“What?” the culprit nervously asks.
“The fact that you think I want or even need you to talk when my method is so much more fun!” I exclaim.
I launch myself at him, grabbing him by the face with my left hand as I continue towards the wall behind him and proceed to slam him into it. I feed my blood down his throat as I look into his horror stricken eyes. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he’s rendered unconscious.
I throw up more blood as I lie down on the floor next to him. I have the forethought to roll onto my side before passing out; don’t want to go out like a bloody version of Hendrix, now do I?
****
I land in the culprit’s subconscious and fly through his memories for information. Judging by the correspondence, I see that his Templar contact is named Michael Alejo, but there doesn’t appear to be any face time. Oh well, this should be enough to work with.
****
Chapter 12: And so the Hunt begins
[November 4th]
I awaken in a completely unfamiliar bed that has sheets with a high thread count, probably around twelve hundred.
“Good morning, Cole. Come down to the kitchen when you’re ready for breakfast.” I hear Carla say.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, sending a stab of pain through my stomach as the bullet reminds me of its presence. I stand up unsteadily as the knowledge of the culprits memories come rushing back to me. Exiting the room, I walk down a dark hallway until I emerge on a balcony level. There’s a white railing bordering the balcony, over which lies a living room with a flat screen TV and a tan leather couch. The windows that line the back wall reveal a nice view of downtown Seattle. I head down the stairs on my right, pass through the living room, and walk down a hall, following my nose to the kitchen.
“Good morning, Carla!” I cheerfully say.
“Good morning!” Carla replies with a homicidal looking smile.
“Would you mind explaining how you got back into the building without me sensing it, why you killed our culprit before we could get any answers, and why there was blood everywhere?” Carla sternly asks.
So it looks like my hypothesis was correct; when porting within a hundred meters, my incoming port can’t be sensed. Well, that explains why Perun and Veles were so surprised.
“Well, I wanted to kill him because I didn’t like his smug attitude, but I did kill him because he was guilty. I search his mind before ending him and found that he was indeed working for the Templars. I’m planning on paying his contact in the Templars a visit, extracting information from said contact, and then moving my way up the chain of command until I have the identities of every Templar that wants me dead. Then, I will go about systematically executing them.” I explain as I sit down at the table.
“Did you learn if there were any others working for The Agency?” Carla inquires as she sits across from me and slides a glass of orange juice over.
“As far as our man knew, he was the only one working for The Agency. I made sure to extract all his secrets before killing him; this isn’t amateur hour after all.” I reply and drink my juice.
“Still, you shouldn’t have executed him. There are protocols that have to be followed.” Carla states.
“Just blame it on Feros and I’m sure everything will work out fine. I need The Agency’s resources to find an address on one Michael Alejo; I don’t believe he’s in the city.” I tell her.
“Fine… I’ll assign Ryuji to help you.” Carla concedes.
“Alright, just have him call me. I have to go get some things before I pay Mr. Alejo a visit. Thanks for the OJ.” I reply and touch my Haglaz.
I port to Niflheim and go in to check on Natasha.
“Cole! I’m glad you’re okay!” Cheza exclaims as she hugs me.
“Has Natasha still not woken up yet?” I ask as I return the hug.
“No, she hasn’t…” Cheza quietly replies. I walk over to Natasha’s sleeping form and brush a strand of blonde hair out of her face.
“I’m going to get the guys responsible for this, Natasha; you just focus on waking up.” I whisper to her.
“I have an assignment so I’m going to be gone for a little while; can you keep watch over Natasha?” I ask.
“Yeah, sure, but what do I do about food and water? I can set up a saline drip, but I don’t believe that the necessary materials are here and that won’t solve the issue with nutrients.” Cheza says and I think things over for a few moments.
“I’ll bring Sara here with some supplies. I’ll be back soon.” I tell her.
I run back to Jason’s room to grab my jacket and armored jeans before porting to the house.
