by L. M. Vila
Michael slammed his forehead into the bridge of Kurtis’ nose. The poor bastard cried akin to the child he acted like. His grip weakened on Michael. Just in time too. Michael had gotten enough rest to serve this bastard a king sized ass whipping.
Blinded by the blow, Kurtis could only see the world as a blurry red haze. Surprisingly enough, it was a good thing because he wouldn’t like what was on its way. Michael came at him hard with a jaw-busting straight left cross that sent his opponent in a explosive amount of pain. He followed it with a standing side kick. Michael’s foot slammed into his opponent’s midsection with such a great velocity that he hoped jabbed a rib or two into some vital organs.
Kurtis dropped to the ground like a rock. His adversary didn’t appear to make the same mistake he did. Michael moved as fast as he could towards the fallen Russian. Playing the victim would work to his benefit. Even if he was more injured than he believed. As long as his body carried out the orders he sent then there wouldn’t be any trouble.
The tables that were once turned had flipped over. Kurtis sprung from his back and jetted his feet into Michael’s chest with a satisfying crack, sending him slamming into another pillar, nearly destroying it in the process. It was a good thing he didn’t. Kurtis had other plans for this man; one that would firmly establish his pride and dominance.
Familiar hands gripped Michael's neck. They clasped it with the strength of ten steel vices. Kurtis mustered every ounce of his energy and launched the FBI agent straight into the air. Michael crashed through the roof and continued onward for another five feet. He landed back on the floor where the fight began. The broken doors of the General’s office stared plainly back at him. Unconsciousness loomed. His body desired rest. After all, it just went through some very expensive carpentry.
Roman couldn’t believe what he saw. Nor the General. Their imaginations boldly ran at full speed. Yegor was flabbergasted. He didn’t want to believe in a thousand years that he was wrong about Kurtis. His pride was so powerful it even overcame his better judgment. Killing Madison here would certainly end all of his troubles. Keeping Kurtis alive, on the other hand, would appear to create new ones.
Hands reached up from the second hole. Kurtis pulled himself up to the top floor, right next to Michael. He looked so weak and pathetic. Like an ant that had been stomped but still had enough life to keep wiggling their legs. Seeing him struggle like that made the added strength it took to toss him through the roof worth it.
As he stood, Kurtis drank in the expressions of his fellow comrades. Proving them wrong was almost as satisfying as victory in combat. He walked past Michael’s body and approached the old man who used to bark orders. A bigger dog had entered the yard. This was his territory now. The new order had to be established on the back of strength, not cowardice.
“You dare to doubt me now old man?” Growled the sadist. Kurtis slithered into the room, heavy breaths still pumping out of his body. “I’ve done exactly what I’ve said I’d do. Like I’ve always done. I knew you never had faith in me regardless of all the successes I’ve brought to you and this organization.” His muscles flexed as he snarled his final statement. “Am I good enough for you now? Do you have the balls to stand up against me after all of this?!”
“What are you saying fool?” Yegor had other concerns on his mind. Madison was still moving which meant he was alive. Nothing could be settled until the business was completed. “He still lives. Finish him off!”
“You call that living?” Kurtis mocked. He walked over to the squirming body of his defeated opponent. Bending to his knee, Kurtis continued to taunt him. “This one is harmless-”
Michael cut off his sardonic enemy with an exploding uppercut. His knuckles dug into Kurtis’ jaw, cracking every layer of enamel in his teach, and slamming it shut. Michael followed his attack, spinning his body and vaulting his elbow directly into the cocky Russian’s chest. Its force was immeasurable, shaking the very windows of this confined space. Michael had reserved all of his strength, all of his power, all of his life into one single offensive barrage. And it was amazing.
The office lit up with life. Kurtis’ body rolled backwards until it was caught with the tough, heavy arms of the General’s destroyed desk. He wanted to scream, wince, and even sulk about the pain that continued to plague him. But he couldn’t. His mouth was slammed shut so hard, he couldn’t even force it to open.
