“Marco,” he whispered, a small smile of relief forming on his lips.
“Mordechai,” Marco replied, stealthily sliding up to Mordechai’s right side.
“Is everyone in position?” Mordechai asked.
Marco nodded, his light brown skin only just visible in the night’s darkness.
Mordechai returned the nod and grabbed the small walkie-talkie that he’d clipped to his right shoulder.
“All wolves,” he whispered. “Commence operation in one minute.”
“Copy, pack-leader,” was the universally echoed reply.
Mordechai released the walkie-talkie and sighed. Try as he might, he could not pry dread’s ice-cold fingers from around his heart. The night air was warm by comparison.
Marco picked up on his leader’s discomfort and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Sir, you here?”
Mordechai gave his head a slight shake and nodded.
“I never have been able to slip anything past you, Marco,” he said.
“And you never will,” Marco replied.
Mordechai gave a sad chuckle and his companion nodded. Together, they unslung their sniper rifles and crept forward to their shooting positions. Through Mordechai’s walkie-talkie came the conformation that all of his men were in place.
Mordechai took a deep breath to steady himself, and then grabbed his walkie-talkie once again.
“All wolves, commence operation!”
There was a second’s pause in which the whole of the world seemed to hold its breath.
And then fifty gunshots tore through the silent night and fifty of Dorigan’s men dropped dead.
--<(0)>--
Some distance underground, completely oblivious to the sudden and simultaneous assassination of the fifty men he’d posted on the grounds, Dorigan stood on a balcony overlooking the beehive of activity that was his mansion’s basement. Thirty men, primarily engineers, worked with unyielding focus on completing what at first sight appeared to be a monstrously twisted hulk of steel and cable.
Yet to Dorigan, it was beautiful.
Even with the considerable resources he had at his disposal, it had taken more than a month to construct. The first half of the machine rested on the floor on a circular base and was about seven feet tall. At the top, the machine branched out into four arms that curved slightly upward. Numerous cables snaked all across the surface like perverse veins, ready to carry the gargantuan amounts of energy that would power this device. On the ceiling, about twenty feet above the half on the floor, hung the second half, a perfect copy of its brother. Soon, one after the other, the engineers ceased their work, and all raised a thumbs-up to Dorigan.
As Dorigan gazed at this machine, a sadistic grin spread across his face.
At last, he thought. It is done.
Suddenly, Dorigan felt a strange, snake-like sensation crawl up his spine, and moments later he could feel a mind inside his head that was not his own. He did not recoil, however, for he knew this presence well.
“Master,” he said respectfully. “At long last, the machine is completed.”
“And the boy?” the Master asked. “How is he progressing?”
“Better than either of us could have hoped,” Dorigan answered. “His powers are increasing more and more every day. When it comes time to begin the invasion, he may very well be as powerful as I am!”
“Good, very good,” the Master said silkily. “And what of Jin Sakai? Have you removed this troublesome thorn from our collective side?”
“Ah,” Dorigan said apprehensively. “Not as of yet, Master.”
Previously, Dorigan had only needed one hand to count the number of times he’d heard his Master angry.
Suddenly, he needed two.
“I have conferred upon you substantial power,” the Master said, voice tight and cold. “I trust you are not finding it…insufficient?”
“The power you have blessed me with is more than sufficient, Master,” Dorigan said. “That Jin Sakai still lives is due to my errors and arrogance, nothing more.”
It was a long time before the Master spoke again, and Dorigan found his apprehension beginning to twist into fear.
“Jin Sakai is the only one, the only thing, that impedes our progress,” the Master said firmly. “Remove him. Soon!”
Without a further word, The Master departed Dorigan’s mind and Dorigan found himself shaking. He quickly composed himself and found Mark standing next to him.
“What is it?” Dorigan asked.
“Master Dorigan, we’ve got a situation.”
