Crimson Rain

by Tex Leiko

  Max smiled wide like a child and happily said, “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  “Yeah, I could tell. It sounds like something out of some corny children’s comic book or something. If it is really what you want to be called, fine, but if we get to the battlefield and someone makes fun of you for it, don’t let it distract you and miss your mark.”

  Max made a dismissive pfsshtt noise and waved her off. “Comic book, my ass. Besides…what’s wrong with comics? They’re great!”

  “Figures.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Hey, I thought of one other thing that would keep you from helping me,” she said nonchalantly as she typed away on a tablet computer without looking up.

  “What’s that?”

  “As far as I can tell, you don’t know any martial arts. Nor do you know how to swing any melee weapon properly.”

  Max looked up from his schematic and stared past her. “Well…no.”

  “It’s okay, I’ve got something for you. It’s in the other room.”

  Max didn’t want to leave his schematic, but before he knew it, Crimson had grabbed him by his wrist and was pulling him out of his seat. She led him down the hallway and into a room past the lab they were in.

  The room was vast, white, and the walls were covered in thick, soft padding. The padding on the floor was some kind of foam. It would soften a fall, but not much, and it wasn’t so soft that it would hinder movement. The room was empty except for a weapons rack with any form of plasma melee weapon one could imagine. The only other thing in the whole thirty-by-thirty foot room was a four armed statue of a skeleton holding carbon fiber electroshock tonfas.

  The statue was large and menacing. It had eyes that looked as if it could spring to life at any time. The entire frame of this piece of artwork was made of carbon fiber. Its jaw gaped half open, looking like a ventriloquist dummy that was midsentence. It gave Max the creeps.

  “This is the sparring room,” Crimson started. “I suggest you find a weapon you feel comfortable with. You’re going to need it in about a minute.”

  “I’m not going to fight you. What if I hurt you?”

  Crimson stared at him as if he were joking. “First off, you couldn’t touch me if you wanted to. Second, you aren’t fighting me. You’re fighting Luther over there,” she said as she pointed to the grotesque statue.

  “Right…I’m fighting a statue, how novel.”

  “Eratus vincu klaas,” Crimson said, as if chanting some ancient spell.

  The behemoth statue’s eyes lit up in a pale, sickly green color. They looked eerie and vile; the contrast of the sleek black of the carbon fiber against the green gave the statue an almost mythical feel. It began walking toward Crimson and Max at an alarming rate. Max grimaced and Crimson stepped forward.

  “Long time no see, Luther!” Crimson called out, waving at the object as if it were a person.

  “Indeed, it has been, Crimson,” a mechanical voice bellowed ominously.

  Max glared at her and said, “How did you program it so intricately?”

  “Program? It’s not a program. It’s an intelligence much like yours and mine. Luther is an old friend of mine.”

  “An artificial intelligence? I thought those were outlawed, banned! You remember what happened in two-thousand-twenty-eight? The stupid American government created one to aid in the civil war that had erupted and it turned on them. It dropped nukes and exploded reactors all across their countryside and exterminated them over night! That was the start of the Great Extinction here on earth and the whole reason we can barely grow real food anywhere! The only saving grace is the AI had destroyed its own mainframe inadvertently before it could back itself up, or else who knows what other kind of havoc it would wreak? And you have one?”

  Luther began to laugh and Crimson wore an expression that stated, “You’re an idiot, Max.”

  “No, Luther was a neurologist studying what made people’s personalities. He was developing a type of brain MRI that could copy every detail down to the last and store it as binary data. You could then upload your personality into a shell of some sort, such as the one you see in front of you now. However, before his work could be completed, Luther was assassinated. By none other than the lovely Alexarien government. I have no solid proof, but it is what we believe. After his assassination, I went to his lab and did some snooping. Apparently, Luther was testing his own technology on himself and had made a backup of his persona. However, he hadn’t perfected the technology yet. I created for him this shell and loaded in his personality, trying to bring my dead friend back. It did. He is who he was, the way he responds, voice patterns, feeling, the whole lot of it. However, he has lost his spark of brilliance; nothing makes sense to him scientifically speaking, so he could never assist me as my inventor the way you will.

