Trent
Fifteen years ago…
The gravestone read:
Here lies
Lisa Willow-Morningstar
Beloved wife and mother
Lies. They had never recovered her body.
Trent held back his tears as the rain drenched his quivering shoulders. He hadn’t spoken a word all morning. Rob, his best friend, had accompanied him for the longest day of his life. Though usually talkative, even he was quiet today. The priest performed his sermons. A few words of comfort were exchanged. Some spoke of what a wonderful woman Lisa had been during her life and how the world was lesser for her passing.
Those were the first ones to leave.
By midday, only Trent and Rob remained in the graveyard. The rain had all but subsided.
“If only I was a little faster,” Trent finally spoke.
Rob studied his anguished face. In all the years they’d known each other, he’d never seen Trent look so thoroughly defeated. “If only,” he sighed. “But you wasn’t. So, stop thinking about it.”
“What was my crime, Rob? Tell me. What did I do to deserve this?”
Rob did not answer him. Lisa had been good to him. Almost like an older sister. And now, she was gone. Ripped away by the man they had trusted the most.
“I will move heavens if I must. I will hunt him down to the ends of the earth. And I will make him pay. I swear upon her name.”
“And what about Casey?” Rob questioned him.
Trent hesitated for a moment. He gripped the locket around his neck with shaking fingers. “She would want this too. She deserves justice for her mother.”
“She’s a child, for God’s sake. She doesn’t know things like revenge or justice. To her, you’re just gonna be the deadbeat that ran away. Don’t do this to her, man. She’s already suffered enough. She wouldn’t understand.”
“Then, make her understand. Justin, no… Roland has to answer for his crime. If I let him get away with this, I... I’ll never be able to face her.”
Rob looked at his face once more. The scarlet fury in his eyes, so bright only a moment ago, had disappeared without a trace. He was afraid. Afraid of leaving his only child. But he understood what had to be done.
“Tell me, Rob,” Trent asked, not looking away from the gravestone. “If you were in my place, what would you do?”
“I’d drop everything and not rest till that bastard was choking on his own blood,” he answered without a hint of hesitation. “But unlike you, I got nothing to lose.”
“I don’t want my daughter to grow up knowing there is no justice in this world. I won’t have it. Every part of me is screaming at me, begging me to stop and move on. But I won’t have it. Justice has to be served. I’ll see to it, even if it costs me my life.”
Rob groaned with exhaustion. “That might very well end up being the case. Guess Nathan’s gonna take charge in your absence, huh? But still, try not to get killed, for God’s sake. Swear to me that you will come back.”
Trent shook his head. A weak smile formed in the corner of his mouth. He extended an arm towards the man he’d called his brother for the last twenty years. “No matter what it takes.”
Rob gripped his arm and pulled him in for a last hug. “No matter what it takes.”
∆∆∆
Trent’s phone rang with a message:
The eyes are mine.
He smiled emptily and withdrew the cigarette from his lips as he prepared for his part of the infiltration.
He put on his best tuxedo, drank a vial of Blue, and stepped into the ice-cold streets of New Manhattan. The long queue outside Raytech Multinational had shrunk to a tenth of its initial length. Some people were still complaining about the seven-minute blackout and how terrible of an inconvenience it had been.
A middle-aged gentleman looked especially angry. “These people should be ashamed of themselves, I tell you. Ashamed. A power cut in New Manhattan? Absolutely ludicrous! I’m having a word with the electricity department once this is all over. I’m telling you; I have some very choice words for these… Well, what are you waiting for? Let me in.”
The security guard spoke in a monotone. “Invitation, please.”
The man searched his pockets while grumbling to himself. “Waste of my goddamn time, this party. Now, where did I keep that blasted thing?”
The security guard raised his voice. “Invitation, please!”
The man was sweating bullets. “I-I… now, hold on a second. This isn’t fair.”
Seeing his chance, Trent shoved the man aside and handed his own invitation to the security guard. “Absolutely ludicrous with some people, I tell you,” he grinned.
