THE SEVENTH EVENT

by Phillip Shaw

  Resisting the urge to add to his body count Arbitan turned and was greeted with an extremely loud office worker standing hands on hips.

  ‘We haven't been able to print to the printer in this office all morning, I have had to walk to the office next door every time something needs to be printed. It's just typical of this place, how do they expect us to work when the machines keep breaking?'

  Arbitan walked over behind the wailing creature to the device. He looked at it and immediately was given the schematics and ability to fix its most complex issues. The light on the side was on. Arbitan looked at the display. INSERT A4 TRAY 1.

  Arbitan lifted the blank paper from beside the printer and inserted it solving the issue. The worker turned without thanks and walked back to her desk. I have time for a diversion. He thought. Walking over to the supply office he asked the woman to come over to assist him. She stepped inside and he closed the door behind them. ‘Don't you know I have work to do, I can't be helping tech engineers…?' A muted noise came from her next as Arbitan struck her hard in the throat with a straight hand, she stared at him struggling to breathe and he punched her hard in the middle of her chest. The heart stopped the woman stared blindly into his eyes. ‘You will waste no more oxygen on this earth.'

  Arbitan knew he couldn't walk out the door and leave the body lying there. Knowing the air vent was above him, he popped the cover and crawled into it. Replacing the cover he moved slowly through the crawl space until he emerged in the restrooms. Deserted he again looked in the mirror. Four lives ended since awakening, a drop in the ocean for this world. If I am to be the justice on this plane it will be much, much more, they are weak, they hunger for order to be put in their place, I will remind them of the meaning of their lives. The door beside him opened and another man entered to use the restroom. Arbitan washed is hands and strolled out, the target was close, he could feel him.

  Arbitan emerged onto the floor he desired and immediately saw more guards though this time he could feel their knowledge. They were deep under control, like drones protecting their king; they patrolled in sequence up and down the corridors. Knowing their patterns he easily slipped past and entered the final room on the floor. The large double doors were marshalled by a single secretary, Arbitan blanked her protests and opened the doors, the barrel of a gun greeted his temple.

  20. The Strings

  Arbitan stood with the barrel of the gun pressed into his temple. Good, they are not all defenceless. He sensed the scene before he opened the door. The trigger would never be pulled. All it took was one look from him and this man would fall into line. He waited to allow himself to feel the cold steel of the metal pressed on the head, the quivering told him this man was not used to handling the firearm. He spoke.

  ‘Do you think I don't keep my eyes on security, you… you're one of them, we have been warned about your type. I…I… can't feel your thoughts. What do you want with me?'

  Arbitan slowly turned and stared deep into the man's eyes, a short tanned man, balding with grey curly hair, expensively tailored suit and gold dripping from him where flesh was exposed. The man was not as powerful as he expected but he would do for a start.

  ‘Look at me, you know who I am. You and your kind have awaited me; you have been lost without me. I am here because it is time. The balance of the world needs to be restored and you are one of my soldiers.' Arbitan set the gun down on the table, he had barely felt it being placed handle first into his hand. The man's face which had been filled with fear and horror had now taken on a paler contented look it was almost relief filled that his eyes.

  ‘My Lord, you are real, I can't believe it, they told me to prepare for this day but I thought it was just a way of explaining my talent, giving me purpose. I almost killed you…'

  ‘You were never going to kill me. You must show me, how have you prepared for me, what have you provided me, what role do you play in this world?' Arbitan paced in front of the glass windows.

  ‘They placed me here years ago....'

  ‘They, who are they? Other soldiers like you, were they already aware of their purpose?'

  ‘I think so, the Magisters discovered me when I was young, told me of the talent I had and the reason people like me exist, we were to keep order in this world, influence extremists, just as you wished us to.'

  Arbitan placed both hands on the rich, heavy mahogany table. He felt the blood pumping through the host's body, the knuckles on his hands blanched with power. ‘My boy, you are a magister, only your kind was given that title by me. Only the chosen, now who are these others you speak off.'

