by Ray O'Neil
There was one image that stuck out from the rest. He paused the slideshow and zoomed in on it, spreading his fingers to make the screen focus on it. A ship that was hollow in the middle, flying through space like a massive flower waiting to bloom, its front in the shape of closed petals; tendrils curled at the ends and floating around its stern rockets. A Yggdrasil was also in another picture, cruising behind the unknown craft, both heading towards Earth. Dr. Mengele was about to open the Mars surveillance file when the G-data was closed abruptly.
“What is the meaning of this shutdown?!” he yelled out, pounding a fist on the holosphere’s metal frame. “Is there a security breach?”
The face of Commander VALKYRIE emerged from the closing G-data, the block of information transforming like a wave crashing. “Intruders detected in Sector 9. All critical data must be contained until threat is eliminated.”
The door to his office whooshed open, a guard captain saluting the agent before speaking. “Sir, cameras are offline throughout grid block 4. We are being attacked but nothing is coming through.”
Dr. Mengele slowly looked over at him, glancing over his broad shoulder, his brow furrowed low enough to reach his cheeks. “Well, what are you waiting for?! Call all able bodies and secure sector 9. I want sector 15 locked down as well. Nobody is allowed in there besides armed personnel. Understood?”
“Understood, sir!”
Running out of the room, the captain opened his wrist communicator and repeated the order over the PA system. Dr. Mengele held himself on the metal box that was now offline, his breathing growing deeper and sharper. Pounding his fist again and pushing himself off of the holosphere, he pressed the button on the far wall. From the wall swung down a weapon never seen by any ERA soldiers, only in lab test. It was still a prototype, but it was the only weapon he trusted to take out whatever was attacking his prized facility.
Air hissed from the glass case, its curved hatch opened and the oddly shaped rifle rising out of hiding to be reachable. Grabbing it by the circular opening where the grip was, he put a thumb on the side. The weapon hummed awake, the long rectangular crevices within the barrel glowing a gentle yellow. The exposed tube on the left side started to pump a bright yellow fluid, filling the smaller tubes lined along the bottom of the barrel. Dr. Mengele stuck his hand into the arm slot in the back–having the weapon swallow his entire arm–and lifted his other arm through the securing belt, fastening it tight around his muscular chest.
“I’m not letting my work be all for nothing,” he promised to himself out loud. “The world depends on my success…”
. . .
The alarm woke Emich out of his deep sleep; sitting up instantly. Being shot at all day wore him out more than he expected, his body still shaking from the constant bursts of adrenaline. Red lights flashed in his dark room, the room to his door opening on its own. Nobody was there, but he could hear yelling and running coming from outside. Waiting for the feeling of his body to collapse on itself, it never came.
He lifted his arm, able to move it at a normal speed — same with his other one. Squeezing his hands into strong fists, he grabbed at the needle in his arm and took it right out, tossing it with a flick of a wrist. The IV bag fell onto the floor, the liquid inside dripping through the needle. The light from the hallway reached to the side of his bed, Emich entering it as he got to his feet. Gunshots rang out, followed by inhuman cries of pain.
Staying cautious, he approached the door slowly, staying behind cover and peeking before he walked out. Right when he stuck his head out enough to see into the hallway, something tackled him to the ground. Hitting the floor with his back, Emich blinked hard, only to see the appearance of what used to be human. The test subject had scales covering his skin, some of his teeth sharp and sticking out of his cheeks. His eyes glowed a deep red, as if they were filled with blood; veins popping out of the sides and pulsing.
Punching his attacker only caused the jagged scales and teeth to cut into his fist, doing more damage to Emich. The bones for two of his knuckles and his upper hand were exposed as he held back the arms of the failed experiment, using all of his strength to keep his clawed hands at bay. Leaning its head in, it opened its mouth wide, its large fangs closing in and ready to chomp down on Emich’s skull. The room lit up with gunfire, the creature tensing as bullets filled its back. Losing its strength, Emich pushed the test subject off of him, having it stumble towards the guard at the door.
Showing no mercy, the guard already had his baton set to “lethal”, its long blade being jabbed into the back of the experiment’s neck. Taking the baton’s blade out of his opponent with a jet of blood splattering against the wall, the guard huffed as he lifted his AX-9 pistol at Emich. His hand was shaking violently, his legs barely able to support him as he struggled to keep his body upright. Emich’s seen that state in a soldier before, that point when every mental suppressant is overwhelmed by fear and shock to the point the body is ready to shut down. There was no time to react; all Emich could do was cover his face and expect the worse.
From the left side of the hall, the guard was picked up off his feet and slammed into the corner of the door. A test subject with his left arm mutated into a massive claw held the guard’s entire head with one hand, continuously smashing it into the metal corner. His helmet started to cave in, with his skull soon following. The AX-9 flew to the right side of the room, clattering against the wall. Blood poured from the helmet’s underside, the neck giving away until one of the blows caused his body to detach.
