Deadfall: A Post-Humans Story

by Bassett, Thurston

  “Unless she’s a free agent.” Matt added.

  “Maybe,” he pulled his box of cigarettes from his pocket, “maybe not. I just don’t want to feel Carlzy’s wrath when he hits back. I know we haven’t seen eye to eye, but its just business. I’m not hiring freaks to kill off my competition.” He glanced at Cynthia, “No offence Deadfall, really. I’m just sayin’.”

  Ron Clarke gave them both a salute and wandered off into the dark to join his men and do whatever they did on a Thursday night, leaving Matt and Cynthia standing in the chill night air surrounded by the scents of lavender and rosemary.

  Chapter 13

  Bronson Carlyle sat shaking his head.

  “So, you are telling me that an unknown gang of hooligans has decided to rise up and take my business out from under me? Starting by stealing a warehouse full of narcotics?” he shook his head and raised his finger. “Also there’s a Post-Human hitman called Mirage rushing around Melbourne snuffing my employees?”

  Matt and Cynthia stood in Carlyle’s living room looking down at their baffled employer on his leather lounge.

  Bronson rubbed at the bald top of his head as he tried to understand the news he had been given.

  “God damn. I don’t need this shit right now.” He sat back and looked at he two of them. “So, you two are probably next on their list then? You need to watch yourselves. I can’t afford lose anyone else. This is all happening too fast. These bastards know that I’m fussy about who I employ. It gives them the confusion they need to knock my castle down, tower by tower.” He thumped the arm of the chair with his fist.

  Matt put his hands in his pockets. “We are trying to get you a name, but they’ve planned well and covered their tracks. All we got was Mirage.”

  “Find her then. Humans can be kept at bay with the resources we have. Post-Humans are an unknown quantity. She will be the key to getting to me or you two.” Bronson got up and wandered to the bathroom. “Catch her or kill her, I don’t care which.”

  Matt sighed and looked at Cynthia who had begun to stare out the big windows again. “Where do we start?” she muttered to him.

  “We get ourselves into the open. They intend to kill us and Mirage is the assassin in all the situations we’ve encountered. She will come to us.”

  She nodded her agreement, “We just have to know who we are seeing when we see her.”

  The two of them left Carlyle’s penthouse. Plotting a way to catch an assassin.

  ***

  Cynthia had joined Tony at his hotel for dinner. He insisted that he cook for the two of them and Cynthia found herself saying yes. Now they sat drinking some red wine on the hotel balcony.

  Tony looked surprised and nodded to himself.

  “Ok, that is pretty incredible.”

  Cynthia took another sip of her wine. “I just find it upsetting that we need to kill someone like me. I’ve never even met a Post-Human before, and now I have to kill one.”

  Sitting back in his chair, Tony shook his head. “I’m sorry you have gotten caught up in Dad’s bullshit Cynthia. I thought that he dragged me into some crap situations, but I think you win.”

  Cynthia half smiled. “I don’t mind doing my job. I’ve just never met someone like myself before and it makes it feel odd.”

  Tony picked up his glass of wine and stood. He wandered over the balcony railing and looked down at the streetlights and the traffic.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered over the sounds of the city.

  Cynthia pushed the remains of her meal with her fork, she didn’t feel like eating anymore. It made her feel a little guilty knowing that Tony had cooked for her especially.

  “Do you think I’m in danger as well?” Tony’s voice was quiet as he stared down at the lights of the city.

  Cynthia could only shrug. She had no idea.

  “Should I be looking after Dad? Or should he be protecting me?” Tony turned to Cynthia and took a deep breath, looking her up and down. “I think I’ll just stay here where the view is good.”

  Cynthia screwed up her nose and took a sip of her own wine. “Mm, wine and cheese.”

  Tony laughed and came to sit next her. “Can you stay tonight? I’m frightened of what might happen if you leave.”

  Cynthia looked up at his smiling eyes. “I guess I can, maybe. But no funny stuff.”

