Fear the Empire

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  “What's the bad news?”

  She scrolled further into the report. “We still haven't been able to successfully seal the force field.”

  Esmeralda raised an eyebrow, confused by the terminology. “The force field seals just fine. There's never been a problem with penetration.”

  The scientist glanced up from the screen, then continued scrolling. “It isn't the area where the field is being generated that's the problem. It's creating the bubble you designed that's the problem. If we cover that much surface, the field becomes too thin.”

  Esmeralda snatched the tablet from the scientist to see the screen for herself. “What are you talking about?”

  The scientist stepped next to Esmeralda and pointed at the screen. “See? The force field, as it is now, is shaped like a dome. It ends a few hundred feet underground.”

  “A dome? So there's no bottom?”

  The scientist shrugged her shoulders. “Why would there be? No one is going to be able to dig that far under the force field. The Emperor wanted us to generate the most reflective energy at the area we needed it. We focused the field upward so that it would be stronger where it matters.”

  Esmeralda kept scrolling, amazed by the ignorance. It was happening all over again. Their attention was so focused, they were blind to everything around them. They lived in an age of ever-developing Super Powers of Mass Destruction. New abilities manifested every year. Yet here they were, designing their defense strategy around the idea that “no one is going to be able to dig that far.”

  “You idiots. If anyone ever discovers this, we'll all be-”

  The room shook. Everyone inside stopped what they were doing. They mumbled to each other, wondering if the island was experiencing an earthquake. There was fear in their eyes. Natural disasters inside the force field could still hurt them.

  When the room shook again, Esmeralda was already running for the door, running toward her battle-suit, because only Esmeralda considered the other option. She knew that there was nothing natural about the disaster they were about to experience.

  20

  MAKSIM

  Even from where they floated above the ocean, far from the coast of Neo-Nippon, they could feel the earth shake. The water rocked, waves crashing into each other as the island shuddered. Only moments before, Maksim had watched as Yuri dove under the surface of the water, rocketing toward the underground like a human drill, heading straight for the domain of Emperor Katsu Oshiro. Even with his own super strength, there was no way Maksim could imagine digging that deep into the earth so quickly.

  “That boy is powerful.”

  Maksim could see the glint of a smile as Azakor responded, “He is.”

  “You need to watch him.”

  Azakor turned away from the sight of the convulsing island. “What do you mean, watch him?”

  “You know exactly what I mean, brother. That boy is most likely the strongest Zharkov alive. But he's not... disciplined.”

  Azakor looked back toward Neo-Nippon. “Look at him. Look at what he's capable of. He's like a missile. All I need to do is point him at something and-”

  “He's not a weapon. He's a boy.”

  Azakor smiled. “He can be both.”

  “You're happy because he's listening to you. He's allowing you to point him at your enemies. What happens if he stops listening to you? What happens when he chooses his own enemies? You need to teach him when to use his powers. You need to be a father to that boy, not just the finger that pulls his trigger.”

  Azakor glanced at Maksim out of the corner of his eye and smirked. “You get one girl pregnant and now you're the authority on raising children? I have a war to win, Maksim. I can tell Yuri bedtime stories when we've secured peace in the Empire. Deal?”

  Maksim opened his mouth to argue, but a massive explosion distracted him. His gaze spun toward Neo-Nippon, just as the force field evaporated into nothingness.

  “He did it. He brought down the broadcasting tower. Now's our chance!”

  Azakor pushed his fists into the air, launching himself toward the shoreline of Neo-Nippon. Maksim's brief hesitation meant he was chasing his brother toward the domain, trying to push himself faster in order to catch up.

  As they neared the coast, anti-aircraft flak exploded around them. Laser beams burned through the air, trying to strike the two men that spun and rolled through the sky with ease. As they entered the domain, Maksim followed Azakor over the hillsides and into the city, turning north toward the palace. He watched Azakor crash through the front wall of the building, nearly toppling the entire structure with his impact. Maksim followed through the crumbling hole he left, landing in the center of Katsu Oshiro's throne room. Katsu stood up from his throne as guards rushed in from the sides, blocking the gap between the two Zharkovs and their Emperor.