The guard noticed the thousand dollars that were taped to the backside of the card, shoved it in his pocket, and gave Trent a gentle nod. “Welcome to Raytech, good sir. I hope you have a pleasant evening.”
Trent nodded back and walked in as the middle-aged man screamed at the top of his lungs. “I’ve been robbed. By the heavens, I’ve been robbed! I swear I had the invitation with me just a moment ago. I swear. Please, let me in. Let me in!”
Trent noticed what appeared to be a gargoyle statue sitting at the reception desk. Its eyes contained cameras that followed his movements. As expected from a friend of Roland. He walked across the oaken corridor with cautious steps, not daring to make eye contact with the statue. He needed a disguise. Perhaps, something to cover the face…
Just as he was deep in thought, someone bumped against his elbow. It was a short man adorned in heavy jewelry and dressed in garments of the Wadin Empire.
There was no mistaking it.
Those garish orange robes you could notice from a mile away. Those black turbans with long veils that covered their faces. And those gemstones. Just a single necklace would set you up for life. That man was wearing four. The short man grunted in disapproval as he walked past Trent. Another taller fellow dressed in similar robes followed.
“There’s the diplomats. Right on time.” Trent smiled. “Come all the south, have you? Let’s give you a warm welcome.”
Trent readjusted his sleeves and followed the diplomats into the central elevator. Seeing him enter, they shook their heads in disgust and kept a good three feet distance from him.
“Who invited the white monkey?” the short one barked in his native language, unaware that Trent understood him fully.
“Watch your mouth, brother,” said the tall one as he pressed the button for the 86th floor.
Trent waited in his own corner as the elevator rose from the ground.
“Piss off, brother! It’s not like he can understand us.”
Trent nearly burst into laughter but managed to disguise it as a cough before the others took notice.
“And he’s got the plague. Just perfect. This is how I die,” said the short one, slapping his forehead.
“Enough!” said the tall one. “Don’t forget why we’re here. We must earn the support of Mr. Boon before those East Wadin dogs can get to him.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get his weapons. Capture Noor. I’ve been hearing about it for weeks. Now, shut up and let me have some fun.”
“We are not here to have fun, you moron!” the tall one raged.
“Who do you think you’re calling a moron?” the short one stepped forward to confront him.
The tall one had grabbed him by the collar when the elevator stopped on the 11th floor. The door opened to reveal a waiter carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. The two men let go of each other, coughed politely, and made room for the little guy. The elevator started moving once more.
“Thank you for stopping for me, good sirs. Would you like a drink?” he asked, pouring two glasses of wine before they could say ‘yes.’ “Dr. Boon had this specially imported from the Regalian Republic. I am told the taste is exquisite.”
The diplomats looked at each other questioningly. Then, they looked at the young waiter and his cheerful smile. The boy was an immigrant. From the Mitsurugi Islands at that.
Even if they didn’t notice his beige skin, his vibrant red hair was difficult to ignore. But his smile, even brighter, seemed to radiate with the light of the midday sun. He was too charming to refuse. They pulled back their veils and emptied the glasses into their mouths. They complimented him on the taste and resumed their conversation.
Trent looked at the young waiter with a hint of doubt. The waiter nodded and reassured him with a smile.
Somewhere around the 18th floor, the diplomats started to feel dizzy. By the 23rd, they were barely standing. By the 28th floor, both of them were fast asleep.
Trent slammed the emergency brakes and breathed a sigh of relief. “I almost thought it didn’t work.”
“These pigs are used to large quantities. The potion takes time,” answered the waiter. He tossed away the bottle and enveloped Trent in a bear hug. “Sir Trent, it is good to see you again.”
Trent caressed his hair. “Likewise, Ren. By the way, have you lost weight? Don’t tell me you haven’t been eating properly?”
Ren broke eye contact. “It is nothing, sir. I was simply doing my duty.”
“I knew three months was too long.” Trent shook his head. “One month. That’s all we needed. You didn’t have to go undercover for that long. God, look at you. You’ve gotten so weak.”