  “Something severe is missing in him, and since I believe that the flaw was in his early scanning technology, there is nothing we can do to restore Luther to his full potential. However, he still offers himself to me willingly. In case some day he goes out of control, because it isn’t really for sure if he is an AI or a person, his shell has a failsafe with voice activation. The words I uttered earlier are from a dead language. When I speak them, he activates and wakes up. If I were to speak them again, he would fall asleep. Luther understands the failsafe and doesn’t feel the time he is asleep, so he doesn’t mind, do you, Luther?”

  “Not at all, mistress Crimson,” he said, kneeling.

  Luther’s body stood about six feet, eight inches and he loomed over both Max and Crimson. It appeared to be designed for speed and efficiency of movement. There were no extra fancy parts bogging down the mobility. His four arms would certainly give him an upper hand in combat as well.

  “If you don’t feel the time you are asleep, Luther, then why did you say it had been a long time?” Max questioned skeptically.

  “Because it must have been, what…five years since you’ve last awakened me from my sleep? Am I close to correct on that, Crimson? I am making the assumption because I remember you looking much younger.”

  “It’s been seven, Luther, so thanks for the compliment. I must not be looking too bad in my old age,” she said with a grin.

  “You see when I am off, I am off. I have no knowledge of what is going on around me. So it feels as if I had seen her yesterday, but I am sure a lot has changed in the last seven years, hasn’t it?” Luther asked, still kneeling before Crimson.

  “That it has, Luther, my friend. The revolution is about to begin. In just a little while, I shall rally a call for supporters, but even if nobody joins in the uprising, I believe we still stand a good chance of winning. Max here is going to help me with the last two things I need, and I hope he can reach my deadline. I have all of my minions planted and by now, they’ve accomplished their tasks.”

  “I see, very good, Crimson, my friend. My only regret is I couldn’t have been of more service to you. I am sorry for being what I am.”

  “It’s no problem really. It isn’t your fault you got assassinated.”

  “What are these minions you mentioned, Crimson?” asked Max.

  “Oh those? You know how I went out on that ‘date’ with Brian Nash from Barometrics last night?”

  “Yeah, I recall,” said Max.

  “Well, he was the final piece of that puzzle. He has direct access to the last four Pilvikone that I need for my plan. You see, I, over the years, have been covertly having different sales reps or engineers plant hacking bugs in the devices that will allow me to command their power with this little computer I wear on my wrist band,” she said, pausing to point it out to Max. He had never noticed it before. “Anyways, I put a microchip into his head that allows me to give him commands that he will execute exactly within the parameters I type without him ever realizing he is doing it. In fact, that was what I was inputting on my tablet back in the lab. I took a break because I can get to that later today. I want to do a test run with the Pilvikone before using it in
battle, however, not too soon before. It would be a shame for them to get wise to what I’ve done.

  “I felt I should introduce you to Luther here. He is going to be your martial arts instructor. He will train you how to fight unarmed and armed. So, go to the rack and find something that suits you close range, and then, let the battle begin!” she shouted playfully.

  “You’ve got to be frickin’ kidding me! He is huge! And he has four arms! He is going to kill me!” Max protested.

  “I will not. I helped Crimson improve her skill years ago. I fear now she has far surpassed me and I wouldn’t provide any challenge to her even if I were out to kill her,” stated Luther.

  “Besides, Max, you don’t have a choice. You said you wanted to be useful in battle, right? Well, here is your chance,” she said as she exited the room. “Find a weapon quick, and Luther…if he dilly dallys, attack him anyways!”

  Max didn’t care for the sound of this. He made haste to the rack and began searching for the weapon that most suited him.

