Zurkerx- The Empire Shall Grow

by Eric William Haluska

  “I’ve searched for years to find the truth! They hide it because they know it will spur anger, that the masses will rise up and challenge their authority. If no one can tell me, then only you can tell me what happened,” Argus says, stuttering, baffled by the meagerness of his father’s words.

  Laffat stands up, not impressed by his demands. He walks past Argus, heading for the exit. Argus’ eyes follow him, studying him, infuriated that his question isn’t being answered. Laffat stops.

  “Again, that’s for you to find out, but there is one person that does know everything, knows the truth.”

  He restarts his stroll as a white light fills the room.

  “Who?!”

  Laffat is consumed by the white light.

  “Marcus…”

  His father’s voice fades as the scenes of the battlefield reappear. Argus can see Marcus standing there, planted like a tree. He jabs his sword forward, ready to end it. The sounds of clanking metal, grinding bone, and shredding skin ring in his ears. He zips past Marcus, slowing down as his adrenaline fades. He stumbles a bit before coming to a stop.

  “AHHH!”

  Argus bends down, holding up his right side. Blood drips from a deep wound that has cut through him. Confusion boggles his mind as he comprehends the injury he has sustained. The pain only grows as he hunches farther over. Fearing that he’ll fall, he sticks his sword into the ground, using it as a third leg.

  “How could I have missed?” Argus says in anguish. “How did he… penetrate my armor? It’s just not possible.”

  Argus turns around and sees Marcus standing there, emotionlessly staring at him. He can see Marcus’ blade glimmer in the fading sun with blood running down. His eyes slightly widen as he examines the sword.

  “That blade-” he whispers in shock.

  “Are you trying to comprehend what just happened?”

  Argus looks down, unable to answer the question.

  “Looks like your mind was in a cloud. You were filled with rage and then suddenly, you became settled. You never took the advice of Truskuis: don’t let your emotions guide you. Being that you don’t care about that, however, do you want to hear about the new upgrades the Krenma recently received?”

  Argus stares at the ground, trying to hold himself up.

  “Several years ago, the Krenma came to the Zappas Corporation, requesting that an upgrade be given to the Kren. We felt we were lagging behind other nations technologically and felt we were losing ground to the likes of the Rievers, SPECTRE, and others in Zentari.”

  He pauses for a moment.

  “Remember your attempt to steal information from our cloud servers; the CBW that you unleashed to do so? You were able to steal fragments of a folder, a special one in fact.”

  He pauses again and watches Argus leaning forward, quietly moaning.

  “Tell me: was it a Black Folder by any chance?”

  Argus coughs in pain. He remembers a file that he and Indra looked at, but only the name Project Ominous was there. While Indra expressed that it was an important folder, he didn’t have much care for it given it had no information. Now he realizes that Project Ominous was a series of upgrades for the Kremna. He now regrets not upgrading the virus to collect classified information. He slowly straightens himself out as the pain pinches him.

  “Hmm, I see that you recognize what I am talking about. Let me tell you a bit about it.”

  Marcus brushes himself off and looks up at the sky. He sees the storm is almost here, its outskirts about to conceal the sun. Argus’ death is almost here.

  “The new suit of armor that I wear is the latest in the Krenma. It’s strong, flexible, and light, but what makes it unique is that it’s powered by kinetic energy. Whether it be by my movements or a strike of someone’s fist, I am generating or absorbing this energy and storing it. This stored energy I can convert into raw power that gives me enhanced speed and strength. It also gives me durability where I can convert the energy into a plasma-like substance, which I can manipulate as additional armor.”

  Marcus lifts his blade up and examines it as drops of blood run down it.

  “I should mention that the armor wasn’t the only thing upgraded. The Nactbu I carry can cut through several men without issue. Made by both machines and hands, this blade is the sharpest weapon I have ever wielded. It doesn’t distinguish between metal and flesh,” he says as he runs his fingers across the sharp edge casually, smearing the blood into it. “Does that give you enough information now to fight me? To kill me?”

