Trent

They called him the Red Death. Trent never liked that name. He considered it a disservice to his profession.

“Killing has many aspects to it,” he used to say. “Is a soldier who fights for his country a killer? What about a man trying to defend his family in a war-torn nation? Does having blood on his hands make him worse than the parasites that feed upon his land? Killing is not evil. If drawing the blood of one can prevent the meaningless death of others, I see no cause for objection.”

Hope Hastings struggled against her restraints. Trent settled down in his armchair in front of her.

Behind a six-inch layer of glass, of course. He wasn’t mad.

Alicia left the interrogation room and handed him a large, yellow envelope. Trent thanked her, but she walked away without so much as a nod.

Trent pulled out a file and started reading to his unwilling guest. “Hope Skyler Hastings. Age - Twenty-two. Born in - unimportant. Parents - don’t care. Studied at - who gives a piss. Oh! There it is - sometime during her second year of high school, started moonlighting as a masked vigilante. Huh, I wonder what caused that.”

Hope gritted her teeth and tugged against her chains. No result, obviously, he’d tied her himself.

“Death of a loved one? Waking of moral conscience? Some bullshit about power and responsibility? It doesn’t matter. None of that changes the fact that you are now an escaped convict. And I happen to be the only person that can help you.”

“What do you want from me?” she barked.

Trent smiled and shook his head. “Same thing as before. An agreement that will greatly benefit the both of us. So, unless you have a death wish… Well, let’s not dwell on that. Unless you’re ready to go back to prison, I suggest you go along with our agreement.”

Trent played with a lock of his golden ponytail and leaned back in his armchair. “So, what’s it gonna be? It’s not like you’ve got any other options.”

Hope lowered her gaze. Trent could sense the wheels turning inside her head. She’d probably try to negotiate or come up with some clever ruse to break out. Not that it mattered. He had spent a long time studying her. If there was something she was capable of doing, he was prepared to deal with it.

Except, it wouldn’t matter. He had already won. Ever since he had first laid eyes on her, every single word that left his mouth had been designed to break her spirit. Every barb, every single taunt had been mathematically perfected to make her give in. Her willingness was a non-factor. With his preparation, he had won the moment she had decided to engage him in conversation. He awaited her response with an eager smile.

At last, she caved in. “Fine.”

“Fine, what?” Trent asked her smugly.

“Fine, I’ll go along with your agreement,” she answered in a defeated tone.

Trent clapped his hands together in delight and tossed a set of keys at Sebastian. “There, boy, go and release your girlfriend.”

The moment the dreaded g-word left his mouth, Sebastian turned red as a tomato. “What, no! S-s-she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Y-yeah!” Hope protested. Her cheeks also appeared to have a hint of red to them. “We’re just really good friends. Right, Seb?”

Sebastian nodded aggressively, “Right! Yeah, we friends.” He was frozen in place.

“Seb?”

“Yeah?”

“The keys!”

“Right! The keys.” He walked over to her seat, and despite shaking hands, undid all her restraints with remarkable quickness.

Trent laughed so hard he coughed. A droplet of blood fell from his lips. He wiped it with his sleeve and snickered. “My oh my, this will be fun.”

Shortly thereafter, he gathered everyone in the living room. Once his guests were comfortably seated, Trent took a look around to ensure that all eyes were on him.

He began with a smile. “Our target is none other than the CEO of Blink Inc., Justin Roland. Blink, as some of you may know, is one of the richest companies on the planet.” His finger pointed to the whiteboard behind him. It was plastered with floor plans, maps, bits and pieces of tape, and last but not least, a picture of Justin Roland in the center with a pin between his eyes.

Trent walked around the room, guiding his guests with his voice. “For the last fifteen years, this man has worked to undermine everything that our great country stands for. Forcing small shopkeepers to go out of business, controlling the drug trade, exploiting his workers.”

He paused for effect.

“Even working actively to overthrow the government. He is scum, rotten to his core. A disease that must be eliminated.”

“What do you mean by eliminated?” Hope crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

Trent ignored her question and continued with his address. “Unfortunately, this tumor of a man has deep roots. Unless we cut them off, he cannot be stopped. And let me tell you, my dear friends, he will not stop until he has destroyed everything. Miss Hastings here has seen the wickedness of this demon firsthand.”