“I am perfectly fine, sir. Just let me know what I must do,” said Ren, his eyes filled with unwavering determination.
Trent sighed in defeat. “Fine. Take the next elevator and head on down. You’ll meet Miss Hastings there. You remember her, yes?”
Ren nodded. “You showed me her picture. I can recognize her. Are you sure she can be trusted?”
“As much as I can be trusted, I’d say.” He laughed.
Ren laughed as well. “I will keep that in mind. Do you require assistance in disposing of the pigs?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Oh please, I’m not that old, yet. You take care, son. And as always, couldn’t have done it without you.”
Ren’s golden-brown eyes sparkled with admiration. “Yes, sir.” He shook his head and disappeared behind the closing doors of the elevator.
Trent cracked his knuckles as he eyed the passed-out diplomats on the floor. They looked as calm as babies. “Now, what to do with you, my good sirs?”
∆∆∆
The garments were loose on him, the necklace was far heavier than he would have liked, and the turban was nearly impossible to get over his ponytail. Moreover, the black veil meant that he could barely see in front of him. But other than that, it was the perfect disguise. Trent practiced a Wadinese accent in his head as the elevator door opened on the 86th floor.
“Mr. Kasim! Over here!” the voice of a young man called out to him. Trent turned his veiled head to look. The young man waved at him with a cheerful smile. He stood guard in front of a large glass door. “Mr. Kasim, thank you for joining us.”
Trent walked over to the man and nodded. He noticed a large signboard placed adjacent to the door. It bore golden letters engraved over a deep red cloth. The sign read:
Welcome to the
Gala at Boon Residence
Main Event: Unveil of the next generation of Raytech Automobiles
Also featuring performances by the Regalian Opera Band
The young man at the door eyed him up and down and rubbed his chin in thought. “Hmm… that’s odd. I was under the impression that two envoys from the North would be joining us. Where is your brother?”
“He was… held back. Bad stomach,” Trent answered with a perfect accent.
“Ah! That’s a shame. Well, no matter. Please, come on in. Your wife arrived ahead of time. I must say, she’s quite the charmer.” the young man winked at him.
Trent was taken aback. A ‘wife’ was not part of the plan. Even so, he managed to keep his composure. “I see,” he answered in a contemplative tone. He had a pretty good idea of who this ‘wife’ could be.
The door was opened and the ‘envoy from the North’ arrived at the biggest party in New Manhattan at precisely 9:25 pm. Almost immediately, he was greeted with scornful looks by people wearing coat suits. Trent coughed with an arm behind his back and kept walking.
Step one: Scout out the penthouse and find this ‘wife.’
Each of the four corners of the penthouse was lined with rows of tables carrying food. The variety on display was simply staggering. Trent noted that there were dishes even he did not recognize. Being Pro-Roland, Dr. Boon had been more accepting of people from different cultural backgrounds and tailored his cuisine as such. No matter where you came from, there was something that could appeal to your tastes. The old fool is smarter than he looks.
“Oh, how delightful!” a feminine voice echoed from the food stands.
Unfortunately, Trent recognized that voice. “Not him. Anyone but him,” he murmured as he cranked his neck to observe the news that awaited him.
The woman, in question, was wearing Wadinese robes and looked busy devouring an entire plate of lobsters. The bystanders gaped in awe as the sea creatures disappeared into ‘her’ gaping maw. Once the plate was empty, ‘her’ face was once again covered by the same black veil that Trent wore.
“Was that a beard I noticed on that woman?” a bystander commented.
He was shushed by his partner. “It must be a cultural thing.”
Before ‘she’ could attract any more attention, Trent grabbed her by the arm and pulled ‘her’ away from the crowd. “Oh, darling, don’t be so rough,” ‘she’ said in a playful voice.
Once they were safely out of sight, Trent shoved the veiled figure against the back wall. “Give it up, Rob.”
The veiled figure began to laugh in a hoarse, masculine voice. Robert Stodgeley, his best friend, the man he hadn’t seen in fifteen years, clapped his hands and chuckled. “You’re sharp as always, slumdog.”
