Darkroom Saga Omnibus 1

by Poppet

  Your own angel will cut out the rotten fruit from the tree of life and free mankind from your hatred and wrath.

  Today the sacrosanct part of me submits to death, but before my baby draws its first breath I condemn you to the same fate.

  You will die with me.

  •

  Alpha:

  Watching from the comfort of my study, her glazed eyes fill my dwelling with joy. Now that I've broken down her defences and crushed her allies as I did when I took my flock through the desert, she is changed. Defeat is obvious. Without my sons to get between me and her, she succumbs without a fight.

  She did not scream or beg or cuss. She let me lead her with the docile hopelessness of the firstborn lamb. I own them all. I finally have Eve back and this time I know my son is my own.

  The wheel turns. She is like Lilith, incarnating again and again,, thinking she can elude me with her evasive action, the way Sophia did in the very beginning, hiding herself in Eve, but I took her light when I raped Eve.

  I see you. You hid behind your sons, but they belonged to me. You belong to me!

  You thought you could escape! You cannot escape God. I will always find you. There is no avoiding your judgement. Your sins surround you and I cannot help but see them. Hosea 7:2

  Pulling off my shirt, relaxing with my abode finally quiet, the men all sent out, back to their quests, I take a swift perusal over the feed coming to the study monitors. Their tasks and hidden quarters are clear as a hundred eyes blinking at me.

  How is James doing? I'm not sure he is the right son for the Sinnergog, but his eagerness to win my favour endears him to me.

  I like that he immediately took the helm, rededicating the dilapidated sanatarium to me with a fresh sacrifice. He's named it the Sinnergog, and the name is truly inspired.

  He is a good son.

  Lifting the phone, I dial the number, watching the feed from his new home, waiting to see how he reacts when I call him.

  The little bastard studiously ignores the call, bending over something I can't see.

  Answer the fucking phone! Don't you dare ignore me!

  After four tries I am livid, my wrath overflowing from my cup. I'll teach you to disregard my summons. I will be there before the sun rises, and god will not help you because my punishment is swift and sure.

  Pouncing from my chair, I charge to my quarters, collecting supplies and armour. I'll be gone three days, tops. By the time I get back Shauna will be dehydrated, traumatised beyond endurance, a zombie.

  It will be I who resurrects her then. Bringing her body back to life, bringing her mind back to my will.

  Laughing, I descend to the garages, leaving the house of whores to suffer in my absence. The new recruit, Brandi, will be in the same state as Shauna by the time I return. Nothing breaks a stubborn bitch faster than no food or water.

  I will punish them so that they will know I am the lord. Ezekiel 33:29

  ~ Chapter 23 ~

  Vengeance is Mine - for the day of their disaster is at hand

  and their doom comes speedily.

  ~ Deuteronomy 32:35

  Victor:

  Sitting in the back of the C-17, one of my own disciples flies the huge Boeing through the night sky.

  He never knew I was dead because he's a member of a sect that belongs solely to me. My father and brethren are ignorant of the years I've spent abroad, enlisting men who advance my cause in practical ways. Their work is that of ally, not to do 'god's' work, but to be there when I need a quick and clandestine in and out of a foreign country.

  The Apache is mine, kept in storage on a wine estate I bought beyond Paarl because it's remote and a great cover for my illegal activities. The impressive craft is loaded into the cavern with us, fully armed. It's the perfect helicopter for our mission as it has night vision systems in the nose, an M230 chain gun between the landing gear, four hardpoints on the wing pylons armed with both hellfire missiles and rocket pods, and a fuck load of grunt from the twin engines.

  I'm packing to the nth degree and so is Jude.

  We're tagging along on a military flight, and even though I trust my man Stephen, I'm still sweating bullets.

  With Alpha's drug trafficking, if this was a sanctioned mission, I'd be going through the motions with one of his cartel goons, but going in dark means no one knows. Only those who need to know, know. And that is only because I have to get my woman out of that compound with as little resistance as possible.

