Regenesis (Book 1): Impact

by Pierce, Harrison

  Crystal printed out the receipt and glanced at the name on the card to thank him properly, “Thank you for your business Mister Jacobs, please do come again.”

  Nick and Jordan both glanced at Crystal when she said his name. The man thanked her again, but followed by telling her to keep the card. “I won’t be needin’ it anymore.”

  Crystal cocked an eyebrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Am I right in assumin’ yer Miss Crystal Valentine?” he asked.

  “Yes, why?”

  He grinned, “Then I guess I’ve found ya.”

  In a single fluid motion, he seized Crystal by the back of her neck, reached into his bag with his free hand to retrieve a jagged blade, and slit her throat clean through to her spinal cord. Panic ensued in the form of screams and shouts on everyone’s part. The killer let the weapon and the woman fall onto the countertop, though Crystal immediately fell to the floor.

  The murderer turned on heel and thanked the rest of the store for their cooperation before he started for the door. However the construction worker made a vain attempt to stop the killer. The murderer retrieved and threw three shurikens into the man’s throat in what Nick only saw as a blur.

  The assassin cursed, “I nearly had a clean getaway, but this prick had ta be all heroic…” he glanced about at the rest of them and asked, “Does anyone else wanna be a damn hero?” After a relatively insignificant interval of time he answered for them, “‘No! No! Please don’t kill us! We promise we’ll be good lil’ boys and girls. Honest!’” he stopped for a brief moment and after a breath, thanked them and left.

  Nick saw the husband of the couple slowly stand from his seat and approached the construction worker who bled out on the green and beige tiled floor. The elderly man shortly joined him in determining whether the young man was alive or not. Jordan and Amy were behind the counter and Nick thought he could hear both of them crying. Nick felt his own heart race, the cold sweat on his body, the pit in his gut, and the deep seeded urge to flee. He closed his eyes, took a few breaths, and convinced himself that he had to help. He had to move and needed to make sure his friends were okay. Nick took a final reassuring breath and walked over to the swivel door that barred him from the remaining employees.

  He pulled it back and could already feel Crystal’s blood on his fingers. Crystal lay behind the door in a pool of her own blood, blood which continued to slowly seep from her throat. Nick forced himself to look away from the sight. He stepped over her to get to Jordan first, who sat against a wall with tears all across his face, paler than death, and his eyes locked on the corpse of his manager.

  Nick placed himself between Jordan and the body and tried his best to shake his friend out of his trance. “J-Jordan…Jordan.” He placed a hand on Jordan and felt how he shook and began to tremble himself. Nick took another breath and finally shouted, “Snap out of it! J-Jordan, you n-need to wake up.”

  Jordan blinked and slowly looked at Nick. Nick made sure he heard him and instructed him to call the police and relate the entire incident to them and to get them here as soon as possible. As soon as Jordan complied, Nick walked back to check on Amy.

  She sat in a corner with her arms around her knees. She kept her face buried and sobbed and muttered that she didn’t want to die, over and over again. He slowly joined her on the floor and sat himself in front of her. He felt faint and he wanted to cry with her, but he knew she needed support. Nick told her she was safe and that the man was gone. He told her everything was going to be alright, but she only continued to repeat that she didn’t want to die. Nick shut his eyes tightly, steeled his nerves, and reassured her that everything would be fine.

  ---*---

  12:10 PM

  Bothell, Washington

  Drake sat in his small cubicle with less enthusiasm than he thought he could ever possess. It wasn’t even one o’clock and all he could think about was getting off at five. Working for his father’s company through the summer was his father’s idea. Drake didn’t really mind at the start, since he hardly had any other pressing matter to occupy his time, but upon facing the dreary grind for the first week he quickly changed his mind as to what he thought a corporate life would be like.