  Azakor roared with laughter, the hearty bellow coming from deep within his belly, but the sound was suddenly cut off as he flew forward, knocking the battalion of guards to the side. Their bodies splattered against the far wall, their armor sticking there, glued by the blood and gore of their flattened corpses.

  Azakor grinned evilly up at Katsu. “Now that we have some privacy...”

  Katsu tried to hide his fear, calmly sitting down upon his throne and leaning back in his seat. “Here to finish the job I suppose. I'm the last Oshiro alive. Kill me and you can proudly proclaim to the world how you successfully wiped out an entire bloodline. Congratulations.”

  Azakor approached Katsu, walking up the set of steps toward the throne. “You think this is about your family? You think I'm here to stop the Oshiro dynasty?”

  “We are your enemies.”

  Azakor shook his head as if he were disappointed in Katsu. “You never understood, that's what's so frustrating. You aren't my enemy. You're an enemy of the Empire. You weren't fighting me. You were fighting the world.”

  “I was trying to save the world.”

  “From what?”

  “From you. From all of the Zharkovs. Your family is a plague upon this world. One that I hoped to rid it of.”

  Maksim stepped forward, angered by the man's blasphemy. “A plague of what? Peace? Prosperity? After the Super Power war, we were the ones who remade that chaotic nightmare into a well-organized, functioning machine. The Zharkovs are the only thing keeping this world from tearing itself apart.”

  Katsu let out a sigh. “You fools read your own propaganda too much. How can there be progress when you're holding us all back. You keep us all weak, so that you can continue to rule from your castle in the sky.”

  Azakor's hand lashed out, grabbing Katsu around the throat. “We rule, because no one else can be trusted. We keep you weak, not to protect ourselves, but to protect you from yourself.”

  Katsu gagged as he spoke. “You act like gods, but you're not. You're devils. I know it. My grandparents knew it. My wife and child knew it. Kill me now and show the world they were right.”

  Azakor released his grip on Katsu and the man gasped for breath, rubbing the redness of his neck. Azakor breathed in for a moment and looked toward Maksim. Maksim considered his next move. He could hear a battle raging outside the palace, but it remained in the distance. Yuri must have been fighting the soldiers that attacked their approach, but the sound reminded Maksim why they were there. Every second that he stood contemplating the morality of this or that, another life was taken. Another soldier fell. Another civilian lost a son or daughter. Another drop of blood soaked the earth which was already flooded.

  He looked back at his brother and said, “End it.”

  Katsu's eyes swelled with panic as Azakor made a sudden gesture, clapping his hands together where Katsu Oshiro's head used to be. The man's skull disintegrated between his super-powered palms and tiny droplets of blood sprinkled his face. When he turned away from the throne, Katsu's headless body fell and rolled down the stairs, crumpling into a ball at the bottom. The once great leader of Neo-Nippon suddenly looked like nothing more than a broken,
discarded doll.

  Azakor wiped clean his bloody hand on his cape and strode back toward the hole he had left in the wall. “Come, brother. We need to tell the people of this domain that they are no longer at war. We need to let them know they are once again part of the Empire.”

  He lifted off from the ground, his blood-stained cape billowing in the wind, and Maksim followed. He was encouraged by his brother's sudden tonal shift. He thought, for a moment, that perhaps ending the war would bring sense to Azakor. Maybe a moment of calm was all he needed to become the Imperator they all hoped he would be.

  Both brothers rose out of the palace, and looked out over the city, which laid in ruins. The sight didn't make sense at first. It was only moments ago that the city was flashing with the technological life of the future, but now burned with raging fires and echoed with the screams of the dying.

  “Did... did Yuri do this?”