--<(0)>--
All around the grounds of Dorigan’s mansion, fifty black-clad figures sprinted shadow-like up to the building. As a single unit, they each made their way to their predetermined entry points and slipped inside without anyone knowing.
As Mordechai slipped through a window and dropped cat-like to the floor, he looked around and found himself alone. Marco dropped in behind him and patted him twice on the shoulder. They hadn’t been spotted or followed.
Mordechai grabbed his walkie-talkie again. “All wolves, remember that the goal is confusion and fear, not chaos. Kill everyone, but do it quietly. Copy?”
Again, the chorus of “Copy, pack-leader,” echoed through the speaker.
Mordechai released the walkie-talkie and drew his dagger. It was time to work.
--<(0)>--
“What kind of situation?” Dorigan asked.
“The fifty guards we had stationed on the grounds; none of them have reported in,” Mark replied.
“None of them?” Dorigan asked.
“That’s correct, Master.”
Dorigan sighed and leaned on the balcony’s stone railing.
“Well,” he said, not looking at Mark. “I cannot say that I did not expect this.”
“What are your orders, Master Dorigan?” Mark asked.
At this, Dorigan turned to face Mark once again.
“If all fifty of my men have failed to report in, then that means this is not an assassination. It is an assault. Alert all remaining guards. Tell them to kill any trespassers they come across. No one will disrupt my plans now that they are so close to fruition.”
I doubt that, Mark thought before nodding his acknowledgement of Dorigan’s orders and walking off to fulfill them.
--<(0)>--
As Mordechai and Marco silently made their way through the myriad halls of Dorigan’s mansion on their way to the basement, the sound of boots clacking on the tile floor caused them to dive around the corner of a nearby hall. Moments later, a pair of Dorigan’s guards came into their view, and both Mordechai and Marco readied their daggers. Just as they were about to leap in for the kill, a burst of static came through the walkie-talkies of one of the guards, followed by a voice that Mordechai recognized as Mark’s.
“All guard units, be advised. We have intruders on the premises. Keep alert and shoot to kill.”
Well that changes things, Mordechai thought.
He turned to Marco, who nodded, and the pair of them leapt at the guards. The guards only had time to stare in horror as blades of cold steel were thrust into their throats. Mere moments later, as Mordechai and Marco rose to their feet, a burst of gunfire echoed throughout the mansion followed by a pair of screams. Mordechai and Marco glanced at each other, and then another voice rang through the walkie-talkies of Dorigan’s dead guards.
“This is Guard Unit 17, we found two of the intruders. Looks like Mordechai’s men. Over.”
At this, Mordechai’s expression shifted quickly. First dismay, then fear, then a cold determination, and he grabbed his own walkie-talkie.
“All wolves,” he said. “We’ve been exposed. Drop the knives and draw the guns. Shoot to kill. Chaos caught us. Copy?”
“Copy, pack-leader.”
Mordechai released his walkie-talkie and sheathed his dagger. He then shrugged his shoulders and an MP5 submachine gun slid into his hands. Marco did the same, and the same cold determinat
ion that had consumed Mordechai’s expression did the same to his.
The situation had changed, but their mission had not.
--<(0)>--
Unfortunately, the situation had not changed in Mordechai’s favor. Now alerted to their presence, Dorigan’s men had begun to hunt down Mordechai’s. Only two minutes after their cover had been blown, eight of Mordechai’s men had been killed. Sporadic bursts of gunfire could be heard from every corner of Dorigan’s mansion.
As they made their way toward the basement, Mordechai and Marco encountered a number of Dorigan’s men, and they gunned them down with ruthless efficiency. Mordechai spared them no thoughts of mercy, for he knew he would be shown none. Slowly, carefully, but inexorably, Mordechai and Marco made their way to the meeting hall, as it held the only path down to the basement.
“All wolves, report in,” Mordechai called through his walkie-talkie. “How close are you to the meeting hall?”
Of the twenty-five teams that had begun the assault, only twelve replied, and none of them were close.