  * * * *

  Surge stayed his distance from Zarfa on the train. When he boarded, he wore a long black cloak with a cowl on it and dragged behind himself a head amp that rolled on wheels. His two guards dressed in casual clothing, nothing that would raise any red flags or give them away. They just looked like a couple of bouncers following an eccentric musician.

  He sat five rows from Zarfa and watched him as he contorted his unusually large limbs to try to get comfortable. The whole ride, so far, it had appeared as if Zarfa was unsuccessful at doing so. Surge felt uncomfortable as well, but more because he was going into enemy territory and knew he needed to keep his guard up. Polyhelix would certainly send the Faraza after him if they knew he was coming.

  By now, they had been on the train for about twelve hours and even his mental links with Badger and Zax were severed. They were too far out of range to communicate. It was only him and his two nameless guards now. He would make idle chat with them to make it seem as if they were involved with him, but the reality was they were his puppets.

  The two guards that accompanied Surge had proven themselves as very skilled fighters. Both of them were fifth-rounders, however, and had completed the Psyker Scream nanobot treatments. They could be released of their mental slavery, but it was unlikely Surge would do so. These two had been under domination for the last year and they would most likely be unhappy if unbound.

  So as he made idle chatter, he realized he was nothing more than a man rambling to himself on a train. He had never felt alone before, but he had also not left Badger’s side like this in five years. He wished Synaptix had made the link stronger so he could still communicate telepathically with his friend.

  Surge glanced over to Zarfa, still uncomfortably wriggling in his seat. After determining he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, Surge closed his eyes and breathed deep. He envisioned what may happen when they arrived in Ilyeion and folded his hands in his lap. After telepathically commanding his two guards to keep watch, he fell asleep.

  * * * *

  Zax didn’t believe in wasting time. Badger had given him an order and he would carry it out. Only a day had elapsed since he had been handed down the commission to take Crimson’s life. He was told to be sure to do it in a way that anyone who might be loyal to her cause would have reason for deterrence, and he fully intended to carry that out.

  He collected for himself twenty men, all of which were highly trained but still free will soldiers of the army. If they chose to disobey, he could override them at any moment instantly with telepathy, however the extent of free will they were granted allowed them to problem solve without the need of every little direct command. For a group this large, it would get tiresome having to detail their every command.

  After stopping by the armory, he called them all to attention. There they stood, looking grisly and stern. These men knew they were going to go as a gang to extinguish the life that thrived inside of Crimson and Max both.

  “Through the means of the interface, we have been able to trace where she is. She lives on the top story of the billionaire estates that she owns. Her residence is a fortress complete with DNA scan barriers. Whoever she hasn’t given the command to accept will be fried on the spot. She has to come out at some time. When she does, we will spring an ambush. We will have four snipers located in different buildings around the block. Two here, one here, and the other here.”

  He pointed at a strategic map that he had laid out earlier for this use as he submitted his communications to the army.

  “The rest of us will stay holed up in an apartment across the street. Our benefactors at Synaptix have already secured it for us from a very ‘cooperative’ tenant. We will have a new watchman on point every two hours to signal us when she leaves the apartment.

  “She is crafty. We cannot rely on the snipers alone. The moment the signal is given, make way to the street. If she isn’t dead by the time we make it out there, rain a furious assault on her as quickly as possible. We hope to kill her and Max in the same strike, but if we do not, it won’t matter. Crimson is the trained fighter, the elite assassin. Max is just some pathetic doctor. He has no ability to defend himself. He is not our priority. She is. Everyone clear on that?”

  The room full of men nodded at him simultaneously. After double checking their weapons, all twenty-one of them departed and re-gathered at their assigned posts. Now all they needed to do was lay in wait and execute their attack.