  ‘I can show you, here on the security cameras, there are two on the ground floor and two on this floor. They are from the order.' Massaro walked over to the wall and lifted the control device; the screen in front of him lit up then divided into multiple images. Again Arbitan was amazed at the technology that had flourished in his absence. ‘There are the two at the door.' Arbitan looked; he saw the guards from earlier, a feeling of dread came over him. They can't be Magisters; their minds are blocked, missing. ‘Massaro, how do you control them?'

  ‘I don't My Lord, they protect me.'

  Arbitan struck his soldier hard across the face. ‘No one protects us! We rule this earth, what have my generals become?' The man cowered in the corner returning again to the earlier picture of fear. He has reason to be afraid now. Arbitan stared at the screen. They have subjugated my forces. He turned to Massaro ‘Tell me off their order; tell me what they have you do.'

  Arbitan sat and listened as Massaro told him what he knew of the order. He described in detail his early years, the first time he discovered the power to influence others. He admitted that he exploited it, he lured women into his bed, lived a life of pleasure. Then they found him, they took him in the night and interviewed him, they had been watching him for months they knew everything about him. His voice wavered as he described the futile efforts to bend their minds as they sat opposite him. He had felt disempowered, cut off from the way of life he had been used to. No one can do this to us. Then he became intrigued, this Order had taught them correctly. They had correctly placed them in positions of influence; they had maintained the order of things. But Arbitan knew it was not as he had intended. Someone had preserved the knowledge of his battle; it had been chronicled somewhere, but why?

  ‘Who do you control Massaro? What can you show me?'

  The soldier, growing in confidence, pointed to pictures around the office, him standing with various people, some holding balls, others medals and trophies. These people were the champions of this earth, the gladiators and Massaro controlled their decisions. He explained who some of the people were, they had won many competitions, they had worldwide followings and some had gone to politics and became leaders of men. Best of all they all answered to Massaro, he pulled the strings and now Arbitan could feel the knowledge of these men. One picture showed a man with a green laurel wreath around his neck sitting on a car holding a trophy. He directed his thoughts, the laurel wreath had been itchy irritating, it mixed with the sweet smell of champagne and made this day a memory, a moment of triumph that would be his legacy. Arbitan knew it was. The man was still under control. He stared at another picture. A young tennis player, from it nothing, he checked with Massaro. ‘Who is this one?'

  ‘This one is no longer with us, Tyler Hutchens, he was killed this morning. I was instructed to control him as he was gaining too many fans; he was too dangerous to be allowed to be free. I met with him and directed him to a slow mediocrity. Either way, it doesn't matter he was murdered and I'm going to have to tell the press soon. He will fade from the memory. He is controlled now.'

  ‘Yes, he is.'

  Arbitan stood staring at the photos; the press conference would be a chance to test the restraints of this order. He turned to Massaro,

  ‘You will still attend this event, but I will help you with what to say, there are much more like you. I must speak with them or, at least, alert them to my rebirth. This o
rder, while they have done some good are not to be considered our superiors or our equals. They are like the rest of this earth, they are tools to be used in the deciding conflict and if they don't realise that they soon will. But first, we need some space to work, call in your guards.'

  ‘My Lord?'

  ‘Call them!'

  Arbitan just stood looking at the doorway waiting. Massaro moved over to the desk. Arbitan moved with confidence to the position Massaro had greeted him on entering and lifted the pistol. A quick look at it confirmed all he needed to know, it would suit his purpose. The two guards walked into the room at the command of Massaro. One of them a hulking, bald man wearing a tight fitting black top with gun holster exposed spoke. ‘What is it, Umberto? Do you sense something?' The other guard came in second.

  Arbitan moved with the grace of a duellist. The pistol was silenced but at this range, it would make no difference. The second guard crumpled onto their knees then face down on the office floor no trace of what had happened except a developing claret pool on the ground. He didn't give the first guard time to move, ducking and rolling onto one knee he put a bullet in each of the man's knees. The kneecaps shattered and the man lay on the ground before a noise could come from his mouth Arbitan was on him, knee on the chest and body of the gun in his mouth. ‘Struggle if you must but any bite will remove your teeth; you have been allowed to live for a purpose, my friend. You will tell me everything about your order and why you have been protecting my servants.'