Slowly rising to his feet, Michael channeled his remaining energy into keeping himself stable. The advantage now played in his favor. Michael only needed to draw his other pistol in order to keep it that way. His body, on the other hand, could not keep up with his thoughts. Yegor quickly reached into his desk. This was turning into the nightmare he knew it would become. In his hands, he withdrew his trusted 9mm Makarov pistol and pointed it at Michael’s battered frame.
“Stop Madison!” The weapon appeared threatening in his grip but Michael didn’t even pay him regard. He stood there, blood continually pouring down from the gashes on his face, knowing full well the General could pull that trigger without complicating matters. If Michael died here, with his gun on the ground, it would appear that the General killed him in self defense. That’s not why Michael stood firm. Having the psychological edge was greater than any pistol. Michael’s best weapon was and always will be intimidation.
“Idiót!” Shouted Yegor as he slammed his fist against the metal piece of furniture. “Get up and kill that man!”
The General played a sick game. He didn’t like to get his hands dirty if he could avoid it. Michael couldn’t finish off Kurtis and expect to survive without a weapon. One gun was too far out of reach. Drawing his second would surely bring about retaliatory fire and Michael was too weak to do it quickly. He had to take a different approach and not rely on his Desert Eagles to overcome this barrier. That’s when the epiphany struck. Right as Kurtis shook off his pain and charged forward.
“Die Madison!” He cried speeding towards the sullen FBI agent. The damage to his mouth wasn’t severe enough to Michael’s dismay. Instead of waiting for the attack as he had been doing, a curveball was thrown. Michael raced full speed ahead. The somewhat disturbed look on Kurtis’ face told him his plan worked. They collided in the center of the office. Grunts exhumed from each of the warriors. The force of their charge shook the walls of the building, almost wanting to shatter the windows that surrounded them.
Michael flew backwards, rolling once and stopping on his face. The offense that Kurtis had put up during their lengthy struggle was indescribable. This attack sealed the deal. All of Michael’s old wounds reactivated. He swam in a sea of acid covered with open wounds. There was no way he could walk out of this alive now. Unless of course, he hit his mark.
“Is that all you’ve got?!” Kurtis marveled at his victory. Finally, it would appear. Defending against another counter offensive from this one was futile. Breaking out in laughter, Kurtis taunted his soon to be dead opponent. “You are lower than dirt! Who could ever be afraid of –”
Kurtis began choking on his words. Not by choice. Adrenaline had subsided. That numbing, protective feeling that he loved so much vanished. His heart felt like it was on the verge of exploding and for a very good reason. A black dagger had pierced his muscular frame. The realization that someone had moved faster that Kurtis was overwhelming. Good thing his newly created injury would spare him any more embarrassment.
Roman looked on, completely astounded and what had transpired. He yelled for his master. Called out his name. Suddenly, Kurtis’ hearing wasn’t working as it was supposed to.
“You fool! Out of the way!” Shouted the General. Kurtis was blocking his view of Madison. He still had the gun in his hand, ready to end this useless charade. Too bad this thing didn’t have more power or he’d shoot through that worthless boy’s body.
Michael saw his window fading. Kurtis continued to stand even after being stabbed through the heart. It had to end here. Opportunity wouldn't knock a second time. Michael pushed himself
off the ground and swung his leg outward. Channeling the strength of two-hundred and seventy degrees, Michael concentrated all of his remaining energy into a spinning back roundhouse kick. The heel of his boot slammed into the handle of the protruding kodachi, vaulting the dagger straight through Kurtis’ body. The young Russian’s heart exploded into an unrecognizable mist of its former self. Blood gushed with the intensity of a tsunami out both ends of the wound.
Like a bullet fired from a gun, the blade shot out through Kurtis’ back. Yegor wasn’t young enough to react in time. Steel cut through his flesh. The blade struck him in the neck. Veins erupted. Blood forced their way through the freshly sliced gaps.
