Merciless

by Robin Parrish

  "In my research and investigations, I found it very difficult to turn up any information about the Secretum of Six in historical records. I eventually realized that any references to their existence, their activities, their prophecies-all would be shrouded behind references to other peoples throughout history, other groups and organizations. It was a kind of code used by those few historians who knew that an organization like the Secretum existed, but had no name for them or proof of their existence.

  "Looked at in this light, my research began to come together at last. Blessed as I am with perfect memory, all I had to do was cross-reference various records in my mind, and I came up with some answers, which I shall now share with you.

  "I have discovered that there are precisely 299 Rings of Dominion, not counting the Seal of Dominion, the most powerful of the Rings that's currently worn by Grant Borrows. It's my belief that if used in concert, by 299 Ringwearers, the combined might of all of the Rings of Dominion could be enough to overcome Grant-or rather, whatever Grant has become.

  "So as I'm sure you're coming to realize, the question facing you now is: How many of the Rings of Dominion are currently in use? I believe that all of them are. Well ... almost all of them. My belief is that Grant was the last person to be given a Ring, so the other 299 were given out first. I know this conflicts with the sudden appearance of the Ringwearers in London who are calling themselves the Upholders of the Crown. They seemed to emerge after Grant was given the Seal of Dominion, and I have no explanation for this. But to the best of my knowledge, there are no missing or unused Rings. Or as I said before ... almost none.

  "You see, I may not be there with you, able to help you in what must now be done, but I do not leave you empty-handed. Hidden in the spine of the same book in which you found this disc, you will find a key to a safe-deposit box at the First National Bank branch in downtown Los Angeles-the one not far from Chinatown. Retrieve that box. Inside it you'll find nineteen unworn Rings of Dominion. If you think about it, you will remember when and how these Rings came to be in my possession.

  "Before you face whatever it is that Grant has becomeand I believe you must face him, for whatever the Secretum has brought forth this being to do, I am certain it is meant to undermine life as we know it-you must unite all 299. All outstanding Ringwearers must be found, and nineteen civilian souls must be willing to wear the remaining Rings. I leave this in your care-as my final gift to you."

  Daniel sat back in his seat, the reality of Morgan's words sinking in. He was overwhelmed at the task that was now set before them.

  "It is not my wish to leave you in despair or overwhelmed at the task that now faces you. And again I pray that my words are unnecessary, that Grant is listening to this recording now, and my fears are unfounded. I apologize for not revealing this information to you sooner, but I have my reasons for believing that none of you were yet ready to know all that I know. It's my intention, at the time of this recording, to reveal this information to Grant myself, over time. But I have decided to leave this recording in case anything should happen to me before then. It would be irresponsible of me to die on you without some record of this knowledge outlasting me.

  "If Grant is gone, and you now face this enormous task without him, please take heart, my friends. There is light at the end of this road. If you were there, you may recall that I came to Grant around the same time I was undertaking this research into the Secretum, and I conveyed to him my belief that I'd `figured everything out.' I was not exaggerating when I uttered these words.

  "Whatever has happened to you, whatever has happened to the world-it is not the grand orchestrated masterpiece that the Secretum wants you to believe it is. Please hear me, my friends. I have read and studied nearly every word written by the hand of man, and I am absolutely convinced that there is meaning to this existence, that we are not here by chance. This conspiracy is but one volley in a war that has been waged for countless ages. The events unfolding around you are no work of prophetic genius, no matter what they tell you. It is a cheap imitation of truth. A pathetic fake.

  "Stay true to one another, remember my words, and you will discover this for yourselves. The purpose for our lives is all around you, waiting for you to see it. We all have a part to play in the outcome of this struggle, and I trust every one of you will discover the part you are meant to play."

  Daniel blinked when the video went black. That was an odd note to go out on. She didn't wish them luck, or even say good-bye.

  Another thought occurred to him. "Morgan was a Ringwearer too," he said to no one in particular. "We'll have to find her Ring, and someone to wear it."