  The man on the floor stopped struggling, Arbitan looked at him surprised, ‘You learn quickly, that will make things easier.' the guard just smiled. ‘Who are you? You don't know what you are dealing with friend; the death of my colleague will also mean your death. Denouncers never make it far…' no further sound came from him, the bullet entered his mouth and took out the lower portion of his brain, both embedded themselves against Massaro's desk. Arbitan stood calm and sure, his eyes burned with a primeval fire, black and lifeless. He turned to his subject.

  ‘I am the lord of justice, that thing dared to call me one of them, our enemy, I will find the leaders of this order, they shall not act in our name any longer, they will return to their rightful positions. Call one of your minions, have the bodies thrown in the incinerator in the basement, place them in mailbags to avoid detection, there's another body in a supply cupboard downstairs. They won't be the last.'

  Arbitan watched as his servant went out through the doors to the receptionist, within moments others were there and the clean-up had begun, he didn't pay them any further attention; he turned to look out upon Manhattan. He could see in the plaza below the world's press vans gathering, from his acquired understanding he saw that this was going to be news to a lot of people. Vans bearing logos from all the major stations were present; he had access to all their histories, their political slants, their leaders. He stopped looking at one, in particular, Blaincorp. What is this? I can feel power from this name. I can feel many people's minds filtered through this name, they must be under my power. The van was indeed the largest that had arrived so far and he saw how it pushed its way to the front, clearly Blaincorp was more than just a beacon for his knowledge it was a major player in this world. Staring beyond the plaza he saw local police officers also arriving, he knew why they were here.

  The early morning haze had subsided and Central Park was visible in the distance, such a strange world Arbitan had been called back to, a contradiction of itself, a city celebrating modernism and antiquity in equal measure, filled with man-made structures rising to touch the gods a path to ascension yet in its heart a reflection of its true position, the oasis which allowed the inhabitants to forget their sins. The home of millions, some of their knowledge and skills accessible to him, he saw the love they had for this city and he understood it. It had risen from the melting pot, a collection of people who strove to better themselves, people who wouldn't accept their natural lot in life. They had helped build this sprawling metropolis like a shrine to ambition. It was fitting Arbitan thought to be reborn here, it showed him the size of the wound in this earth, everything that was wrong had manifested itself in the history of this city, its kind would never rise again, when he won he would have them working for the correct reasons, they would follow his path. It would all start soon; he was going to announce himself to those who needed to hear. A smile formed across his face as Umberto came back into the room.

  ‘My Lord the conference is gathering'.

  21. Conference

  Kim Clements stepped out of the squad car and looked up at the imposing structure that housed the Massaro sports agency. One of the more modern buildings in Manhattan, it stood out amongst the early art-deco styling's of the area around it. She was late as well. Kim hated being late it ruined her whole day; she prided herself on her punctuality and viewed it as a common courtesy to others. Now she was guilty of her greatest irritation all because of the interest that this conference had attracted. Janice shoved her way through the waiting media and Kim followed, all over she saw perma-tanned male and female news anchors posturing in their mirrors waiting to be allowed into the building. Kim thought sure that the scene would have been more at home backstage at a fashion show. They were all here, Channel 37, Blaincorp, Euronews, and NYC Archive and all had high ranking anchors. She didn't recognise the Blaincorp one, though, Identikit must be someone new.

  The plinth was already set up for the conference; Kim could see the security set up like everyone else of importance Umberto Massaro hired private PMC'S or private military contractors as security. The two she could make out were typical one supposedly female and the other a wiry-muscled male stood chatting to the side. NYPD were the ones that set up the barrier but they were only there for crowd management. The barriers set up; all that was missing was the star performer, Massaro. Kim took position beside Janice and waited, after a year out of the spotlight her own conference this morning and the spectators' role at this one brought back old habits. Before she would have been on the other side of the barriers making sure she was seen by the media. Too soon for that Kim, one step at a time.

