by L. M. Vila
Michael slowly pulled his arm out of the wall. Breaking their necks was the only sure fire way to eliminate these threats. It worked for Ryoo Myung-Dae and it obviously worked for his first victim. God-Slayer had shown phenomenal regeneration capabilities. It could restore even a damaged heart after immediate destruction. The only way to cut that off was right at the source. If the mind was still functioning then there was still hope to send the cells signals to regenerate. Breaking the spine sealed off the brain from the vital fluids it needed to continue relaying those messages. One had already been instantly silenced. The rest would soon know their place. Even after murdering one right before their eyes in less than a second, they continued to foolishly charge ahead with the firm belief that they wouldn’t share the same fate.
The next opponent moved in and planted his foot on the ground as he readied his attack. Michael theorized it would be a kick of some kind but thought it best to answer with one of his own. The former FBI agent lifted his right leg and stomped on the second’s knee. Bone and cartilage rattled and snapped within the confines of his skin as the soldier howled in horror. The noise was annoying enough even for the half second that it currently existed to warrant the ultimate human soldier to deliver and thunderous knee strike into his foe’s abdomen silencing him for good. Michael then slammed his boot down heel first on top of the victim’s foot to hold him in place for what was to come. He grabbed the soldier’s face and drilled his skull backwards into the ground. The top of his head had cracked the floorboards with his neck gently resting on the heel of the foot that Michael held in place with his own. The sweet sound of spine snapping tickled Michael’s ears after he forced this pitiful foe to bend his back in the opposite direction.
Two men had perished between relatively short breaths. Michael was too determined to let some unskilled genetically enhanced wastes of life try and stop him. The third ran and leapt with his feet flying forward in some vaguely disguised dropkick. Michael caught his ankle in midflight, jerked him back and then slammed him head first into the ground. The wall shook as the force of the blast nearly drove him through the foundation of the White House. That familiar bone crunching sound must have been lost in the scuffle because Michael proceeded to swing and crash the soldier’s body back and forth between the walls and ground until his lifeless body danced in the air at his command. Michael released the ankle from his grip and tossed the third foe aside. With only two more of these stooges left, the final prize was at hand. It was time for Michael to stop screwing around.
The fourth was all the way by the Oval Office entrance and the fifth stood behind him in the doorway. The lead soldier charged in as Michael procured a flashbang from his coat pocket. He hurled the grenade at speeds that nearly shattered the sound barrier and plunged the metal cylinder into the fourth’s eye socket. The soldier howled in terror as the grenade embedded itself into his skull. The few seconds of his anguish and suffering grew even more horrifying as the flashbang detonated filling the West Wing in a violent white light, and carving out a chunk of his skull to paint the once clean white walls.
An explosion of shots rang out in quick succession. Michael had made all fourteen rounds from both of his Desert Eagle pistols sound like it was rifled from a fully automatic weapon. Each of his bullets had chipped away at the fourth’s neck until it severed it clean off. The former FBI agent didn’t have to wait for the grenade’s effects to subside. His glasses had been designed to absorb the blast of light, freeing him from its effects and allowing him to use flashbangs in any situation imaginable.
Natural light soon returned to the West Wing. The fourth’s body slumped to the ground. Blood flowed from the gaping hole where his neck once stood. Michael holstered both of his pistols now that they had exhausted their current magazine’s worth of ammunition. All targets in range had been vanquished. Only one stooge was left amongst their beaten comrades.
Michael surveyed the hallway. The fifth and final soldier must have taken cover somewhere while his companion was being decapitated by over a dozen fifty-caliber bullets. His hiding spot was not far away. The ultimate human soldier could hear the panting breaths as if they were right behind his ears. The grenade’s effects must still be jarring his opponent’s senses otherwise he wouldn’t be breathing that loudly if he could hear himself. Michael tracked him down easily. He took up a position in the office, perhaps behind the curve of the room and well hidden from the hallways peripheral vision but not from the ultimate human soldier’s enhanced senses.
Steps slowly echoed into the hallway. Michael took his time getting to the office. He stalked his prey forcing the last few seconds of their miserable existence to be filled with terror and dread. With each step he took he could feel the fifth soldier’s nerves rattling against the wall. He was scared and out of his element. Four of his fellow companions had tried and failed miserably. They’re bodies were still warm in the pathway of destruction Michael had left behind and he was the last course on the menu. It was enough to cause anyone to panic. Just because you had super strength, reflexes, durability, and senses didn’t mean you couldn’t still be afraid. That’s what Michael counted on when he stopped just short of the entrance and took a deep breath.
A hand broke through the wall and seized the final soldier by the neck. He choked and gasped for even a taste of air but Michael’s grip had him sealed tighter than an industrial titanium vice. The former FBI agent continued to squeeze as the soldier cried and squirmed in his hand. Michael could feel his foe’s spine crack as his grip tightened. The closer he got, the more the soldier flailed like a fish out of water. Michael allowed him one final second of torture before giving the next one last mighty squeeze and feeling the bones being ground to dust within his fingers.