“What the hell are you doing at my party?” Trent demanded angrily.
“That’s it? No ‘Hi Rob, how’ve you been? Thanks for taking care of my daughter all this time’?”
Trent froze. “I… That….” No, get a hold of yourself, damn it! He exhaled and lowered his head. “No, you’re right. Forgive my discourtesy. How are you?”
“I’m raising a teenager. How the fuck do you think I am?”
“It can’t be harder than caring for an infant, I presume,” Trent muttered sheepishly.
“Ha ha ha! It’s sweet that you believe that.” He laughed but his voice was wrought with terror.
“So, what brings you here?” He asked.
Rob looked around to see if anyone was listening. The guests seemed to turn their necks at the very sight of them. He sighed, “Orders from the old boss. Boon needs to go nighty night. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No, he did not,” said Trent as he processed this information. Norton had made no mention of an assassination plot. Even Lawrence, his informant on the inside, had said nothing of the sort.
It was odd. Almost like they didn’t want him to know. Then, why would they send Rob, of all people?
“Huh, must be a separate mission, then,” Rob concluded.
“But why now of all times? Man’s powerful but certainly not a threat.” Trent wondered out loud. “Or is there something else you people are hiding from me?”
“Hiding? My brother, I thought you knew already.” Rob leaned in and whispered into his ear. “He knows about the Darwin Project.”
Trent’s expression shifted from curiosity to full-blown anger. “The Darwin Project? But how?”
Rob shrugged. “Our best guess? Roland finally let him into the loop. Twenty years he strings along that man without telling him a thing. And when we’re this close, the bastard blows his load.”
“If this gets out, the entire country, no, the entire world will descend into chaos. You’re right, he needs to be silenced.” Trent shook his head. “After I get my codes from him.”
“I help you get your codes. You help me put him to sleep.” Rob bowed before him. “Look at that, the Mad Dog, and the Red Death, working together again. Hoo boy! This is gonna be fun. Although, I dunno if my back is up for the challenge.”
“Firstly, we need to locate Boon. I-”
All the main lights in the penthouse were turned off. Roars of cheer and applause echoed through the hall as Arthur Boon stepped onto a stage at the North end of the room. He wore his trademark bubbly smile over a bright orange waistcoat. Waving his chubby arm at the audience, he took his place behind the podium mic.
“Huh, that was easy,” commented Rob. “So, what’s the plan?”
“If my intel is right, he always keeps the codes with him. We’ll have to isolate him from the crowd.”
“Don’t forget the dogs.” Rob pointed to the four armed men standing guard by the stage. No one was allowed near Dr. Boon.
“A direct assault would be suicidal. I could try picking his pocket, but I doubt I can get close without attracting attention. We need a distraction, and fast. God knows when he’s going to blab. If only there was another way…”
Trent’s mind went back to the signboard outside the penthouse. Even with the veil obscuring his vision, the letters had been unmistakable.
Main Event: Unveil of the next generation of Raytech Automobiles
Trent tapped his feet in thought as he formulated the rest of the plan. “Hmm… That could work. Hey, Rob, how good are you with vehicles now?”
Rob was visibly offended by the question. “Well, let’s see. I drive Casey to school and pick her back up. I drive her to her friend’s house every single day. I take her out shopping almost every week. And I take her gang of teenage baboons for a cross-country trip every once in a while. So, yeah, I’d say I’m pretty damn good.”
Trent couldn’t help but smile. “She’s lucky to have you. So, do you think you could handle some extreme sports?”
Rob took a step back. “What are you getting at, slumdog?”
Trent grinned and whispered the plan into his ear. Rob was delighted. “Ho ho ho, that sounds like fun.”
“Are you certain you can handle it?”
“Can I?” Rob slapped him across the back and laughed. Then, he saw all the eyes that were on him, coughed, and spoke in a feminine voice, “I mean, of course. Anything you say, my dear husband. I will be right back with your favorite soup.”