  I'm not fucking around this time, there will be casualties when the angel of vengeance comes calling.

  We'll be flying the Apache to a farm run by my black cell operatives. I always have a back-up plan and I knew the day might come when my father would require help. There's only so long a man can screw with criminal elements before the government starts sniffing around the trail. I set up my black cell with the intention of being a motherfucking force to be reckoned with if trouble ever found its way to dad's door. How convenient that what I put in place to save him will be the very system to destroy him.

  I've been a busy boy in my thirty-three years.

  I am nothing if not prepared.

  Just beyond the ridge of the compound we'll be flying in too low for radar, ditching the Apache and going to the compound under cover of night on dune buggies. I have to take a quad bike because getting Shauna out will require wheels. I know the terrain better than any black-ops reccie.

  I have coms with Jude, who will fire up the Apache when I give the go. Once I have eyes on the target we'll know what's what.

  I need eyes on the target more than I need to breathe right now. She's the reason I've built my body and abilities back up. This was my agenda. A rescue mission that will end very badly for God.

  We're dropping out of the sky before the plane lands. I know the time is approaching when he starts climbing in altitude.

  It's one of those weird synchronicities of life that every helicopter pilot has to know how to land a stalled heli, without an engine running at all. It's a manoeuvre that requires reversing the pitch of the rotary blades, the downward force creates the resistance and you can land the baby with an ungodly roar, but you can do it.

  As much as I respect Jude, I don't trust him to do it. When we reach the correct altitude the interior light flickers for us, the rear cargo door opening.

  We're just going to fall out of the sky like regular angels.

  If this wasn't so fucking stressful it would be funny.

  Strapping the parachute to his back, I check his clips and harness, giving him the thumbs up. Climbing into my winged vehicle of death, I secure the harnesses, knowing that if all goes tits up, me and an Apache loaded with a full tank of fuel are going to end up as a wreck on the desert floor below us.

  If Stephen gets us enough altitude I should be able to start the Apache while falling. Jude will follow by parachute, I'll collect him and we'll go flying across the pitch dark of a desert night at new moon, so close to the ground that my dear friend will be shitting bricks by the time we reach the black-cell haven in the mountainside.

  No point in killing us both if we don't have to. Like I said, always have a back up plan. If I fail the responsibility is wholly his to rescue my girl.

  Stephen aims the nose at the satellites. Getting ready for lift-off we've already untethered the helicopter so it will slide out the back of the plane guided by rails, looking to all and sundry like the C-17 is taking a dump over Utah.

  Jude gives it a helpful nudge, and I'm sliding ass first out of the Boeing, plummeting, having crucial seconds to get my act together and land this baby without mauling me inside twisted metal.

  •

  Jude:

  Diving out of the rear end of a shitstorm after telling the pilot thanks, I arc into the darkness, hit with g's and wind, keeping my eye on my altitude, surfing the air as I skydive, looking for the Apache.

  It's a fucking miracle, but I see it way down there, the instrumentation panel lights on, the only source of i
llumination in the pitch darkness.

  The beast is just a smudge down there, my own drop cutting me off from the noise when the blades chop the air with the fast descent, hoping Victor knows what he's doing in that thing. He's such a control freak, but I respect him for wanting to take full responsibility if this ends badly.

  To my begrudging amazement I see the Apache steer and swoop, hovering, then flying behind me in a graceful arc.

  Punching the air, checking my altitude again, I pull the chord, snapping back when the wind violently grabs the chute. The way the Apache circles, waiting for me to land, feels like being hunted by a pterosaur.

  Fuck, I'm glad I wasn't around in the Jurassic period.

  Landing with me, he waits for me to get loose of the chute, bundling it up to remove evidence by taking it with us, and running low to the waiting ride.

  I love this shit!

  As soon as we're airborne, he billows low, making me clench my teeth. The dude is a maniac! If he's trying to kill us he's going about it the right way.

