by Brett Bam
“Please Agent Jericho, we did nothing to harm you. It was that thing out there on the spindle, and it's coming in here after me.”
Kedesh shot him a look and then shuddered as they made eye contact with Kulen. The rainbow eyes were bright and captivating. A wry expression appeared on his face, as if he suddenly got the joke. He dropped his gun to his side and motioned for his squad to do the same.
“Come in,” said the agent and stepped back into the doorway. They flooded through.
Moving down a corridor and through a set of double doors. They were in the nerve centre of the docking complex. Techs sat at dead screens and a wide set of windows, with a spectacular view of space and the docks, dominated a wall. People worked at consoles on the ceiling above them. Everyone in the room turned in their seats at the commotion of a large group entering the room.
“What's going on? What is that out there? Are you responsible for the power outage?” demanded Jericho.
“We didn't attack the asteroid.” Said Jack Mac.
“No, but that thing will.” Kulen pointed up the spindle to the light.
Jericho looked straight down the spindle to the cooling conglomeration of shining steel there. It was large and glutinous and metallic, and it was attached to the spindle with a single gossamer line he could just see.
“What is it?”
“Current theory is some sort of space ship, probably from the Protocol.”
“Earth’s Protocol sent two ships? A warship, and that?” They nodded. Jericho grinned a Cheshire grin and said to Jack Mac, “And how is it you think you can help?”
Kulen stepped forward and held up his silver hand, fingers splayed. It grew white bright, and blinked. The air in the room stirred, and all the machines came back to life. There were beeps and alarms, the whir of small fans and the click of warming alloys. A flicker of what seemed to be lightning webbed its way across the docks outside, grounding itself in sensors everywhere. The screens flickered on, and suddenly there was a torrent of information streaming at them. The technicians became very busy. They started yelling out problems to each other and the director started giving orders.
“How did you do that.” Kedesh Jericho grabbed Kulen by the arm and steered him a few steps away from the group. Jack Mac signalled to Moabi to let it go, he shot Curtis a look and winked to reassure her.
Kedesh wasn't waiting for an answer. He pulled Kulen’s hand to him and grasped it. He took a deep breath and stared, it looked like solid metal. He looked up into the eyes of the boy, and an electric shock made him drop the hand and jump back in a move which made Kulen smile.
“We didn't cause the blackout, there was another Cataclysm.”
Kedesh frowned, “What? A…, what?”
“A Coronal Mass Ejection. We saw the after effect across the whole of space while we were outside. It's not just here, it's not just local. It’s everywhere. The sun has exploded again.”
“He's telling the truth,” said one of the techs. “Look.”
He put his information up on the main screen for the entire room to see. All across space, everything was dark and silent. Across half of the heavens the bright sun raged. It was a white immensity, and from its outer envelope stretched a shining cloud of expelled gas which covered the stellar sky. Only the brightest stars shone through the drifting obstructions. The sky of Armageddon. The second death of man.
Kedesh Jericho thought again of his family and the chaos between them. If this boy could simply start up machines wherever he went, they could help a lot of people on the way to his family. He looked at Kulen with a fresh mind.
“If I could get you to transport, could you start it?”
“Yes.”
“What about that thing outside?”
“It's after me. If it catches me then I can't help anybody. It will take me back to Earth against my will.”
“Then we'd better not let it catch you.”
With the light still dimming above them they turned to the doors and walked out. As they exited the building they walked into the direct light of the thing on the spindle. The armed squad of GASD agents fanned out around them, two men took point.
The light moved.
Shadows tracked across the plaza the light drifted across the windows, a predator looking into a parlour. Then it was suddenly off the spindle and in the open plaza before them, through the glass, and without breaking it, faster than a bolt of lightning. It settled to the paving in the middle of the space and burned hotly, throwing sparks and smoke. It was incandescent. Kulen couldn't help but think they were too slow by far, and already too late.
“AHH, LOOK AT YOU. SO YOUNG.”
The voice boomed loudly to echo around the plaza. It was deep and made everything vibrate.
