Those around her now needed her help.
Sam stepped into the elevator and the doors shut behind her. The small glass panel counted down the floors as they descended to the garage floor. ‘Ding.’ The elevator doors opened in front of Sam. Keitah left the elevator, “Hey you two.” She said cheerfully as she headed for the parking garage.
Andrelle and Red were standing at the elevator, their hands wrapped around each other’s waists. “We’re headed out for a night on the town, want to come?” Andrelle let Red’s hand slide down her hip and into her hand.
“I’m checking in on Tentin and Petyr in the hospital. You guys go and have fun.” Sam smiled as she followed Keitha to her car.
“You want us to tag along?” Red spoke up this time.
“Naw, you guys get some alone time. You got some busy days ahead of you, Resistance stuff and all.” Sam waved her hand, “See you guys later.”
The couple waved back as Sam disappeared into the interior of her sports car. She settled into the comfy car next to Keitha, who was playing with all the buttons and nobs in the car. Sam smiled, Bartlett always had style.
“You look like a pile of deer droppings.” Keitha poked the I.V. bag that was hooked up to Tentin. “The blood seed looked much better on you.” She sat on the bed next to Tentin.
“Thanks. I only had surgery a few hours ago.” Tentin slightly shuffled over to let Keitha sit down next to him. “Doctor says everything is fine. Should be able to get up and going in a week or two.”
“That’s good to hear.” Sam folded her arms, “And you look great, for an old man.” Sam chuckled, “Can’t wait to have you back in Gri, it’s a bit empty without you there.”
“You’ll be fine without me, just think of it as a few weeks off.” Tentin smiled slightly before becoming discomforted. He shuffled again, “So, any news on Bartlett?”
Sam let her head drop a little, “No.”
Tentin shook his head, “That bastard, Blud. He just used us for his own interests. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”
“It’s okay, I’ve been thinking…” Sam rubbed her arm as she let the thoughts race about her head, “about starting our own Institute. The world needs us, and I need to get my mind off of Bartlett anyway. I wasted a year looking for him. Now I just want to protect the world like I used to. Give meaning to all the death, you know?”
Tentin nodded and grinned, “Sounds good to me. When do we start?” He rubbed his hands together weakly. It must be a hard thing for her to give up on her love. He could remember seeing the two of them together during her training. They were careless and full of love.
“We don’t start until you can get off your ass without a grunt.” Sam and Keitha both laughed while Tentin stared them down.
Sam felt the papers she had in her coat and remembered the other man she was going to visit here. “Is still Petyr around? I have something for him.”
“Next room over.” Tentin pointed out in the hall, “He should be ready to leave here soon. His hands are messed up pretty bad, probably won’t be able to hold anything ever again.”
Sam held the papers in her hands, “We’ll see about that.” Sam left the Druid with Tentin and took off into the next room.
The large Russian man was sitting in bed, his eyes wandering outside the window. Both his hands were wrapped in layers of gauze.
“Hey.” Sam stepped up to his bed. “What’s wrong with you?”
The Russian turned his head and gave a half smile, “Zdravstvuyte Sam. What brings you here?”
“I got a gift for you. I think you deserve it.” Sam slapped down the papers on Petyr’s lap, “I got a guy who can make these for you, you down?”
Petyr looked over the papers, “You can craft these?” The robotic hands were detailed down to the last bolt.
Sam nodded, “Yup, just a present from me to you. Keep up the good work.”
Sam turned to leave but was blocked by a man.
“Looks like someone gets some new hands.” The bearded man smiled at Sam, “Hey Boss, long time no see.”
“Jack.” Sam stood for a second. She told the man not to call her Boss, but with her new idea forming in her head, she just might be the new Boss.
Jack swallowed the lump in his throat. He thought about all the love he had for his testicles and just how fast Sam would dispose of them.
“Don’t get into trouble, hmm.” Sam slipped past the man and he instantly relaxed.
Jack looked around the hallway and pulled two cans from his coat. “Got you a present, comrade.” He tossed one of the cans to Petyr. The can flew through the air and hit Petyr right in the chest. Petyr looked down at the can and then back at Jack. He lifted his hands up and shook his head.