  Skimming over two mountain ranges, staying low so the signature sound of chopper blades doesn't reach the compound, he lands us safely at the foot of the third mountain range.

  It's pitch dark and I'm grateful for the night vision equipment we brought with us. We have a heat signature scanner too which will help our cause greatly, and the criminal bastard even got his hands on the ammo used by the military which penetrates right through concrete. If we're opposed in any way I can take out his assailants from outside the compound. As long as our coms keep working we should be a two man annihilation team tonight.

  Unstoppable.

  Victor missed his calling. Seeing the man in action makes me think he should have been the angel of death, not vengeance. But then this vendetta wouldn't be possible if he was purely satisfied with death. Vengeance takes a certain mindset, and he has so got it.

  Lugging my gear, I stand on the powdered and compacted hard earth, the heat in the air welcome and delightful. I love the smell of a summer's night.

  “You okay?”

  I nod yes, watching the approaching hornets. They're noisy little fuckers.

  Vic holds up his fist in the stay back gesture, “I'll handle this.”

  We don't have to speak loud as we're connected via mic in our helmets.

  He strides off toward the four-wheeled quads, talking in low mumbles with guys in such dark getup they're like shadows slipping across the sand. A hombre with a machine gun strides up to me, acknowledging me briefly, moving to stand guard over our ride back to the heavens.

  The other guy must be a sniper because he takes to the hills with his binoculars and rocket launcher. No fucking around.

  Vic jerks his thumb, speaking into his headset, “Get on, it's time to ride.”

  I have to follow him, so adjust my backpack, pull on goggles, and hop on my buggy, impressed when I notice the artillery modified on the thing.

  Victor's so badass it's not even funny. Fuck! Imagine if he wasn't in agreement with me leaving the brotherhood. I'd hate to see what he would have done to me once he'd recovered.

  Holy shit!

  Starting my angry hornet, I wheel-spin, the ass bucking out, and I ease off the throttle, following my buddy up the hill, onto a contour path, bumping our way to the apex of the range.

  He halts at the top, cutting the engine, doing a sweep with his night vision binoculars. Without night vision you see nothing. Leaning towards me, he points to where I should look.

  Christ! This is like Area 51. Most of Trinity is underground, under the desert. That's a huge building yet it looks like a regular mountain outcrop. Talk about well disguised.

  Cricking his neck, he mutters in my com, “Let's do this.”

  I don't have time to reply, the speed demon is already careening down the incline, this time he's not taking the contour path, he's taking the road less travelled. I know that building inside out, I've been watching it for months. Following his lead, I zoot my quad bike after him, heading directly for the pearly gates of Sheol.

  ~ Chapter 24 ~

  A man's worst enemies will be

  the members of his own family

  ~ Matthew 10:36

  Victor:

  Ditching the wheels ten metres from the access tunnel to the ossuary, I take the route I know, the path of least resistance.

  Running low, keeping to the darkest puddles of shadow, I bolt into the tunnel, activating night vision as I speed deeper into the mountain.

  “What's happening?” whispers in my ear.

  “Penetration successful. Moving west. So far so good,” I mumble, needing my focus to remain uninterrupted.

  Entering the huge cave lined from floor to ceiling with skeletal bones, the stark layout chills my new conscience. What kind of 'church' reveres the bones of the dead? How can this practice be accepted around the world without them seeing it for what it is. This is the way evil worship, their god is not the god of the living, but the overlord of the underworld.

  Slinking silently between the altar and the revered symbol of death, the crucifix, I edge to the interior channel that will take me into the heart of this hellhole.

  Aiming my rifle, it's all clear as I sweep left and right.

  I have no time for reflection, heading straight for the power grid. Reaching the boards I flip switches, unclipping the blowtorch from my belt, igniting it with a swift click from the Zippo, melting the switches into the off position, looking away because its blinding with night vision activated.

  The heat could start a fire, but I don't rightly give a shit.