  "That makes twenty," Alex said, and there was a quaver to her voice. "Twenty Rings in need of wearers."

  Daniel looked up and saw that both Alex's and Lisa's cheeks were wet. Lisa squeezed out of the round booth and walked away, a single hand covering her mouth.

  Neither Alex nor Lisa could be coaxed into talking right away. So the choice was made to take one more pause before deciding what to do next. Each took the opportunity to get some additional rest, and then the group gathered one last time around the circular bench to finally begin formulating their plan.

  The first thing decided-or rather, dictated-was that Alex would be joining the mission. And she would entertain no arguments against this. Her mind was made up, she was coming, and that was all there was to it. Anyone who wanted to try to stop her would find out what it feels like to cry uncontrollably for hours on end.

  "So where did Morgan get those remaining unworn Rings?" Ethan asked, changing the subject.

  Alex and Payton exchanged a look.

  "The fire," he said.

  Alex nodded in response, then turned to Ethan. "Morgan used to own some private property where Ringwearers could go to stay in safety. This was long before most of us knew much about the Rings or the Bringer, before Grant was Shifted and given his Ring. An enemy of the Loci set fire to the place. Most of the Ringwearers got out, but nineteen of them died in the blaze. Morgan gathered the Rings from their bodies, for safekeeping."

  "So we'll find those at the bank," Daniel said. "We have two further tasks to overcome. Find wearers for the Rings and then intercept Oblivion's group to free as many Ringwearers as we possibly can. Obviously our end goal is to take Oblivion down before he can enact his endgame, but I think we're all agreed that these two tasks have to come first."

  Everyone around the table nodded.

  "So the question is," Daniel continued, "do we leave now for the Middle East and try to reach Oblivion's group before they reach their destination? Or do we head for Los Angeles first to get the extra Rings? Which is more important?"

  "Oblivion."

  "The Rings."

  Payton and Alex had spoken simultaneously.

  "The more Ringwearers we have going into this, the better our chances," Alex argued.

  "If we don't get to Oblivion before he arrives at wherever he's going, then all of this is for naught," Payton countered.

  "And just exactly what are two superpowered people supposed to do against the all-powerful Oblivion and his army of supers?" Alex shot back.

  Payton withdrew his sword and threw it across the wide open training area behind him. It pierced the head of a fighting dummy, pinning it against the far wall.

  "Use your imagination, love," Payton replied.

  Alex's mouth was already open with a ready retort when Ethan jumped to his feet. "Let's make this simple!" he announced. "Billions of people's lives are on the line; we don't have the luxury of arguing. Personally, I agree with Alex, because ... well, what if we get over there and realize there's no time to come all the way back for the Rings before we have to take Oblivion on? So ... raise your hand if you think we should go get the Rings first?"

  Everyone around the table raised their hands, except for Payton and Tucker.

  "And if you think we should go after Oblivion now?"

  No one raised their hands. Payton didn't have to; everyone
knew where he stood. When Ethan looked curiously at Tucker, he said something under his breath about being unsure if his opinion counted.

  "Los Angeles first, then," Daniel stated. "But who's going to wear the extra twenty Rings?"

  There was silence at the table for a moment, then Ethan said, "I'll wear one."

  The old man still had his right hand-his left was the missing one-but no one attempted to suggest that he should wear a Ring. He'd been through enough.

  When no one else spoke, Daniel said that they would need to find some volunteers, as Morgan suggested, though none of them knew where said volunteers might be found. He ended the meeting with, "We should probably get going."

  With that, everyone at the table began to rise.

  "Wait," Tucker said. "What about weapons? We need to be armed."

  "We do?" asked Lisa, uncertain.

  Tucker stood to his feet. "Well I do," he replied.

  "I don't like the idea of shooting at our friends," Alex said, as dubious as Lisa.

  "Don't kid yourselves," Payton spoke with his gravelly, dead intonations. "We're talking about the fate of the entire world. It may well come down to us or them." As if that was the only argument required, he turned to Tucker and said, "There's a weapons room in the back-help yourself."

