Necessarily Evil- Prophecy

by Shad N Freud

  “Well, it wasn’t what we were hoping for, but beggars can’t be choosers. Thank you very much, Cardinal.”

  “Don’t mention it Colonel. That said…I don’t suppose we could borrow one of your men for a few hours?”

  ∞∞∞

  An hour later, after getting a large care package and some sat phones for the U.N. forces on the ground, Carl and his people were rolling down the road in an armored personnel carrier, barreling through roadblocks set up by local warlords as they forced their way to the coast. They used the amphibious vehicle like a boat to drive to their destination, the personal yacht of the infamously reclusive Darnel Cristian, the American-born software engineer whose net worth was in the billions. At least, that was his public face. Reputable intel pointed at his true identity, a Roman legionnaire who had been stationed in Jerusalem at the beginning of the first century AD and was rumored to be the very same legionnaire that dealt the lethal blow that finished off Jesus Christ: Longinus.

  Carl popped open the hatch to the roof of the APC and waved to one of the deck hands aboard the yacht. They tossed down a line and Carl tied it off before grabbing onto the Jacobs ladder lowered to the APC. Jin, not needing to climb, cast a flight spell and landed lightly on the deck. The rest made their way up, with the girls sitting on Zeke’s shoulders, weapons pointed at the deck as they hopped off their reptilian elevator. Cenere used his amulet to fly upwards as well, leaving Carl the last man up. The APC’s driver held up the bottle of scotch Carl gave him in salute, then cast off and headed back to the mainland.

  A short black man with a lithe frame, wearing a bathrobe, swim trunks, and dirty feet strolled onto the wooden deck. Carl stood straighter and smiled at the man approaching them. “I appreciate your hospitality, Mr. Cristian. It’s not every day I get to meet someone of your…august personage. One who’s clearly wise beyond his apparent years.”

  “Are all devils silver tongued?” Darnel Cristian asked with a smile and a rather thick Detroit accent. “Let’s drop the pretense, shall we? We both know who I am.”

  “Fair enough. I want the coins, Longinus. I’m willing to negotiate.”

  “There is only one price to be paid. On December 21st, I will be in New York, at the event we both know will occur. You will kill me with my spear the moment I pay back my debt. You will make sure I die. That is non-negotiable. I will only get this one chance and I refuse to miss it.”

  Longinus pulled a pack of Blackjacks from his robe, as well as an ivory inlaid flip lighter. He took a long, slow drag of his cigarette. The erudite young man’s eyes became those of a very old man.

  “I’ve had too long of a life, Cardinal. I’ve watched the rise of Catholicism, I fought on both sides of every single crusade, I was one of the moors that held the Iberian Peninsula in my silken gloved fist. I helped the Inquisition sink slave ships after saving the ‘merchandise,’ ran a privateer crew in the Caribbean. All the while, I searched for my end. I was aboard Ponce de Leon’s ship. You know what he actually found? Mosquitoes. Tons of damned mosquitoes. The second World War? Secret operative in Ethiopia. I’ve done everything, and there hasn’t been a single career I haven’t tried once or twice. Nothing is fun for me anymore. I get no real joy out of life. And, every night, I have to relive the moment of my greatest pain. A single death at my hands. The death of a man I never knew, the embodiment of your god’s opposite…all because I rolled the knuckle bones poorly and ended up on stab detail.”

  He paused for emphasis and another long drag.

  “So, believe me on this: if I do not die on December 21st, I will track down every single man, woman, and child that could possibly have a connection to you, and I will make them die very slowly. The coins? I couldn’t care less. They’re yours. As for the last set…well, I need your help to acquire them. I’ve contacted one of my old friends to help. He seems to know you.”

  Carl looked at him curiously until he felt a vibration through the ship’s hull, his pointed ears perking up to the faintest notes of a song. “No.”

  A song he knew a little too intimately. A song he detested. A song that caused his eyes to slowly become more bloodshot by the second. A song that signified he’d be getting into a fist fight within the next half hour.

  “NO.”

  Cenere looked over at his mentor and noticed the facial tick that signified Carl was nearing a blood rage.