“Oh yeah.” Jack laughed and opened his beer for Petyr.
Sam stepped in the door to Tentin’s room, “Keitha, let’s let Tentin sleep for now.”
Keitha jumped from the bed and raced to the doorway. She turned to Tentin, “Keep it easy old man.” She winked and followed Sam.
Tentin shouted out of the doorway, “Stay safe!” He shut his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Sam and Keitha stepped into the elevator and hit the ground floor button. The elevator slowly started to drop downward. Sam brushed her hair from her face and looked up at the panel. The number had stopped at 2. The elevator ceased to move downwards and Sam looked over to Keitha, “Does it feel like we stopped moving.”
Keitha didn’t respond, not even a breath. She was frozen in time. Soon darkness began to creep into the elevator until the whole box was suspended in darkness. Sam tried to reach for the buttons, but she couldn’t feel the elevator. She couldn’t see Keitha. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. Not even a sound could be heard in the darkness.
Suddenly, a familiar face materialized from the darkness just inches from Sam’s face. It was Bartlett. He looked like he was in agony, his face contorted as black spikes protruded from the sides of his face pulling him backwards away from Sam. His eyes were swirling with the blackness from the void around her. His lips opened and one word came out, “Help.”
Sam tried to reach for him, but he was pulled away faster than she could run, faster than she could bring her arms up. He disappeared and she was left alone in the dark.
The elevator doors opened and Keitha stepped out. She turned to look at Sam when she realized she wasn’t following her. “You okay, Sam?”
Sam stared out into space. She hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know.”
…
“Are you taking me where I think you are?” Andrelle crossed her arms as she walked up over the rise and stared down the sloped road. She looked off of the nearby cliff and into the vast ocean before her. The waves crashed down upon the cliff side beneath her, spraying misty saltwater into the air. She took a cautious look to the moon. The sphere of space rock had been getting closer to the horizon, which was lighting up more than she would have liked, but her husband didn’t seem to be nervous, so she pushed the thought to the back of her mind.
“I really don’t want to be here.” Andrelle let her face droop into a half scowl. She stopped walking and shifted her weight to one leg. “Are you going to talk to me, or just stare at me all night?”
Red rubbed his shaved head and laughed. “I could stare at you forever, babe.” He turned and walked further down the sloped road and let his eyes set on the half destroyed building in front of him. Where the dome holding an enlarged telescope should be, instead stood a half crumbled concrete structure with scorch marks and metal chunks plastered about it. “Plus, you should love this place.”
“And why’s that, ‘babe’?” Andrelle sarcastically remarked while approaching her husband.
“Because,” Red turned and embraced his wife, wrapping his hands around her waist, “This is where we fell in love.” He smiled and kissed a now red Andrelle.
She let him hold her for a bit before she pulled away with a massive grin. She then pushed past her husband and tugged his arm towards the building, “Come on then, let’s take a look inside this sacred place.” She started to run towards the fence that surrounded the old observatory. It was wrapped in yellow police tape, while a chain had secured the gate to the fence.
Red started to run after her. He leaped into the air and grabbed her by her chest, tackling her forward, but instead of falling to the ground, the two lovers glided through the air gracefully, never touching the ground. They approached the fence and the police tape severed and unfolded from the chain links it occupied. The chain broke in two by an invisible force and the gate gently rolled open. Unhindered, the couple glided right up to the main doors of the observatory.
Red planted his feet down and set Andrelle at his side. He pushed the doors open with his mind. They creaked from a year’s worth of neglect and salty ocean air battering them constantly. “After you.” Red held out his hand for her to go first.
“Ahh, gentleman.” She passed him while running her hand down his chest. She held her hand a bit longer before pulling away, “Or a coward, we’ll see.” She shrugged and pursed her lips before she turned away from him.
Red shook his head and chased Andrelle inside the observatory. She stopped about halfway into the main room and looked around the empty building. A small conference room was filled with the robes of dead vampires. Beneath them were the scorch marks that stained the ground, the only remains of her kind when they passed on. Andrelle took Red’s hand and moved onward to where the golden doors that protected the statues behind them had been. She ran her hand over the door frame. The golden doors had been taken and repurposed at the GriGri. She didn’t like it much, but it was better than letting some looters take off with the ancient carvings.