  Tony smiled warmly and took another sip of wine.

  Cynthia’s eyes blinked open as she felt a cool breeze caress her face. When her eyes finally focused she saw that the balcony door was open and the sheer curtain was waving gently.

  She sat up and found she was still in her clothes from last night. The hotel room was tidy and there was no sign of Tony.

  There was however a little paper note folded and standing next to the television. Tony must have had work to take care of this morning.

  Cynthia smiled dreamily and slid out of bed and stretched. Then the fuzzy feeling faded and she realised how ‘unlike her’ the whole situation was. She couldn’t remember falling asleep, and she was sure nothing had happened.

  She picked up the note.

  Morning gorgeous. Sorry I couldn’t stick around.

  I was sent a message very early about a work

  issue and I needed to see to it personally. The room is yours till

  eleven, so don’t sleep too late. Thank you for keeping me company.

  Tony.

  Cynthia felt a foolish grin on her face. She tried to make it go away, but didn’t succeed.

  She decided to take her time getting ready for work. There was a chance he might come back and surprise her.

  She thought, that while she was here, she might as well take a shower.

  While she showered her mind drifted from Tony to the events of the last few days. She thought about Bronson sitting on his lounge suite after Matt had told him about the meeting in Ballarat and the assassin named Mirage. Bronson had been so concerned about himself and his business to realize that the invisible enemy was sending this assassin to kill his employees. She was one of his employees. It amazed her how some of these businessmen couldn’t see past their own enterprises to see the lives that they rely on for service.

  After Cynthia was through with her shower she dried off and returned to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her hair.

  She was dressed an almost ready to leave the suite when there was a knock at the door.

  “Just a sec.”

  Cynthia pulled on her long jacket and unraveled the towel from around her head. She pulled the door open and gave a polite smile to the hotel maid who stood in the corridor with the cleaner’s trolley.

  Cynthia looked down at the trolley then at her watch. “This room is occupied till eleven.”

  The maid raised her eyebrows and looked at a clipboard that hung on the trolley. “Oh, I’m so sorry, but my schedule says differently.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Cynthia said pulling her left glove the rest of the way up. “I’m leaving now anyway. Go ahead.”

  The maid smiled her thanks.

  Suddenly the trolley was thrust forward hitting Cynthia in the stomach and sending her to the floor.

  Cynthia was quickly on her feet. Thanks to Mr Carlyle she had two years of private karate lessons, so her reflexes were sharp and responsive. She stayed low, squatting in case the maid had been armed with a gun or other firearm.

  The door slammed and there was a blur moving toward her.

  The name slipped out of her mouth as she deflected a blurred swinging fist. “Mirage.”

  The pale blur took form only a few feet in front of her. “You must be Deadfall…” a woman’s voice said as the blur shifted in the air and became a reflection of herself.

  The mirror image of Cynthia poised herself ready for combat, but the difference between them was that the new Cynthia had a broad smile.

  “I’ve been looking for you, Deadfall.” The imposter tightened her clenched fists. “You are the next one on my list.”

  Cynthia bl
inked at the reflection and tried to prepare her self, but she was frozen. It was her.

  How could she fight her own reflection?

  Then Mirage’s attacks came thick and fast. Her legs propelled her forward with a speed that Cynthia could never have anticipated.

  Luckily Cynthia was able to dodge the first of the thrown fists that were delivered in her direction. Then Mirage kicked out taking Cynthia in the side knocking her to the floor again.

  Mirage’s fighting technique was not as good as her own, but she seemed to land most of her punches and kicks with brutal strength. Cynthia had to focus and use her martial arts training to avoid being too injured.

  Again and again Mirage attacked and Cynthia would barely avoid injury. Cynthia didn’t understand how she couldn’t anticipate the girl’s moves.

  There was a swinging fist and then a lamp smashed over her back, a kick would lash out at her chest and then she would feel it hit her lower back.