  I have three mace cans filled with liquid nitrogen to spray into the faces of anyone who gets close enough to intercept me.

  With the compound plunged into silence and darkness I head for the emergency stairwell, running stealthily up flight after flight, grateful for my endurance training.

  Nothing moves, no one investigates, and I find this development at odds with everything I know of my father and his paranoia. I should have a team of rage swarming all over my ass right now, instead the place is eerily vacant.

  Edging the door to level four open I swoop into the passage, crouching low, hinging left and right aiming, ready to fire. There is no movement.

  I have exactly two minutes before the back-up generators kick in. I have to get her out before then. It's paramount.

  Checking with Jude, I hiss under my breath, “Enemy movement?”

  “Nothing,” returns immediately.

  The tension in my shoulders vises with a wave of cold apprehension. This feels like a set-up. I feel like I'm walking into a trap.

  Bulleting down the corridor I unpocket a grenade, ready to blow me and everyone in here into a crimson cloud of vapour if anyone is waiting in ambush.

  Counting the doors, I do one more sweep, a frantic sense of urgency gripping me at the lack of retaliation. Edging slowly, using my shoulder, I have the clip in my mouth, ready to pull if anything untoward is awaiting my approach.

  Looking up, checking the hairline crack around the door for triggers, there doesn't seem to be one in place. Opening it a smidgen, I check the edge around the door again. It's clear.

  Shoving the door wide I drop to the floor, rolling, using the detector for trip wires, infrared beams, anything that could be waiting to initiate death.

  Amazed by the sheer lack of protection around his prime asset, I leopard crawl to the far side of the room, scooting against the wall and looking under the tables, doing a full three-sixty around the brainwashing cell.

  She's alone.

  My heart is ramming up against my ribcage, making me pant as alarm surges cortisol through my system. Rushing, I unbelt my babe by loosening buckles, horrified that she doesn't react in any way.

  It's now or never.

  Speaking into my com's, I whisper, “Target acquired. Initiate phase two in eighty seconds. If I don't make it out inside the window, blow us all to kingdom come.”

  I have sixty seconds t
o get her to the underground tunnel.

  Carrying her in my arms as I can't fireman lift her because of the pregnancy, I burst back into the corridor, vulnerable now that I have the victim to hinder me. Checking left and right, up and down, no enemy fire is forthcoming. I reholster my firearm, shrugging to readjust the rifle slung over my shoulder, and burn calories with my desperate charge back to the stairwell. Sprinting, I shove my shoulder into the stairwell door, pausing long enough to do a perimeter sweep up, and then down.

  Still no movement.

  What the hell is going on?

  I don't have time, hopping onto the bannister I slide us down floor after floor, my bunched muscles beginning to throb with tension.

  Hitting the subterranean access point I rest her on the floor, holding the grenade again as I pry the door open, expecting a bullet in the face.

  Nothing.

  Fuck, need to get out now! We're out of time.

  Hefting her back in my arms, I run like Satan's about to butt-fuck me, sprinting flat-out into the deathly still night.

  Resting her on the handlebars, I hop on, igniting the engine with the twist of the key, grateful I'm wearing gloves because I'm sweating so much I'd have no grip without the help.

  Adjusting her so she's braced between my extended arms, I head directly for the safety of the boulders, needing to make it to the extraction point without detection from the bastards in the compound, I gun the 1000cc engine for all it's worth.

  Bumping over terrain, the sound of angry chopper blades descends over the valley as Jude breaks cover.

  He had very little time to get back to the craft, get it airborne and ready to launch the signal for Armageddon. Fuck, I'm so damn grateful he's able and reliable. I half expected him to turn on me, for this all to be a test of allegiance.

  Alpha loves his tests and I never truly believed Jude was on my side. Hitting the cusp, edging onto the flat top of the summit, I turn back as I kill the engine, lifting the visor off my helmet, watching as the Apache launches the missiles at the place I once called home.