Beloved Weapon

by Jonathan A. Price

  The office itself appeared more like the throne room of an emperor, with marble flooring, statues of armored warriors brandishing lances standing before the mineral pillars that lined the room and a dome-like ceiling with soft, dimmed lights in an ‘H’ insignia illuminating the room. Classical music emanated through a PA system, which Hudson enjoyed religiously. At the far end of the office at what felt like miles from the entrance sat a massive oak desk with a gigantic leather-bound swivel chair that itself stood higher than the average man’s height, the throne of the emperor, Maxwell Hudson’s seat.

  The entire level was like another world, a slice of a nobler era dropped into the present.

  The front doors of the office slid open and four people stood in the doorway: Billy Casey and Chelsea Romedrux flanked by two eerily silent armored men brandishing next-generation rifles—Hudson’s Security Soldiers. The two guards marched backward as Billy and Chelsea stepped inside the office, the gigantic armored doors grinding shut behind them.

  Across the expanse of the office, Billy and Chelsea could see Maxwell Hudson’s oak desk, his personal chair facing away from them. Three of the four walls of the penthouse were themselves windows that provided a stunning view of the entire city, one that Maxwell Hudson would spend his precious little free time taking in. Rachel Jones, Hudson’s personal assistant, and Vincent Marks, the Corp Hudson chief of security, sat on the left and right sides of the desk in large office chairs.

  A couch sat a few feet from the oak desk, clearly prepared for this meeting. Billy and Chelsea wasted no time walking to the couch and taking their seats.

  The large leather-bound chair behind the oak desk swiveled slightly toward Billy and Chelsea, and Hudson rested an arm on the desktop.

  Billy’s heart was pounding. This was the first time he’d ever been able to enter Hudson’s office.

  “You sure know how to decorate, Mr. Hudson,” Billy said nervously. “I mean, this place is beyond beautiful. Love the statues. And the view! Amazing…great security too. I mean, seems like you’re putting those Security Soldiers to more and more use every day.”

  Chelsea rolled her eyes.

  “Updates,” said the deep, guttural voice of Hudson.

  “Yes, sir, like, totally…” Chelsea muttered. “You’ll have to excuse him, Mr. H. He’s like, a total thug. We—”

  “We’ll have Target Omega soon, sir,” Billy suddenly said, standing up. “Chelsea and I have worked it all out.”

  “Have you now?” said Hudson.

  “Yes, sir. I promise you. I will be able to do what none of your other men could. With all due respect, you made a mistake when you appointed Vincent Marks as security chief. His military background aside, he’s soft. He can’t handle this kind of work.”

  Vincent grimaced.

  “You are rather confident,” Hudson continued. “…considering your track record.”

  “I will not just capture Nia Black, Mr. Hudson. I will break her. I will destroy her body and spirit…but I will not kill her. I know she means a lot to you. Through me, you will achieve your goals. I only ask for one thing in return.”

  “And that is?”

  “Once I’m done with Nia Black, you make me security chief. I’ll whip your subordinates into shape the right way.”

  Hudson finally turned his chair around and faced Billy Casey, who immediately trembled. He’d never been this close to Maxwell Hudson before. His size, even while seated, was absolutely frightening. There were buildings smaller than this man.

  Hudson clasped his fingers together and rested his chin on them. “Prove yourself to me then, Mr. Casey. Succeed, and we can certainly arrange a meeting to discuss your future within Corp Hudson.”

  “I won’t let you down, sir.”

  Chelsea looked longingly at Billy.

  Billy gave her a curious glance in response. “Let’s go, Chelsea. Don’t we have some setting up to do?”

  “Yeah…totally.”

  She lifted herself from the couch and followed Billy as he strolled out without being excused. As soon as they disappeared through the double doors, Rachel Jones turned to Hudson.

  “He is a liability,” she said. “A cock-sure, full-of-himself joke of a man. He has already failed you once, sir.”

  “Twice,” Vincent added, “If you include the fact that he knew of Alvarez’s treachery and did nothing against him until it was too late. He’s the reason the Hercules data is gone. Pairing him with Dr. Romedrux won’t make up for his arrogance.”