The old man lurched over his desk, searching for a bit of relief. He was not supposed to die this way. Yegor Semyon was a proud soldier of the Red Army. Being defeated at the hands of his enemy was the greatest shame. The soldier within him tried to force his body to stand up straight, like any proud warrior would want to go. It would not listen. He died falling on his back, in a pool of his own juices, wondering what his fallen comrades would say if they could see him now.
Air blew strongly through Michael’s lungs. Decisive victory had finally been established. Kurtis dropped to his knees. The once life-filled brown eyes were completely devoid of color. He collapsed onto his face, blood continuing to flow from the ghastly hole bored through his chest. The shock of such a resounding defeat left Kurtis speechless at the very end. There was nothing he could say that would give him back his honor now. Dead men tell no tales.
The General was out of direct view. Given the previous croaking, his death was easily confirmed. Only one life remained in this building. Michael turned his gaze, blood still seeping down his face, to find tears streaming down Roman’s.
“Moĭ vnuk…!”
Michael knew what he said. There was more to this story than originally perceived. While the old man sobbed, Michael awaited an explanation. This old man appeared to be the only reasonable person in this company.
“Kurtis was a good child. He wanted to be a pilot. Like his grandfather.” Tears increased as Roman continued to utter the words between tears. “The General, he wanted Kurtis for his experiments. To fight in the war. Kurtis was not like you. They forced that drug on him. Our soldiers’ bodies couldn’t contain its power. Only children were able to resist its effects. Their bodies were still developing, which allowed the drug to work properly. To everyone else, it’s just a virus.”
Despite the sadness flowing through his heart, Roman had provided quite a bit of information to the FBI agent. Michael made a note to discuss this further with his superior.
“The General was ruthless back then. He… He made me kill my son. And his wife. I begged him to spare their lives. He threatened to kill everyone, including me, if I didn’t do it.”
A man pouring these emotions to a complete stranger had obviously lost a great deal. The story was reaching its climax. Roman tried to form the words through the sadness. It was exceedingly more difficult as the memories came to surface.
“So… I killed them. In their sleep. Kurtis didn’t make a sound. It is my greatest shame. I could not bear to live with it. So, I dedicated my life to serving Master Kurtis. He was my life. And now… And now…”
More sobbing commenced. Roman crawled over to the lifeless body of his grandson and held him tightly. Even as his chilling blood stained Roman’s clothes, he rocked the boy back and forth. Knowing he would never hear Kurtis’ voice, condescending or solemn, was tough to imagine. He gave up his life so that Kurtis could have a good one. And now, he was dead.
Roman moved his gaze towards the FBI agent. His emotions had reduced to the point of speaking without stammering. Looking up at Michael and processing everything that he’s done thus far made the truth come out, clear as day.
“I understand now why the General feared you. When he read about your accomplishments, he knew immediately who you are. It is because you are the Alpha, aren’t you?”
Despite his lack of power, this one was well informed. Michael looked back at him not denying that claim.
“We spent many years trying to build up our soldiers to fight you someday. Our informants told us the child born from that formula had been killed and the project terminated. When the General heard the news, he forced me to convince Kurtis he was that child instead. It was the second lie I’ve ever told him. Never could I have imagined that the boy born of science could have lived to torture me once more.”
Michael didn’t have anything to say to this man. Roman knew his secret, shared by only one other. Allowing him to live was out of the question. However, the way he looked after holding Kurtis’ lifeless body told Michael that he was already dead.
“Someone like you should have never been born. Your life is a slap in the face of God.” Roman was a bold man to sit here and insult someone who could kill him in an instant. “But in that retrospect… We are both the same. I too, have committed a grievous sin. However, because of that, we are different. My sin came through my own will. You had no control over yours. And even as your life defies the Lord you live it trying to protect and defend others. Science is the one that sinned… Not you.”
Religious sentiments were cute, but it had nothing to do with Michael. He reached for his gun and lifted it from the ground.
“So, after all of this. Death has finally come,” stated the old man. “Please, I beg of you. This is what I deserve.”