The body dropped and slumped into a lifeless heap inside the office. Michael ripped his arm back through the wall as he slowly entered the room. The adrenaline was starting to subside within his system. He looked upon the carnage that had been wrought inside the President’s office. The two confirmed dead plus an unconscious female alongside two more that appeared to be conscious but no sign of Ryoo Myung-Ho. All of it seemed pass by in a blur as he locked eyes with Meryl and raced towards her kneeling position.
“Meryl!” He cried out as he grabbed his partner by the shoulders.
She appeared to be in a catatonic state of some sort. Perhaps the shock of what had just occurred in here rattled her senses a bit or maybe even the flashbang’s effects hadn’t fully subsided. Michael continued to shout her name as he gradually rocked her back and forth within his grip. The desperation in his voice grew with every shout but he could feel it paying off as her lips began to tremble and the softness of her voice was finally heard.
“Michael?” She whispered.
It was as if she hadn’t fully realized what has happened or what was going on. He continued his surveillance by checking her pulse and scanning for any outside injuries. Thankfully, he didn’t find any other than the initial scrapes and bruises.
The former FBI agent’s nerves began to settle but he continued to worry about his partner’s wellbeing. He held her close and calmly whispered.
“Snap out of it Meryl. Everything is fine.”
Those words must have resonated in the right cord because she was finally able to shake off the lingering psychological effects of the demolition that followed and pieced together everything that had just occurred.
“What happened? What –”
She stopped herself after eying the carnage of the hallway.
“Michael?!” Her wit had returned just as quickly as her senses. “Did you? How?”
“Where is Ryoo Myung-Ho?” Michael asked.
“Who?”
He must have been going by another alias.
“The last one in the room with you. Where did he go?”
Michael frustration rose once more but not with Meryl’s lack of intel but rather, the fact that he wasn’t able to finish the job like the rest of his companions.
>
Meryl didn’t say anything. She slowly turned her head towards the southern window that had been completely smashed and ripped apart. Ryoo must have taken his leave as soon as the flashbang went off. Finding out why proved even more perplexing until his sullen companion spoke once more.
“He took him.”
“What?!” Michael snapped. “Who?”
“The President,” she said in almost a whimper. “He grabbed him and ran.”
Meryl’s statements soon turned to one of defense as she continued.
“I tried to stop him. Tried to save him but I couldn’t –”
“Meryl,” said Michael.
His voice became as soft as his grip upon his partner’s tender frame.
“Are you okay?”
He could see her delicate brown eyes turn glossy but no tears slide down her cheeks. Michael peered into her soul and found the answer he needed even though she gave a short nod to confirm that everything was fine now that he had arrived.
Michael drew on of his pistols from the holster and loaded a fresh magazine into the chamber. He placed it gently in Meryl’s lap.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “If anyone else comes through that door that you don’t recognize, shoot to kill.”
“What?” She whispered not knowing the extent of Michael’s warning.
He knew she had trained with all types of weapons before but this one should have plenty of stopping power that wouldn’t require it to be nearly as accurate. Michael left his partner knowing she’d be safest in here with the approaching army of law enforcement officers about to rush in here any second. However, this was not where he needed to be. The time for questioning would have to be postponed. There was one last thing that required his attention.
“Wait!” She pleaded as she stood up with the heavy pistol firm in her grip. “Where are you going?”
Michael stepped into the window frame. He turned his head slowly and issued a look that portrayed the utmost of confidence as he stated the final words Meryl may very well hear him speak.
“Finishing what I started.”
March 27th, 2013 4:29PM
1286 4th St SE
Washington, D.C.
A dozen beasts had tasted and succumbed to the uncanny marksmanship of the Paladin Nigel as Davis and Adriel continued the assault up close and personal. They drove the beasts back with overwhelming strikes from their staves. Each attack pushed them out of melee range and into the line of sight of their sniping companion. Unlike the previous lot, these beasts did not need a purging from the Paladin in order to be put down permanently.
“How many more of these creatures are left?” Adriel asked while smashing his staff across the skulls of another pair of creatures.
“Judging by the look of our friend upstairs,” pointed Davis as he delivered an uppercut to a monster sending him high into the air and proceeded to launch him back with a crushing swing. “I believe these are his last.”
The Paladin’s tone had changed. Knowing that Nigel was providing assistance after the confrontation with Michael Madison put an exceptionally sour taste in his mouth. It was as if Nigel was mocking Davis, stating that he needed assistance with this matter when in actuality, he was probably making things worse.
“And what of the target?” The Cleric questioned as he spun is staff into the air and slammed it atop the skull of a lunging beast. “Where did he run off to?”