He pushed past Andrelle and stepped into the hallway that held large statues. He walked halfway down the hall and stopped under the statue of Horus. He looked on the statue with reverence and hate in his heart. The Vampire Lord had created a machine capable of ending life on Earth. He had convinced many vampires to join his cause, even if they were on the verge of extinction. Horus could have ended it all.
“You should destroy it.” Andrelle put her hand on his shoulder, “Destroy it, Red.” She stepped backwards as Red looked into her eyes. She shook her head yes, and he turned back towards the statue.
Red focused his psychic energy around the stone replica of Horus. He pressed inward, cracking the stone across Horus’s face. The crack stretched downward to the base of the statue. Red turned to Andrelle, “I’d move away if I were you.”
Andrelle stepped away from the statue and watched the statue crumble to pieces around Red. Chunks of stone blasted around the Psychic without a single piece of rock landing on him. He stepped up to his wife and smiled, “One down.” He looked up to the next statue in the hall, “He’s next.”
They both looked up at the statue of Ra. Shivers ran down their spines. Ra was not like his brother Horus. He had not cared about bloodlines or family traditions. He didn’t care about the survival of the Vampire race, but the survival of his own self. He was vicious and murderous. He killed without a second thought. He had ordered the deaths of all the vampire refugees in Italy, and they were killed. Ra wouldn’t accept defeat from anyone. If his lackeys couldn’t succeed then he would take the reins himself. He was terrifying.
Andrelle tugged at Red’s shirt, “Come on, let’s leave him.” The two continued down the hall, arm in arm. “We can topple him later.” She led the way into the large room with a domed roof, or it would have been if not for the massive explosion that had destroyed the room a year ago. The gold doors were blasted off their hinges and lay in pieces scattered across the floor.
Red looked down on a scorch mark on the ground in front of the doors. It wasn’t like the rest of them though. It wasn’t from a vampire, but from a creature more powerful than Red could ever imagine.
“I wish I could have seen Sam end him.” Andrelle snapped Red from his thoughts. She was standing in the middle of the room, next to the scrap metal left of the once powerful machine. “His face must have been full of fear, disgust even. When she brought that axe down on his head, his face must have been priceless.” She spat on the ground, “Good riddance.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Red glanced out of the massive hole in the side of the building. Debris still littered the cliff side that overlooked the ocean. The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon. He turned back to his wife and grabbed her arm, “Come, there’s something I want to show you.” He began to pull her towards the cliff.
Andrelle looked at the sunlight peeking over the horizon, “We need to get inside, babe!” She began to shake as Red pulled her onward.
“It’s okay, I want to show you something you haven’t seen in hundreds of years.” Red held her tight and shut his eyes. He focused on their bodies, every inch of their skin, every hair sprouting forth. He covered their bodies with a layer of psychic energy so delicately and then he opened his eyes. “Here you go.”
Andrelle watched as the sun rose up over the horizon of ocean. She flinched away as the sun stretched up and touched her legs. She waited for the sun to burn her and Red alive, turning them into dust in the wind.
“Open your eyes.” Red’s soothing voice calmed her nerves.
Andrelle opened her eyes to the yellow hues and warm rays of the sun as they washed over her. She gazed on the sun rising over the ocean and high into the air. She couldn’t look away as the sun painted the sky orange with light. A smile crept to her face and she turned and kissed her husband, letting the sun raise high above her as she did so.
…
The luxury sedan passed through the countryside with ease. Farms and empty fields lay stretched out as far as the eye could see, only the small blip of a mountain stopped the monotony that was the terrain. Lord Blud just stared out the window with his sightless eyes. He could tell that something was out there, something, even if it was plain or drab, it was still something to behold, something to see.
“Would you like some music, sir?” The overly-large redhead sat at the driver’s seat, his hands cemented to the steering wheel.
“No, I want silence.” Lord Blud curtly answered his servant. He was in no mood for music. He was in no mood for cheer at all. He was about to do something that went against his own morals. He was going to break his own code, and he wanted to feel guilty doing it. There was no other way he could accomplish what he wanted in life. His only chance to escape to the past and live a normal life was crushed. The chance to see was stripped from his future.
