Amazing and beyond-belief biological creations now began to rule human existence, and one’s capacity for knowledge soared to astronomical proportions. Then the clones came. Yes, there was a good argument for a more proficient robotics era, but these clone creations went way too far. Mixing DNA and special drugs, half-humans entered the planet with a vengeance. The more clones a world power could have in his or her stable, the more power they would hold. We should have known better. Cloning saved lives, and made people very happy with an option for reincarnation. But the fierce leaders of such a time saw it differently. A mixing of human genes, robotics, drugs, and animal species now formed an elite, super-thinking machine. Regular robots were also increasing in large numbers. This changed the face of life as it once was.
But again, at the turn of the new century, Americans held on. Our military was all but depleted and better weapons became a major focus. Many states broke off and formed their own unions, in particular, several inner states. The once proud USA was broken. As time went on, genetic changes, mixed with steroid-like drugs, extraordinary brainpower, computer-implanted chips, and robotic-like force fields made normal gun power somewhat obsolete. Only those with vast wealth could now be called world powers. The land of the free had become the home of the more fortunate.
Fortress cities sprung up all about. One TV station dominated the knowledge of humans on the outside, and of course, it was owned by the richest of corporations. Sports were no more, except for one such event held yearly called Ultimate Death, a weapon to weapon gladiatorial showcase held by the same power-hungry corporation; not only for profit, but as a meeting ground to make new deals with other world powers. Such gladiator events were rare outside corporation standards, but did also exist in dots about the land.
And now, even more war is moving in our direction.
Half-breed clone creations owned by the rich corporations are slowly taking the place of men, and such craziness could lead to a world never imagined by any of us. One day, clones and robots could actually rule our world. This concept is simply unthinkable . . . but, all sisters, start thinking! Birth rate is being carefully monitored and slowly lowered, probably even now as your sister reads this letter.
Great clone armies have taken to the hunt, yet their success has come only partially. However, so much damage is still being done. Those who resist are disposed of. The United States of America is only a distant vision of its past glory. The blueprint of life, DNA, can no longer be measured in any normal terms. Our world draws near oblivion.
However, as you all know, our secret sisterhood is still active. Many years ago, the world’s best scientists and evolutionists teamed up with myself to make a difference. Hope is what leads human beings on, me in particular. We leaders are known openly as hope bringers, while I myself began to rise in notoriety as being some kind of witch. At the end of the last biological war, the sisters with the evolutionary drug, Starigen 6280; a super-genetic cloning substance, a human growth hormone to inject beauty, strength, and brain power all-in-one, lifted the core of our operation. Always a step ahead of the diabolical and crazed world leaders, our sisterhood did, and shall, hold out hope for a country in deep despair. We are homegrown from spiritualists who worshiped Mother Nature, and relics of liberty, freedom, and justice; the Mystical Slayers are now bred not only with superior intelligence, grace, and physical prowess, but also with true purpose. Each was, and still is, a master of martial arts, lasers, and bladed weaponry, as well as chemistry, scientology, physics, robotics, healing, and advanced computer technology.
Today is an apocalyptic world with laws governing few, and with so many questions yet to be answered, there will be no giving up. We, the Mystical Slayers, are the last hope in returning America to what it once was . . . the land of the free. In my eyes, though they now grow weary, the former United States is still in good hands. I . . . we, have worked so hard to install the proper tools and virtues into each of you gathered here today. I could not be more proud.
So, after all these extended years of living, now I choose to die . . . today is my last day. My bones grow weary, my memory is fading, and I welcome the rest. If I could hug you all, I would. A hug should always be the first step in showing someone that you care.
I end this journal entry with a saying that is famous to our sisterhood, "That flag shall wave again." Carry on, my loves. Be amazing, stand tall and make a difference, even if to the smallest of things. One day, I just know, women are going to save this world.