  Tucker nodded. The old man motioned for Tucker to follow him; he would show the sergeant to the guns.

  "Flesh wounds only," Ethan quietly reassured Alex.

  "Get as much sleep as you can, all of you," Payton announced. "We leave as soon as everyone's had a chance to rest."

  Tucker and the old man, who had frozen on their way to the armory, turned and resumed walking. When no one was looking, Lisa snuck away and followed them.

  "So. What's your story?"

  "Sorry?" Tucker replied, as he opened the double-door cabinets that revealed a surprising variety of weaponry, from blades and staffs to crossbows, pistols, and shotguns.

  "You're a cut-and-dried military officer," Lisa explained.

  "Enlisted," he corrected her.

  "Whatever. Point is, what's your part in all this?"

  "Ethan," he replied. "He saved my life."

  "Oh," Lisa said, nodding. "So it's like one of those `life debt' things, between you and him?"

  Tucker looked confused. "Not really."

  "Then why are you here?"

  "I'm here to fight the bad guys, ma'am," he replied. "I have a son, Jake. He's twelve. And the world isn't safe for him to grow up in. Ethan promised me a chance to change that. Way he tells it, we're `operating outside of time.' What kind of father would I be if I didn't do everything I could to ensure that my son gets to have a future?"

  "Only in this case, that's not actually a metaphor," Lisa mused.

  Tucker shrugged. "Ask you a question?"

  Lisa shrugged. "Knock yourself out."

  "You really think you all can do this? Free the rest of your friends and take on this Oblivion character? Because I've seen firsthand what he can do, and I don't know of a power anywhere in this world that can stop him."

  "We've made a habit of defying the odds."

  "I hope so," Tucker said, his face grim. "I'm career military, ma'am, joined right out of high school. Been doing this a long time. One thing I know about going to battle against vastly superior numbers-it's that casualties are a given. It's the first thing they teach you: Whoever has the most soldiers with the biggest guns, wins. And I haven't seen anything in your arsenal capable of even stubbing this enemy's toe."

  "We'll surprise you," Lisa said.

  "Unless you do ... none of us has a chance of surviving this."

  "So I HAVE A temper!" Grant tried to shout, though the sound of his voice still refused to echo through the emptiness. "So do lots of people! And there were good reasons whenever I lost it! What difference does it make now?"

  His doppelganger eyed him intently. "It makes a difference when you give in to it and allow it to influence your decisions and actions. Every choice carries weight and consequence, Grant."

  Grant paused, his thoughts racing. He looked around in the darkness, but he wasn't trying to focus on anything in particular. He was thinking back over the events of his life.

  "I don't disagree," he said tentatively.

  "Good," replied his duplicate. "Because now we're coming to what I really brought you here to discuss. Your choices are not the only ones that influence the fate of the world. Every choice made by every person alive has the potential to have positive effects or negative effects on the human race. Would you agree?"

  Grant thought a moment. "I suppose."

  "Then would you say that the positive choices outweigh the negative, or vice versa?"

  "I ... I don't know."

  His twin smiled, amused. "It was not a rhetorical question, Grant. Give me your honest opinion."

  Grant frowned and gave in to the loaded question, though he couldn't figure out where this was going. "Then I suppose there have been more negative effects upon humanity based on people's choices throughout history."

  Mirror Grant began to walk slowly, circling him like a college professor offering a particularly insightful lecture. "Then here is the question to end all questions, Grant Borrows. This is the reason you are here, with me.

  "I want you to think about the damage that has been done to mankind because of the choices of men and women. Think of the suffering, the anguish, the loss. All of it, throughout human history. Wars waged throughout the ages, using ever-escalating weaponry that is crafted to bring about newer and more efficient ways of killing the enemy. The horrors and atrocities of Hitler's concentration camps. Barbarism. Pornography and the sex trade. Slavery. Organized crime. Genocide. The list goes on.