  He knew he over exaggerated how bad it was. Drake simply didn’t enjoy it and because of that the days crawled by, Sanderson was always on his case, and even though he always completed his work with the highest quality results he could muster, the life he led there made him nauseous to think of what would happen if he ever rejoined that sort of work force after he graduated.

  Drake had no mind to resume his employment after high school.

  The incidents of the night before didn’t help Drake at all. He couldn’t help but walk out of the building periodically to call the hospital or Ian’s mother to get a status update. Nothing changed though. Ian was stable, healing, and reacting well to whatever medications the doctors gave him. He simply wasn’t out of the coma.

  Sho walked into his cubicle and took a seat. “How’s your friend?”

  “His condition’s not getting any better,” Drake sighed.

  Sho cocked an eyebrow and asked, “What condition?”

  Drake looked back, “He’s in the hospital.”

  “The friend who’s brother was shot?”

  Drake stopped and realized they had been talking about two different people. He cleared the whole incident up by explaining to Sho about Ian’s incident.

  Sho sat back in his seat, “Wow…you have extremely unlucky friends.”

  “I know.” He grinned and said, “Don’t ever go to Vegas Sho or you might lose it all.”

  He rolled his eyes, “I’m already bad enough at poker as it is, so your curse could only help my chances.”

  Drake chuckled. He then asked Sho in Japanese, “”

  He nodded. “”

  Drake nodded. “”

  “Excuse me,” Barry Sanderson interrupted them, “Unless I’m mistaken, it’s still the middle of the work day and you two should be working and not discussing gossip.”

  Drake smirked and tried to hide his laughter alongside Sho. He rolled his eyes and said, “Sure thing Barry, no more Japanese gossip.”

  Barry nodded as authoritatively as he could. “Good, now get back to work.”

  ---*---

  12:17 PM

  Lake Forest Park, Washington

  The police arrived shortly after Jordan’s call. They slowly collected the account of the attack from each witness, though the event perplexed the authorities. What confounded them more so were the murder weapons; the jagged blade the assassin used to slice through Crystal’s throat was nothing more than a broken and sharpened shard of a CD, AC/DC’s Back in Black, to be specific. The weapons thrown into the young construction worker’s neck were also sharpened CD’s of other classic rock artists. Initially the police believed they had a lead, as the killer left his credit card at the register before he killed Crystal, though the credit card belonged to Nick’s brother Victor. Nick told the officers that it was his brother’s card and that his brother was killed only a few days earlier. After they crosschecked with the Bothell Police Department and confirmed his brother’s death was true, they ruled his brother out as a suspect and were left with no other clue than the name left behind and the description of the man.

  While Jordan gave his account to the police, Nick and Amy sat outside of the mall as they waited for her mother to arrive. She still shook, even though someone gave her a blanket to keep her warm and the murder happened nearly an hour earlier. The slaying repeated in his mind and Nick guessed it wouldn’t leave hers either. He glanced at her and tried to read her vacant, hollow expression.

  Nick cleared his throat, frowned, and asked her where she attended school.

  Amy blinked a few times before she left her trance. She looked at him and asked him what he’d said.<
br />
  “What school d-do you go t-to?”

  She slowly answered, “Inglemoor.”

  He nodded. “I go to Bothell,” he told her. “What’s y-your f-favorite class?”

  “My writing class.”

  “D-Do you want to become a writer then?

  Amy shook her head, “No, a journalist.” She stared at him and asked why he asked her those questions.

  Nick sighed, “It’s s-something a friend of m-mine taught me. He said-He told me about distracting someone after th-things that shock people t-to t-take their m-mind off it.” He looked away from her and apologized, “I-I-I’m not v-very good at this.”

  He looked out at the cars in the lot and noticed his motorcycle a ways off from the rest of the vehicles. Nick recalled the first time he saw it with his brother. It was shortly after their mother passed away and for some reason Nick felt like he needed one. It was one of the newest and fastest models on the market, and although he wanted it, he knew he couldn’t afford it. But Victor surprised him with it only a week later and said it was paid in full. Nick never learned who paid for it, as he and his brother hardly had enough money between the two to keep their home in order. But he was grateful, even after he tried to convince Victor to return it.