All eyes were fixated on Dr. Boon. Trent blended in with the rest of the crowd. Without the lights, his colorful outfit was no longer the center of attention. Up close, he saw that Dr. Boon’s face was slick with sweat. His bright eyes looked fearful and uncertain. He looked as though someone was holding a gun to his temple.
With quivering lips, he held a sheet to his eyes and began his address. “Ladies and gentlemen. T-thank you for coming here tonight. Your p-presence is most appreciated. Yes, most appreciated indeed. Ahem! Tonight, we celebrate 20 years of Raytech Automobiles. What was once a mere idea is now the world’s leader in electrical cars. All thanks to generous patrons such as yourself.”
Another round of applause followed. Dr. Boon looked more nervous than ever. In a sudden outburst, he tore his sheet into pieces. The crowd fell silent.
“Tonight, I’ve gathered you all here for another purpose. Yes. You all must listen closely as it concerns all of you. Not just the select few at this venue but our entire race. Ahem! For the past five hundred years, we’ve all been terribly ignorant. Ignorant about what it took to achieve this peace. And also, what has been going on behind our backs for centuries. Friends, tonight, I am going to open your eyes to the truth.”
The entire stage started shaking violently. Dr. Boon fell to his feet. Just as the guests were bickering amongst themselves, Rob burst onto the stage on a motorcycle. The guards took aim as he rode right through them and into the main hallway. He stole a semi-automatic rifle from one of them and started firing away in random directions. The panicking crowd dispersed in an instant.
Trent slapped his forehead. “A car would’ve been safer, you moron.”
Rob was already halfway across the penthouse. “Wahooooo!” he screamed as he rode the bike onto the wine table. The security forces looked absolutely clueless. They tried shooting at him but managed to do little more than fill the expensive curtains with bullet holes. One of them tried to run away and call for backup but Rob got to him first. He dragged the poor fellow by the collar and threw him at the rest of the guards.
“Oh, no. You’re not having all the fun to yourself,” said Trent. He noticed Dr. Boon lying motionless on the stage. His unconscious body was guarded by twelve armed men.
Seeing the commotion, Trent tossed away his robes. “Won’t be needing these anymore. So much for the disguise, you obnoxious prick,” he chuckled and unsheathed his weapon.
The Charon had been his beloved armament for the last twenty years. A retractable longsword forged from reverbium, the strongest metal, with a .50 caliber pistol welded to its base, this deadly blade had claimed countless lives over the years. At nearly forty-five kilograms, few could carry it let alone use it effectively in combat. For Trent, it was the only weapon he’d ever known.
The guards around Dr. Boon saw him approaching. Before they could react, he fired his gun at the guard in the center. The bullet pierced his skull and went out the other side.
Trent pushed a button underneath the trigger. The bluish-gray blade popped out of its hilt. He pointed the tip of the longsword at his opponents and called out, “Let’s dance!”
Bullets rained in his direction as the guards yelled cries of “Get him” and “Keep firing”. Trent ducked under a table to evade the onslaught. Three of the armed men chased after him. But just as they approached, he kicked the table away in their direction.
Three men jumped out of the way to avoid it. Seeing his chance, he ran up and slit their throats in one swift motion.
Four down.
Another guard attacked from behind and grabbed his torso. “Ha! I got you now,” he exclaimed. Trent headbutted him with the back of his own head, and as the rest of the guards launched a barrage of bullets, he pulled him over and used him as a meat shield.
Five down.
The remaining guards were shaken to their core. Their gunshots lacked precision. Their hands were slick with sweat, causing misfires. They lacked coordination. But most importantly, the most crucial fact that proved to be their biggest hurdle was that they had been trained to fight humans.
This was a monster.
He cut them down without hesitation. His agility was unmatched. His strikes had inhuman precision. In mere moments, all of them were slaughtered like cattle.
Save for one.
The last guard tried running but his leg had been crushed in the chaos. Seeing Trent walk toward him, he was paralyzed with fear. He begged for mercy that would not come.