Hope gulped and nodded. She saw all the eyes that were on her and felt compelled to speak up. “Well, if it helps to make the world a better place, I’ll be glad to help.”

Alicia raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Miller?” Trent asked.

“What’s in it for us?”

“Is the love and gratitude of the people not good enough for you?” He opened his arms in a grand welcoming gesture.

Alicia blew a raspberry. “Nah. That ain’t gonna pay the bills.”

Trent grinned and bowed slightly. “But of course. “I was only joking.”

He pulled out a briefcase from under the table and set it down for everyone to see. Once he undid the lock, their eyes were left wide open. It was filled to the brim with bundles upon bundles of banknotes.

Ten… Twenty… Fifty Million.

Alicia outstretched a shaking hand to feel the currency. Before her fingers could make contact, Trent snapped the case shut. She recoiled as if avoiding a trap. Trent offered her a smile, but she looked away in disgust.

“I’m not the only one that wants him out of the picture. There are certain people. Rich people who’d like nothing more than to see him in a body bag,” Trent reassured them. “Once we succeed, it’s all yours.”

“W-wait! Hold up a minute.” Sebastian jumped up in protest. “W-what about Hope? She can’t go back like this. How’s the money gonna help her?”

Trent shook his head in dismay. “You still doubt my capabilities, boy? Settle down.”

Sebastian gulped and fell back in his seat.

“I know people who can wipe away her record with a mere snap of their fingers. Once we’re done with Roland, I’ll make the call, and your friend will be free as a bird.”

Hope looked at him with bright, expectant eyes. “You can do that?”

“Miss Hastings, I never make promises I don’t intend to keep.” Trent greeted her with the brightest smile she’d ever seen. “Now then, let’s go through the details.”

Trent pointed to the maps on the four corners of the whiteboard. They were all connected by bits of red tape. “As some of you may know, about six months ago, the continent of Lucidea existed in complete isolation. Towering walls surrounded our great nation, keeping us safe from would-be invaders. We were bound by the Treaty that forbade all relations with other countries for five hundred years. But some people still found a way…

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Justin Roland was one of them. He used foreign shores to house his illegal projects, exploiting the local populace for his own selfish gains. For fifteen years, he’s used them as a base of operations for his megaservers.” Trent pointed to the blueprint right above Roland’s smiling photograph. It was a supercomputer, with countless boards and circuits populating its mechanical form.

Sebastian was practically drooling over the design.

“These megaservers, as it were,” Trent continued, “form the root of his operations. And if we were to cut the roots…”

“The tree would wither away.” Hope finished for him.

He gave her an approving nod. “For fifteen years, I’ve planned this operation.” Trent touched the board and sighed with nostalgia. “I’ve waited so long for the day the walls would come undone and that parasite would be exposed. It’s been… far too long. There will never be a better time to strike.”

Alicia chimed in as well. “Then, what’s the hold-up? Let’s get out there and make some computers go kaput!”

Trent smiled at her. “Of course, it would be foolish to think that such a task would be easy to accomplish. The megaservers are housed in some of the most secure locations on the planet. They are watched over by Roland’s most trusted accomplices. In New Manhattan, off the coast of Haven City - watched over by Dr. Arthur Boon of Raytech Multinational. Up North, The Sacred City of Noor, Capital of the Great Wadin Empire - watched over by Layla Yousef, the Demon. And finally, far in the East, The Black Fortress of Kazanagi - watched over by the Mitsurugi High Council.”

Trent settled down on a stool. His breathing was heavy, and his gaze was fixated on the floor, but his body was absolutely still. “Our task is clear. Destroy the megaservers and strike Roland when he’s most vulnerable. All of you have been chosen for the unique skills that you bring to the table. Your jobs will be simple. Follow the plans. Obey your orders. You do that, and everyone walks away with what they desire. But more, much more than that, you get to live the rest of your life knowing that you stopped a tyrant from coming into power. That when duty called, you took a stand against injustice. That when the world needed them the most, you were the real heroes. So, what do you say?”

Hope sat with an enraptured look on her face and dazzling sparkle in her eyes. For seven years, she’d worked to serve this city to the best of her abilities. Even so, she’d never had the chance to do something this great, to be a part of something bigger than herself, to cause lasting change that would impact the world for generations to come.