  “NO!”

  He watched as Carl’s shaking hand reached into his coat and withdrew a single long, thin hatpin, then proceeded to jam it into his right ear canal and scramble his cochlea, dislocating the tiny bones that make up the ear drum. He grimaced slightly as he did so, then repeated the procedure on his left before his eyes started to clear and his heartrate subsided, slowly regaining control of himself. He sighed in relief despite the agonizing pain of a self-inflicted amateur myringotomy.

  Zeke and Jin watched this display in abject horror, Cenere blinked repeatedly in confusion after watching his mentor and friend mutilate himself so as not to hear a song. Meanwhile, Camilla tapped her foot to the beat, mumbling the lyrics under her breath. Sachi started twitching herself and looked longingly at the hatpin; she wasn’t a fan either.

  “It appears our mutual friend has arrived, Cardinal. Oh, right. Deaf. Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Longinus smirked as he pulled a set of noise cancelling headphones out and slipped them over his ears as the submarine rose from the depths, the song’s distortion fading as it breached the surface.

  The hatch popped open and a deck hand hopped out of the tube, making his way to the bollards to moor the sub to the Yacht. A rather flamboyant elf stepped out of the hatch, looked up to the Yacht, and gave a cheery little wave when he saw Carl. The red returned to Carl’s eyes, and he drew his baton, jumping over the side to land on the submarine. He took a skull-crushing swing at the pirate’s head. Caspian laughed heartily and drew his cutlass, parrying away the strike from Carl as he drew his pistola and pressed it under the Orc’s chin.

  “Come now, Carl…is that any way to greet an old…my god, man! Did you really deafen yourself just so you wouldn’t hear the music?”

  “He did. Crazy, wasn’t it?” came a voice from behind the pirate. He looked over his shoulder as he parried another blow from Carl. A gleaming piece of steel pressed against the pirate’s throat as Sachi pulled a detonator from her pocket. She made eye contact with Carl and stepped back, dragging the pirate with her. “I hate to sound ungracious, but would you kindly turn off that damn song? I absolutely detest the Beatles, and Carl,” she said, waving a detonator to get Carl’s attention, “clearly has a problem with their music. So, if you would be ever so kind…turn it off.”

  Caspian grinned as he slid his pistola back into his belt. “Sorry mademoiselle, I cannot do this. The Goldfish, she loves the song, and any attempt I have made to get her to sing something else ends poorly. I learned to tune it out years ago. Besides, Carl has his fancy mansion, doesn’t he?” Caspian chuckled as Sachi lowered the blade. Carl still looked murderous and the blood oozing from his perforated eardrums was more than a little disturbing. Caspian smiled at Carl and put away his sword, showing his empty hands.

  The rest of the group watched as Longinus sighed and stepped into an open box filled with dirt. The yacht’s boat winch lifted the box up and over the side, lowering it to the submarine where the cargo bay doors for the modified submarine opened to allow the box to be lowered into the waiting bay. Longinus seemed serene as he sat on a prayer mat, his spear on the floor in front of him. The bottom of the box opened, dumping the dirt, Longinus, and his spear into the compartment. Moments later, the dust cleared, and Longinus was sitting in the same position he was before the box opened, still sitting on his mat with the spear lying in front of him.

  “Dozenth time I’ve seen him pull that trick, and I still don’t know how he does it. Not a speck on him except for his feet. Always lands on the mat, on top of the dirt, spear always lands the same way.” Caspian smiled and signaled all c
lear to the winch operator. He turned to Carl, who had straightened his clothes and brushed his hair back into its proper place. He stuck his flaming thumb into his left ear to heal the damage, only because words would need to be exchanged, and put his weapons away.