  “What’s your favorite subject?”

  Nick blinked. He glanced back at Amy, who didn’t meet his eyes, but repeated the question. Nick took a breath and told her that he liked English.

  “Are you a junior?”

  “N-No, a senior. What about you?”

  “I’m a junior.”

  Amy finally looked at him and Nick knew she was still terrified. She shied away though, not wanting to stare, and then asked, “What’s it feel like to ride a motorcycle?”

  He paused and examined the motorcycle helmet that rested between the two of them, something he’d forgotten about entirely. “It f-feels freeing,” he told her. “Sort of.”

  “‘Sort of?’” she echoed.

  He tried his best to smile and simply said it reminded him of things he wasn’t always prepared to face. “What do you do? F-F-For fun, I mean.”

  “I like to spend time with my friends,” she said. “We usually go to the mall, go bowling, see movies…How about you?”

  Nick tried to think of what he and his friends actually did when they hung out, since to him it always felt as if they didn’t do anything. “Movies, camping, v-video games…” he wished he hadn’t said the last one, but continued on anyway, “My friends like to throw a lot of parties…I only go because I-I-I think they w-want me there though.”

  “You don’t like parties?”

  He shook his head, “Not really. I feel out-out of place. They m-make me uncomfortable.”

  “Yet you go because you want to make your friends happy? That’s sweet.”

  He looked away from her and mumbled his thanks.

  “Why don’t you like parties?”

  “They make me feel alone,” he told her. “M-My friend Drake’s got a p-party coming up, I’m-I’m going b-because it’s a friend’s farewell. They h-have fun, but I-I’ll just sit and try n-not to act so shaken.”

  Amy frowned. “Won’t you know everyone who’s there though?”

  Nick cracked a smile and tried to explain how elaborate Drake’s parties were. He told her about how Drake would rent out a club in Seattle and fill it with just about anyone he could get in contact with, and Drake’s list of contacts breached the thousands, though only half of that resided in the Seattle area.

  A gray sedan slowly crept up toward the front of the lot and Amy immediately recognized it as her cue to leave. She thanked Nick for his help, “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.” Nick struggled for an appropriate response and eventually mumbled that he was happy he could help. She started to leave, but stopped and asked, “Um…What’s your number?”

  He reluctantly gave it to her, but asked, “Why do you want it?”

  Amy smiled, “I just…” she took a breath, “I know who I can talk to now.”

  Nick wasn’t sure what to say. Amy gave him a brief hug and left him there as she walked off to meet her mother. Once she made it inside her car Nick saw her break into tears. He could only sit there and wait for Jordan to join him though. He wanted to help her more, but all he could do was watch her drive away.

  ---*---

  August 18th, 2029

  8:36 PM

  London, England

  Jason ran up the stairs to his one bedroom apartment where Audrey waited for him, presumably irked. She’s going to kill me, especially considering I stayed much later than I intended at the gym and I didn’t even shower there. Why on earth do I do this? It always seems like a night out creeps up and I ruin it by missing our reservation or I set Audrey off somehow.

  He neared his room, apartment twenty-seven, and he retrieved his key from a tan duffel bag he carried, but he found, to his disappointment, that the door wasn’t locked. Damn it Audrey, keep the door locked! This isn’t the safest part of London by any stretch and I can’t just run back here lickety-split to save you if something happens. Jason walked in, locked the door behind him, dropped his tan duffel bag in the entryway, and walked into his living area fully expecting Audrey to chew him out. However her attention was locked onto their television. A news broadcast played a report of earlier events of the day, which Jason nearly ignored until she asked if he’d heard the news.

  At least she isn’t mad. “No, what happened?”

  “The Dáfù tried to assassinate the American President today in Saudi Arabia,” she told him.

