Avenging Angels (The Seraphim Chronicles Book 1)

by Adams, Nicholas

  The voice answered the connection with a single word. “Speak.”

  “Zeus,” Campbell said. “I believe we have a problem.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Ground Zero was chaotic after the attack. Security patrols zoned off the area, detouring all pedestrian and vehicular traffic to adjacent side streets. The plaza outside was crowded with gamers being interviewed about the events. On the other side of the plaza a throng of spectators had gathered to witness the scene and wonder about what had happened.

  Jack’s business partners, Jacob Wells, Christopher Bennett, and Ethan Oliver, had mixed emotions after authorities had notified them about the attack. Of course, they were relieved that Jack and Evangeline’s injuries appeared to be minor. As business owners, however, this attack brought up concerns over the safety of their customers. Would this incident with the unnamed attackers hurt their popularity among the SimCom players? Judging by the crowds on the plaza, the incident was providing free publicity that would have been impossible to stage. Despite the gravity of the situation, the partners radiated their giddiness with how everything had unfolded.

  Beneath a glowing streetlight on the edge of the plaza, Jack gave a brief summary of the encounter to his partners before he and Evangeline were whisked away into a medical transport. Jack was lying down on the gurney in the back of the transport, Evangeline sitting on the bench beside him while the medic took their vital signs.

  “I don’t think there’s any permanent damage, ” the medic said as he looked at the purple area that had blossomed on the back of Jack’s neck, “aside from some bruising and your headache. But, to be on the safe side, we’ll get you checked out. The doctor can give you something to stop the pain once you’ve been examined.”

  Jack’s life was not often exciting. He spent his days in his office writing programs and sub-routines, developing AI tools for his kids, and working on Gideon in his spare time. But as he lay on the gurney in the medical transport, a slight smile crept over his face. He had enjoyed all the excitement and attention. No one wakes up in the morning hoping they’ll be subject to a violent attack, but he admitted to himself he had enjoyed the thrill and exhilaration brought on in the arena.

  Jack looked over at his wife. He was so grateful they had both survived, more or less intact. Evangeline did not appear to be as fazed by the attack as much as he had been. She was somber, and just relieved that Jack had made it through the ordeal without serious damage.

  Evangeline was accustomed to dangerous situations. She was a soldier, and the life of a soldier was perilous, in her mission’s off world as well as her patrols in the LTZ. Danger had found her during her temporary assignment as reinforcement during a conflict on the southern borders of Olympian Territory, before she had met Jack.

  She looked down at Jack, studying his smile. Life for a programmer was far from dangerous. At least, it should have been. Evangeline leaned over and ran her fingernails through Jack’s hair. He closed his eyes and and nuzzled his forehead into her hand.

  “I’m glad you weren’t hurt,” he said with closed eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if you had been….” He paused, choking back the lump in his throat. Evangeline used her free hand to take his. Tears had welled up behind her eyes and escaped, unhindered, down her cheeks.

  She ignored the gawking medic as she laid down next to Jack on the gurney. She nestled her head into the hollow of his shoulder so she could whisper into his ear. She had something she needed to say right now, despite the atmosphere of strangers.

  “I love you so much; I can hardly stand it sometimes,” she whispered in a hoarse voice. “You brought sunshine back to my heart after I thought my life would only be gloom and doom. I don’t know if I could go on if anything ever happened to you.”

  Tears streamed down her face and bathed Jack’s neck. She clung onto his shirt as he wrapped his free arm around her waist. Jack had kept his eyes closed, but rivulets of tears ran down his cheeks and he pinched his mouth to stop his lower lip from quivering.

  The on-looking medic had no idea what had happened to his patients inside the arena just moments before. He thought he was treating a minor injury from a gaming accident, oblivious to how close his patients had come to death. Feeling out of place in this intimate moment, he turned his back at the sudden, tender display.

  Jack released Evangeline’s hand and reached up. He took hold of her head, pulling her in to kiss her between her eyes.

  “I’ve loved you from the moment we met,” he said, not bothering to keep his voice down. Evangeline opened her eyes to look into his, and discovered they were full of burning intensity. “I’m just a mirror reflecting the sunlight I see radiating from your eyes every day.”

  A short laugh of joy burst from her mouth, which made him giggle.

  “Yeah, okay,” she cooed. “That was a good one. Top ten in your cheesiest one-liners.”

  “Yeah,” he beamed. “I’ve been saving that one.”

  Evangeline’s communicator began chiming in her purse. She sat up and pulled it out, spotting a base ID on the call indicator.

  “This is Evans,” she said, dropping into her formal military tone. She cringed at how fast she could switch gears, one moment savoring an intimate moment with her husband and becoming a soldier at attention the very next. Her eyes pleaded with Jack to understand. The familiar voice on the other end of the call made her body relax.

  “Captain, this is Colonel Jacobs,” he said. Evangeline was surprised to hear his voice. Whenever Jacobs wished to speak with Evangeline, his assistant would make contact with her and she would meet him somewhere on base. She had met with him in the pilot’s ready room, in his office, the landing area, or in the mess hall. Jacobs had never contacted her during off-duty hours before, and never from his direct line.