  He glared at Caspian and stepped forward. “Let’s not mince words: I hate you. I would like nothing less than to have your stupid face swan around in front of my crosshairs from a couple blocks away, and I’d scatter your ashes on a garbage scow before pissing in the urn to make sure I cleaned it out properly for one such as you. But we have a mission, and you’re trustworthy. So, while I know we hate each other-”

  “You hate me? I’m utterly shocked! I mean, I like you…” Caspian smirked at Carl and made a kissy face at him when he growled at the ship’s captain. “Anyways, I get it, Carl. Don’t worry your pretty little tusks, Greenie, I’ll get you and your little rag-tag band of malcontents to the ancient ship below us. It’ll take a bit, though, as there are defensive systems that shoot anything that descends too quickly, barriers that activate randomly, and a particularly nasty A.I. that sends suicide bomb drones if any sort of rf frequency transmits within a kilometer of a repeater. Then there’s the whole airlock access code issue-”

  “Access code issue?” Zeke perked up, looking over at the flamboyantly dressed ship’s captain who smirked as he handed over the technical diagrams.

  “McGillicutty Corp security code index Alpha one priority. Entire place is under lockdown. Some kind of protocol for when one of their ships went down would be my guess. Not like we can call them up and ask, can we? So, we need a piece of their tech capable of talking to the security system.”

  Carl turned to Jin. “Don’t supposed you’d be willing to let the rocks you’ve got do some gainful work, would you?”

  Jin shrugged and listened to Krang’s box. “He says Greggory would be willing to do it, as he’s not fully intact. The other one is kind of an idiot and isn’t good for much more than proselytizing the grace and glory of Bahamut. Weird that he picked such a long name; apparently, he spent a lot of time with a paladin from another plane and decided to take the paladin’s name. Sure, would have been easier to choose a mononym, but who am I to judge? Anyways, Greggory is willing to show us all what a real processor core can do.”

  Jin rolled his eyes as he made his way to the hatch. Zeke scratched his head before following Jin into the ship. Camilla went next, followed by Cenere with Sachi following him. Carl glared at Caspian as he cast off from the yacht.

  “So. How have things been? I hear you and Tryst had a kid. She’s what, twelve? Thirteen? Might need to introduce myself in a few years. After all, you stole my fiancée. Maybe I should court your-” Caspian laughed jauntily as he drew his cutlass to block Carl’s justifiable attempt to turn his skull into an ashtray and the two renewed their duel until Goldie sounded the dive alarm, interrupting their fight by forcing them to enter the ship.

  Carl sighed as the music started again, pulled out his hair pin, and slipped it back into his left ear. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Caspian piloted the Goldfish with his bare feet, looking through the foot-thick transparent aluminum viewscreen. It was a luxury he’d decided his ship deserved, allowing him to pilot the small ship by naked eye in shallow waters. He still had radar, of course, as well as a periscope. And, in the event of an attack, the “glass” would become opaque, a set of reinforced steel stuffers acting as an additional layer of protection.

  As the sub descended, Carl glared at the total lack of useable doors. He’d been lying in a bunk the entire time, irritable as all get out. It wasn’t the first time he’d ridden in a submarine, nor would it be the last. But ever since becoming a Grand Inquisitor and inheriting the mansion, he never felt quite right if he didn’t have access to a regular doorway. Caspian knew this and went out of his way to remove any non-structural doors, as any of the quick-acting water tight doors would be ineligible to be used for the mansion. No lintel, a circular door frame, and the wrong kind of hinges…added to that, the sub’s speakers constantly played Yellow Submarine.

  Carl actually used to like the Beatles, back in his younger years. Then one inconsiderate jerkoff that used to try and woo the woman that would become his wife came along, listening to nothing but the Beatles. The fact that said jerk-off was the Captain of the ship he was trapped on without a door made his teeth itch. To make matters worse, Carl couldn’t do anything about it. They needed to get the coins, and thus needed Caspian’s help. Carl reached into his pocket and pulled out his gum. He growled as he stuffed several pieces into his mouth and gnawed on the anise flavored chicle. No smoking, no mansion, deaf, and trapped on a boat designed to sink. This part of the damned mission set his teeth on edge.