The Ginger nodded and reached down to the glove box. He pulled his cell phone with earbuds attached from the box and plugged the buds into his ears. With a swift flick he was tuned into one of the local radio stations. He could hear the roar of voices, the cheers of the masses, as they proclaimed their new President as their leader.
“Reynolds Tehporp, America! Welcome your new President!” The announcer went on and on about the new leader of the Free World. The Ginger listened for a quick moment. His boss was about to go past a line he couldn’t return from, but the Ginger was powerless to stop him. He needed Lord Blud, otherwise, he would die. The Ginger focused back on the road in front of him as the black river wound upwards into the heart of the mountain.
Trees began to sprout up as they climbed the road in their motor carriage. They passed the familiar sign and rolled up to the guard box with a portly fellow within. Just a short drive and they were parked in front of the Institute. The old building looked more like a ski resort than an actual covert agency. Black SUVs and cars littered the parking lot. Several troop transports were scattered throughout the lot as well.
Lord Blud adjusted his spectacles and followed his behemoth of a servant into the building ahead. The Ginger walked up to the front door but stopped shortly as two guards in black fatigues stepped forward.
One of the suits spoke up, “We are to accompany you while you are on the compound.”
Lord Blud nodded, “So be it. Ginger, take us in.”
They entered the Institute without seeing the sign had been changed, the sign that hung by the front door. The newly decorated plaque was inscribed with ‘Breaburn’s Institute.’
“He’s expecting you in his office.” The cold-hearted receptionist pointed down one of the hallways. The Ginger looked around at all the guards standing at attention. There were two more behind the front door, and one at the entrance of every hallway, even the wench receptionist was dressed in black fatigues.
The Ginger pushed onward, Lord Blud and the two Agents at his back, and made his way down the hall. He passed a room with the label ‘Tech Room’. A young man stuck his head out shortly and looked the group up and down. The Ginger nodded at him as he passed. Their eyes connected briefly, but the young man soon shut the door with a resounding click of the door being locked. The Ginger shrugged and continued to Breaburn’s office.
He paused outside the door and turned to Lord Blud, “Are you sure you want to do this.” He voiced his concern in his deep, raspy voice.
Lord Blud felt his way to the door knob and spoke just loud enough for the Ginger to hear, “You should wait outside for now. Anymore of your doubts and I will leave you to fend on your own, and we both know how that will end.” Lord Blud turned the knob and stepped into the office. He glanced back at his servant as he shut the door. His guilt rose inside his stomach, but he had a higher goal to accomplish, he had to stop Bartlett anyway he could, and this was the only way he knew how.
He sat down in front of the mass of veins and arteries, crossing his arms over his cane. “Breaburn, let’s get down to business.”
The expressionless face of the older man remained still like a statue stuck in time. The droll, monotone voice broke the momentary silence, “Glad to see you come around, friend.”
Lord Blud could see the slight twitch of muscle veins where Breaburn’s mouth would be. The man almost smiled.
…
Breaburn left his office with smooth haste. His posture was stiff and upright as always. No expression could find its way onto his face, only age could have taken its toll on the man, and it did. He passed the lumbering oaf that accompanied Lord Blud and paid him no mind. He had better things to worry about.
He had just gained a strong ally against the dreaded Mr. Bartlett, or at least the creature within him. The creature wouldn’t let Breaburn succeed in his plan to take control of the Institute, as well as the country. He knew about the plan all along, he was part of it in the beginning, but he turned against the alliance Breaburn had started with Horus, Ra, and the Prophet.
Breaburn’s finger twitched slightly as he thought of the treachery that was Mr. Bartlett. He had pulled out of the plan when he had harbored Sam, Agent Flaurence, Andrelle, Red, and the girl from space. He was supposed to give them over to Horus’s men, but instead, he waged a war that knocked out one of his loyal companions. Ra was too bent on his own empire to want to continue the domination, albeit he was still on board with the overall plan. Breaburn was forced to then turn to the Prophet and his horde of mutants to help carry out the plan. The lowest of the low, the mutants were. Scum scraping the bottom of the barrel, if they could even be in the barrel in the first place. They did prove to be an asset though, that was a truth he couldn’t refute, but the Prophet was in a strong position now. He could betray the whole alliance and take the plan on his own shoulders, reaping all the benefits of Breaburn’s carefully laid plan.