The light was suddenly smaller somehow. It had edges. They wobbled and out of the light stepped a man. None of them could make out his details, he was silhouetted. He was tall and slim with broad shoulders, nothing else.
“Who are you?” sobbed Kulen.
The man in the light laughed, it was almost a chuckle. “AHH, KULEN, WHEN YOU FINALLY FIGURE ALL THIS OUT YOU’RE GOING TO LAUGH ABOUT IT. YOU KNOW ME, I SHARE YOUR BURDEN.” The glove on Kulen’s hand tugged toward the stranger.
“COME WITH me Kulen.” his voice modulated, dropping in volume and intensity to a pleasant bass tone. “Your fate awaits you, you can't escape it.”
“You killed my father!” screamed the young boy. “You murdered him! He was begging for help and you shot him in the head!”
The light winked off, and there was a man in a black suit standing at the base of the steps. His face was in shadow.
“I didn't kill Marcos. That wasn't me. If I had been there I would never have harmed him.”
“So? What do you want of me, Protocol man?”
“I'd like to start with some atonement for the death of Lutho Vol Max.”
Kulen flushed at the name and hung his head. “That wasn't what was meant to happen. He attacked me.”
“And will you attack me? Do you know who I am?”
He lifted his hand to show them all that it was coated in silver. A deep bass beat sounded out, it swept across the space and when it encountered Kulen’s silver hand it echoed and sounded back, as if in acknowledgement. Kulen screamed and grasped desperately at his hand as if it was burning.
Jericho stepped forward, his gun up and pointed. “Stop that! Identify yourself!”
“Oh please!” said the intruder dismissively. He waved his silver hand and Jericho's squad stopped moving. They all dropped their weapons and simply walked away. He pointed at Jericho and said, “I dare you to try and shoot me.”
Jack Mac flicked a hand signal at Moabi who didn't hesitate, he surged down the steps and dived at the man. He was stopped suddenly, as if he had hit a steel post. Moabi grunted mightily and fell to the ground, unprepared for the degree of impact. The man hadn't moved.
Jack Mac didn't wait. As Moabi moved so did he, he grabbed Kulen by the scruff of his neck and ran around the stranger, giving him a wide berth. The others followed, weapons trained on the struggling duo.
Moabi came up fast and grabbed the stranger’s shirtfront. With a mighty heave he pulled, expecting to lift the man so he could throw him bodily. But nothing happened. He couldn't lift him, he strained, but his shirt didn't even tear. He changed tactics quickly, grabbing the mans arm and circling his head with his powerful arm. He pulled again. Nothing happened, the man did not move. Moabi simply couldn't shift him. He twisted and turned and pulled harder, straining now. His muscles bulged, he braced his legs. He reached around circling the smaller man’s chest and tried again. He couldn't move him. He let go and stared, they stood within arm’s reach of each other. The dark man smiled and Moabi was flummoxed. He struck the man’s face viciously. It was an impressive blow but the man moved with the punch so well that he almost avoided it entirely. Still no reaction. Moabi let loose a flurry of combinations, and despite being within reach, he could barely
make contact, the stranger was reading every move and rolling with it too well to connect a solid blow. After a quick three jab combo, Moabi stepped back and launched a boot into his opponent’s chest. This time he didn't avoid it, but he wasn't moved, Moabi was instead pushed backwards to land flat on his back. The man was still standing there, unharmed and unmoved, and Moabi knew then that he was beaten.
Moabi thought back to the years before his deliverance. To the savage battles he had fought for the thrill of the crowd. He thought of the many famous and powerful foes he had trampled beneath his feet. There was one that stood out. A man of such immense physical strength that the hand weapon he used daily was too heavy for a normal man to lift. Moabi had brushed up against this enemy many times. During a melee, he had been one of four who had attacked the giant. Moabi was the only one who survived the encounter. Another time they had been placed on the same side against an invading force, a bloody drama for the masses. Moabi had stood shoulder to shoulder with the man and been dwarfed by his power. He had truly terrified Moabi, and he was the only opponent he knew he could never beat. Once, during their initial encounter Moabi had delivered a kick to the giant’s chest, identical to the one he had just executed. The giant had bellowed and shook and was cast backwards, stumbling to one knee. It had enraged him and led to the gory death of another gladiator. But this dark man never moved and Moabi knew he was outclassed by an order of magnitude.