  Hudson turned back toward his vista. “I will let them play their game for now. You know your role in this. No matter what, this game will end the way I wish it to end. As for Hercules, it won’t be long before my old records are replaced by new ones. Everything is proceeding according to plan.”

  Thirty-One

  The sun had barely risen when Nia Black arrived at the construction site. Still in possession of the motorcycle Marc loaned her, Nia pulled up a safe distance away from the area and looked around, scanning the circular road that surrounded the grassy field in which she’d battled Hudson’s security forces only a day prior. The grass was pristine and scorch-free, as if no vehicles had been blown up in the field; as if no gunfire had torn through the ground. Hudson’s clean-up crew was efficient.

  Nia pulled the bike closer to the site, and for a second swore she saw Billy Casey himself leaning against a wall, staring at her. She instantly went for her pistol, stuck it out, and saw nothing.

  Nia shook her head, parked and leaped off the bike. She was wearing a silk black blouse with only two buttons holding it shut. The bottom fell slightly past her waistline, the unbuttoned lower half exposing her belly and offering a glimpse of the double-belt that was latched around her hips in an X-shape, along with form-fitting blue jeans and boots. Instead of four guns, Nia carried only two this time—her Baby Eagles—and a number of spare magazines in the second set of pockets. She wore small sunglasses with circular frames. She did not want to appear too conspicuous en route, nor did she wish to be too encumbered, so she reneged on wearing any form of body armor even though Marc offered it.

  She walked toward the construction site and passed through the gate, her eyes peeled and her guns drawn the entire time. It all looked half-finished; a series of girders stood where the foundation of whatever was to be built would be, cranes and bulldozers sat idle in front of piles of gravel and dirt, and there was a trailer flanked by a pair of outhouses. There were plenty of places to hide; plenty of places one could try to get the drop on her from.

  She heard a creaking sound, and immediately outstretched her pistols. She aimed at the trailer door as it flipped open, but saw no one.

  What am I even doing here…? Nia thought. Got me all nervous and twitchy and shit… this ain’t like me.

  “Glad you could make it, Miss Black.”

  Nia gasped and turned around. Billy Casey was standing behind her, not five feet away, wearing a Kevlar vest and baggy cargo pants. He was armed only a knife in a chest-mounted sheathe.

  All kinds of alarms were going off in her head. How did he get behind me? I didn’t hear anything! I didn’t even hear his footsteps in the gravel…even I was making noise when I walked in here!

  “Don’t look so surprised, Nia,” Billy said. “I do work for Corp Hudson, you know. Sooner or later, we all have to step our game up if we’re going to keep up with the future of human potential.”

  Nia raised her pistol and opened fire, but her bullets hit nothing but air.

  “You know…” a voice uttered from behind her. Nia looked over her shoulder and Billy was again at her back.

  “Mr. Hudson thinks you’re so special,” Billy continued, pacing around. “You’re so ‘powerful’, so important. ‘Target-fucking-Omega’. But look at me…if you can.”

  Nia blinked, and Billy was gone again.

  Then a massive force struck her between the shoulder blades and Nia went tumbling into the earth. Her guns bounced away from her and landed in a pile
of gravel. She scrambled to her feet and she saw Billy, behind her yet again, fanning his fist.

  “Yeah, you are tough. A hard target, just like Vincent said. I didn’t think he meant literally,” Billy laughed. “So not only are you strong, you’re also dense. Hard to break.”

  Nia tightened her fists.

  “Well, let’s just give it the old college try anyway,” said Billy as he slid on a pair of leather gloves.

  Nia went into a slight crouch, then dashed backward toward her guns. She threw herself toward the pile of gravel.

  An instant before her fingers could reach the grips of her Baby Eagles, she saw a black boot shoot into her face, sending her flying backward.

  “Stupid, Nia. So fucking stupid!” Billy growled as Nia crashed on the ground and slid on her back. Billy glanced at the guns and shook his head.

  Nia spat blood.

  Hold up…he actually hurt me?

  “Don’t you fucking get it?” Billy growled. “We’re not doing this your way! You’re strong, I’m strong. Let’s fight like warriors!”