Breaburn stopped at the end of a hallway. The hall was quiet, not a soul around. He did take control of the Institute and that was something he had accomplished on his own. Agents now stalked the halls and secured all the contracts that would have normally gone to the Free Agents, the ones not bent to his will. He rid himself of them all in the end by killing them with contracts to difficult for the Free Agents. The smart ones left as soon as they figured out what was happening and never came back. Either way, he was in control now, not the Boss, but Breaburn.
Breaburn placed his hand on the wall and a small wave of light covered his hand. A short beep sounded out and the wall slid downward revealing a set of stairs shrouded in darkness. He took his first step into the darkness and the wall sprung to life with an artificial light bouncing off the drab concrete walls.
Each step down the stairs was a weight lifted off his shoulders. He still had a few loose ends to tie up besides Mr. Bartlett. He had to take care of Sam above all else. She had turned up once again alive and well, defying yet another suicide mission. The Nazi cyborg should have mopped up the rest of her group as well, but they were still alive. Something he would need to remedy if he was to continue his plans in peace.
He stepped onto the landing at the base of the stairs and faced the thick metal doors in front of him. With another swipe of his hand, this time on a visible console, the doors shot open and the perpetual growls from beasts and curses from the prisoners below sprang out at him like a surprise attacker.
The Labyrinth, he called it. A prison for all the wild beasts, empowered humans, and other creatures that roamed the world, but these weren’t free to roam, but imprisoned until the day they died. Experimented on with upmost prejudice.
Breaburn inhaled the stench within with pleasure. Nothing pleased him more than crushing his opponents beneath his heel, and everything inside was well trot upon.
He walked past rows upon rows of cages. Massive creatures to minute ones were caged all about the massive room. A large beast snarled as he walked by, its hundreds of black beady eyes never left Breaburn. Pools of spit started to form under its overdeveloped jaw, dripping off the side of its cage. Humanoids wrought their arms from their cages and reached out to Breaburn, cursing him as he passed them. One man’s hand shot out as he reached for Breaburn. His nails were overgrown and cracked while his hair was a matted and ragged. He pleaded for help, but they were of no consequence to Breaburn, none of them were. They were nothing but trash casually tossed aside. The recyclable goods were what he entered the Labyrinth for in the first place. After a short walk he had come to the door he was looking for. A thick cold wisp of air shot out from beneath it. He placed his hand down again and the door shot open instantly. A wave of cold air hit him this time. The most dangerous of the prisoners were kept in here in stasis.
He stepped into the frozen room. Blue light radiated from the small bulbs beneath each of the pedestals that held a frozen prisoner. There was one in particular that he wanted. One he knew that wouldn’t fail him like the others before.
He set down his briefcase next to the frozen figure. He typed out a few lines of code and opened his briefcase. He pulled a small metal shackle from the case and stood aside as the frozen figure began to thaw out of stasis.
The liquid around the figure drained into the pedestal beneath it. The figure took a deep breath and collapsed to the floor, vomiting the stasis fluid that had been funneled into its stomach.
Breaburn promptly slapped the shackle around the figure’s neck and stood in front of it. He loomed over the prisoner and greeted the being, “Welcome back to reality. I’ve got a job for you.” Breaburn finally let emotion sweep over his face. Sam would not come out of this alive.
…
“Dig faster you worthless meat sacks!” With another drag of his cigarette he barked orders out to the native workers. “I need this wall down now!” He sucked on his cancer stick one more time. He didn’t worry about the body he was in. It was pretty much invincible as long as he willed it, and he could always get another if he wanted.
One of the native workers sat down and stuck his hand under the nearby waterfall. He patted down his neck and rubbed the cooling water across his head. The workers behind him were busy chipping away at a rock face with pick axes, while others were hauling out the stone with wheelbarrows.
“What?” He tossed the cigarette into the pool of water next to him, “Sitting on the job, you piece of shit!” He ran over to the unsuspecting worker, and with a quick lift of his leg, he brought his leather dress shoe into the workers face. The other workers stopped their progress and watched what was enfolding before their eyes. The man pulled an old German pistol from within his coat jacket and aimed it at the workers head. “I have time-sensitive problems that won’t be solved by lazy men sitting about the rocks, alright?” He held his hand out for the worker to take.