“Sara, I’m taking you to Niflheim; grab any medical supplies you need for a saline drip and possibly a feeding tube. Also, do you still have my old jacket lying around? It may be missing a sleeve, but at least it doesn’t have any breaches in the armor.” I say as I barge into Sara’s room.
“I take it that Natasha hasn’t woken up yet… yeah, I fixed your old jacket’s sleeve and made it more like the new one with the same zipper system.” Sara says while rummaging through her closet.
“Here; I also have a spare pair of armored jeans as well.” Sara says, coming out of the closet with both.
“Thanks; here’s the bullet-hole ridden clothing. You can reuse most of the plates at the very least.” I tell her.
“Alright. Give me a couple of minutes to get my stuff ready.” Sara requests; I nod and head to my room.
I grab a pair of rather tight fitting black jeans that I own; these should work with my black leather jacket and at least I won’t be wearing sweatpants… sweatpants being the only other black pants that I own. After I’m finished changing I head into the living room and plop down on the couch.
“So you’re taking Sara to Niflheim?” Tia asks.
“Yeah. I figured you’d be safe here even if a Predator drone blew up the house.” I tell her.
“Yeah, unless the missile hit me directly, I would be fine. I guess that some time apart would be good for us…” Tia says with her eyes glued on the TV. I’m about to ask what she means when Sara walks into the room holding a large plastic case with a red cross on it.
“Ready to go?” Sara asks while avoiding Tia.
“Sure… see you later, Tia.” I say while eyeing the both of them suspiciously.
“Bye Cole.” Tia waves, not taking her eyes off of the TV.
“Hmm… alright, spill it; what’s going on between you two?” I ask, turning my gaze towards Tia; did they get into a fight or something?
“What are you talking about, Cole?” Sara replies.
“Tia.” I ignore Sara and press forward.
“Cole, there is nothing going on with us; we’re fine.” Sara insists.
“Tia.” I pressure, really leaning into my glare.
“Tia, we promised we wouldn’t say anything.” Sara reminds her.
“Tia.” I pressure further and Tia looks like she’s about to crack.
“Not a word, Tia!” Sara exclaims and Tia starts holding her breath.
“Tia!” I exclaim.
“Tia!” Sara says, trying to stop the crumbling dam of Tia’s whore mouth.
“I’M GOOD! I’m good…” Tia shouts and takes a deep, calming breath.
“TIA!” I scream.
“WE ONLY HAD SEX ONCE, OKAY!?” Tia cracks.
“Dammit Tia!” Sara exclaims.
“W-What…?” I respond.
“W-Wait… you two had s-s-sex?” I ask, my mind being unable to wrap around the idea of both of my sisters sleeping together. I look from Tia to Sara and neither can meet my eyes.
“I-I don’t have time for this right now so I’ll just pretend I don’t know anything about it… yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Come on, Sara.” I robotically reply.
I grab Sara’s free hand and touch my Haglaz rune.
“This way.” I announce as I walk out of Jason’s room.
“Cole… do you
want to talk about what just happened?” Sara asks as she follows me down the hall.
“What are you talking about, Sara? Haha ha…” I laugh awkwardly as I lead her into Natasha’s room.
“Here you go; now, I have an assignment to take care of, so I’ll see you later.” I say.
“Cole, are you alright? You feel kind of… distressed.” Cheza thinks.
“Yeah, I’m alright, Cheza. I’ll see you later.” I reply with a smile in her direction and exit the room.
I go to find Jason, who is most likely in Reyna’s room, so I head back down the hall. I knock on the door when I get there and Jason answers.
“Hey CT, what’s up?” Jason asks whilst shirtless. I’m starting to think that he just doesn’t wear a shirt whenever he’s in Reyna’s room.
“I’m going to see Jericho; want to come?” I inquire.
“Jerry? Sure, let me grab a shirt.” Jason replies.
Jason snaps a shirt on, and we port to the street in front of the Casbar.
“Hey boss! Sorry I’m late for work by… three months, but things have been kind of busy!” I announce as I walk into the empty sports bar.