  Argus doesn’t say anything. He’s too busy trying to straighten himself up to reply to someone he wants to kill. He couldn’t care less about the lectures he is receiving. He has a fight to win, a fight in which victory seems unlikely. Marcus watches Argus continue to try to straighten himself up. He takes a few soft steps forward.

  “But now I need to tell you more about your father, the real man he was. He loved you and his stomach would turn at the sight he would see now. But the truth I can no longer hide.”

  Argus smirks at the remarks about his father. After seeing him in his thoughts, it no longer bothers him that Marcus keeps mentioning his father. Blood continues to drip from his wound as he looks up into the sky.

  “My father was a great man,” he says, gasping for air. “But the government- the government took him from me. He could no longer witness the government’s coercive use of force that enslaved the people he served to protect. He was not to be a puppet at their disposal.”

  His strength fades as a thumping sound is heard, footsteps likely. He slowly turns around.

  “But he perished before he could expose them. You know… if he were still around, he would be proud of what I have become. He would cheer me on… begging for me to do whatever is necessary to uncover the facts. That’s all I want: the truth! He would be ashamed-”

  Argus stops in his tracks. His blade falls from his hands, bouncing on the ground. The life in his eyes fades. He stares into Marcus’ cold eyes; a stern look meant to demean him. Argus looks on as blood gushes from his mouth. He utters a low moan and looks down. This is exactly how Albric’s death played out, a reenactment he didn’t want to be a part of.

  Marcus slowly pulls his sword from the defeated man. Argus looks down, watching the shiny blade being pulled from his upper chest. Once the blade has been removed, Marcus uses the end of the blade and pushes Argus gently to the ground. Argus falls onto his back as he coughs up more blood. His injuries are fatal, wounds that permanently kill the revolution. He knows it’s all over. He has failed. He looks up at Marcus.

  “Go on… kill me. End this, like they did to my father.”

  Marcus looks at his blade. The right thing to do is to kill him and put him out of his misery, ending the chaos he has created. But Einzgu teaches more than just honor killing. It also preaches confession to things that are related to your enemy, regardless of who they are. Einzgu helps one find stability in his or her life, finding a way for one to self-govern.

  “No,” he says forcefully. “You can’t die without knowing what happened.”

  He lowers his blade to the ground and it taps the ground softly.

  “You want the truth? Let me tell you what happened to your father; for I am the sole witness to an event that deeply changed me, just like it changed you.”

  Marcus takes a seat, crossing his legs.

  “I hear you like stories. I guess it’s story time, eh?”

  Argus rolls his eyes. He looks at Marcus with gloom and displeasure, feeling that he is being treated like a child. He would rather die than hear a fictitious story. Yet, he has no choice as Marcus opens his mouth. This is the beginning of his punishment.

  “So, where do I start?”

  UNTOLD STORY

  AUGUST 31st, 2042

  09:18 P.M.

  ZOK

  On the outskirts of Zok, sirens ring loudly. The police are on high alert as they barricade the surrounding area. At the Chalres Research Facility, they have ra
ided the building with the suspicion that WMDs are being produced. They have called for backup, asking the government to send in the Red Skulls. The government have sent a battalion known as the Daredevils, led by Lieutenant Colonel David Kins. However, due to Kins having suffered a broken leg recently, Four-Star General Laffat Constantime is temporarily filling in.

  Laffat is a compassionate, inspiring person. The 45-year-old is a well-respected individual within the Empire, finding inspiration from the people he protects. He was offered a position within the Krenma, but declined the position, believing the organization’s pillars such as Einzgu and Truskuis are all that he needs. Tough, honest, and transparent, it has been rumored that he is considering a run for the Miktsrod, growing tired of the military life.

  But Laffat enjoys serving the Empire’s military with dignity. He couldn’t care less about politics or for that matter, the politicians who run the Empire. He joined the Red Skulls solely because he wanted to serve his country, and protecting its people would be his way of giving back to society. This is the contract he made with the people, this is his social contract.

