“T-the master has other plans!” he declares proudly. “We serve a greater PURPOSE! One that you can’t stop!”
"You haven't seen anything yet."
An energy engulfs my form, emanating across my body and flooding solely into my extremities. They quickly expand into a considerable size twice their normal appearance. Arms and legs displaying an array of pulsating veins that manifest as my will—my need to fight. It's a part of what I can do.
But there's so much more.
I smile briefly at my opponent before rotating behind his right arm and heaving him over my shoulder with ease before forcefully smashing the railing in using his enlarged frame. I proceed to fire a bullet into his helmet that simply ricochets off and away into a wall away from us.
“Fuck.”
I’m not the brightest assassin.
Recovering from a moment of hesitation, I follow up by shooting several rounds into exposed side of his body armor until the giant ceases moving.
Much better.
With the path cleared, I’m finally able to continue into the master suite while the sound of the survivors attacking remaining mob members resonates throughout the corridor behind me. I sprint into an immense room covered by a leopard-patterned carpet. Toward the east side is positioned a group of hazel, leather couches bending at their respective centers and curving into half circles before a flat-screen television monitor and sound system; both occupy a sizable portion of the room.
The spacious quarters briefly remind me of my own place, and I consider taking some of the furniture with me before I bring myself to refocus. I ascend up a flight of yet another set of stairs—carpeted, this time—and am confronted with another door made of glass. It’s the entrance leading to a private room followed by balcony, which overlooks a broad section of what is known as the Mid-City of the massive Citadel: my home and the only history I have.
To think that an entire city could be designed and engineered to hover above the Earth, away from all that happens below us. The Citadel, stretching hundreds of miles, is massive in what it encompasses. A settlement that formed its own nation—and during a time of constant warfare.
It's impressive.
I’m accosted by a butler at the entrance who blocks my view of a man in a much lighter and well-tailored suit; the one being protected stares forlornly across the city-nation at something in the distance.
"Excuse me, sir,” The butler conveys significant irritation. “But the Master has no interest in entertaining guests at the moment. We ask that you leave this place—that you leave and never return!"
I stare back at him and nonchalantly inquire, "Are you another one of them?”
The butler fails to respond. His features remain rigid. I look him over for an implant but can’t find anything.
“I actually have a lot of business being here.” I speak as the butler remains transfixed. “Boa and I need a short face-to-face. It's not going to take very long."
The enraged servant surprises me by aiming a type of shotgun I've never seen at the center of my chest.
"No sir!” He shouts as eloquently as he can. “You will vacate this area speedily; MY employer deserves only the highest of praise—"
He stiffens.
The butler reaches for his lower back as he falls to his knees wordlessly. His body sinks to the floor while he writhes in agony. His ‘master’ fires a final, fatal round into the butler's head. I look up from the man's corpse in time to see the other individual holding a gun at his side and displaying a demeanor of both disgust and resignation.
He's shaken from his own actions.
The butler’s employer speaks—or rather, laments, "He wasn’t meant for a life like this.”
The magnate refuses to make any eye contact but speaks, “Looks like I’ve arranged my getaway plans a little too late…. Heh. I didn't expect your arrival. Who, might I ask, are you?"
"Tavon. I didn't expect you to expect it, and now I want to see the one in charge."
“Hah.” he snorts, "Straight to the point. Admirable. I… am Portis.”
I wait impatiently.
“Instead of attacking me on sight, you actually speak and respond like a normal human… I-I watched.” There's something close to sorrow contained within his gaze.
“Watched what?”
“The cameras… it must be some sort of joke. You took them on… all of them.”
“It didn’t take much.” I shrug while feeling my anxiety subtly increase. He’s wasting my time—Boa has to be here.
“I've done a horrible, horrible thing, Tavon.” I’m taken aback by his confession and pause for a moment before I can decide to interrupt.
“What was it that made you come here?” he asks, aggression building in his tone. Oddly enough, a measure of strength has returned to his troubled psyche. “Was it revenge? Did I take someone you love?”
He sounds desperate, “Maybe you can still see them again."
“What are you talking about?”
His eyes light up in a disturbing fashion and hover eerily over a faint smile. “You don't know yet, do you? You’re just a tool, someone hired to strongarm this business! Are my assumptions correct?”
"Genod & Portis just happens to be related to my objective; I didn't choose this route because I wanted to. It doesn't have anything to do with you, personally, but I would like to know what this place is."
Portis looks puzzled for a second but speaks with even more determination. I can feel him growing bolder than before; his heart rate is increasing with every word: "You’re an assassin, Mr. Tavon? An assassin caught up in a nasty situation—”
“That should be obvi—”
Portis grumbled, “I thought we had all the security we needed,” he cuts me off, his mind now absent from the conversation, “but considering the rest of our associates won't get here on time—if they're even coming, I guess I have no other choice.” he gazes at the floor. “But what I do here… it's saving lives, Tavon.”
“By enslaving people?”
He shakes his head before assuming a condescending tone, “Do you know very much about the war in Gaspul, Tavon? It's not what some would call a real 'war', but something we've used to our benefit.”