Her ‘yes’ couldn’t have been any louder.

“Ain’t got much of a choice,” Alicia snickered, her eyes darting back to the briefcase on the table. “Especially with that much money on the line.”

Hope looked at Sebastian with moist eyes. “You don’t have to do this. It’s my fault I got into this mess. It’s my responsibility. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Sebastian averted his gaze, blushed lightly, and scratched the back of his curly brown hair. “I kinda do… Haha.”

“What do you mean?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “Long story, I’ll tell you later. But it’s okay. I want to do this. Besides, someone’s gotta watch your back out there, right?”

Hope smiled back at him.

Trent clapped decisively. “Well, now that that’s settled. Let’s talk about our strategy going in. Pay attention, my friends, this stuff might very well be the difference between glorious victory and horrible death.”

Trent spent the better part of the next hour explaining his plan. All three of his guests listened attentively. He ensured they understood every part of it down to the last detail. He told them repeatedly about the seriousness of their mission and what failure meant for each and every one of them. It took a long time, but the initiation was finally complete.

“Alright then. That will be all for now,” Trent declared, stretching his arms. “Rest up for tonight. We have a big day ahead of us. Miss Miller, show our friends to their rooms, would you kindly?”

“Right away, boss. Move it, girl!” she yelled, kicking Hope in the shins.

The former hero howled in pain. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Just because I ain’t killing you yet, doesn’t mean you’re getting the girlfriend experience. You don’t get to get off so easily. Huh, that sounded weird. Hey, Trent, was that weird?”

“I think you made it work, dear,” Trent answered.

“If you say so. Now, move it! You too, pipsqueak!” She shouted, kicking Sebastian in the shins as well.

“Hey! What the heck did I do?” he complained.

“Your face is annoying.”

∆∆∆

Trent woke up to a notification on his phone. It was well past midnight and he’d fallen asleep in his armchair. With half-open eyes, he checked the message:

See no evil.

That was enough to fully rouse him from his sleep. “Fuck that old man,” he swore and got up.

With an embittered expression, he retrieved his coat from the hanger and downed a bottle of Blue. He scrunched up his face from the awful taste and opened the door to the blizzard. The wind was so cold it would’ve frozen his blood had it not been for the cryoelixir. “This had better be worth it,” he muttered and stepped into the ice-cold streets of Haven City.

The place was a ghost town. The rich evening life of the biggest city in Lucidea was nowhere to be seen after nine. Trent covered his face with an arm to shield him from the blizzard. The wind was getting stronger by the minute. Even the lights had been turned off. He had to rely on memory alone.

He felt the locket around his neck and the ring on his finger. He thought of his daughter and her smiling face. He thought of the promise he’d made to her all those years ago. It gave him the strength to persist. With an audible grunt, he planted his feet into the foot-deep layer of snow and marched onward.

Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.

He saw the signboard in the distance. It glowed with a yellow light that shone like a beacon of hope in the miserable blizzard. He quickened his pace. The signboard appeared to take form more clearly with every step he took.

IKARI NOODLES

Trent ran into the shop with such speed that he nearly tripped on the floor. The owner greeted him with a smile. “Mr. Morningstar! Welcome back.”

Trent rubbed his palms together and tried to shiver the cold away. “Evening, Shinji. My apologies for making you open up at this time of night.”

The owner shook his head. “Nonsense, sir. It is a pleasure to help you after everything you’ve done for me.”

“Had any trouble since?”

“None, sir. Thanks to you, no doubt. Your friend is waiting for you.” The owner pointed to a corner seat. A tall man dressed in a large overcoat, a traveler’s hat, and a shaggy beard was sipping idly from his cup. His gaze was fixated on the table.

“Shall I bring your usual, sir?” asked the owner.

Trent thanked him with a smile and scanned the restaurant with his eyes. There was no other one else.

Of course. No one else is mad enough.

“One beef bowl with extra soy sauce and orange juice. Coming right up!”

Trent sat opposite the man. He pretended not to take notice and took another sip from his cup.

After several seconds of silent ignorance went by, Trent initiated the conversation. “My goodness, that beard is a fashion statement.”