  The facility has been controlled by the Gewerksma, an old organization reborn under the ideals of Neo-Demokrism. The supposed WMDs they are producing are said to be chemical weapons. Had it not been for the people from the newly formed Mittarbe, the Gewerksma wouldn’t have the resources to develop these WMDs in secret. However, an accountant at the facility tipped off the government after he became wary of the fact that the facility was funneling money to the Gewerksma through shell companies.

  After a government investigation confirmed this, they raided the facility where not long ago, a firefight ensued. While several officers lost their lives, they were able to take control and secure the perimeter. Yet, they requested that the government send some Red Skulls for additional protection to ensure no Gewerksol reinforcements arrived.

  As the Daredevils secure the perimeter, Laffat enters the facility. He has received information that a Gewerksol may have vital information regarding the production of WMDs. The glass crunches underneath his feet as he looks around. The walls are stained red where blood from both sides has been spilled.

  He then stops and looks to his left. He can see three soldiers standing around an individual who is tied up. That must be the person I am looking for. He walks over, approaching the soldiers. One of those soldiers is Sergeant Marcus Huns.

  The 22-year-old sergeant is considered by many of his colleagues to be the best. He is highly intelligent, knowledgeable of military strategies and tactics. He’s versatile, able to adapt to changing situations with ease, able to read people with ease. It’s these skills that got him recently accepted by the Krenma, on the recommendation of Laffat, who believes Marcus’ full potential has yet to be tapped. In two weeks, he begins his training, which few can master.

  However, he has some major downsides that can compromise his full potential. He is an immature and arrogant man who believes he is above everyone, including his superiors. While he has exceptional leadership skills, he has no regard for teamwork, viewing his companions as liabilities who hold him back.

  When he isn’t in charge, he’s defiant, usually ignoring orders. He either tries to do his own thing or modifies the directions to fit his needs, believing that his intellect is superior to others’. This disobedience and pride have led to him being disciplined on multiple occasions, almost to the point of a military discharge. This has resulted in constant intervention by Laffat to save Marcus’ career and dignity.

  Laffat approaches the band of soldiers. He stops and looks at the weary Gewerksol. He sees the man has been through a lot. His face is red, his eyes somewhat watery. Something is bothering the man deep inside, something that matters to him. He can tell that he wants to be free, free from all the bullshit that plagues his life. Hmm, what is your secret? He bends down.

  “So, I hear you are the guy that has some information to give to me? Tell me, what have you been doing in this facility?”

  The Gewerksol looks down and remains silent.

  “Quiet one, aren’t you? Well, I get that you are in shock, trust me, a lot of us are. But please, I need to know what the Gewerksma have been up to.”

  The Gewerksol refuses to speak, fearful that his comrades will retaliate against him.

  “The General asked you a question, show some respect!” shouts Marcus as he pushes the man to the ground.

  “Sergeant Huns! Don’t,” he says sternly. “Let me handle this.”

  Marcus looks at the frightened Gewerksol. He doesn’t like being told what to do, but he knows it’s best not to disrespect the man who has saved him on multiple occasions. He believes he should be giving the orders, and that would have been to make this loser crack. He jerks him off the ground, showing little sympathy to his enemy.

  The Gewerksol whimpers as he shakes. The violent actions being perpetrated against him are a reason he despises and fears the government. He believes that the Empire has a bias against Demokrists and Neo-Demokrists, people who shouldn’t be allowed to speak.

  Yet, for Laffat, they are people even if their ideals differ greatly, a family of some sorts. Family, that’s it! He places his hand gently on the Gewerksol’s shoulder, trying to calm him down.

  “I know you are afraid,” he says delicately. “Tell me, do you have a family?”

  The Gewerksol slowly lifts his head up, his eyes watery, his lip curled in.

  “Ye-yes. I have a wife and two kids.”

  “And how much do they matter to you?”

  “A lot, sir. I only joined this organization to ensure they have a bright future.”