Gaspul is an immense territory to the west of the Citadel and consists of factions belonging to the World Below. The Citadel government has occupied its central area for decades but not without conflict.
He quickly backs away from me and reaches over to obtain a cylindrical-shaped, metallic object with its center encased in glass that displays a dark, red liquid. At its bottom, there extends a sharp needle. I'm intrigued.
“A new implant derived from our studies of human enhancement. It’ll enable us transform humanity itself,” Portis grins, “because we know about people like you. People Gifted—or Cursed—with ‘It…’”
“This isn’t needed, Portis. Just tell me where I can find Boa… but if you are going to actually use that stuff,” I point to the syringe, “You better hope it can save you.”
He chuckles. “None of this matters anyways.” Portis paused for moment, looking thoughtful. “The Citadel repeatedly bombarded various settlements in Gaspul. People suffered from these bombings—there were those who would've died had this company not intervened.” He snarled, “And so, we found a way to keep them from dying!”
Portis looked to me, his expression revealing a distinct madness I’d witnessed from only the most delusional of my encounters. “The price for their ensured survival is high; we integrate them all into our company.”
“You can't mean—”
“It's not something you'd get right now, but Tavon,” He sternly addressed me, “all those people out there are linked to a system we designed. If that system dies, they will most likely as well—and the implant, that was a new idea.”
“How so?”
“If they try to contaminate or remove it, the core of what keeps our people alive is programmed to detonate. This is a very cutthroat prof
ession, but we've made so many advan—”
Annoyed at his constant lecturing, I shoot Portis in his left thigh and ask again, “Where’s the one I’ve been asking for all this time!”
“I-I don't know—!” He cries out after having fallen onto his side.
Portis then stuns me by having sufficient willpower to quickly stab himself near the gunshot wound before injecting the serum. He growls, "Very well, Mr. Tavon. I'll show you the full potential of our work.”
"Still not impressed." I cut him off, folding my arms and anxious to see the results.
Portis looks away from me, succumbing to rising tension across the musculature in his figure. His guttural tone transitions into a throaty roar preceding the outward fracturing of every bone in his body as he lies supine, and his spinal column ruptures in an attempt to extend its own length. The long hair draped across his back begins to multiply and is compelled to grow at an alarming rate. Portis’ left arm increases in size several times the proportion of his right until the extremity finishes swelling into a massive, tumor-like growth which twitches infrequently.
His digits on each hand have extended into short claws of bone; his legs become immense planes of expanded tissue, enlarged arteries, and veins so prominent that they shine with a horrific luminescence.
Portis is at last able to meet my gaze confidently, and he does so exposing a set of teeth broken and divided because of the broadening of his facial bones in order to make room for a horned protrusion descending downward from the middle of his throat. His entire body transfigures its makeup into a pale mass of muscular tissue, and Portis struggles to stand before me initially—resembling a monstrous, gigantic perversion of his original form. His figure dwarfs me in appearance, and he snarls in a bellowing voice: "No matter the sacrifice, I won’t let you stop our research—think of all the lives! They were given to SAVE humanity!"
Portis, while I have my guard down, sends a hook from his bloodied left mass of an extremity that connects with my ribcage and knocks me off my feet as I lose my balance.
I evade another strike as his other fist soars into the ground.
“This is bigger than some assassin on an ego trip! Why can’t you understand that?!”
I regain my composure and land in a crouch before returning to stand.
That last hit…
It felt pretty good.
I dust myself off and reply, "Not a bad start. What else you got to show me?"
He roars and leaps back toward the center of the room then up the side of the wall, using it as leverage to launch himself so that he can tackle me into the floor. I charge between his outstretched arms and stand firm while using the power of my stance to stop his assault with a drive to the chest.
But the force of his attack overwhelms me!
I'm forced down and roll away in time as he swipes one of his paws in my direction. His claws rip through my shirt, creating four shallow cuts in my midsection.
I have to get serious.
—I tap into the depths of my ability—
It’s a power intrinsic to my survival. Dark energy manifests before engulfing my frame. As my body slightly expands even further, I crouch into a squat before bounding upward and toward my target with enormous force to drive my knee into Portis’ skull.
Portis collapses for a moment but hurriedly uses one hand to hoist himself up and swipes at me with the other. I duck under the claw's embrace and lunge in while rotating to thrust my elbow into the middle of his disfigured midsection.
The impact is such that it pushes him off balance, and Portis utters a weak groan before desperately slashing at me, rending the air as his eyes seek my throat! I deftly force my heel into his left ankle and crush it in place. The monster screams and sends a closed fist my way, but I deflect it; I follow by jabbing him in the face until he retreats.
My strength is building now.
"Amazing… How were you blessed… with It?" The monstrosity pants as blood streams in rivulets across his transformed body.
"I don't know what you're talking about.” I replied.
Portis expression was one of shock. “How can you have the Gift and not know? The Gift… is the final step for humanity.”