The man, not looking up from his cup, answered him in a low voice, “Thanks to a certain someone, I can’t go out in public without getting pelted with tomatoes.”

Trent shook his head. “One would think that the President would have a bit more respect. How did the meeting go? I suspect it wouldn’t have been easy after last night’s fireworks.”

President Norton slammed the table angrily. “Easy? I’m lucky they didn’t take my fucking head. The Wadin Empire’s up in arms. They’re out for blood. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the chief culprit’s gone missing.”

“No idea what you’re talking about, sir.” Trent gave him a wink.

“This Vega had better be worth the effort, son.”

“Trust me, she will prove her usefulness in due time. Speaking of which, my mole has secured the blueprints. We are ready to, as the locals say, get this show on the road.”

Norton scratched his fake beard and groaned. “That was one of your better ideas. What’s his name, Black-something or the other?”

“Blackwater. Lawrence Blackwater. Good kid.”

Trent covered his mouth and coughed. His palm got covered in blood. He sighed and wiped it clean with a tissue.

Norton raised an eyebrow at him. “And what do you plan to do about that?”

Trent frowned and muttered something under his breath. Then, he smiled and leaned back in his seat. “I’ve gone fifteen years without any major issues. I’m quite certain I can last a few weeks more.”

Norton rubbed his forehead and exhaled. “Fifteen years, huh? Where did all that time go? Are you certain you can do this? We have other agents-”

“I don’t need other agents!” Trent yelled loudly enough that his voice echoed all over the restaurant. He took a deep breath and continued softly, “I can do it alone. I have to. Otherwise, there’s no point to any of this. If I don’t, I can never face her again.”

Norton tried to comfort him by holding his hand, but he snatched it away. The old man sighed, “There’s this plant that grows in the Wadin Empire. Parthume, they call it. Said to have magical healing properties. It might be able to help you.”

“Thanks. I’ll look into it,” said Trent, nodding thoughtfully.

The owner arrived with his order. He placed a simmering bowl and a glass of juice in front of Trent with a smile. “Enjoy your meal,” he said and walked away.

Dreams of that fateful day had haunted Trent in his sleep for the longest time. Most nights, he’d woken up in a cold sweat. No more. In three weeks, he’d have his life back.

Norton smelled the beef bowl and recoiled in disgust. “Argh! I don’t know how you eat that filth. Where did you even find this place?”

Trent licked his lips and dug into the noodles with visible delight. “Mmh. Funny story, actually. But I doubt you would care for it.”

Norton smelled his own cup to reset his palate. “Oh, please, go on. We never get to catch up anymore.”

Trent rolled his eyes. “Fine. A few months ago, I came here with an… associate. Foreign fella. You might remember him.”

Norton jumped with elation. “Oh, is it that Ren kid you’re always talking about?”

“The very same. So, we’re having lunch and these punks walk into the store. You know the type, street scum. Bottom of the barrel scoundrels. Want the world to acknowledge them.”

Norton chuckled but Trent was unamused.

“Anyway, these scoundrels call themselves the Silverfang Riders. Demand protection money from the owner. Say they’ll protect his ‘scrawny yellow ass’. Now, you know me, I’m not one to interfere with the matters of other people.”

Norton groaned like he’d dug up several unpleasant memories at once. “I know that about you very well.”

“Those bastards, they messed up the owner pretty bad. Said he had no place in our country. And right as they were walking away, they noticed Ren.” He emphasized his tone at the last part.

Norton gulped and retreated in his seat by a fair amount. He knew what was coming.

“They pulled his hair, spilled his drink, and humiliated him in front of everyone. Told him to go back to his own country.”

Trent sipped from his glass and slammed it onto the table. “So, the next day, I went to their little hideout and cut them all into pieces. I still remember their cries for mercy. Honestly, I was of half a mind to let them go. But they’d hurt someone I cared about.”

Norton sipped from his cup. His forehead was covered in beads of sweat.

“I did the world a service. No one will mourn their deaths.” Trent looked at his ring. His scarlet eyes burned with a vengeful fury. “Just like how no one will mourn Justin Roland. You know why?” Trent leaned in closer and whispered into his ear, “By the time I’m done with him, there will be nothing left to mourn.”