“Cole! How have you been!?” Jericho asks.
“I’ve been alright, how about you?” I reply.
“Good! Business has been good! Jason! It’s good to see you again! Congrats on the engagement, or so I heard.” Jericho exclaims.
“Jerry! Thanks man! You coming to the bachelor party?” Jason asks.
“I’ll be there; just send me the invite!” Jericho replies.
“Uh, Jericho, you should probably know that the party is being thrown by King Byron, the King of the Vampires…” I inform him, remembering Jericho’s dislike of vampires due to the manner in which he was killed. Jericho’s face falls at the new information, but lightens back up.
“I suppose I can overlook that for one night in celebration of Niflheim’s only prince!” Jericho exclaims.
“Well, alright! Anyway, I need some assistance. Do you have a reloading bench and .460 S&W rounds? I need to make some custom bullets using silicon carbide.” I explain.
“That I do; follow me.” Jericho says as he reaches under the bar and presses the button that reveals the secret passage to his armory. Jason and I follow him down the steps and into the armory.
“Here’s the bench and here’s a box of ammunition. Do you know how to use the reloading bench?” Jericho asks.
“Not really.” I admit.
“Alright, I’ll give you some assistance then. First you should make the bullets.” Jericho suggests.
“Airi, can you make a .460 caliber bullet that has a message on it?”
(Yes, Master. What would you like it to say?)
“Continued on next bullet. Love, Feros.”
The red silicon carbide bullet forms in the palm of my left hand and I’m about to hand it to Jericho when I recall what I’m using this bullet for.
“I’m planning on murdering someone with this bullet, so we should probably wear gloves.” I mention.
“But I’m dead so my fingerprints will show up as being from a deceased man, if they show up at all.” Jericho points out.
“I know, but I don’t want fingerprints showing up at all; I want the bullets to be enigmatic enough to be heard of by people in power so that I know the right people will hear of them.” I explain.
Jericho nods, kneels down, and pulls out a box of latex gloves. After pulling a pair on, he removes a .460 S&W round from the box and dismantles it. Jericho shows me how to load the casing with primer, powder, and how to place the bullet itself. I slide a glove onto my right hand, not worrying about my left because of the lack of fingerprints, and slide the bullet into my pocket.
“Thanks, Jericho! I’ll probably be back in the near future to make a few more. I’m just going to take a few more of these, just in case.” I say as I grab a few pairs of gloves and slip them into my pocket.
“By the way, do you have any anti-material rifles lying around?” I ask.
“I have the Barrett XM500 as well as plenty of .50 BMG rounds of various types.” Jericho replies with a smile.
“Yeah, that should work if I end up needing it. Well, we have to get going; I should be getting a call about my assignment any minute now.” I respond.
“Alright, see you around, Cole; and I’ll see you at your last night as a free man, Jason.” Jericho chuckles as Jason and I port back to the palace.
My phone jingles once, indicating that I’ve received a text message. I take out my phone and open the message, seeing that it’s from Ryuji. The message has an address that Ryuji says is Michael Alejo’s residence, a picture of a half Filipino man in his late thirties, and a short message saying that this Michael Alejo has the right connections to be a Templar so it must be him. I’m impressed that Ryuji was able to find the exact guy so easily. According to the address, Michael Alejo lives in San Francisco, California.
“Well, I’m off!” I announce.
“Good luck, CT!” Jason replies.
I touch my Haglaz and port to the armory at The Agency’s Seattle office. I requisition a spotter’s scope and then I port to the rooftop of a building across from Mr. Alejo’s apartment, courtesy of Google Maps. Using the spotter’s scope, I look into the apartment and see that no one is home at the moment.
“Airi, how far am I from the apartment?”
(87 meters)
Damn… guess I’ll have to take the long way; I port back to Seattle, wait for a minute, engage my helmet so I won’t leave any hair at the crime scene, and port into the apartment. I sit down in a chair, and wait… After half of an hour, boredom takes over and I pull out my phone. I turn it on silent and text Ryuji.