  “You’re not ‘strong’,” Nia grumbled. “You’re just drugged up.”

  “Same difference,” Billy laughed back. “We can’t all be as special as you. You know, at first I wasn’t too fond of this stuff Chelsea’s been doping me up with. I’m not a big fan of whatchamacallit…being ‘weaponized’. But when I realized that it would help me put you in the dirt where you belong, and let me keep my good looks, I said, ‘Heck, sign me up.’ Now let’s do this!”

  A plume of dust rippled from the ground where her enemy last stood, and before Nia knew what was happening Billy was in her face again. He gripped her hair with one hand and rammed his fist into her gut with the other, over and over, then threw her away like a doll. She crashed into the dirt once more.

  Billy walked toward Nia as she pushed herself from the ground. He crushed Nia’s glasses under his boot.

  “You’re not even trying, are you?” Billy growled.

  Nia said nothing, and just coughed away the dirt piled up in her face.

  “Fight me, Miss Black. Come on! Isn’t that why you’re here?!”

  “What for?”

  “So I can prove to everyone who the best really is! Not Vincent! Not Jesús! And sure as hell not you! Hudson doesn’t need Hercules! He doesn’t need you or your coward father! All he needs is Billy Casey and Dr. Romedrux! And I’m going to prove it right now!”

  “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Proving yourself to everybody?”

  Billy rushed forward again, moving in a blur. He grabbed her blouse by the collar, yanked her toward him and slammed his fist into Nia’s face, sending her spinning backward, her blouse tearing open in his grip, the buttons popping free of the fabric. He threw the tattered shirt to the ground, leaving Nia topless except for the black, padded sport bra she wore underneath, and her sparkling gold pendant with the opal charm dangling around her neck.

  “Who’s permission are you waiting for, Billy?” Nia grunted, lifting herself up. “Who are you waiting for to tell you you’re good enough? What’s the matter? Daddy called you worthless? Mommy didn’t love you?”

  “Shut the fuck up and fight!”

  “Uh oh, I hit a nerve.”

  Billy grimaced and charged toward Nia again. He raised his fist and roared—until Nia’s knee stopped him right in his tracks as it collided with his jaw, forced him into a backward somersault, and the world spun around him. He crashed on the ground and looked straight down at the gravel and rocks under him, as if he were surprised to be there.

  “The problem with you is that you ain’t got no identity,” said Nia. “The only thing you know is what other people think about you. You ain’t nothing unless somebody tells you you’re something.”

  Billy shoved himself from the ground and tightened his fists. He rushed forward yet again, slower this time—slow enough for Nia to spin around him, dodging his charge.

  She swung out her leg and slammed her heel into the back of Billy’s neck, sending him stumbling back to the ground.

  “See, me, I’m independent. I don’t lean on nobody,” Nia continued, bouncing around in her fighting stance. “My strength comes from me. It took me a minute to learn that, but I get it now. I don’t need a boyfriend and I don’t need anybody telling me I’m somebody. I know I am…just because.”

  Nia walked toward Billy. He stayed low, grinding his fingers into the dirt.

  “What, did Chelsea promise you some pussy if you beat me? What are you, a virgin? Ain’t you a little old to be doing crazy shit just to get some ass?”

  Billy flashed teeth. “There’s nothing crazy about this.”

  “All I know is you killed Kim. He meant more to me than anyone else in the world,” Nia muttered. “You best believe I’m gonna kill you for that. But not until I ‘break’ your weak ass.”

  “We’ll see about that…”

  Suddenly he swung his hand in the air, and a plume of dirt flew into Nia’s face. She shielded her eyes and Billy lunged toward her.

  Then a shooting pain lanced from her gut.

  Blood dribbled from Nia’s lips and she looked down.

  A wide blade pierced her belly, her blood oozing out around it.

  Nia staggered back as Billy released the handle of his knife. She fell on her butt as Billy approached her again, sweeping himself off.

  “For the record, I already fucked her,” Billy grunted. “Like I told you before, this is personal.”

  The trailer door suddenly swung open and a buxom blonde woman came wobbling out, wearing glasses and a lab coat over executive attire, doing her best to balance herself on the thin metal stairs of the trailer in her high heels. She was holding a chrome attaché, latched tightly shut.