With a grim determination Moabi attacked again. He tried to sweep his feet, but had as much luck as he did trying to pick the man up. He decided to go in to the head with a murderous combination. He stood toe to toe with the man and punched him as hard as he could. The man’s head rolled around the punches, yet he remained unharmed. The first stirrings of anger now bullied their way into Moabi’s temper. The fire inside sputtered and flared. He grabbed the man by the throat with both hands, rage growing red in his eyes. He was shouting now, roaring obscenities and screaming powerfully. Spittle flew and Moabi's eyes turned red as if they were bleeding. Still no reaction. The rage took utter control, Moabi lost himself to the red rush in a last desperate attempt to harm this man. He squeezed with all his might.
“Ah, yes Moabi. There it is.” Said the choked man in a normal voice. “The rage. The savage. There it is.”
Moabi squeezed harder, scowling. “I've thought about this moment many times Moabi.” He pronounced the name perfectly, the way his father and brothers had once said it. “I wondered how you would persuade me to do it. What would be the action you use to goad me? Is it as simple as this, you try to kill me with your hands? Or is it something else? Something in your mind?” The man’s eyes shimmered all the colours of the rainbow.
“Curtis?”
Moabi screamed a deep rutting roar, spit flew and his eyes bulged. He squeezed and squeezed but could not stop this infernal creature from talking. He poured the last of his rage into choking this puppy. He would do it, he would kill him. Now, this was over.
“I know about you and her. I know how you watch her. I know what she means to you. And I know what you're going to do to her.”
Moabi flinched. From somewhere he found the strength to tighten his grip. Veins lined his sweat-soaked skin.
“I know how long you've been planning it for. I know it all Moabi. And she doesn't. She doesn't see it in you, the savage, the jealous possessor. She can't see the killer. But just because she doesn't see it doesn't mean she's safe now, does it?”
Moabi roared at his words and turned to look at Curtis, guilt written all over. But Curtis was nowhere to be found. Gone, run with the boy.
“You're too much monster for a girl like that Moabi. You will eat her, devour her, rip her apart. You know how she will bleed.”
Moabi raged. He began to hit, settling into a punching routine on his opponent which would have shattered a lesser body. But the man still stood. Moabi was actually tiring of this. He could not hurt him and was exhausting himself in the attempt, and still this man would not fall. With a final shout Moabi grabbed him by the neck and began to pound his head hard and fast.
“You know, I think I've had about enough of this.”
There was a spark and Moabi jumped back with hands up in shock. He backed away from the man a couple of paces. He glanced backward over his shoulder and saw Jack Mac crouched at the mouth of an alley, weapon up.
“Oh, your little friends, yes. Don't worry I'll catch up to them, right now this is between us.”
The man in the dark suit reached forward and thrust his hand through Moabi’s chest. It erupted out of his spine, fingers pointed sharply. When the man pulled his arm back Moabi staggered, but stood. In the alley behind Jack Mac, Kulen screamed. Jack Mac fired a volley of shots which hit some sort of protective field around the stranger, who stood unharmed. Jack Mac whirled into the shadows, knowing Moabi was done.
“I know you've wanted this Moabi. I know you've wanted a warrior’s death. I know how much the urges have driven you. I know that you want to spill her blood. I'm here to protect her from you. She's safe from you now Moabi. Instead taking her life, you will give yours, this is proper.”
There was pity in the man’s eyes now, in the lean of his head. “I will finish it cleanly for you next. If you do one thing, if you say the words. If you confess.”
Moabi’s eyes filled with tears, his mouth with spittle.
“How did you know these things?” Moabi asked him, clutching his torn stomach. How did you know of the monster inside? None of the others did. None of the others ever knew what I wanted. How did you know?”