The Desert Eagle lifted. Its barrel pointed at Roman’s skull.
“May God forgive me for what I have done.” He closed his eyes.
Michael pulled the trigger. The bullet sped through the barrel, right at its intended target, shattering it. Glass rained down from the sixty story building. Roman wondered if death was really this easy until he realized no harm had befallen him. Opening his eyes proved this.
“But why? Why did you spare me?”
The FBI agent turned away and headed towards desk. He picked up his blood stained dagger, the used syringe, and finally Yegor’s laptop. With nothing left here for him, Michael ventured towards the elevators, leaving Roman confused and somewhat scared.
“Wait! Where are you going? Why didn’t you kill me?” The old man looked towards the shattered window. He must have wanted to destroy that instead of take Roman’s life. That didn’t make sense. “Why did you destroy that window? What are you trying to tell me?”
Pondering the majesty of his actions was too much for this old man to take. This man did not take Roman’s life. He destroyed a window, leading to the outside world. It instantly became clear. Michael had no reason to kill Roman. The only way for Roman to seek atonement was if he did it himself.
“I see. I understand now.”
The elevator doors opened and Michael stepped in. The last thought on his mind as the elevator began to descend was if the old man would hit the ground before he did. Probably so. Michael had to make a stop to retrieve something he left behind. And also to take care of one last piece of business. Normally he wouldn’t desire to make a scene but it would be very difficult to complete this mission without making a little bang.
Thick brown dirt blew away in every direction as the helicopter touched down. Surrounding it was one dozen San Bernardino County Sheriffs and Hesperia Police vehicles. Of course, the FBI’s S.W.A.T. van had already been stationed, awaiting command. The doors opened as soon as they ceased flight. Blades still cut away, slowing down to a violent hush. Meryl and Nicole were the first to exit. They were escorted by the T.A.U. members and greeted by the remaining officers.
“Good morning ma’am.”
“Morning Lieutenant. Have there been any reports since your arrival?”
“It’s been quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary. The front entrance appears to have been breached. It’s difficult to see from here,” he replied.
“Understandable, I trust everyone’s been briefed.”
“Of course.”
“Good,” Nicole moved over to the S.W
.A.T. van, instructing everyone to follow. A large blueprint was spread out on the table detailing the schematics of the building. There was only enough room under the fluorescent light for a handful of people. The sun was still peaking over the mountains. Not enough light just yet.
“We need to take caution when proceeding inside. I want every sheriff securing the perimeter. Nothing gets in or out. The S.W.A.T. unit will proceed inside in teams of three, securing every floor. I will remain outside along with Agent Lewis and the Lieutenant.” Nicole pulled away from the table and addressed her team. “Keep the communication flowing. I want to know everything that’s happening inside at all times. Once any survivors are rounded up, we’ll commence the seizure of assets. Is that clear?”
They all gave a resounding “Yes ma’am!”
“Good, Lieutenant, which one of these is your vehicle.”
“That would be the Jeep right over here.”
“Perfect, Meryl let’s roll. Everyone else, follow -”
An eruption in the distance commanded silence from the group. Nicole gazed at the building as did everyone else. Smoke flowed from the center, filling the sky with black clouds of cooked drywall. It made Nicole’s heart twist. The fear of being too late overcame her thoughts.
“Everyone, move out!” She ordered.
Haste was not only encouraged, it was required. Bodies gathered inside vehicles. Tires spun, tearing the ground apart. Everyone hit the gas and took off, breaking into sub triple digit speeds seconds after.
Meryl jumped in the backseat. Nicole shared her enthusiasm but not her vigor. Having a disabled arm really puts a damper on haste. They didn’t bother strapping on their safety belts as the Lieutenant punched the accelerator and they blitzed towards the smoking building.
“This is Lieutenant Mills, I need the fire department and some ambulances to come down to Southern Hesperia, by the new skyscraper, half a mile east of the I-15 freeway immediately,” the Lieutenant demanded to the radio. It was received and he was assured that fire trucks were on their way.