  “Yes, Colonel, what can I do for you, sir?” Evangeline was uneasy, drumming her fingers on her leg as her mind raced to find a reason for Jacobs’ call. This kind of contact was unprecedented.

  “I just heard about the attack on you and your husband. Are you and Jack alright?” he said. She exhaled in relief and an awed smile creased her face, touched by his kind outreach. It did not occur to her that the assault had happened only minutes ago and it was unlikely that Jacobs would have known about it already - unless she was under surveillance. “Did you suffer any serious injuries?” he asked.

  “We’re okay, Colonel,” she said, nonchalant. “Jack was knocked unconscious, but it’s only a bump on the head. We’re being taken to a nearby clinic right now to have him checked out. I just received a small cut on my neck. It’s nothing.”

  Evangeline heard Jacobs let out a sigh. “I’m glad it wasn’t more serious.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Evangeline said. “I appreciate you taking the time to call. I’ll see you for the morning’s briefing tomorrow, sir.”

  “Negative, Captain!” Jacobs barked. “You’re on paid leave pending an inquiry after the incident on the landing field today. I don’t want to see you on base for the next forty-eight hours.” There was a long pause filled with Jacobs’ slow, metered breathing. He spoke again.

  “That was me speaking to you as your commanding officer. Now, I’m going to speak to you as a friend.”

  Evangeline’s shoulders relaxed and she allowed the weight of her head to fall forward onto her chest. Until that moment, she had not realized how exhausted she was from the events of the day, and now the fatigue hit her like a tidal wave. Jacobs continued to speak before she had a moment to say something.

  “It’s been a rough twenty-four hours for you. You may think you can shake it off, but you need to take some time and detox. Give yourself time to process these events and, at the very least, take some time for your marriage. I don’t know how your husband processes things like this, so he may just need to you to be there for a couple of days.”

  The opportunity to take a break for a few days was an appealing offer, but Evangeline’s soldier-instincts shunned the idea of
stepping away from her responsibilities, save she were on her deathbed. She wanted to protest the paid leave, which insinuated that she unfit for duty

  “Yes, sir,” she muttered, resigned.

  “Give my best to your husband.” The call ended with a beep and Evangeline returned the communicator to her purse. She turned around and found that Jack had fallen asleep on the gurney, his snoring competing against the ambient noises outside the transport. The medic had turned back around and was monitoring his vital signs, but the look on Evangeline’s face sent him scurrying to give her and Jack their privacy once more.

  The tidal wave crashed upon her again. The strong façade she had worn for the colonel collapsed; all the fight left within her dissolved.

  As the fog of sleep crept into her mind, Evangeline reflected on the photograph hidden in her locker. As part of the terms to retain her citizenship, Olympus forbade her from keeping memorabilia of her parents. No one knew about the photograph, not even Jack. She could not even risk alerting Jacobs that her assailant may be heading to the base to take the only visual record she had left of her parents.

  Her mind and body began to shut down, her soldier-self fading into the background now that there was no more to be on high alert. She lay down on the gurney at Jack’s side, his shoulder once again becoming her pillow. And just like Jack, she yielded to exhaustion as she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  A medic and three security officers surrounded the man cloaked in black restrained to the gurney. They were to escort him from the arena to the nearby security station for questioning about his involvement in the assault. He had not spoken a word since they had bound him in the arena and had carried him on a stretcher into the security vehicle.

  Jack reported to security that he had used his God-Mode remote-controlled sniper equipment to shoot the man in the head with a ball bearing. No one was sure how severe the male attacker’s injury would be. God-Mode was non-lethal, but it was also designed to be used against gamers dressed in helmets and body armor. Neither Jack, nor any of his partners, knew how much damage a hit could inflict upon an unprotected body part. However, everyone agreed, the lawyers included, that Jack had shot at the man in self-defense, and no legal action could be taken against him, his partners, or Ground Zero.

  The medic found that the man in black was rigid and uncooperative during the exam, although he was not defiant, per se. It was almost like working with a stiff, awkward doll. The man’s entire outfit appeared to be one single piece of fabric, a dark and silky sheath that was impenetrable by the medical scanners. The seamless garment was impossible to remove from his to make a visual assessment of his injuries.

  The medic resorted to using his hands to feel around on the man’s head and body for signs of injury. His fingers paused on the back of the man’s neck when he found an unusual, hardened spot, like a flat, inflexible patch of skin. “Perhaps,” he mused to himself, “it’s a decorative implant like the ones from those old medical journals.”

  Throughout the examination, the suspect’s eyelids fluttered beneath the hood that concealed his face, yet he never flinched nor said a word throughout all the poking and prodding. The medic wanted to roll the suspect over for a visual of his neck, but the man was still restrained to the gurney. The medic was not keen on the idea of releasing the man who had engaged in a violent attack against innocents in the arena moments prior to his capture, even with security officers at hand.

  The medic sat back in frustration from by his inability to perform a proper assessment of the suspect. He turned his attention to the security officers. “Do you mind if I cut off the mask so I can treat his injuries?” he asked.