  "Think about these things, and ask yourself ... Wouldn't the world be better off if humanity lacked free will? If people did not have the ability to choose their actions for themselves, but were forced to behave as they should?"

  Grant didn't answer immediately. He retreated inside himself, digging deep for an answer to his twin's question that would be honest and real, but wouldn't be pessimistic. He found that he couldn't come up with one.

  "I don't know how to answer that," he replied.

  "Of course you do," his double said at once. "You just don't want to. Let me simplify it for you.

  "Make it personal. Think back on your own life. All of the people who claimed to love you, but then abandoned you. Being dealt one hand after another that you neither chose for yourself nor wanted. Facing responsibilities that no one else on earth could possibly understand, as the most powerful man in the world. Losing the people you love the most. It's not right. It's not fair. You didn't ask for any of it, but it's what happened.

  "Think about all that's happened to you, and all that's been done to you intentionally ... And tell me why you fight. Why do you try so hard to help others who are in need? Why do you fight for the rest of the world, when the world has done nothing but bring you pain?"

  Grant hated this. He wanted to grab this twisted duplicate of himself-whoever he wasand throttle him for making him think about this.

  Truth was, this was not a new question for Grant. It plagued his thoughts often, even as he was fighting to save the world. Did they really deserve to be saved? Was the world even worth fighting for?

  He had to admit, even if it was only to himself, that sometimes he wondered if playing the hero was worth it. Because that was all he was doingpretending. Posing as the figure they needed to believe could save them from themselves. When the truth was that he was just as flawed and lost and fragile as they were.

  Had he actually made that much of a difference as the public's hero, Guardian?

  "I guess," Grant replied at last, "I fight for them because I don't think anyone should have to suffer. And if I can alleviate anyone's pain, then I want to."

  Mirror Grant stopped circling him and stopped right in front of him. He placed a hand in the center of Grant's chest, and Grant felt a prickling sensation t
hat quickly turned to intense, painful heat, which he could not pull away from.

  Holding his hand in place there upon Grant's chest, the double leaned in close to Grant's ear, and whispered one word.

  "Liar."

  Los Angeles

  Chinatown sat poised on the brink of implosion.

  No longer day yet never fully night, fierce billowing clouds had settled dusk permanently over the dingy streets of downtown Los Angeles. Oriental lanterns dipped low over North Broadway where it ran straight through Chinatown. On one side of the street stood an unblinking line of Chinese nationals, perfectly still. On the other waited a gang of terrifyinglooking men and women, with wild eyes and flesh smeared with blood.

  Between them stood Alex, Payton, Daniel, Lisa, Ethan, Tucker, and their handless friend. They hadn't asked to be here, and they would gladly leave now if not for the fact that the First National Bank and the precious contents held in its vault were blocked by this violence. Ethan had no idea what had transpired to bring about this confrontation, but he realized they'd stumbled into something dangerous.

  At least one skirmish had already broken out, because both sides of the conflict were battered, few without some sort of bruise, scrape, or ripped clothing. Many of them were still breathing hard. All held weapons of one kind or another.

  No words were spoken or movements made by the Chinese, their faces both old and young, a mixture of dour and dispassionate. A variety of guns, knives, and bats were held in their hands. Their silent message was louder than any words could transmit.

  Get. Out.

  The gang on the other side of the street looked like deranged figures of all races from some post-apocalyptic zombie movie. Faces, arms, and hands were smeared with dried blood. The red fluid had been used to draw vulgar symbols and crude line drawings everywhere their skin was visible. The clothes they wore were shredded around the cuffs. But nothing about their appearance was as disturbing as the objects carried in their hands.

  Instead of knives or guns, they carried bones. Human arms, legs, jaws, even skulls-anything sharp or big enough to do damage to a living body. The bones they carried were as bloody as they were, some of them stripped clean of muscle and tissue, others still dripping with ligaments, nerves, and meat. Their eyes were set deep within their flesh; their mouths recalled those of rabid wolves.