  “Billy, like, what the hell?!” shouted Chelsea Romedrux. “We’re not supposed to kill her!”

  “Then hurry up and sedate her,” Billy griped. “I’ve done my job. She’s down. You should know by now she’s not like normal people. The knife will slow her down but it won’t stop her. Get busy.”

  “What?! Like, whatever!” Chelsea snapped. “There’s no way in hell I’m going anywhere near that freak bitch! Cuff her or something!”

  Nia dragged herself across the ground as more blood leaked from the wound in her belly. She took hold of the knife and swiftly yanked it free of her flesh, screaming all the while. She found the remains of her blouse, rolled it up in her hand and pressed it on the wound.

  A normal person would probably bleed to death from pulling the knife out… Nia thought. But my shit already started healing. The hole wouldn’t close if I left the knife there. I just gotta keep myself from getting fucked up too much more in the meantime and I’ll be all right…but I don’t know how I’m gonna do that. Where are—

  Then a screeching sound caught everyone’s attention. Billy and Chelsea turned toward the street and saw a red Viper speeding toward the area with a rising plume of white smoke trailing it. The car screamed to a halt and two men immediately emerged, one in glasses holding a long range sniper rifle, the other a strong-looking black man holding a Desert Eagle with onyx plates on the handle.

  “Is that…?” Billy gasped.

  “I can’t believe it…” followed Chelsea. “Shit! Shit!”

  “Marc? Jesús?!” Nia grunted. “What the…what took you so fucking long…?”

  Marc walked toward them, holding the Desert Eagle down. “Useless…you can’t fucking do anything right.”

  “What?”

  “All you had to do was kill the motherfucker so we could get to her,” Marc said. “But you couldn’t even beat some punk-ass buster on steroids with a knife?”

  “I’ll have you know that my high-intensity performance enhancement additive is not steroids!” Chelsea hollered. “Like, it happens to be a careful mix of amino acids and experimental chemicals designed to work specifically with Billy’s natural—”

  “Shut the hell up!” Marc growled, raising the pistol. “You
can explain it all to me later, Dr. Romedrux. Right now, just do me a favor and come quietly.”

  Thirty-Two

  Chelsea Romedrux was flabbergasted.

  “Like, what do you mean ‘come quietly’?” she squealed at Marc Benson, who had his Desert Eagle trained on her.

  “I mean, shut the fuck up, put your hands up, walk towards me and get in the fucking car,” said the muscular black ‘bartender’, wearing a tactical vest and fatigues. “Drop the case and get your pretty self over here, blondie. You’re coming with me.”

  “Um…Billy?” Chelsea mumbled. “Like, do something!”

  “He ain’t gonna do shit!” Marc laughed, opening fire. Three shots immediately smacked Billy in the chest and his back met the ground.

  “Billy!” Chelsea gasped. She glared at him as he trembled in the dirt, clutching himself.

  “There. You see, Nia?” Marc growled at her. “You couldn’t even do that? I mean, damn, didn’t Kim teach you anything? Line up your sight, aim, pull the trigger. You should be able to squeeze off four shots in one-point-five seconds. He should never have gotten anywhere near you.”

  He turned to Jesús Alvarez. “Keep a bead on her, J. If Nia moves, shoot her.”

  Jesús flinched. “Sir?”

  “You heard what I said,” Marc snapped. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  Nia winced in pain. The wound from Billy Casey’s knife wasn’t healing fast enough. She couldn’t move.

  Nia shot a glance at Jesús.

  “So you played me…again…huh?”

  “Nia, I’m sorry. It’s like I said. Some people are more powerful than even you can imagine. His hold on me is…absolute.”

  Nia’s face hardened. “You’re just a coward. You’re just a bitch-ass coward. You ain’t no different from Billy. You need somebody to tell you you’re worth something.”

  Jesús Alvarez’s eyes sank.

  Marc turned toward them. “Jesús! I ain’t tell you to have no damn conversation! Just follow your orders!”

  “—the fuck is going on, Marc?” Nia grunted. “You told me we were going to interrogate them so we could learn about Hudson…”