Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2)

by L. M. Vila

  March 27th, 2013 4:35PM

  1286 4th St SE

  Washington, D.C.

  Fires engulfed the laboratory. Davis exited the stairs and didn’t care to even look behind to verify the performance of his flames. All traces of these insidious experiments had to be extinguished. Despite the doctor’s unsettling demise, the Paladin had a job to do and always carried out his orders to the letter.

  “Did things get a little hot up there?” Nigel teased.

  The fact that he was not only here but stood around to mock what has just transpired seemed to tug at the nerves of the Paladin.

  “Not now,” Davis replied trying to remain as calm as possible.

  His companion could instantly tell by the way those words came out they sounded anything but.

  “My apologies,” Nigel retorted in the same humorous tone as before.

  “Speaking of which,” he began as he approached Davis and dusted off the damaged area of the Paladin’s cassock. “I extend my deepest regret for causing you potential harm my brother. It has been so long since either have us have been in a firefight.”

  Nigel stopped and shrugged conveying his utmost disregard for manners and jokingly finished by saying, “I had forgotten how these ARMS worked.”

  The thing Davis’ fellow Paladin was referring to are Autolysis Regenerative Metal Systems, commonly known as ARMS. They appeared to be nothing more simple necklaces around their neck that with the right pressure at key points could transform them from a symbol into deadly weapon. When they are not being wielded as such, they offer the most advanced defensive system ever created. It utilizes a series of tiny magnets and nano-machines to formulate one of the most precious metals this world has ever known into a tool of protection or destruction. As long as a user has one of these on their person, bullets or any other deadly weapons will never harm them. This system forces the bearer to make a choice in each combat situation. Defend your ground and live or attack and gamble with your fate. Only five of these have ever been made. The metal used is considered to be the rarest on this very planet and touched by the very hands and feet of God. Each has been assigned to a specific Paladin of Testament. They are the greatest tools mankind has ever seen.

  “Adriel,” Davis called seemingly ignoring the other Paladin in the room. “Ensure all of the data and devices are destroyed. Touch nothing else.”

  “Right,” the Cleric nodded.

  He sped off towards the back of the warehouse to begin his superior’s request.

  The Paladin continued his path towards the dock doors. Just outside of entrance he could hear the whimpers of another. Davis moved in for a closer inspection and saw one of the soldiers his FBI companion had initially disposed of waking up from the forced slumber. There were no signs of permanent injury. Michael Madison had indeed fulfilled the Paladin’s request.

  “Rest easy,” Davis stated as he slowly dropped to one knee. “There is no more need to fight.”

  Once the soldier fully opened his eyes, he quickly pushed himself away and back towards the door. Arms and legs wrapped over his chest as he convulsed and panted hoping to take the edge off what could be his last few moments on this earth. The fetal position was always the last line in defense. He had tried everything else and is now at Davis’ apparent command. That did not sit well with him.

  “Don’t be alarmed Colonel Lee,” the Paladin smiled. “I am not going to hurt you.”

  Even those serene words couldn’t calm down the eccentric Colonel. Davis sensed that he wasn’t going to find peace through simple words. What he witnessed was something that defied all boundaries and logic. Of course it did. Anything can be accomplished so long as you have Him by your side.

  The Paladin placed his arm on the Colonel’s head. He winced at first but found a moment of tranquility through Davis’ soft touch.

  “Be at ease brother,” he started.

  Words fell from his lips and glided through the harmonious air as they danced through the Colonel’s ears. Light began to glow in the palm of the Paladin’s hand has he continued.

  “The war is over. There is nothing left to fight for. Nothing left to kill. Lay down your arms. You will have a new purpose in this life. One free from harm and sin. Live today so that you may help others live for tomorrow.”

  Davis always finished his pleasant speech with his favorite phrase.

  “May the peace and grace of God be with you always.”