  Jason rolled his eyes. The Dáfù, again? “Really? Hm…Well I’m gonna get in the shower,”

  He rose to leave, but sat back down when he heard Jack Randles, the lead anchor, mention a video they were going to show. Randles continued, “Our film team was there to record the events and were able to send us video feed of the attack.”

  The screen flicked to an airport in Riyadh where the United States President disembarked from her presidential plane. The security detail which accompanied her scanned the small crowd that welcomed her. The president was hardly three feet from the plane before a loud crack pierced the cheers. One of the bodyguards near the president fell to the ground while the remaining men surrounded the woman. The camera followed the trail of smoke from the sniper rifle back to its source a top a nearby building. The camera then quickly panned back and showed a group of ten men, all with blades and assault rifles, who charged at the president. Additional sniper rounds tore through the assailants one by one until nine of the men were dead. The last one managed to kill two more of the president’s guards before reaching her. However, as soon as the man took hold of the president, three rounds caught the would-be assassin in the skull. He fell to the ground and the chaos was over. The president was rushed away and the footage ended.

  The television broadcast returned to Jack Randles, who continued, “An investigation into the attack and the hole in President Monroe’s security led to the discovery of the deaths of all the rooftop guards placed throughout the airport earlier in the day, presumably executed by the members of the Dáfù. However, as seen in the footage, one sniper indeed saved the president’s life and until only a short while ago his identity remained uncertain. We have received confirmation that Strom Trenor, better known by his alias, Ghost, was at the site and indeed saved President Monroe’s life.”

  Holy shit…

  “For those of you who do not know, Strom Trenor is a world renowned assassin known to have murdered over thirty major political figures in twelve nations in the past sixteen years. His total body count is unknown, though it is estimated to be roughly one-hundred and fifteen. Evidence found on the rooftop where Strom is believed to have been was analyzed and confirmed to be authentic.”

  An image of what initially appeared to be a standard playing card, with the exception of a large ‘G’ scrawled in blood at the center of the card. Each of the corners where the traditional �
�A’ would be was replaced with a printed letter ‘G’ as well.

  Randles continued, “This is the trademark card left behind at each of the assassin’s appearances. The card is authentic and matches previous cards left behind by Trenor. It is unknown at this time whether Trenor or the members of the Dáfù killed the rooftop guards, though the execution of one of President Monroe’s personal security detail is presumed to have been done by Trenor. Should autopsy and ballistic analysis prove him as the killer of the other security members, it would give reason to assume that the snipers originally placed as security were in fact in league with the Dáfù from the beginning.” Randles adjusted some of his notes and changed topics. “The remains of a young woman were uncovered today in Twickenham. The skin of her entire right arm appears to have been surgically removed at the location of–”

  Audrey shut the television off. She looked at Jason and asked if the assassin Jack Randles spoke of had ever been in London before. Of course he has Audrey. He studied her and saw the fear in her eyes and then simply told her to put it out of her mind. “Trenor, Ghost, he is a very high profile murderer. He only ever targets people who pay him very large sums of money to do their bidding. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “How dangerous is he?”

  Jason wiped off the corners of his lips and told her he wasn’t sure there was anyone more dangerous out in the world. “His track record is legendary, to say the least. You heard how many kills he has, but they didn’t go and mention that he’s only ever been sighted three times since twenty-eighteen. To my knowledge he’s never missed a shot, never had a target he couldn’t kill, and is guessed to have slaughtered entire villages in Africa to support various warlords in different nations.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  Of course it is! That bastard butchers people and makes a damned living off of it. Jason took a moment to contemplate continuing on their topic but decided to share something more, “He had a target about seven years ago where he couldn’t manage to find a vantage point he knew would offer him a killing shot, so in lieu of that he stalked his target to his home, shot him in the chest, and locked him in the man’s own basement…His target bled to death before the guy’s wife returned home and discovered his body and the calling card.”