The worker hesitantly took the man’s hand.
The man smiled as he lifted the worker up. With the squeeze of a trigger, he blew away the brains of the worker, lifting the worker’s body still until it toppled into the pool of water. Brain matter splattered across the other workers gathered around. The man looked them all in the eyes, “Get back to work!” The workers promptly began to dig once again.
“Johan, dearest, come relax with me by the pool. You’re scaring the workers.” The woman who called out to him was sitting in a foldout chair by the pool of water at the base of the waterfall. She wore a thin bikini as she lay out tanning in the tropical sun. A small table was placed next to her. A fruity drink was placed atop it.
Johan took a few deep breaths in and out of his nose. He turned to one of his mindless guards and grabbed him by the collar, “Make sure they keep working. We need to get inside.” He pushed the guard backwards and walked away from the dig site. He approached the woman in front of him, “You really should be more concerned, Galiana, this involves the lives of both of us. With Bartlett loose, he can exact his revenge at any time.” He dipped his hand in the pool of water, the body of the worker floating a few feet away, and ran his wet hand over his head.
“I am concerned.” She sat up from tanning and took her sunglasses from her head. “You can’t intimidate the workers like that. They get done when they get done.” She grabbed her drink and started to suck down the cool, sweet liquid within. She smacked her lips and set the drink down, “And plus, I’m getting horny from all this sun.” She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him closer to her chest. “I need you.” She whispered into his ear.
Johan smiled, but the shouts from the workers pulled him away from Galiana. He strode over behind the waterfall and looked on the large hole the workers had finally been able to break through. Johan laughed with joy, “Finally!” He turned to his guard again, “Give the men their payment.” He passed the group of joyful men before the sound of gunfire lit up the calm waterfall. After a few seconds, the bodies of the workers were littering the ground around the cave entrance.
Johan entered the cave and pulled a flashlight from his coat. The light scanned the walls that were familiar to him. This was the cave that Galiana, Heng, and he had trapped Bartlett in. They didn’t think that anyone would find this cave, but in time, everything is found.
His flashlight passed over some cave drawing of Bartlett, and the rest of them in their true forms. The natives were very smart in the workings of the universe. They knew exactly what had happened here. Too bad Bartlett had killed them all. They could have been put to good use.
He made his way to the back of the cave. He started to feel around the rocks when a body approached him from behind.
“Do you remember where you left it?” Galiana crossed her arms, pressing her breasts together, “It’s been too long since we had this much fun.” She started to scratch at the ancient paint on the walls. “The good old days.” She let out a long drawn out moan before she was interrupted by Johan.
“Got it.” He muttered aloud as he pressed a rock inward. A small click was followed by the sounds of rock grinding against each other. The wall in front of the couple slid backwards, revealing another room within the cave. Johan laughed to himself, “All this time trapped in here, and Bartlett never knew about this room. Poor bastard.”
Johan stepped into the dark room, his flashlight a lighthouse at a stormy sea. Within seconds he found an old, wooden chest. He pushed the metal locks aside and opened the wooden sarcophagi. His eyes lit up at the contents within. He pulled the small object out and felt its warm embrace. It was made of metals long forgotten from worlds long destroyed by the endless malice of the universe. He held the bottom of the object and pulled the top part out of the stone sheath, gazing on the knife with marvel. He never thought he would see this ancient weapon for the rest of his lifetime, but here it was, right in his hands. Its design was to kill that which could not be killed, his own kin, something which has never been done before, but now, he would have to kill Bartlett before Bartlett gave him the same fate.
Galiana poked her head into the dark room, “What did you find, Johan?”
Johan stood, his back turned to her. He slowly turned around to face her, his eyes never leaving the object. “Our freedom.”
…
The flames sputtered out and died, finally exhausting their fuel source and smoldering into stacks of smoke. The sun had cast light over the horizon but had not yet peeked over the lip of the earth, casting the world in a strange dusk light. All was quite now. No wind rustled within the trees. No animals neared the burning wreckage that once produced machines of war. The only sound that penetrated the morning air was the clank of metal catching dirt and the dragging of the body behind it.