  Light slowly faded away. All of the tension and stress appeared to have melted off the soldier. His demeanor was calm and he now longer cradled himself in a defensive position. The Colonel slept amongst his mean once more but in a state of peace, not harm. Davis reached into his pocket and procured a card. The address listed here will assist the Colonel and their men in finding new lives, one to live and some to live for. Sometimes the Paladin wished his organization didn’t strive to work for the things they had to do and would rather live to work for the things they should be doing. There was more to life than just taking it but if Testament did not exist, perhaps there wouldn’t have been a world left to live in.

  “Excellent work as always brother,” Nigel clapped as he joined Davis outside of the building.

  Not even the foul sentiments of his colleague could sour the Paladin’s move.

  “Law enforcement should be here momentarily. It is time we left this place,” Davis stated. Even when he was giving orders they always came out gentle and kind.

  “For once I agree with you,” Nigel replied. “Time is of the essence after all.”

  Davis nodded and took his leave past Nigel and towards Adriel’s vehicle in the distance. He was immediately stopped after his fellow Paladin snatched his arm and held him in place.

  “And where do you think you’re going?”

  Davis gave Nigel a solemn stare.

  “To fulfill my duty. Michael may still require my assistance.”

  “I don’t think so,” stated Nigel. “You’re duty has been fulfilled. Father has requested you presence. I am to take you there immediately.”

  “What?” Davis snapped. “What are you talking about? My assessment is-”

  “Over,” Nigel countered.

  Despite his uncaring demeanor prior, he was nothing but business now.

  “You have spent more than the adequate amount of time with that man. It didn’t take half as long to decree the others. Father requires an audience immediately to hear your report.”

  Davis shook his head. This wasn’t how he wanted it to end but despite all things, there was no one more loyal to Testament that its greatest warrior. The Paladin would submit to Father’s request. He would have to begin preparing his case immediately but something continued to claw at his thoughts. The way Michael left to the White House should be further investigated. Battling those sentiments out here would be fruitless. Perhaps the evidence would present itself before their deliberation began. Davis would present his case to Father and hopefully bring this matter to a clean resolution. He prayed they would make the right decision. The world couldn’t afford for them to be wrong.

  March 27th, 2013 4:35PM

  The White House

  Washington, D.C.

  Blades clashed upon the roof of the White House. The sharp sting of metal chimed into the afternoon air. Michael stepped in and delivered a sharp slash in the direction of Ryoo’s throat. The Korean easily deflected it and pushed back with one of his own. Metal scraped against metal as the two foes continued to press on. Despite their best efforts, their battle appeared to be locked in a stalemate.

  The former FBI agent held his dagger tight and pressed the back of the blade against his forearm. The kodachi was not meant for basic melee attacks. It was strictly a defensive weapon meant to parry other blades. Ryoo had the reach advantage but as long as Michael stayed in close, he could deflect any strikes and counter with unarmed attacks. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been afforded any such opportunities.

  Michael could feel his strength waning. Exhau
sted was an understatement. The bursts of adrenaline had depleted much of his remaining stamina and he could barely keep up the pace now. All of that welcomed numbing had dissipated. Every strike that he blocked rattled him to the core and send bursts of torment flowing through his cells. Defeating Ryoo Myung-Ho wasn't even an option he was considering at this point. His only priority was to stay alive and hope that he could find a way to end this before his opponent did.

  A wide swinging slash pushed Michael back. The weight of the blow forced the ultimate human soldier’s boots to dig into the surface of the roof and leave a permanent black skid mark in its wake. Even after successfully blocking that attack, Michael could hardly stand but he didn't dare show it. The bullet wounds on top of the constant slashes had made a resounding impression. His body could not take much more punishment. Myung-Ho must have smelt blood in the water because after one mighty jump, he landed in close proximity to the former FBI agent and renewed his attacks.