  Jin, meanwhile, was having a lark. The ship was designed with economy of space in mind, so he had an easier time opening doors and was thoroughly enjoying his exploration of the submarine. Gnomes, it was said, were the first to invent submersibles as well as dirigibles, and it was rumored that Chinese gnomes invented gunpowder which they immediately used for fireworks instead of firearms. Subs were designed for all weather travel, as hurricanes rarely affected things at the sea floor, while dirigibles were invented for the purpose of exploration and inexpensive produce hauling. Their cousins, the goblins, on the other hand, created the first guns, rockets, torpedoes, and bombs to be dropped over the side of an airship. Both races were well known for their inventive capability, though goblins were infamous for inventing things that flashed, blew up, or weren’t the most reliable. Speaking of, Jin thought to himself as a gaggle of engineers strolled by, grumbling about how ramshackle the damn boat was. Jin hopped up and followed the large goblins as they strode through the passage ways in their oil-stained coveralls, doing their shiftly walkthroughs.

  Cenere, Zeke, Camilla, and Sachi were playing spades in the crew’s mess as goblins of various rank ate their meals or watched television. While the Goldfish was technically a civilian ship, nearly the entire crew were ex-military and a large number of them were goblins, which was rather interesting since their captain was an elf. True, this was a more enlightened age, where racists and other bigots were ostracized by the average person due largely to the movements of the Church, but some old sentiments died hard. Caspian was the sort of captain these men could respect, as he was an idealist. He’d actually worked alongside Longinus, who sat at the other end of the mess, reading a bible, to break up the slave trade. While not a Satanist himself, Caspian had been granted a letter of mark which had never been rescinded and now regularly used his submarine to topple human trafficking operations. Some of the goblins on his ship had family that had been in concentration camps during the Holocaust and remembered the stories of 1st Lt Caspian and his raid at Auschwitz.

  Cenere smiled as he played his last non-spade and watched as his partner Camilla dropped the queen of hearts. The two of them had grown very close in a short time but neither of them had made a move on the other. In Cenere’s case, it was because he really liked the girl. She was gorgeous, true, and had a rapier-sharp tongue that led her to win an even number of their verbal sparring matches. Those piercing blue eyes of hers contrasted nicely with her mocha colored skin and the thin white lines that crisscrossed any exposed flesh spoke to her toughness, her bad-ass status confirmed by the roadmap of pain she’d endured in her short life as a member of the Hand. It made her skin like a dusky marble, and he found it to be quite pleasing to look at. Her fiery-orange hair denoted her Scottish heritage, as did her brogue when she was drunk or sufficiently pissed off.

  In short, Cenere was utterly smitten by the gorgeous lass and terrified of rejection. The irony wasn’t lost on him, as he knew that as an Inquisitor of Lust, he was supposed to be able to read body language very easily. And on any other woman, he had no problem discerning interest. Camilla, on the other hand, perplexed the shit out of him with the large number of mixed signals he was receiving.

 
As she picked up the trick and laid down her last heart, the Ace, Camilla was having similar thoughts to her possible paramour. She was trying to fight the urge to drag the gorgeous young tiefling to the bunkroom and, after kicking their boss out, testing out the floor welds with rough, passionate, bestial sex with the Inquisitor she’d fallen hard for. Unfortunately, she knew how many women he’d slept with and didn’t want to end up being just another notch on his belt. She didn’t have a problem with promiscuity, far from it; she just felt so deeply for the young man that she wanted something more than a tawdry fling. No matter what her hormones were telling her.

  Sachi grimaced as she laid down the ten of clubs and her eyes met Zeke’s as they looked at their opponents. Both rolled their eyes as they waited for Cenere to play his card. Sachi was of the opinion that Cenere and Camilla should just fuck already and get it over with. She knew that Camilla wanted a husband some day and that Cenere was honestly smitten with her best friend. The problem, in her mind, would come later when it came time to start a family, as Cenere was incapable of getting Camilla pregnant.

  Sachi always smiled when she watched Camilla’s eyes get misty when she saw mothers playing with their children and could tell from the wistful looks that that was something she’d need to feel complete. Sachi, on the other hand, had no intention of ruining her beguiling figure with a tumor that would drain her for nine months and then act as a parasite for another twenty years after expulsion. The very thought of child birth horrified her, as did the notion of motherhood. That’s not to say that she did not like children; she was just looking forward to being a really cool aunt to Camilla’s kids someday.