A metal arm lurched forward with a wheeze, stabbing the nub of metal and wires into the dirt. The metal head was caked in melted flesh and char. Not much remained of the man that had once been, only his metal husk remained from the fiery death that had swallowed him. His one robotic eye scanned the ruins in front of him. His other eye was melted shut and oozing a white substance down his metal face.
The full conversion to cyborg had taken too long, and if he only could have finished it, he would be better off, he thought within his metal casing. Death seemed like a good alternative right now. It must be better than scraping around in the dirt like a mutated, fetal miscarriage.
He flopped over in the dirt and looked at the fleeting stars in the sky. Soon the sun would come out and beat down on his metal chassis, hopefully cooking his insides enough to kill him and end his suffering. He was so close to completing the Furhur’s work, so close to uniting a dying world. If they only knew what awaited them in the future, they would prepare for the worst. Instead, they fought each other like children on the playground. Would they ever learn?
He let out another wheeze from his chest. The metallic sound was drowned out by the crunching of footsteps nearing his body. His eye trailed over to where the sound was coming from. He could see a lone man walking casually towards him. Who was he? Death hopefully.
The man stepped over Han’s metal body and bent down, adjusting the glasses on his face as he did so.
“I would presume that you are Hans?” The glasses wearing man looked his body up and down, “Missing your legs, and an arm, but the good parts are still here.” The glasses man bent down and hefted his body upright and leaned him against a concrete block. The glasses man held out his hand and smiled, “The names Harold Bessinger, and I think we will have a lovely time together, Hans.” With his other hand, he adjusted the glasses on his face.
Hans Kammler wheezed again. Maybe there was hope yet.
…
“And now I’d like to present to you, America, your next President, Reynolds Tehporp!”
Reynolds stepped out onto the stage and a thunderous applause smacked into him like a midnight freight train. The mass of citizens stood before him, cheering and clapping. The wave of supporters stretched as far as his eyes could see, and with his vision, it was miraculous. He stepped up to his podium and waved. The cheering continued for several minutes, but he cared not. He wanted the people to rejoice in their decision. It was their right after all.
Reynolds pulled the cowboy hat off the top of his head and threw it into the crowd, another burst of applause. He smiled with his perfectly straight teeth, white but with a tint of yellow. He pulled off his sporty coat and untucked his plaid button up. It was the perfect combination of formal and casual. He ran his hand over his thick black hair, styled to the most popular haircut among the masses, while his posture was rigid with a hint of a slouch of the working man. It was a perfect approach to winning the hearts of the people, all planned and carried out to perfection. Of course, there were some hiccups along the way here but nothing he couldn’t handle.
Reynolds held up his hands and shouted into his microphone, “America!”
The crowd cheered again, even more mighty than the last. Several more minutes passed before the crowd began to calm down. Reynolds held his hands up and slowly lowered them. The crowd hushed and he began to speak.
“Rejoice America! You cheer for me, but today is not my day, no, this day belongs to you and you only!” He pointed out to the crowd and smiled, “You have fought long and hard, and finally, your hard work has paid off. You are victorious. You have beaten back the corrupt, you have brought the thieves to light, and you have taken back your government!” He pointed to Capitol Hill, “And they should be afraid, very afraid. Afraid that the people they have long robbed are now back with revenge. That the people of America are now ready to take back what’s theirs’, our country!”
The crowd cheered again.
“By the people, FOR…THE…PEOPLE!” He shook his hand at the crowd, pointing at all the citizens in the crowd. “And the people have spoken!” Reynolds took the microphone from the stand and began to walk about his stage. “It will be hard work for everyone. If we wish to fix our problems, you must be there every step of the way. It will be hard to repair the years of damage by the wolves that prowled our country for so long. They picked off the weakest of us and left us in the mud to pick ourselves up. They bullied the strong into submission and took whatever they pleased while our guardians let them slip by, but no more. It will take us all, hand in hand, to fix all the damage dealt to our great nation, but you can do it. You are strong America, I know you are. There is strength in every man, woman, and child of every race. There is brotherhood among men, bonds among women that cannot be broken by the troubles of our modern times.” He paused for a moment of silence. “It’s scary to look around the world. Everything seems to be breaking down. It looks like there is no hope left on this planet. It weighs heavy on your hearts that trying to fix our country is impossible. It will be disheartening…demoralizing…devastating even, but I know you can do it, and you have nothing to fear because you have the best tool to aid you on your quest to take America back. This is your country and you have chosen me to help, and I will be by your side every step of the way! I am here for you, America! I will not desert you!” He held up his hands again, “We will be victorious!”