  He found the three officers clustered together, looking at something that seemed very important. The medic turned and peeked between their shoulders at the display screen on one of the officer’s arms to see what had drawn their attention. His frustration increased when he saw that, instead of doing their duty and monitoring their captive, they were absorbed by watching highlights of a sporting event they had missed while responding to the assault in the arena.

  “Excuse me!” said the medic. “Can I cut his mask to treat his injuries?”

  The officer who seemed to be in charge shrugged his shoulders and went back to watching the game. Exasperated, the medic took a pair of scissors from a drawer and attempted cutting through the fabric. The black material would not yield to his shears, withstanding every cut, slice, and stab.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” he sputtered at the mask. In spite of all his efforts, the fabric remained undamaged. All the while, the security officers stared at the display screen, ignoring the medic’s futile attempts to remove the mask.

  The medic, baffled at the costume’s impermeability, threw his hands in the air, finally giving up. He had done all he could, and he happily surrendered the case to the doctors who would receive the patient at the hospital. “Let them figure this one out,” he muttered, scribbling notes on the chart.

  As he scribbled on the tablet, the man in black remained motionless. Only the constant fluttering beneath the mask betrayed that the suspect was a living person, and not a cold piece of black marble.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The woman in black snuck up to the security fence that surrounded the base’s landing area. Still dressed in the same seamless body suit from the arena, she crept in and out of the shadows like smoke.

  The fence was twenty feet tall, composed of overlapping strands of razor wire stretched between piers spaced every twenty feet. She placed herself between two of the security towers that were spaced at one-hundred foot intervals around the perimeter. Each tower was fitted with an array of security cameras which were monitored by a sophisticated AI that could watch all the feeds without ever needing a break.

  A voice from her headset broke into the silence of the night. “The cameras adjacent to you will be on a loop for only the next thirty seconds. After that, the system becomes aware of the interference.”

  “Understood,” she responded. She began to walk backwards away from the fence. She crouched down and scanned the security patrols before she rushed toward the fence. She sprinted and jumped up toward the pier, launching herself up and over the next pier. With one final lunge she used the second pier as a springboard to jump over the razor wire and clear the top. She did a somersault in midair, floating downward. She landed into a roll and sprinted like a cat toward the nearest TRTV.

  She paused and searched about her to see if her acrobatics had drawn the attention of the patrols, but they seemed to have missed it. She raced through the shadows, ducking behind one piece of equipment to another, until she made her way to a side entrance of the base.

  The hour was late, but it was crucial to avoid detection by any witnesses. The graveyard shift was half done with its patrol, giving her a short amount of time in the locker room to search for the photograph. The voice on her headset spoke again.

  “The interior cameras will be looped along the path to the pilot’s ready room. You have ninety seconds to get there. You cannot be seen.”

  “Understood,” she responded. She entered the base and began slinking through the bright corridors. She felt like a blotch of ink from an overturned bottle skulking through the base. She heard someone coming around the corner, so she ducked into an empty office to her right. She counted the seconds as she waited for the person to walk by and leave her path clear of witnesses. Once the person had moved past, she continued toward her destination.

  Her black suit was tailored for sneaking around in the dark, but stood out like a stain within the bright interior of the base. If one person saw her, the mission would have been botched, and neither she nor her superiors could afford for her to fail. Activating the controls on her armband with the swipe of her hand, a holographic display appeared showing an assortment of control settings. She held her finger to a square that emitted every color of the rainbow in a subtle glow.

  Her suit’s colo
r shifted as she moved her finger around the colors until her suit blended against the walls of the corridor. She smiled underneath her hood, placing her hand against the wall. Even to herself, knowing what to look for, she looked like a dull smudge. However, even being virtually invisible, anyone would notice the shadows she cast around her.

  She left the office and made her way to the locker room without detection. She slipped inside, locking the door behind her.

  She turned away from the door and padded toward the lockers. Each locker was assigned to a different pilot, and there appeared to be up to sixty female pilots stationed on the base. Each metal locker was two feet wide by two feet deep and stood seven feet tall. The agent had to search through the rows of lockers until she found the one with the name plaque that read EVANS.

  The lockers were kept secure by biometric scanners. The agent placed her right gloved hand on the scanner to activate the security protocol. The first scanning attempt failed, glowing with a red light. This was not a problem for her.

  Turning her palm up, she stroked her left index finger down her right wrist. A holographic console illuminated above her palm, showing a 3D contour scan of a handprint. Now with her finger she drew a circle inside her wrist, and the 3D contour lowered and overlaid itself on the surface of the glove. The glove began to shimmer, taking on every facet and groove of the 3D hologram, resulting in a perfect copy of Evangeline’s palm with the appearance of wet, black ink.

  She pressed her hand to the scanner and the second time it glowed green. The woman opened the locker door with a smooth, slow motion to avoid unnecessary noises. Within the locker there was a bench for the pilots to sit on, as well as a storage compartment for the pilot’s helmet. She bent down and reached below the shelf, searching around for the photograph. Her hand stopped when she felt something towards the back left corner of the locker wedged between the seams. She pulled it out to examine it.