  * * * *

  Luther came in with a fury of blows upon Max, all of which he deflected with his plasma katanas. Max decided to dual wield since weight of the weapons didn’t matter. He would never fatigue or feel pain in his arms again. They did, however, draw calories at an alarming rate when being used this intensely.

  His design had attached every nerve to give the most reliable control possible. His hands worked the same, if not better, than his hands before. However, something this complex would need a source of power; the electrical signal carried by the nerves was amplified, but the movements themselves relied on energy stores from the body. Though being synthetic prosthesis, they burned glucose.

  That very factor had been an issue with early prosthetics. If someone had their legs or arms replaced, the body needed that many less calories, and weight gain often occurred in the patients. What Max forgot to factor in was that with his design and the fact that he would never feel fatigue, he could quickly burn more calories than he had in his body.

  He had been sparring with Luther for about an hour, enough to tire out anyone. Luther never felt fatigue of any kind, and was actually going quite easy on Max. He could tell Max was fading from hunger; he did not let up. Luther deactivated the plasma field of his tonfas and launched another furious attack. An uppercut with his lower right, haymaker with lower left, elbow with upper right, and a quick jab with his upper left.

  Each blow connected, each one struck Max with tremendous power. He screamed in pain as he fell to the ground. The jab had caught his already battered eye and reopened a wound on the eyebrow, which began to bleed profusely. He writhed on the ground in pain, both from the battle and from his stomach revolting against him due to his now insatiable appetite.

  Luther walked over to the far end of the room and pressed a button on the wall. Crimson came in with a can of medifoam and some towels, both wet and dry.

  “Looks like you got your ass handed to you, Max. How did he do, Luther?”

  “Not bad for a guy getting his cherry popped. I hope I didn’t destroy his eye. It looked pretty bad to begin with.”

  “Don’t worry! I was done with it anyhow!” Max shouted as Crimson knelt by his side and began washing his face.

  It burned and was tender. Max wriggled, contorted, and writhed while making noises as if she were torturing him intentionally. He finally stopped squirming after she shot him a serious glance. He relaxed, bit his lip, and endured, motionless, still letting out a deep growl on occasion as she scrubbed sensitive areas.
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br />   “Okay, training is over for today. Luther, thanks for the help,” she stated with a smile.

  “No problem, mistress. Whenever I can be of service to you. Thanks for bringing me back from the grave,” he said stoically as he took his position on the far side of the room.

  She spoke the words and Luther deactivated and went back into his slumber. There he would wait until tomorrow. She finished tending to Max’s wounds by spraying his cuts with medifoam. Within hours, the tissue would be healed and he would look good as new.

  “Now, you need to finish that eye. I am pretty sure after that blow, this one is really useless for you.”

  “No… Now, I eat. I am frickin’ starving, woman! I forgot to calculate how many calories these arms would burn in a combat scenario. It made the rest of me fatigue. I am going to need to put on some extra weight and watch my diet…or…” He trailed off as he began scheming a new form of boost, one that was ultra-high in calories to keep his mechanical arms running.

  “All right, want to go out for food or scavenge here? It is still early.”

  “Let’s stay in today. Last couple of times we have gone anywhere, it got a little too interesting. I do want to finish my eye tonight and perhaps fabricate it.”

  After raiding the kitchen for every scrap of real food Crimson had, he went about eating four times the amount of meal bars any regular human would eat. They tasted awful, but Max felt the hunger deep and needed the calories as well as the nutrition. Finally, when he was satisfied, he went back to the lab and put the finishing touches on his blueprint for his mechanical eye.

  The eye, though being very complex, would be simpler than the arms. Its draw of energy and sustenance would be very little. Though amongst some of the features he added aside from targeting were night vision, zoom, heat tracing, and ultra violet filtering on nearly every spectrum. All of which he could switch between with a mere thought.

  This time, he lay down on the belt, but had the moving mechanism shut off. He positioned himself where he wanted and relaxed. He shot up with another anesthetic boost, this time one that would last the entire duration of the operation.