“Because your soul is open to me and I can see it in your heart.”
Moabi looked at the man, bright red blood staining his lips. He looked at his death, saw it clear and plain. There was a tremendous surge of relief at the realisation. It was over, he would never do the thing to Curtis, she would escape him after all. His dark fantasy was unrealised. Moabi could go to his ancestors without the blood of the innocent on his hands
He did not know if this man before him was angel or devil. What he did know is that he was a finality. It was a good death, he nodded.
With a flick of the man’s hand, Moabi’s head left his shoulders and rolled on the ground. The body simply sagged and toppled, spilling into the dust.
The man from the light stood alone in the plaza looking at the fallen body. The plaza was empty and dark after the light. It was suddenly a cold place, scorched and blackened. Smoke lurked in the corners. The black windows of the docks loomed above it all.
The man in black boomed across the plaza in his amplified voice, “COME OUT JEREMIAH, COME OUT.”
Nothing happened. The plaza was still. Blood pooled. The stranger looked into the deepest shadow.
“I CAN SEE YOU THERE JEREMIAH. I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT. COME OUT.”
There was a long pause, and then Jeremiah Comfort stepped into the light, dressed in black. He was hooded, his face hidden in shadow.
“You want the boy, Jeremiah?”
Comfort walked into the plaza and came to stand near the man in black, just behind his shoulder, Moabi's head at their feet.
“You're out hunting Jeremiah.”
Comfort looked at this being of power, completely enraptured. Here was the very embodiment of his desire. He wanted to be like this creature. He wanted to exude strength and power and ability like this. Comfort thought he was beautiful, his desire escaped and become flesh. The stranger smiled as Comfort thought that.
“Oh, Jeremiah. Look at you now. You're smaller than I remember you, not nearly as terrifying as you once were. But then I have outgrown you, haven't I?”
“Who are you?”
The stranger’s smile widened. “That's not the question you wanted to ask me Jeremiah.”
Comfort flushed and he looked away from the dark man’s face, unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze.
“What are you?” Comfort’s voice trembled.
“I am the omega, Jeremiah. I am the last man. I will be yo
ur doom.” His voice was deep, it rumbled. The dark man saw the realisation of the truth of this statement sink in to Comfort’s heart and his smile widened again.
“But not yet. First you must do something which you have done before. You must finish your hunt Jeremiah, have you found your prey?” There was a silence. “I know where it is.”
He held his hand up to show a silver dollar coin. It appeared prettily in his hand and he tossed it gently to Comfort. Jeremiah went to catch it with a quick hand, but when he touched it, it shocked him. There was an audible click from an energy release and Comfort spasmed. The inner effect of this contact was much more dramatic. Every nerve in Comfort’s body was suddenly overwhelmed and intensely stimulated. A pit opened in his mind and he fell helplessly into it. The darkness swallowed him. The man in black began to laugh as he flipped the old man’s mind open and exposed all his secrets. He set fire to those desires with the twist of his silver hand. They flushed up inside Comfort like hot blood and the need was upon him. He wanted the boy. The desire to consume raged up in him like the tsunami which had soaked the city.
Comfort looked at the stranger and the terrifying man with rainbow eyes nodded his approval. Comfort saw the acceptance of his insanity, the knowledge of it was in his face. The man in black did more than accept it. With a smile, he blessed it, and Comfort felt the wash of gratification. He would have the boy!
“GO JEREMIAH COMFORT. THIS IS YOUR LAST HUNT.” Comfort turned and ran, his maniacal shriek echoed by the man in black's easy laughter.
“We need transport.”
They ran as a group past three vehicle collisions. They were unattended by any emergency personnel, and oil and shattered glass stained the street. There were dead and bleeding people, but they ran on. Kedesh Jericho led the way and the others followed, trusting his knowledge. He ran through a park, curiously untouched. Across another road and down a flight of concrete stairs. After going down 11 floors, Jack Mac said, “We’re getting very deep here, where are we going?”
“We need a fast way across the chamber, this is the best way.”