The crowd erupted in an orgy of shouts, chants, cheers, weeping, laughing, hugging, and all manner of human appreciation.
Reynolds Tehporp looked over his citizens with pride. They looked upon him with pride, not disgust, for once in his life. His plan succeeded. He was now the President of the United States of America, and he loved it.
…
Eddie cranked the last bolt into place, adjusting his grip to make sure it was as tight as it could be. He wiped his face with the back if his greasy sleeve, streaking his face with black goop. He took a step back and admired his machine. He had worked on it day and night since he saw the secret message from his parents. He glanced around his workshop, looking for anyone that might be spying on him. It wasn’t easy to build. He had to hide every scrap of it from Breaburn and his goons. The old Fascist had taken control of the Institute. Breaburn finally succeeded in a step of his plan, but what was the next step?
Eddie climbed behind his machine and made sure all his plugs were secure. He was now ready for a test, but what the test would yield, he had no clue. His only hopes were that his parent’s blueprints were spot on. He didn’t want to explode into a million pieces, not yet at least.
Eddie ran past several of his tables and up to his door. He peeked out into the hallway as a small group of men passed. Two of them were Agents, while the other two he had seen at the Institute before. One was a blind man, with thick spectacles and a cane. The other was a large man, tall and stocky. A red mop of hair was covered slightly by an old bowlers cap.
Eddie met his eyes briefly. He could see a certain sorrow deep below, but he hadn’t time to examine strangers, his machine was ready. He shut the door and locked it up tight, securing every lock down the side of his doorframe. He ran over to his jamming device and flicked the switch on. He didn’t want Breaburn’s prying eyes spying on his newfound device.
Eddie stood in front of the machine, which looked like an oversized door, and an expensive door at that. The machine looped around, leaving a large hole in the middle with two large generators on each side. He looked over at the last picture of his parents that he propped up on his desk. He nodded to them and then he flicked the switch to start his machine. Sweat beaded down his forehead and swamped his armpits. This was the moment of truth.
The machine hummed to life. An immense pressure assaulted his chest and head as it grew louder. He shut one eye and tilted his head slightly. He powered through the pain as a thunderous tearing noise ripped into his workshop. He fell backwards onto his chair and rolled away slightly. The pressure on his body lifted and he looked back at his machine.
In front of him, in the center of the machine, was a doorway that led to a strange lab, the likes within he had never seen before in his life. He walked up to his machine and looked behind it. His workshop was still there. He looked back into his machine and still saw another room altogether. He held his hand out and moved it towards the opening. He gulped hard and pushed his hand into the portal. His hand passed through the gap and he waved it around slightly before pulling it back. His breath escaped him as he marveled at the machine.
Eddie looked around the room inside his machine. He couldn’t tell what sort of technology was within the lab. It was all sophisticated machines that wouldn’t have been possible in his world, at least not in this time.
A figure stepped into vison, causing Eddie to jump a mile in his skin. His heart beat rapidly as the figure held out its hand. The man, or machine, whatever it was had a calm presence about it.
Eddie looked onto the hunched over man with awe. He was shrouded in a dark grey cloak. His face was covered in a white mask, now smeared with black streaks of grease. The bottom of his mask was chipped and scarred with claw marks.
Two eyes stared back at Eddie with the same awe. The man moved closer and spoke, “Eddie, you look just like your mother.” He stepped back, his hunch was alive with movement, but Eddie couldn’t tell what was under his cloak.
Eddie’s brain then was struck with an epiphany. “You must be, no.” Eddie smiled. He just might be able to save the Institute from the destruction of Breaburn. “You’re the Boss.”
The End
Or is it?