“Those eyes,” he said, “it can’t be. You were supposed to be stories. You can’t be real. You’re the… the Red Death!”
Those were his last words.
After nearly forty minutes, the bloodshed came to an end. The guests had fled the penthouse before the firings started. Rob had made sure of that. Trent took a moment to look around and assess the damage. He struggled to find a square inch of the room that was not laced with bullet holes.
Rob looked quite proud of himself.
“Hoo boy!” he groaned, stretching his back. “I haven’t felt this alive in ages. It’s been nothing but paperwork since you buggered off. Seriously, pal, would it have killed you to call me once in a while?”
“I had to keep my distance. I couldn’t let anyone close to me get hurt. Not again.”
“I know. I know. And for that, we are grateful, O’ Benevolent Majesty,” he said sarcastically.
Before he could continue, the smell of dead bodies overwhelmed him. “Ugh!” He recoiled. “I’d almost forgotten how messy this business was. Imagine how the young ones would laugh if they saw this. The Mad Dog of Regalia almost puked his guts out on seeing a corpse. Guess raising a child does make you soft.”
“You don’t say,” Trent chuckled.
“Hey, just because I agree with you, doesn’t mean you’re right, slumdog. You’re still a shitty parent,” Rob scolded him.
Trent tightened his fists. His lips quivered as he spoke but he managed to put on a cheerful tone. “N-no argument there, mate. No argument there.”
They heard pained grunts coming from the stage. Dr. Boon had not moved an inch in the last forty minutes.
“Finish this with me?” Rob asked.
“After you, king,” Trent bowed sarcastically.
“Eat a dick.” Rob rolled his eyes he walked over to Dr. Boon and squeezed his cheeks between his fingers. “And what do we have here?”
Rob picked him up by his collar. Before he could begin the interrogation, Dr. Boon spat in his face. Rob retaliated by punching him and throwing him to the ground. The old man groaned painfully but showed no signs of giving up. He simply lifted himself to his feet and smiled defiantly.
Before things got any messier, Trent intervened. “Dr. Boon, I believe your sins have finally caught up to you. You will face consequences for your betrayal in due time. But first, the codes for your server, if you please.”
“You! As if I’d ever help you. Look around. Don’t you see what you’ve done? All that bloodshed and for what?”
Rob kicked him in the stomach. The old man doubled over in pain. “My friend here asked you a question.”
“This is all your fault, old man,” Trent barked at him. “All of this could’ve been prevented had you kept your mouth shut. Do you have no concept of reality? Do you have any idea about the chaos your words could have caused tonight? We will not let you destroy our peace.”
Dr. Boon laughed at his face. “When people are forced to behave with a gun to their head, that’s not peace.”
Trent pulled out the Charon from his belt and held it at hair’s length from Dr. Boon’s left cheek. “Call it whatever suits your delusion. The facts are simple. I possess a weapon and you don’t. Come now, Dr. Boon, you’re a smart man. Make the right call.”
Dr. Boon stared at the Charon with fearless eyes. However, the stand-off was short-lived. He took a deep breath and spoke, “The passcode is the date of the Incident. The day when righteousness took a stand for itself.”
“Happy, pal?” Rob asked.
“Very,” said Trent, sheathing his blade. “Feel free to finish him off now. Or are you too pussy for that?”
“Fuck you, slumdog. Now, any last words Mistah Boon?”
“You won’t get away with this. What you are doing is wrong! Justin will stop you. He knows just how to deal with pests like you. Trust me, mongrel! You will rue the day you crossed his path. You hear me? He will avenge me!”
“Like hell, he will. Now. Ahem! Mister Arthur Robert Boon, son of James Bartholomew Boon. You’ve been found guilty of conspiracy, anti-human plots, and attempted whistleblowing of the highest degree. You were granted knowledge beyond your comprehension, and you chose to abuse it. You are a despicable human being, and therefore unworthy of living, and yada yada. Anyway, by the power vested in me by the New World Order, I hereby sentence you to death. May God have mercy on your soul.”
A bullet was fired and then, the penthouse was silent.