Hey, how did things go with Naia last night?
Amazing! We tried a bunch of positions from this book she found for couples with wings. We had sex on the fucking ceiling!
What? How do you even manage that?
It involved me holding her up and a lot of flapping… I think I pulled a muscle because my left wing has been limp and useless all day.
Try ice perhaps… I have to go. My mark is walking in the door.
Michael Alejo walks in the door and I sit really still. He turns on a light, walks into his kitchen, and sets his groceries down without noticing me. I sweep around behind him and cover his mouth with my left hand at shoulder level.
“Mr. Alejo. I believe you know who I am and what I’m capable of. Congratulations; you are the first step on the road to my systematic crippling of the Templars overnight. You will be giving me all the information you have on all Templars of high standing. This will not be your choice, of course; I just thought I’d let you know of your coming demise and that your friends will be joining you very soon.” I tell him with my creepily modulated voice before feeding my blood down his throat.
I drop his unconscious body to the ground and lay down beside him. It’s about time I got revenge for the harm they’ve done to my friends and family.
****
I see a blur of Michael Alejo’s memories as I fast forward through them. The memory stream rolls to a stop on events that are from a few days ago. In the private booth of some lounge, a slender Caucasian man that is in his forties with white hair and grey-blue eyes sits across from me/Michael, wearing an all-black suit and a maroon tie. Judging by his relative height compared to Michael Alejo, I’d put him at about 6’4” tall.
“Feros seems to be taking an extended stay in the Underworld as of late.” The man across the table says.
“Well, we can’t exactly reach him if he’s in the Underworld, Mr. Evari.” Michael responds.
“Michael, call me Jack. That is correct; we can’t reach him in the Underworld. However, that doesn’t mean that we can’t draw him out, or at the very least, harm him by harming those he cares for.” Jack Evari replies.
“Should we give the order to attack the house again?” Michael asks.
“No, I have a better idea. Have that double a
gent in The Agency plant false information that the Templars have a sniper ready to take out the Russian president during his visit in New York tomorrow. Feros has a friend who happens to be The Agency’s top counter-sniper, and killing her would deal another blow to Feros. Now, I have another meeting to get to.” Jack Evari says.
“I’ll tell The Council of Five about your plan in your stead.” Michael replies. So he must be Jack Evari’s assistant and Jack must be the head of this Council.
Jack Evari stands up and walks away while Michael sends a text that says:
False Report: Templar sniper assassination of Russian president in New York
The memories skip forward again, allowing me to hear the names and see the faces of the other four Council members before everything fades to black.
****
Chapter 13: Systemic Execution
[November 5th]
I awaken on the kitchen floor, the stove clock indicating it to be midnight, but who knows if that damn thing is right since stove clocks are notoriously inaccurate. The body of Michael Alejo lays nearby, blood running from his ears, nose, and mouth; that’s to be expected when I practically ran the man’s internal organs through a blender using tiny silicon carbide blades, which should result in quite a bit of attention during the autopsy. I stand up, draw my .460 caliber handgun, eject the magazine, slide the custom bullet into the top of the mag, replace the mag back into the gun, chamber the custom round, and fire the round into Mr. Alejo’s head. His head explodes, splattering my jacket and jeans with blood; it’s a good thing that they are both black, and thus conceal blood well.
I move what remains of Michael Alejo’s head to the side and see that the silicon carbide bullet seems to have penetrated into the hardwood flooring, but doesn’t appear to be fragmented like copper or lead would have. Ideally, the police will find the bullet and read the message, which will then be relayed to the Templars through their government connections. I want the Templars to be shitting their pants at the mere mention of my name after tonight. Not wanting to be around when the police show up, because someone in the building definitely heard the gun shot, I port back to Niflheim before calling Ryuji.
Cole's Haunting Melody (The Gods' Executioner Series) Page 11