“All wolves, your new objective is to get to the meeting hall, double time. Close and kill, copy?”
“Copy, pack-leader.”
Mordechai looked over to Marco, who nodded. If Dorigan wanted a fight, he was going to get one.
--<(0)>--
The fight to the meeting hall was a bloody one. Dorigan knew what Mordechai was trying to do, and he’d ordered the lion’s share of his men to group outside the hall. The rest he’d ordered to patrol the hallways leading to it, and Mordechai had the rather bad luck of having to shoot through most of them.
Of the twenty men that had grouped around the massive oak doors of the meeting hall, Mark stood in the middle, his own MP5 clutched tightly in his hands. He dearly wished to unload the weapon on the men clustered around him, but the years of training under Jin told him to wait. That if he moved now, if he acted on his impulse, he would not be able to kill all of the men before they killed him.
Damn it, Mordechai, Mark spat with his thoughts. Where the hell are you?
--<(0)>--
In actuality, Mordechai was crouched behind the corner of one of the many staircases that led into the chamber before the meeting hall. As he waited for the rest of his men to get into position, Mordechai allowed himself a moment to rest. In that moment’s rest, he found himself passionately wishing he was elsewhere and viciously hating Dorigan for causing this whole mess. His grip on his submachine gun tightened, and Marco saw this. He reached forward and placed his hand on Mordechai’s shoulder, and Mordechai looked back at him. Seeing the warning gaze in Marco’s eyes brought Mordechai back to reality, and he returned his attention to the task at hand.
As he cast his gaze over the other entries to the chamber, Mordechai found that the rest of his men had finally caught up with him. He peeked out from behind the corner again, and noticed Mark standing in the middle of Dorigan’s men. Mordechai grimaced, this complicated things a great deal. Casting his mind about for possible solutions, he realized that there wasn’t one. At least not a solution that was foolproof. Sighing, Mordechai raised his MP5, aimed at Mark’s left thigh, and prayed that Mark understood.
--<(0)>--
Mark didn’t know which he noticed first, the sound of the gunshot or the pain of the bullet ripping through his flesh, but amidst the chaos that ensued immediately after, he knew that the shot had been from Mordechai.
Anyone else would have shot him in the head.
As Mordechai’s men burst from the shadows, Mark instantly dropped to the floor as gunfire erupted all around him. Men fell on both sides, and as discreetly as he could, Mark took shots at everyone around him.
The whole affray was over in less than a minute. All of Dorigan’s men had been killed, minus Mark, and five of Mordechai’s. The floor was littered with blood and bullet casings, and Mordechai carefully picked his way through the bodies. He knelt beside Mark and felt for a pulse. He found one, and stood up.
“This one is still alive,” he told his men. “Bandage his wound and then leave him be.”
Marco looked curiously at him. “Sir?”
“That’s an order.”
Marco nodded.
“The rest of you stay here. If I’m not back in three minutes, come after me and tear the place down.”
Without sparing another word or glance, Mordechai pushed the oak doors of the meeting hall open and walked inside.
The room seemed much larger when it was empty, but Mordechai pushed this observation out of his mind as he ran to the door at the far end that led to the basement. He eased it open and peered inside. Finding no more of Dorigan’s men, Mordechai passed through the door and found himself at the top of a spiral staircase. Without hesitation, Mordechai moved down it, gun at the ready. After a while, he noticed that there were no more windows, and dread’s cold fingers wrapped once more around his heart. At the bottom, Mordechai found his progress impeded by a thick steel door. Knowing full well that Dorigan and the results of Project Hellbound lay beyond this door, he pushed it open and slipped, shadow-like, inside.
There he found himself on a balcony overlooking a massive chamber. At the far end, Mordechai found his attention consumed by the massive machine that Dorigan had spent so much time, effort, and money, constructing. Standing before this machine, with his back to Mordechai, stood Dorigan himself. He was gazing up at the machine as though it were a beautiful piece of art, or even a long lost lover one thought dead.