Goodbye, my sisters,
-Metaya Valteese
Well this story is about over. The world is still harsh and always unforgiving; but Taya’s actions were certainly a wonderful start. Our heroine has reached her end. She lived a life filled with incredible discoveries, actions, love, empowerment, and of course, great sadness.
Yet, what she started may one day mean something. Perhaps in the future there will be another Taya, maybe even several Tayas, those that will set out to make America great again. Only time will tell. Nope, there’s no real happy ending to this tale, but, it is a rising.
THE END
**Bonus Sneak Preview**
Sisters of the Dawn's Early Light
Prologue
A very young, small and pretty red-headed girl was nestled in her bed. She was safe this evening, deep in the sisterhood’s sacred sanctuary.
Then suddenly, she heard a voice; the voice was calm, soothing, and very clear. “Child, I very seldom speak to anyone, for I prefer my voice to be only universal. But be assured, I am with you always. With me by your side, you will undoubtedly change the world.”
The child was instantly awake, but she also felt like she was sleeping, perhaps dreaming. When she finally came to her senses, not a whole lot had changed in her private little room. She had a small bed next to where the other little girls were still sleeping.
The sisterhood was out at a training tournament. The young girl pondered her experiences and the voice that had spoken to her, but as no one was nearby, she kept such thoughts and visions to herself.
***
They are said to be the best in their class, and in truth, these women are the last hope amidst a ruthless, war-torn former nation. The year is 3015; advanced technology, robotics, and a power-hungry mongrel known as President Arn Marcou rule the entire country. The Y-Wood Corporation, his entity, is a so-called boys club for the rich and upper echelon of society. The Mystical Slayers are out to put an end to his reign and bring back freedom to the land.
In order to earn enough funds to carry on as freedom fighters, all the women had day jobs, but in a savage landscape with danger and suffering around every street corner, our sisters have never had an ordinary day.
Hand-picked and bred to be elite, each young girl was designed and produced to be beautiful and intelligent, and each was administered a super drug called Starigen 6280 either before birth or as a young child. This highly secret formula, if maintained and taken regularly, made each of them stronger, faster, and more resilient than any other human in existence.
You have to believe in the good in people, which is something these ladies often say. Liberty is not given these days, it is taken, and this is their story.
Chapter One
Chaya was almost back in New York when her train suddenly came to a stop. This was not an area where any such stop, be it brief or otherwise, was supposed to be made. The fit and attractive, brown-haired woman peered out of a side window in confusion.
A decent-sized posse of horsemen was out there, all brandishing weapons. How they got the train to stop was as yet unknown to her. The woman inside pondered her next move. Today, she had the look of a studious type. She wore glasses and had her brown hair with red highlights tied back in a ponytail. She was returning from a trip via a more western part of New York City. She was incognito and dressed in a simple rose colored skirt and brown blouse. Chaya waited in hope that this stop had nothing to do with her.
Th
ere was a meeting at the side of the train, and some sort of a deal was made before too much commotion began. Then the sound of a sky patrol vessel erupted above, and Corporation watchers were already in the vicinity. The posse outside were now at a heavy disadvantage. Seeing them scrambling about out there, she realized they must not work for Y-Wood. Chaya was, for once in her life, glad to see those sky drones make an appearance.
Someone unexpectedly pushed open her cabin door. He was a dark-haired man with a matching thick, black mustache, wearing a beret of crimson red and holding a cigar in his mouth. He blew smoke into her cabin and took on a serious demeanor with a raspy voice. “Cabin check,” he blurted out. Chaya studied his attire, including his regular dark clothing, the sword on his side, and the brass knuckles on his right hand. He again blew smoke her way. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?” Chaya was about to explain and make up a story, but he rushed at her before she had the chance.