Seeing the gun near some flashing equipment, Emich dove for the weapon. The massive armed experiment saw the movement and tossed the ruined helmet to the side, a trail of blood forming under it as it tumbled. Grabbing the gun and rolling onto his back, Emich aimed down his body. Shooting once, the bullet tore into the test subject’s left knee, the extra weight of arm causing it to stagger and fall into a monitoring system, sparks flying on impact. Getting to his feet, Emich grabbed the baton from the guard’s sprawled out corpse and searched for extra magazines for the gun.
Movement came from the other end of the room while he scavenged. The popping and sizzling, along with the commotion outside, masking the sound of the monitoring system being pushed aside. Glancing over his shoulder as he grabbed for the ammo pouch, Emich saw eyes glowing red in the darkness, a sharp and painful hissing escaping its bleeding mouth. Aiming the pistol, he fired once and the slide stayed open. Empty.
The round hit the top of the rock-hard scales on its mutated arm, richleting into the ceiling. The experiment’s scream was almost like a Niflheim’s, harsh and booming. Charging forward with its arm back and ready to strike, it hobbled unsteadily, its leg ready to fall off from the wound. Rushing to change magazines, Emich added the fresh one before the spent one could hit the ground and cocked the next round into the chamber. Firing into the darkness, Emich got a shot off on its other knee by the time it reached the light of the doorway.
Landing onto its ruined knees, it kept itself up with its giant arm, coughing up blood because of its wounds. Sprinting with the baton out, Emich jabbed the blade into its stomach and pushed it across the room, receiving no resistance. Kicking it off of the blade’s end, Emich left the experiment there and returned to the ammo pouch to pick it up on the run. Making his way out of the room, he was blinded by the sudden brightness, shielding his eyes as he ran through the large corridor. Outside was worse.
Much worse.
A body flew overhead, splashing Emich with a line of blood. Shaking his arm and thankful he was already shielding his face, he ran into a guard who was firing down another hallway and plowed him with his shoulder. The sound of fabric and flesh being torn into came from behind as he continued running to where his instincts took him. The flashing red lights and chaos around him made the corridor like an endless descent into pure madness. A test subject ran out of the room on all fours, Emich slashing the blade across its neck as it passed by.
He didn’t have enough ammo to af
ford to waste it. Keeping his legs moving and the baton at the ready has worked so far, and he expected it to work until he could get an idea on where to go. Gunfire tracked him as he passed another side hallway, filling the walls with bullets. Sparks exploded from the ceiling, wires and cables falling as a metal panel fell to the floor. He didn’t let anything distract him from the path in front of him, he just had to keep his legs moving and avoid as much attention as possible.
Double doors labeled “SECTOR 9” on the front waited for him at the end of the hall. Part of it was already bent enough at the middle for him to squeeze through it. As he stuck his leg into the opening, he heard an outcry from behind, recognizing a similar one from the room he woke up in. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw an a female experiment running up to him, her long arms able to have her wingspan reach the doors on either side of the hallway. Ducking his head in and getting through the hole in time, he planted his body against the side of the door.
With a dull thud, the mutated female shoved an arm through the hole and grabbed the air, slicing everything her hand touched. Trapped into a corner, Emich stayed low, his head nearly being taken off by the experiment’s long claws. They scraped into the ceiling and floor, leaving long and deep slits into the metal. After hitting nothing but the area around her prey, the female stuck her shaved head through the hole. Aiming his pistol, Emich sent a bullet right through her skull, ending the relentless flailing of its arm.
The gunfire and inhuman screams continued in the other sector as Emich made his way through the new area, one that had less doors and less things trying to kill him. Staying close to the wall, he stood by the door to a side room and pressed the button next to him, opening the door with a woosh. Peeking around the corner, it was another hallway, filled with more gunfire and shouting. A mounted machine gunner unloaded rounds from a MGX-200 as they took cover behind a makeshift barrier made of tables and storage boxes. Bullets bounced off of its side shielding, the other ERA soldiers firing over cover and staying low.
The machine gun fire was abruptly silenced, its triple spinning barrels slowing down to a halt. Emich couldn’t see where the shots came from, but the gunner’s body was filled with holes and fell back; flames engulfing the dead body. More ERA reached their hellish demise as rounds came their way, a few hitting the wall near Emich’s face. Closing the door back up and looking for another route, he stayed low and kept to the corners, making sure to look at the area before continuing on. The next area was storage room, filled with metal containers stacked on top of each other, as well as blood stains.
He was near a cargo bay, an abandoned forklift covered with bullets and rendered useless. It was too quiet for comfort, especially with the smell of cooked meat and gunpowder being strong in the air. Charred skeletons lay on the floor in numerous areas, the guns that weren’t melted by intense flames still intact on the floor near them. Emich bent down and reached for a still functioning FN4X assault rifle. Feeling that he was able to protect himself better, that feeling was crushed when a hand took him by the shirt and smashed him into a stack of large crates.
A fist hit him in the face hard enough for him to feel sleepy, the back of his head slamming into the metal behind him from the blow. Through the blur in his eyes, he could recognize a familiar overgrown beard and mullet. The trash man gave him another punch to the ribs, Emich feeling something break inside of him. Pulling the inmate off of the crates to rev up and slam him back into the metal, the FN4X was knocked out of his hands, clattering to the floor and out of reach. Emich took out the baton and jabbed it into the man’s chest, aiming for the heart.