  Laffat nods.

  “Ah, caring and solicitous. You care for them, you wish to protect them. I can see it in your eyes. Family is important, it’s what keeps us together and makes us stronger. I don’t wish your family to be torn apart.”

  Laffat looks away, composing a deal to break the ice. He looks back.

  “Here’s what I can do for you. If you tell me what the Gewerksma have been developing and what their plans are, I can write a memo to the judge asking for a minor sentence. You would be under house arrest for months, but you would be with your family. What do you say?”

  His soft voice makes the Gewerksol whimper more loudly. He can’t believe that someone from the government would show such compassion. He usually can tell if someone is putting on an act, trying to sway him by using and showing a softer side.

  However, he doesn’t sense that. He can feel the raw emotion beating him, telling him ‘I’m here for you.’ He’s filled with joy, something he only feels when he’s around his family. That’s the power of Laffat’s words, a gift he has used as a secret weapon. He looks up, acknowledging Laffat’s presence.

  “We- we have been developing a chemical weapon…”

  “Hmm, and where is this weapon being developed right now?”

  “It’s being developed through that door over there,” he says as he points his head towards it. “There is a basement down there and a long narrow hallway with multiple labs. At the end of the hallway is the control room; that’s where they are holding the WMD.”

  He looks away, trying to hide the tears that run down his face. Laffat stands up.

  “Good, I appreciate the help. I will make sure you are rewarded for your cooperation with us.”

  Laffat walks away, heading to a table with guns on it.

  “Wait,” the Gewerksol shouts. “There’s something else.”

  Laffat stops and turns around.

  “The WMD is rigged to explode within an hour, releasing the gas into the air. Please! My family lives in the area, and they’ll die. You must save them! All of us!”

  Laffat raises an eyebrow as his stomach turns.

  “A chemical bomb ready to blow? General, we must stop this,” says one of the soldiers frantically.

  “Hmph! It’s probably a trap. He’s trying to get us killed. He’s not the friend you are trying to make us think he is,�
� Marcus says ruthlessly.

  “Marcus!” he barks. “You’re with me. The rest of you take the Gewerksol to a safe location and evacuate everyone at once.”

  Laffat turns away and walks towards the table. He picks up a Marc Crown 40[95] and grabs a few magazines, loading the gun. He turns around as he sees the Gewerksol being escorted out. Life in the facility buzzes as everyone evacuates. Yet, he sees one person standing there, staring at him in disbelief.

  “Stop standing around, Marcus. Get over here now!”

  Marcus rolls his eyes. He’s surprised that his mentor is asking him to come along. He suspects Laffat has something to say to him, likely about his treatment of the Gewerksol, something he feels is justified. What he doesn’t find justifiable is Laffat’s treatment of the enemy. He’s probably got an excuse for that. Reluctantly, he walks over.

  When Marcus is close enough, Laffat makes his way to the door with Marcus not far behind. Each man gets on the other side of the door and leans on the wall. Laffat sees a button, presumably a light switch. He hits the button and slowly opens the door. He peeks around the corner and sees a stairwell all lit up, seeing no one. He swings the door open, taking point as Marcus follows him.

  The two men reach the end of the stairway, their guns pointing down the long narrow hallway. Slowly, they creep down the hallway, passing several large rooms. Within these rooms is testing equipment that created chemical compounds, weapons they plan on utilizing. It terrifies Laffat that the Gewerksma is willing to use WMDs, appalled at how they plan on accomplishing their goals. He worries for his people, the ones he has been sworn to protect.

  Yet, Marcus doesn’t share his concern fully. He finds it odd that Laffat would take up the task on such a lead, especially since he didn’t bring the experts with him. While he’s concerned that the Gewerksma are going to unleash a WMD, Marcus believes someone else should risk his or her life, someone not as important. He has finally fulfilled his dream of joining the Krenma and he doesn’t want to squander it away on a mission that could likely kill him. He’s too important to die now.

  “You couldn’t get someone else to do it?” he says, cranky.