He attempted to punch her directly in the face, but she dodged left, and his hand slammed into the metal train siding. Still sitting, Chaya stomped hard on his foot and then jumped up to get behind him. He hardly felt her hit and turned about as mad as hell, yelling at the frisky girl before him. “Don’t be stupid, you little twat.” Chaya had to keep an eye on his right hand, as the metal band there would surely knock her out with a single blow. Again, he came at her. “You’re coming with me, spoils of this raid,” he demanded as Chaya tried to move from his grasp.
She banged into a wall as she circled left, and he swung once more at her face. This time, she ducked his hooked punch and struck her knee hard into his liver. He felt it wincing in pain. “Leave me alone,” Chaya cried out as she made for the door to get out of the cabin. Her attacker leaped at her and grabbed her ponytail, stopping her escape as he yanked his captive towards him.
Instinctively, Chaya also grabbed her ponytail to stop most of his pulling power. She then swung her right arm over his arm and twisted to lock his elbow below her armpit. She drove down with all she had, and he hit the floor hard under her. He was a tough bastard, and even with an injured, perhaps torn shoulder, he fought his way back up to his knees, still punching and striking out at Chaya.
She backed up as he rose to his feet and pulled his sword free. He leveled it at Chaya. “I have had enough of you. Stop fighting me or I will cut you dry.”
Chaya put her hands up as if to surrender. “What is it that you want with me?”
The red beret-wearing soldier licked his lips as he snarled his reply, “Me and the boys outside are going to share that sexy little body of yours. What the fuck do you think I want?”
Chaya took a long breath. “Alright, just relax, I will come with you.”
The sword-holding guy smiled, “That’s more like it, come on now, slowly . . . come with me. You first, slowly walk down the hall ahead of me.”
That’s not what Chaya did. She was not the obedient type. In fact, she was a Mystical Slayer, a well-trained freedom fighter, as Mr. Red-Cap was about to find out.
Chaya ran up on the seat to the side of them and leaped foot first into this dude’s face. Her sidekick smashed him solidly in the mouth, and his jaw instantly exploded into fleshy pieces. He slammed back into the wall and fell to the floor, dropping his sword. Chaya regretfully caught her landing foot on the side of the train seat and twisted her ankle. However, it didn't stop her from picking up the now free sword and pointing it at the very dazed man on the floor.
He looked up at her. “You friggin' hag! Do it . . . go ahead, drive it home!” Chaya thought of what to do next. She was not a killer; she preferred peace to war. He then spat on her, laughing. “You haven’t got the guts,” he added. “I’ll find another sexy baby doll on the next train . . . one not as wild as you. She will make the boys happy! Ha!” he snorted.
Without a second thought, Chaya sliced his throat. He gurgled like he was trying to talk even more shit, but too much blood was spurting out of his mouth for him to get the words out.
Chaya snapped out of her thoughts. She looked down at the bleeding man, and part of her wanted to do as she had just envisioned, but she decided against it. Shouts were heard outside calling for him by name. “Groudo, Max, where the hell are you? We have to move out!” Chaya took one last look at the ugly, beret-wearing mustache man and then turned and bolted to escape the train. She would have to walk the rest of the way back home, bad ankle or not, and she would be careful to avoid the horsemen posse too.
As she rounded a train car, she peered over and saw a large bandit-like group preparing to head out. One of the men approached another woman that the men must have dragged off the train. Obviously, he was not happy. He smacked the terrified woman across the face. "Let’s get out of here," he yelled. "Those flyers have spotted us. Take the prisoners and ride!” he added.
***
It was tournament day for all the women in the sisterhood. Once a year, top members gathered in New York to rumble on the mats. Today it had come down to eight women, and the quarterfinals were about to begin.