  Maksim barely heard Azakor's question before he pushed himself through the sky, searching for the source of the destruction. As he passed over the city, he saw the horrific truth of the devastation: Yuri hadn't simply annihilated the domain, he had taken pleasure in it. Bodies weren't decimated, they were displayed. Corpses were arranged in symbols of the Empire. The bodies of children were strung up by their entrails. Skulls were neatly stacked upon each other, forming gruesome pyramids. The carnage looked like a twisted masterpiece, art from the mind of a homicidal madman.

  Rushing past the repulsive bloodshed, he finally caught sight of Yuri in the distance. Like a tiny golden rocket caught in an endless loop, he was diving and turning, cutting through building after building, decimating another city. Skyscrapers tumbled, erupting in plumes of gray debris. Monorails crashed to the ground, their metal tracks bending into twisted coils. Vehicles were thrown to the side like toys, crashing into the bodies of the screaming citizens.

  Yuri wasn't fighting a war.

  He was committing genocide.

  And he was loving every second of it.

  The two brothers rushed forward, toward the epicenter of the devastation. Yuri stood in the center of a crater, tearing a body in half. He ripped the corpse open at the waist and let the blood pour down on top of him.

  Maksim felt his stomach turn. He had seen the horrors of war before. He had dealt with psychopaths and murderers. He had delved into the shadows of humanity and was always able to come back into the light, knowing those abominations were a small fraction of what existed in the citizenry of the Empire. But now, he was staring into the blackness of his own nephew's soul. The monstrosity he now faced was a member of his family.

  “Yuri!” Azakor growled his name as he landed on the outer rim of the crater.

  Yuri flung his head back and forth, casting the dripping blood from his hair and waggling his tongue as he hissed in reply.

  “Son... this isn't... this wasn't...”

  Maksim did not wait for his brother to find his words. He had already waited too long. He shot forward, tackling Yuri to the ground. He attempted to wrap up the boy's limbs in a strangle hold, but Yuri got his feet under Maksim's arms, and pushed out. Maksim shot away from the boy and smashed through a nearby pile of rubble, finally coming to a stop a few blocks away. He erupted from the crumbled building and flew back toward Yuri as fast as he could, wanting to give the boy no time to regroup.

  Azakor yelled back at Maksim when he approached, holding out his hand to tell his brother to stop where he was. Azakor walked slowly toward his hissing son, holding out his other hand as an offering.

  “Yuri... I don't know what's happening to you, but... you need to stop. You need to calm down. You can't-”

  “I can do anything I want!” Yuri screamed, slamming his fists into the ground, the impact throwing everything that surrounded the crater into the air. “We rule the world, father! We are gods!”

  “Just because we can, doesn't mean we should, son. You're killing these people for no reason. They did not wage this war against us. They don't deserve this.”

  “These things are our pets, our playthings. Nothing more. They're like ants, scurrying below us. You don't pity the bugs you step on. You don't think twice about the gnat you swat away. These creatures should be no different.”

  “Even if that were true... what you're doing is...”

  “What?” Yuri was screaming and laughing and crying all at once. “Say it! Tell me I'm a monster. Tell me I'm crazy. Do it!”

  “You're none of those things. You're my son. But I don't understand why you would do something like this. What do you hope to gain by killing these people?”

  Yuri's weeping laugh slowed, then settled as he contemplated the question. He tilted his head to the side as his brain churned through the answer.

  “Nothing.” He nodded, as if that word sounded correct. “I just want to hurt them.”

  “But why? These people have nothing to do with what happened to your mother or your brother or-”

  He chuckled. “You don't understand. This isn't about revenge. I'm not seeking justice for what happened.”

  “Then make me understand, Yuri.”

  Yuri picked up the torn apart corpse laying at his feet. The top half dangled from his tiny hand, barely resembling a human body. He shook it a few times and smiled.

  “I'm doing this because... when I kill them, when I see their blood spray out of them like fountains, when I see their civilizations topple... I feel nothing. The sadness is gone. The anger is gone. I just feel... numb. And right now... that's the best feeling in the world.”