  She isn’t fighting the way I am seeing!

  Cynthia realized that Mirage’s moves were not the moves that she was trying to counter with her own.

  They were an illusion.

  Cynthia was knocked off balance and fell to her knees next to footstool. She needed to see past the illusion. She grabbed the footstool with both hands and swung it up hard.

  The other Deadfall was hit squarely in the head and shoulder, which sent her stumbling.

  Cynthia rose from the floor and observed the refection of her ‘other’ self. The other Deadfall had a hand to the side of her face and her right eye was filled with tears.

  Cynthia then realized how this girl had changed into her. She hadn’t changed at all. It was a projection of some kind. The illusion would attack and the real Mirage would attack differently. It was a genius fighting tactic.

  Cynthia decided that she needed to get through to this girl. If she could get the girl to understand that she was being used by someone else, maybe she would help them.

  “You can’t change into people can you?” She reached into her pocket and took out a hair elastic to tie back her wet blonde hair. “You are making me think you are me. How do you do that?”

  The other Deadfall straightened herself and wiped some blood from her lip. Her eyes were ablaze with anger.

  “I think we shouldn’t fight. You and I are alike, Mirage. We are both Post-Human. We are an endangered species. We should stick together.”

  The other Deadfall grinned and shook her head. “We are nothing alike.” Mirage’s illusion of her appearance shimmered from a reflection of Deadfall into a tall sexy brunette wearing a black bodysuit and long vinyl boots. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and her dark makeup made look like a sexy super villain. “You are just a name on a list to me, freak.”

  The woman in black poised herself for combat once again.

  “We don’t have to do this Mirage.” Cynthia said, tensing herself in preparation.

  “No,” the brunette raised her brow, “you don’t have to do this. You can just lay down and let me kill you. I have plans for the day, and you are wasting my time.” The woman in black had a cold sultry look on her face.

  Cynthia was sure that this brunette was not the real face of Mirage, just another illusion.

  “Why can’t you just face me with your real face?”

  The woman in black stepped forward and then lunged in another attack. Cynthia stepped aside and tripped her so she hit the big mirror on the wall.

  It exploded with a crash and thousands of shards of glass showered the floor.

  Mirage didn’t pause.

  She followed her fall with a backward kick that took Cynthia in the hip and sent her reeling toward the bed.

  Before Cynthia had collected herself a fist hit her in the face, then a second and a third in the stomach. Mirage’s barrage of punches had caught Cynthia at a weak moment.

  Cynthia blocked the Mirage’s fourth punch and brought her knee up into the woman’s stomach. Mirage doubled over long enough for Cynthia to swing her right elbow into the side of her head. Mirage hissed and stepped aside and swung out narrowly missing Cynthia’s already bleeding face.

  Cynthia needed to end this quickly; the girl named Mirage was not visibly tiring. She dodged another of Mirage’s punches only to have it hit her shoulder. The pain nearly sent her to the floor, but she caught the maid’s trolley for support.

  She kicked backward out at Mirage, her foot glancing off the woman’s stomach. Cynthia followed it by grabbing the clipboard from the top of the trolley and swung it hard into Mirage’s face. The clipboard snapped in half and Mirage’s appearance shuddered out of focus for a moment before she collapsed to the floor at the end of the bed.

  Cynthia stood over the dazed woman and punched her in the face a couple of times before holding her steady. Both women stared into each other’s eyes. Both of their mouths were swollen and blood trickled from split lips.

  Suddenly Mirage’s face was bruised and bleeding. She smiled slightly through blood stained teeth as she gazed back into Cynthia’s blue eyes.

  Cynthia hissed through blood stained teeth. “I don’t want to kill you.” She lifted Mirage’s chin with an aggressive gloved hand.

  “That,” Mirage tried to laugh, “is why you are weak.”

  A searing pain shot up through Cynthia’s leg and Mirage shoved her backward onto the floor.