Raegan was an undercover reporter and the sisterhood’s brainchild. She was a straight-haired blond with excellent fighting skills. Her buddy, Mahira, was the tournament favorite and an actual gladiator in the death match circuit. She was small in height but rugged and as tough as anyone around. Then there was Sinaye, a dark-haired beauty, a robotics scientist yet still a heck of a fighter. Also in the quarterfinals were Jansa, a curly-haired blond doctor, who knew and perfected more moves than anyone else here, Zaey, a pretty brown-eyed Australian with judo talent like no other, and Chaya, a brownish-haired inspirational speaker with a smooth fighting prowess and very notable diamond studs on her cheek. And we cannot forget Blu, a wild and feisty flying ship captain who did not back down to anyone, and Envy, the not-too-shy red-headed spy with a talent for winning her fights with sneaky leg locks. Each woman had won their previous matches and was now gathered together.
The next round of matches began.
Raegan matched up with Envy, and the two locked horns in the center of the matted surface. “You’re not going to get me in one of your fun-loving leg locks,” Raegan spoke to her friend. Envy smiled and tried to take her pal's back, but the sisterhood’s leader blocked her before she got very far. Envy then shot in low and grabbed Raegan’s leg. Raegan twisted back and pushed Envy’s head down while yanking her leg free.
Envy pranced about with a smile. “Almost had you there, big sis,” she proudly announced.
This time, Raegan went on the attack. She pulled Envy forward, and as her sister resisted the tug, she drove back in and swept the red-head's back leg out, sending Envy to her back. Raegan got on top of her opponent and immediately grabbed an arm. She then stepped over Envy’s head and put on a nice cross body, pelvis-administered arm bar. Envy tapped and the match was over. Both laughed at their playful match.
None of the women left in the event would overdo their fighting as all were good friends.
Jansa and Zaey were next. Zaey, known for her excellent throwing technique, got just what she wanted as she swooped under Jansa’s front arm and tossed her over the shoulder onto the mat. Zaey tried to get on top, but Jansa with a 'that was a sweet throw' grin, slid back and got her legs wrapped around her friend’s waist. “Nice throw,” she complemented.
Zaey answered, “Yeah, I knew that would work. Now I've just got to deal with your spider-like legs!”
Jansa grinned again and spun under one of Zaey’s knees while trapping her sister’s forward arm across her body. She then swept her friend over and rolled on top. From the top, she bent Zaey’s arm in a curved, upright position, making her fellow sister tap out from such a tight chicken-wing lock.
Zaey smiled and hugged her fellow sister. “Nice lock, girl. Thanks for the fight.” Jansa winked at her and both left the mat.
Chaya was up next versus Mahira. “Oh great,” she said with a frown as she looked at the little firecracker of a gladiator befo
re her. “I was hoping to not meet you until the finals.”
Mahira put her hands out in 'sorry' sort of gesture. She said, “Do your best . . . you might even beat me!”
Chaya figured there was always a chance and took her fighting posture ready to go. However, her ankle was still darn sore from the earlier escapade and all the pre-fights. In truth, she was in a great deal of pain, but she had never been a quitter.
The girls grabbed each other around the neck and struggled for prime position. Mahira snapped Chaya’s head low and got to her side. She pushed Chaya forward, and as her friend pushed back to keep her balance, Mahira tossed her to her backside.
Chaya let out a moan. “Ahh, that was not so bright!”
Mahira moved to her pal’s side and jumped up, placing a hard knee into Chaya’s stomach. Chaya turned in and brought her leg and knee in the way, but Mahira grabbed the leg and stepped over it, landing on her side and executing a killer knee bar. Chaya quickly tapped, and this match was also over.
Mahira lifted her pal up and said, “Love you, girl. Keep working.”
The last quarterfinal match was between Blu and Sinaye. Blu, whose hair was aptly colored blue, and whose body was spotted with many piercings and tattoos, was very much an alternative to the norm in the sisterhood. Yet everyone still loved her dearly. She wagged her spike-adorned tongue out at Sinaye and moved in for the initial tussle. Sinaye tried to toss her with a hip throw, but Blu palm blocked it, and they broke apart to circle each another once again.
RISING (A Dystopian Post-Apocalyptic USA Fantasy) (Mystical Slayers Heritage Book 1) Page 9