  Jenny Darcy stood looking into the mirror, she felt sick, she had no idea what the last day had been about. First, a call that she was being promoted to reporter, from Chloe, then no time to tell the family it was straight onto a plane to do a piece on Massaro's, a month's study it had been called. It had turned into much more than that when she landed, a call from Blaincorp told her that a famous tennis star had been murdered and now here she was the face of European news, she would be the one to break this to Europe when they woke up. If only my brother could see me now, maybe he will.

  Jenny had never felt so free, as soon as she was out of the building in London she felt like the shackles were off, she still had this overwhelming desire to please Blain but now there was the ability to achieve this. For the first time since leaving college, she could feel the life she should have had just within reach. Chloe won't take this from me at least. The camera crew gave her a reassuring look and she was ready this was it her big break.

  ‘Good Morning, I'm Jenny Darcy reporting from outside Massaro's sports agency here in New York City where we are waiting to hear from Tyler Hutchens agency regarding the tennis star's tragic death. Reports began to surface on social media sites earlier this morning before it was confirmed to local press by Detective Kim Clements in a conference just a few hours ago. The circumstances have yet to be determined but already we have been inundated with grief-stricken fans paying tributes to the rising star of American tennis. Hutchens despite a few recent failures maintained a strong fan base and had been among the favourites for the major next month. For Blaincorp this is Jenny Darcy, we will be back with coverage of the conference itself.'

  What a rush. Jenny was buzzing after that her first time in front of the camera. Her joy was short lived as the cameraman pointed out her mike had fallen down halfway through the piece and continued to swing like a demented pendulum for its duration. I knew it was
too good to be true.

  Arbitan looked out on the gathering media. The speech he had written for Massaro would mean nothing to the world, but it would let his soldiers know that he had returned and that he was coming for them. He could feel the nervousness of the media, there was an influence in there. Good, it will speed the message. He took up position behind Massaro as they emerged to the waiting arena, it wasn't quite the deciding battleground, but it would make a good first skirmish in this age.

  Kim saw the two figures emerge to the plinth. She just turned and looked at Janice, the words were just mouthed, that's Jason Clyne.

  Jenny turned to her cameraman, ‘Showtime'.

  ‘It is with great regret that I am here to announce the passing of a true star of global sports. Tyler Hutchens' body was found late yesterday by police officers investigating a fire at Senza's scrapyard across the bridge. The circumstances of his death are not available to the public as yet but I am sure you will join me in a moments silence for one of this country's shining lights.'

  Kim stood open mouthed. What the hell is he doing here? My officers have led a wild goose chase overnight and he was just here. He's involved.

  ‘Thank you. Obviously, as Tyler has no family there is the matter of his estate. Having spoken with him only recently about his legacy I can confirm that his assets will be left in the hands of his childhood friend. Jason Clyne. In fact, Jason was one of the last people to see Tyler alive. Only yesterday he carried out some bodywork on his vehicle before Tyler and Jason's mechanic Stan Markov took him for a test drive. Whatever happened after that is in the hands of our cities finest and I would encourage anyone who knows anything about the incident to report it immediately. I will be fielding questions after Mr Clyne says a few words about his friend.'

  A mild ripple of applause broke out as Arbitan walked to the podium.

  ‘My name is Jason Clyne, I came out of the same orphanage as Tyler and we have remained friends to this day. I cannot convey how much sadness is in my heart. Not only have I lost my friend but also my only father figure in Stan. Both left my premises yesterday and never returned. When I was closing up last night I put a call into Mr Massaro and he broke the bad news to me. I have been here since planning for the funeral and the future. To take a positive from this whole situation I can reveal that Tyler's estate will be used to create another orphanage in the state. The Hutchens Arbitan Centre will help shape the minds of the next generation of orphans in this great city. This was not only Tyler's wish but it is my wish. And over the coming weeks, I would hope to have recruited a number of benefactors from across the globe who recognise who I am and share the same goal. It will be a battle but we will restore things to the way they should be.'