I notice that Portis' wounds have already ceased bleeding, almost as if they're regenerating.
Luckily, they won't recover fast enough to stop me.
Portis charges while using his claws as multiple spears which pierce and shred through any chances of escape. I successfully dodge several of his attacks but suffer a gash wound across my chest.
Portis' eyes become wide when he realizes that I don't react to the injury, which I take advantage of by concentrating my strength into my upper body and proceed to strike him in the head thrice—enough for him to fall and come once again to his feet where he remains dazed.
Portis regains focus then delivers a hook, which I block and direct into the ground while launching a heavy kick into his abdomen!
He spits blood and backs toward the edge of the balcony where he retrieves a shotgun he’d hidden behind a black, leather recliner. I sidestep and get down as he decimates a large portion of the walls and furniture behind me.
Through the ringing in my ears, I hear the faint sounds of…
—police sirens—
I'm running out of time.
Before he can shift his fire, I take a defensive stance and position my palms out in front of me. Another trick—one I’d been taught some time ago.
I use a combination of my own energy and the strength of the aura that flows through me to generate a great deal of force and flex simultaneously as Portis fires his weapon! He sprays the area, and bullets deflect off the physical barrier I’ve created. One of the redirected bullets ricochets and hits Portis' stomach.
He almost drops his weapon as his firing hand moves to guard the wound.
In a moment, I'm there!
I rapidly strike Portis in the throat before grabbing his shotgun and forcing the barrel below his chin despite his constant efforts to overpower me. His transformed figure shakes against the cumulative might I’ve gathered.
“T… there is no life for them anymore…” He growls beneath a pained maw.
“Their bodies will always be slaves to the network we built. We reprogrammed everything, including their free will…”
Ansi arrives with the mob of survivors.
The man heard Portis and bravely demands: “What do you mean: ‘no life’?! –You've already taken everything!” My translator’s still working.
Portis no longer holds me back. He’s accepted his fate.
“Our people have no life expectancy. They can't reproduce; they're the bodies we salvaged in the wreckage that was the result of war. None of them were programmed to survive.”
I fire the shotgun.
Portis’ ravaged corpse crashes onto the floor and produces a pool of blood growing steadily at our feet.
The authorities are on their way. I'm in dire need of an escape plan.
I can hear frantic commotion behind me and suddenly realize that Ansi—the one who managed to band his group together—is beginning to lose his sanity as he sinks to the ground and begins ranting incoherently. The people around him are screaming and pleading with him while completely ignoring what’s just transpired. While I listen in, I notice Ansi reach behind himself and tear away any remaining cloth as he exposes an open wound.
Ansi has been digging into his back to expose the implant.
He clasps a hand around a disc-shaped objected that has been burrowed into his tissue and wired into a network powering his life support. If he destroys that—
“Hear that, everyone? Our lives aren't REAL anymore… none of it’s REAL!” he cries furiously while cringing at the damage he’s done to himself. “I won’t be a-a ‘computer’. I refuse!”
Another of the group pleads with him, “Ansi—Ansi! You must stop; you'll kill us all!”
Ansi issues a solemn look.
“We were n
ever supposed to survive in the first place. The gods decided that we don't deserve this! This… is punishment.”
His resolution unshakable, Ansi reaches for the implant and—
I blast him using my pistol and to the collective gasps of the group.
Hastily, I dash toward the balcony and this time concentrate strength primarily into my legs.
This will be a little risky.
I jump from the edge, positioning my body to land near an elongated surface belonging to a subsequent wooden balcony on the third floor. I plunge heavily through a tan tarp and relax myself slightly as my legs meet the ground, causing the pain of the impact to flood across my body. I'm able to absorb it despite being shaken for a moment and continue by climbing down to the second floor. I jump again to the earth below and am met with an alley not yet touched by responding Zone Police.
I imagined I've done something good by stopping Ansi and breaking up a trafficking ring. That's what this was for, after all. I take pride in disposing of the corrupted.
An explosion follows overhead, however, scattering chunks of debris across the area! The top of the hotel is engulfed in a raging tempest of fire; the sounds of shrill screams can be heard echoing desperately into the skies.
Portis’ victims… they chose a different fate. My intervention meant nothing to them.
Another gangster approaches me as I skulk away from the scene.
"What the hell happened to your clothes?!” The suited man exclaims while appearing deeply concerned. “What’s going on here, man? W-why is HQ burning—and you're… bloody!"
I look to him and reply calmly: "You might want to look for a new employment. This place is a bust." I walk away to try to keep from killing anyone else tonight.
“Ha! ‘New employment…’” I hear him cock a handgun behind me. “You better find me ‘new employment’ quick, because this is all I got right now, buddy! Who’s gonna pay for my family, huh?—you’re responsible for this shit, aren’t you? What, you some fuckin' terrorist or something—”
I turn to look at the man again, except that I realize that he's not a man but some seventeen-year-old kid ranting solely out of fear. I recognize a familiar disorientation in his eyes as he aims the gun at me with a trembling grip.
Angelos Odyssey Page 3