  Cynthia clutched at her bleeding thigh. There was a long metal pin protruding from it.

  Mirage forced herself up off the floor and stared down at Cynthia, who struggled to pull the spike of metal from her leg.

  “See?” She smiled. “You had your chance and you blew it. I’m disappointed. I thought you were some amazing serial killer or a badass henchman, but you are just another dumb bitch.”

  Mirage’s appearance shimmered slightly and the woman looked totally uninjured with perfect hair and perfect makeup, like nothing had ever happened.

  Cynthia’s eyes were wide. This woman could walk out of this room and no one would even suspect who she was.

  She had to be stopped.

  Cynthia used what strength she had left to tear the pin from her thigh. A shower of blood spattered over the carpet and she cried out in pain.

  Mirage stepped forward and pulled the slippery, blood covered pin from Cynthia’s hand.

  “I don’t want to leave my favourite toys behind…” She said as she wiped the blood on the towels on the top of the trolley.

  Cynthia took this moment to make a last ditch attempt at stopping Mirage. She reached back and grabbed one of the larger shards of glass from the broken mirror and swung with everything she had at the woman’s leg.

  The blade-like shard of glass cut into Cynthia’s hand, but not before it sank into Mirage’s thigh.

  The girl cried out and stumbled back out of reach, the shard still sticking out of her leg.

  Cynthia tried to stand, but the pain and bleeding told her that standing was not a good idea.

  Mirage had decided to leave.

  She had been glancing down at her leg, but didn’t want to pull the glass out on her own. Her appearance shimmered slightly and she was the hotel maid again. Her appearance was changed, but she couldn’t take the pained look from her face.

  Mirage glanced down at Deadfall one last time and hissed through gritted teeth, before pulling the door open and shambling out into the corridor.

  Cynthia fell back on her elbows and gritted her teeth in pain. She would need to call Matt for help, she couldn’t take Mirage right now and she needed to heal.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could on the wound on thigh. She had another trick up her sleeve that only one other person had ever known about. She could heal her body incredibly quickly. Even as she concentrated the wound throbbed and began to close.

  She felt for her phone in her jacket pockets and drew it out. Through her tear-filled eyes she could see that the screen was cracked. She found Matt’s number and dialed.

/>   Chapter 14

  Kara found the skylight on the roof of the storage facility.

  It was another that belonged to Bronson Carlyle.

  The pads of her bare hands and feet clung to the vertical sheet-iron wall like a spider.

  She let go with one hand and reached into the back of her belt for her knife. She took out the short blade and used it to pry the edge of the window open.

  Over the duration of her short life she had committed all kinds of burglaries and break ins, but nearly a third of those were because she had been blackmailed or manipulated by different people so Kara had difficulty with trust.

  People always had an agenda.

  She felt the same way about her new and mysterious boyfriend Ace. He was obviously a criminal, which made him a ‘bad boy’. Which made him appealing, but didn’t exactly make him trustworthy.

  She had done what he had asked her to do and he had been very grateful, but she couldn’t believe that he was just stealing drugs from drug dealers to sell for his own profit. There had to be more to the man. Her suspicions told her that he had a secret.

  She had followed two of Ace’s men to a small city warehouse. They had been ordered to go to the warehouse at night and push an envelope through the mail slot at the front of the building and then leave.

  Curiousity told her that she needed to inspect this building just for peace of mind.

  The window squeaked open and Kara was able to pull the frame outward far enough that she could slip inside.

  She wriggled her dainty form through the gap into the dark interior. There were no lights, but she could hear a quiet hum of a filter or a small generator.

  The wall inside was lined, which was a small relief. Kara didn’t like crawling on the sheets of iron, it didn’t feel good on her hands.

  As she swung her legs down she found that there were some shelves that weren’t too far from the windowsill. She was able to drop on top of them and use the furniture to climb down onto the floor.

  The room was darkened, but from the smell and the odd shapes she could make out in the dark, this was some kind of museum.