  The pleading in Azakor's eyes drifted away. His jaw set and he stood up straight. He clenched his fists and even his voice changed to a deeper, stricter sounding tone.

  “I thought there might be a way to talk some sense into you, but this ends now, Yuri.”

  Yuri tilted his head again, as if he were trying to make sure he had heard correctly. “End? Nothing is ending. I've only just begun, father. I have a whole world of people to murder, and I have lots of ideas on how to do each one.”

  Yuri paused and looked down at his blood soaked hands. “Maybe when I'm done, the pain will be gone. The anger and the hate. Maybe then... but not now.”

  “I'm not asking, Yuri. I command you to stop.”

  Yuri smiled at Azakor, his teeth gleaming white from behind his bloody face. “You command me?”

  Maksim readied himself. He had seen enough battles to read the body language of both men, to sense the rising tension. A spark was about to ignite a bomb so big, he had never feared anything more in his life.

  Yuri rose up from the ground, the thick, red blood still dripping from his body. “Are you commanding me as my father, or my Imperator?”

  Azakor matched Yuri's height in the air, raising his arms to his sides. “It shouldn't matter.”

  Yuri smiled again. “It doesn't.”

  Maksim didn't even have a chance to react. His eyes blinked at the movement, and when they opened again, Yuri's hand was impaled in Azakor's chest. The Imperator's eyes slowly gazed down from the bloody face of his son, to the gaping wound in his chest. Yuri retracted his arm, tearing his father's spinal column out through his chest, pulling with it a heap of organs and carnage. Azakor's skull, still attached, dangled from the bony column as Yuri tossed it to the side. Azakor's corpse fell to the ground like an empty bag.

  Maksim stared at the sight, waiting to awake from the nightmare he was lost in. Nothing made sense. His mind swirled in the chaos, unable to act or move or think. His gaze lifted from the torn apart corpse of his brother and watched as Yuri slowly turned toward him.

  “Yuri, wait-”

  The boy's fist caught Maksim under the chin like a semi-truck hitting him at a thousand miles an hour. His body was rushing through the clouds before he even felt it. Soon the blue sky turned to the blackness of the outer atmosphere and his body floated in the vacuum of space. He laid in the cold embrace of nothing for a moment, welcoming the freezing death that crept upon him, but the swelling pain in hi
s face reminded him that there was still something left. There were still people to fight for. There was still someone to save.

  He turned his body in the emptiness, the lack of gravity making it awkward to use his power of flight, but when he looked down upon the planet, he focused on the Grand Citadel and pushed himself downward, descending toward the earth like a fiery meteor. His cape caught fire first, then his armor melted from his body, but none of that mattered to him. His aim remained true and he continued his rushed descent toward his home. Toward his family. Toward Carmen.

  21

  ANDRE

  Leading Lucy and Connor around his supervillain lair was like returning to a high school reunion as a doctor with a supermodel wife. His pride beamed from his smile as he waved his hands in the air, showing off every room and every piece of technology that filled every nook and cranny. He urged them to try out every chair, turn on every screen, and push every button.

  “Isn't it great?”

  Lucy nodded, but she acted more excited by seeing Andre's giddiness than anything he was actually showing her. “This is like... amazing. I can't believe this is all yours.”

  Connor still seemed skeptical. “But it's not yours. You just took it. Right? Isn't that what you said?”

  Andre shrugged and flashed a quick grin at Connor. “Yeah, but trust me, Doctor Chem won't be knocking on the door anytime soon.”

  “Yeah? Why is that? You kill him too?”

  Lucy nudged Connor. “Be nice.”

  “It's okay, Lucy. He's right. I did kill him.”

  Lucy and Connor stared back at Andre like they were unsure whether to laugh at his joke or let his honesty terrify them. He smiled and kept walking, preferring to leave it a mystery.

  “You can take these rooms,” he said as he pushed open a large oak door that led to one of the guest quarters.