  Trying to match the Korean’s speed was almost impossible at this point. Michael slashed and parried as quickly as he could to deflect all of the oncoming blows but even his enhanced genetics couldn’t save him from fatigue. Three roaring swipes cut into the former FBI agent’s arm, chest and leg sending him reeling and forcing his pain receptors to work overtime. A sharp kick landed squarely into Michael’s abdomen and hurled him backwards. His body rolled across the merciless roof before finally coming to a stop flat on his back. The precious fluids and juices that gave Michael life continued to drip out of his body and the freshly opened wounds. He didn’t regenerate as quickly as Myung-Ho or his brother so he needed to keep every drop possible.

  Footsteps slowly approached the fallen ultimate soldier. The Korean must have been really confident to think Michael was down and out at this point but given current circumstances and appearances, Myung-Ho had every right to take this in stride. These few precious moments allowed him to reflect on his earlier conundrum. Something was indeed off about this battle. Though Michael had started it in poor condition, he shouldn’t have been bested so easily. Even though Ryoo Myung-Dae trained with the Yamateras, his skills weren’t on par with that of Michael’s since he never trained while using the Agent M substitute known as God-Slayer.

  Suddenly, the logic of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. There was a reason why there existed two conflicting stories about Ryoo Myung-Ho’s status. Nicole said he died during the war but if that were true, how would he be able to train a month later after the campaign had ended. The truth of the matter was simple: Ryoo Myung-Ho never died, however, he was critically injured. The only way he would have been able to train is if he was using God-Slayer from the beginning to regenerate his wounds. That’s why his skills were so sharp. Unlike his brother, Myung-Ho trained while his strength and agility were increased and mastered the techniques at a level of peak physical capability.

  The last piece of the puzzle stewed in Michael’s mind as his adversary drew closer. Ryoo Myung-Ho’s injury and dependency on God-Slayer were still a mystery. The brace on the Korean’s arm that carried his blade appeared to be the handle of a legitimate walking crutch. Michael theorized it was merely used as appearances to sneak in a blade inside but if Myung-Ho was on God-Slayer than there was no point in carrying a weapon when his body was a living one. That’s when the last piece fell into place. Myung-Ho didn’t use God-slayer; he needed it. The drug may regenerate all wounds received while under the effects but just like any other medication, the effects were bound to wear off.

  Michael had all of the information he needed now. His body became newly invigorated as the opportunity for victory presented itself. All he needed to do was get that junkie soldier dump every last atom of the God-Slayer formula. The former FBI agent sprang to his feet. Adrenaline coursed through every inch of his body and shut down all pain receptors that cried for attention. It was time to make this wannabe ultimate human soldier bleed like’s he’s never bled before.

  The roof crunched against Michael’s heels as he pushed off and lunged at Ryoo Myung-Ho. Their blades clashed once more but the true ultimate human soldier’s renewed vigor forced him to strike harder and faster than he had ever done in his entire existence.

  For the first time since this fight began, Michael could feel his opponent’s defense diminishing. Myung-Ho tried desperately to combat the brutal offensive put forth by him but couldn’t seem to get a lethal swing in as much as his skill and strength allowed. Unfortunately, for Michael, his efforts appeared fruitless as well. Every swing and swipe grazed only steel and not the flesh his blade had hungered for. The former FBI agent knew what he had to do but his body may never forgive him for this decision.

  Michael delivered a long sweeping strike. It cut the air over the soldier’s head and he braced himself as the counterattack struck him back quick and deep against his hip. Agony blared on all cylinders but this was Michael’s only opportunity. He turned his blade in midair and drove the tip down into Myung-Ho’s exposed ribs. The Korean howled in pain for the first time as Michael twisted his handle and opened up the wound to form a complete circle. He removed the blade and sent Myung-Ho packing with a wicked uppercut. It didn’t knock him down but now he fully understood the strength and tenacity of his opponent. Michael wasn’t about to give up no matter how much he bled. He’d come too far to be stopped now. His mission was nowhere near completion and one man or a hundred drugged out on his lifeblood wasn’t about to stop him now.