The words of his companion had irked Davis more than he thought they would. He didn’t like his newfound companion being referred to as ‘target’. They made it seem like his fate was already sealed. Judgment hadn’t been decided yet and the Paladin was sure to check every single angle before casting it down upon him.
“He had other pressing matters that required his attention,” was all Davis said in response.
He dragged his staff across the ground and prepared the warehouse for another purging. With Adriel at his side and Nigel watching his back it allotted the Paladin all of the time he needed to perform this ritual. There were over a dozen left of these creatures so making enough runes to trap them all was going to take a bit of time.
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
Davis continued to work seemingly ignoring the request of his colleague. Sparks of light flashed into the air has he continued to guide his staff across the ground in intricate and specific patterns. Despite all of his focus, it didn’t deter Adriel from continuing his line of questioning.
“Father has made it known the target poses a danger if left unchecked. This is a crucial point in time and to ignore it and let it run loose –”
“It?!” Davis snapped.
His sketching grew more furious as he stared the Cleric dead in the eyes.
“He is not an it. He has a name Adriel. And it’s Michael Madison. He also has a job, colleagues, friends, a family and perhaps…”
The Paladin’s nerves seemed to get the better of him but he soon calmed down.
“Something else. But that doesn’t give you nor I the right to judge him as anything else. That is not our place nor is it our purpose.”
The words must have hit Adriel harder than any of the creatures tried to because his appeared to have retreated into a quiet and sullen place. Davis was not finished with him yet.
“I know those words are not your own Adriel,” Davis began while continuing to draw with his staff.
He picked up his pace and afforded a few extra strikes to the snapping beasts as they grew fiercer now that the Cleric had seemingly retreated altogether.
“Nigel may be your superior but he does not dictate how you are supposed to act and think. We have all been bestowed with a great gift and our purpose is clear. We are not the judges of humanity.”
The Paladin’s tone grew angrier by the second.
“The only one that can judge.”
Davis lifted his staff into the air pointing through the roof and into the sky above.
“The only one with the right to judge.”
He slammed the staff into the ground like a bolt of lightning and shouted.
“Is him!”
Columns of light rose from the ground. All of the remaining monsters had been trapped within the invisible prisons. Davis took a moment to catch his breath. He had never attempted that many seals in such a short amount of time but given the circumstances, the motivation he received from the Cleric was more than enough to push him over his previously discovered limits. Even Adriel appeared to be in awe of his accomplishment.
“I’ve never seen…”
The Cleric fumbled with the right words to say.
“That was incredible. It is true what they say about you. The power of the Right Hand of God knows no limits.”
“Adriel,” Davis interrupted between breaths. “We still have work to do.” The Paladin began his approach towards the doctor’s quarters.
“Make sure Nigel is here upon my return,” he said in passing.
There was still much to be done. The beasts continued to claw, scratch, and bite at their prisons but their efforts were fruitless. Escape would be impossible. Davis could leave them trapped in there for the rest of eternity if he so chose to and there wasn’t a single thing they could do about it. Enemies of the light saw no mercy from it.
Davis continued up the steps with his staff still in hand. He wasn’t sure if the doctor had any last tricks up his sleeve but wanted to be prepared regardless. There was only one outcome that would be a fitting end to this situation. The Paladin only hoped the doctor would open his mind long enough to listen to reason and accept the fate presented to him. Otherwise, they were going to have a serious problem on their hands.
March 27th, 2013 4:30PM
The White House
Washington, D.C.
Bahn clawed his way up to the top of the Oval Office with the captured President in tow and secured in his tight grip. He tossed the old man to the roof and leapt up to the top just in time to finish watching him roll to a complete stop. The K
orean soldier took a moment to admire both the view and the surroundings in what would be the coming moments of his ascension.
“What a glorious place to see your end,” he spat.
The continual taunts provoked nothing more than a few disturbing coughs and grunts from his captive.
“It’s very befitting. This is the stage the eyes of the world will look upon when they look upon your utter defeat at my hands.”
Sirens blared in the distance. Bahn could hear all of them talking and screaming in a panic. No one had ever gotten this close to harming the President of the Unites States in quite some time. Imagine how they will respond upon witnessing his public execution. This would be a glorious victory for the soon to be nation of New Korea. History was being made at this very moment as millions of American citizens watching on witness the dismantling of their beloved nation.
Over towards the north end of the room, Bahn could hear the President trembling. He was trying so hard to hide it but nothing could get past this soldier’s enhanced senses. Bahn approached the President, snatched him from the ground and began to drag him towards the center of the structure so that everyone could get a good view of what’s to come.
“Don’t be afraid Mr. President,” the soldier teased.
His blade continued to scratch the surface of the roof creating a hideous noise that echoed into the silent air.
“When this is all over, I promise you, you will always be remembered as the first to surrender.”
Bahn chucked President Marshal to the center of the roof between the West Wing and main building. They were position just over the famed White House Rose Garden and now had ample coverage and attention from all of the surrounding audience.