Mordechai’s bile rose in his throat, and he reached into a pack strapped to his right side. Mordechai’s hand slid over the cold metal surface of a pair of grenades. Before grabbing one, Mordechai searched the machine for its most vulnerable point. He was about to throw one at the top half of the machine when he noticed that a series of thick black cables extended from the bottom half of the machine into a series of what he assumed to be generators. Then he heard Dorigan speak…
“Activate the machine.”
…And hoped that his grenades wouldn’t destroy the generators outright.
--<(0)>--
As the generators hummed to life, and the two halves of his machine began to spin in opposite directions, Dorigan heard something hit the side of the chamber next to him. He looked over in time to see something that looked suspiciously like a grenade.
The realization that this actually was a grenade dawned on him too late.
Even as he dove to avoid the blast, the grenade detonated and sent shrapnel tearing through the air. The machine suddenly stopped spinning, and when Dorigan got his feet and looked back, he saw that several of his generators had been damaged, but not destroyed. His minor relief was short-lived, however, when the damaged generators began to spark and growl ominously.
No.
His word of denial was not enough, and the second before what Dorigan knew was to come, he thrust his arms up in front of his face and drew upon the power that the Master had given him…
When the generators exploded, the resulting pressure wave blasted Mordechai against the wall behind him, and the blast of light left him momentarily flash-blind. Mordechai hadn’t even registered the sound of the explosion, but his ears rang nonetheless. When he finally overcame these symptoms, he rose to his feet and found that where the hell-machine had been previously, only a blacked heap of twisted and melted metal remained. Mordechai smiled in victory. Just as he’d hoped, his grenade had caused just enough damage to the generators to cause a catastrophic overload. As he further inspected the scene before him, Mordechai also noticed that all the debris and scorch marks seemed to have been spread around Dorigan in a cone like pattern, and that all the other people he’d seen clustered within ten feet of the machine had been reduced to little more than greasy stains on the floor. Just then, Dorigan turned around and stared Mordechai in the face.
Rage the likes of which Mordechai had never seen slowly worked its way into every aspect of Dorigan’s expression. It seemed to Mordechai that Dorigan’s entire being began to
swell with the amount of rage that was running through it, and he had the fleeting thought that he dearly wished to be elsewhere.
The two men just stood there, staring at each other. Neither moved. That might have gone on forever had Mordechai’s walkie-talkie not burst into life, hissing static and sounds of gunfire.
“We’re under attack,” Marco’s voice screamed. “Too many, we need to fall back!”
Then silence.
Dorigan sneered, a sick, twisted, sadistic expression.
“Your men are dead, Mordechai, no one is coming to save you.”
Mordechai’s expression softened, and he walked toward and down the staircase that led to the main floor.
“Yeah,” he said as he walked. “You’re probably right. And you’re also right in assuming that I will be joining them shortly.”
That shocked the sneer straight off Dorigan’s face.
The steel door that led into the room burst open, and Dorigan’s remaining men streamed inside. Mordechai ignored them and continued to walk toward Dorigan.
“But you know what, Dorigan?” Mordechai continued. “I’m alright with that.”
Dorigan found himself at a loss for words, both perplexed and intrigued by Mordechai’s speech. He was so wrapped up in it that when Mordechai came to a stop, Dorigan only briefly noted that he stood only three feet from him.
“I’m alright with that because we have already done what we set out to do. You have killed my men, Dorigan, and you’ll kill me soon, but I go to my grave in peace. Peace, because I know that no matter where you go, no matter what you do, Jin Sakai will find you.”
Snapped out of his trance by the name of the man he hated above all others, Dorigan blurred forward, clapped his hand around Mordechai’s throat, and lifted him off the ground. Surprisingly, Mordechai only smiled.
Chronicles of the Apocalypse: Revenge, Everything is Nothing Page 20