  Myung-Ho took a few steps back. It appeared the soldier was still rattled from the pair of blows recently landed. Michael moved in for the kill. He threw three sweeping strikes that connected beautifully across the Korean’s flesh. Blood vomited from the newly opened wounds and coated the ultimate human soldier’s clothing in crimson paint. Ryoo shrieked once more but quickly turned and retaliated with his own attacks. Michael didn’t even both to counter them. They traded blows and cuts atop the roof of the White House. This was no longer a battle. This was an endurance trial.

  Steel fought flesh high above the air as the two combatants continued to dish out furious strikes towards one another. Michael had stopped counting or even registering his body being sliced apart and judging by his adversary’s expression, the feeling was mutual. The desperation on Myung-Ho’s face was abundant. The former FBI agent was cracking his armor and it only further pushed him to strike harder and faster than physically conceivable. However, the loss of blood Michael had experienced throughout the day had finally caught up with him. The corners of his eyes started to blur and his head began floating along a string of clouds. He stopped feeling anything, even his own rage and cruised on autopilot until a wary fist crashed into his temple and forced him to disengage.

  Apparently Ryoo Myung-Ho had enough of this exchange. His clothing was in tatters. Blood stained every visible portion of his bruised and sliced body. In the blink of an eye, Michael had pummeled his adversary to the brink of exhaustion. Pants and wheezes forced their way through the Korean’s lungs. He no longer had the smug demeanor of an invincible warrior. But, the most crucial factor the former FBI agent noticed was Myung-ho’s rapid regeneration factor or rather, lack thereof. It was a sight befitting of a celebration. Michael’s gamble had paid off.

  The world was spinning. Michael couldn't sharpen his sight or senses. Instincts were the only tool at his disposal. A large red blur speed towards his direction. With every inch closer it came, the image started to come clean. Myung-Ho rushed towards Michael with his blade forward and impaled the former FBI through the stomach. The sharpened steel cut right through his meager Kevlar armor as he felt all sixteen inches of hostile metal taking residence in his gut.

  Michael grabbed the bladed arm with his free hand. He clenched his teeth as blood began to splatter and stain the enamel. Myung-Ho tried to push and drag the ultimate human soldier hoping to make the wound deeper and larger but he wouldn't budge. There was no way Michael was going to be moved especially considering the current condition of his adversa
ry. His cells have been drained of their strength. He is no longer the mighty brute he once was. Michael may be on the worse end of Myung-Ho's blade but he still has two distinct advantages. The child of Project Mabus couldn't be drained of his genetic gifts like a popped water raft and as of right now, he was in control of both weapons.

  Lightning struck the Korean’s arm. The kodachi dug into the softened flesh of his exposed elbow. He cried out in a dreadfully violent roar as his arm pleaded for mercy and release from this agony. Michael twisted the blade once more, severing all of the precious tendons that controlled use of the hand and completing taking the appendage out of this fight.

  Screams continued to fill the air of the White House. The former FBI agent pulled back and cracked his skull against the soldier's jaw. Myung-Ho reeled as he was forcibly disengaged from the encounter no longer possessing the sharp piece of steel that was still embedded into Michael's stomach. He cringed as hard as his body could afford as blood tried to seep out of the freshly grazed wound. It has been too long sing Michael had tasted the bitter copper flavored liquid filling his mouth.

  The hideous slurping screech of the sword exiting his stomach would be forever etched into his memory. It would take quite a while for this wound to be patched up, even for Michael's increased rate of regeneration. The same couldn't be said for Ryoo Myung-Ho as he continued to screech and moan over his countless injuries. As the effects of God-Slayer have weakened, so had the Korean soldier's fighting prowess. They were both at their limits. The sun was about to set on this glorious battle and a victor would soon be determined.

  Anger filled the skies as Myung-Ho screamed. His lungs would not soon recover from those burns as he raced ahead hoping to tear the ultimate human soldier apart with his bare hands. Michael braced himself as he tossed the Korean’s weapon aside. Two fists cracked against Michael’s protective forearms. They didn't nearly have the weight they once possessed but it was still enough to push Michael back and force his defenses to work overtime.