He seemed to have missed, the blade plunging into his flesh and having him grunt in pain, but still stay standing. Holding him by the neck, the huge man hurled Emich across the cargo bay. His body collided with the forklift, hitting hard enough to topple it on its side and nearly have it roll over on top of him. Everything hurt inside his body and out, parts of his skin torn open and exposing the bone underneath. He saw that his hand was already healed over, his knuckles back to normal.
Making him feel a little better, he struggled to get up, his body fighting him for it. Grabbing the baton, the giant pulled it out and tossed it to the side, blood dripping down his dirty undershirt. He was a result of genetic engineering that was for sure. Replacing the parts of his brain that controlled speech and learning to make room for survival and endurance. Emich has dealt with them before during attacks on NDA camps, but this one was a more advanced and “updated” version.
Unlike the others, this one was able to keep himself from eating his fingers and walking into walls.
His boots pounded heavily on the floor, closing in on his dazed victim. The skin on the side of Emich’s head healed over as he flopped forward and rolled off of the ruined forklift, trying his best to stay on his feet. Fist up and ready for a fight, Emich waited for the giant to get close enough to throw the first punch. Taking one step, the genetically enhanced freak stopped in place. A laser sight danced along his chest, filling it with bullet holes wherever the dot touched.
Making their way up to his head, the last shot at the middle of his forehead was the one to drop him; the ash in the air blowing aside as he fell back onto the floor like a tree. Emich had no idea where the shots came from, and he didn’t want to know. Looking around and seeing nobody else in the room with them, he scurried over to the assault rifle and continued his escape, heading towards the double doors to the next area. Behind him, the laser sight fixed onto the middle of his back, its owner ready to pull the trigger. Stopping at the corner of the door to hug against it and press the button to open it, Emich glanced around, scanning the room for the previous shooter.
He couldn’t see her, but she could see him and now… she could see his face.
“Emich?”
Their voice couldn’t escape beyond the gas mask, no matter how loud they spoke. Once the doors whooshed open for him, Emich ran out of the cargo bay, the doors closing soon right after. The body of the giant gradually combusted, the flames growing and having plenty of fuel to burn through. Taking off her mask, Ashely still couldn’t believe her eyes. She felt as if she should run after him, but her comm unit had other plans.
“Ashley, come in.”
She stood there, speechless.
“Come in, Ashley Webber!”
Snapping back to reality, she turned around and put a hand to her ear piece. “Copy that, Ashley here.”
There was stray gunfire, with an ERA soldier pleading for his life before a close by gunshot stopped it.
“East wing has been cleared. Let us know if you make contact with any of our Saviors.”
Ashley closed her piercing blue eyes; a scar over the bridge of her nose. “Will do, my Seithr. Ashley out.”
Looking back at the door Emich had retreated from, she stood there for a second. Shaking her head, she put the gas mask back on and resumed her mission. Taking the other door to go towards the holding rooms for the experiments, she could already hear the screaming coming from the other side of the door. Reloading, she got her Z-140 filled and ready to resume the cleansing. Once the doors opened, she held down the trigger, keeping close to the wall and storming into the hall.
Emich found small dock with a few guards being completely oblivious to the chaos that was going on inside. One of them fell into the water, his blood clouding under him in the underground river. The other one sliding down the wall of a small checkpoint hut, leaving a trail of blood smeared against the concrete. Seeing that there was a small AVC for personal travel at the end of the dock, Emich pressed the button on it to lift the anchor, having it rock from the slight current of the water. Turning on the hovercraft and firing up its boosters, the boat lifted out of the water.
He left the facility for good… but what happened to him there would never leave his mind.
Chapter 5
“Valerie, connect me with the UAC.”
“Of course, sir.”
Sitting down in his antiq
ue leather throne in a hurry, Demeitri Kuznetsov put a hand over his lips. His personal assistant tapped away on her wrist screen, typing at a speed Demeitri couldn’t even bother to achieve. She could connect him to the UAC and get through all of its security measures in her sleep, having done it so many times ever since she started working there. She was always told to have been a model instead, having the figure and the looks to be featured on the latest advertisements, due to her strict diet and her face never being under a knife. The beauty mark on the left side of her lower lip–and her naturally red hair that was always braided on both sides–made her even more desired to be up on the billboards.
Demeitri used to live that life, being the same way — as if he was sculpted for display in an art gallery. It wasn’t too long ago; him being the owner of Sindri Corporation for five years now and barely hitting thirty the previous month. The other members of the United American Congress never tell him about their meetings. If it wasn’t for the informate organization he hired, that has a network of spies within everyone else's mainframes, he would never be able to get there in time and put in his vote. It didn’t mean much to them, but it meant the world to Demeitri.
Ever since the attack on Mars, having a part in deciding today meant more than anything.
“Lit Electronics seems to be in the middle of a speech, sir,” Valerie said in her soft voice. Adjusting her digi-glasses nervously, she always worried about Demeitri scolding her for asking first. Thankfully, her well chiseled face was able to stay stone stiff after him showing his temper plenty of times prior.
