“Synchronization?” Warrens asked himself. He heard the door and pocketed Coeus before Iboee and the guards came in.
“Mista Wahhens, Iké say you finished my missiles?”
“Yes I have,” Warrens replied. He stood straight and defiant despite his muscles begging him not to.
“Good. Now that Diallo have nucleah ahsenal, he can sue for peace!” Iboee screamed.
A searing whistle outside made Warrens dive for the floor. An explosion rocked the warehouse and flames engulfed the roof. The spectre of war had descended upon the supply camp through artillery fire and rocketry.
“It’s Akiloye and the South African Liberation Front!” Iké howled. Gunfire erupted across the camp as a wave of soldiers clad in jungle green camo descended like jackals for the kill.
“The missiles! Get them out of here! Wahhens too!” Iboee screamed in the midst of gunfire and smoke. The fire was consuming the building, a ravenous beast that wouldn’t stop until everything was ash.
“Iboee, I can help! Give me a gun!” Warrens pleaded. Iké ran up and unlocked Warrens from his chains. The pair ran for the door to the warehouse, while Iboee and the other guard opened fire against the SALF forces. The grinding sound of tanks followed as they opened fire on the nearby warehouses, where innocent civilians poured out in a mass of hysteria to escape the guns of the enemy.
“Iké I can help! I was a soldier too!” Warrens growled.
“It’s not your ability to fight Warrens, it’s your loyalty,” Iké replied. Behind them, Warrens heard the men inside load the tank’s main gun.
“Get down!” He screamed as he pulled Iké to the dirt. The train car that Iboee had been using as refuge exploded in an encapsulating fireball of wood and gilded metal. Fireballs fell from the sky, until Warrens recognized one of the items that landed in front of him. It was the orb, still pulsing like he remembered it. He crawled forward and reached out to seize the sphere into his hand. Once he made contact, the metal melted and slithered across his skin.
Iké came to and looked up in stunned horror at the fully armored figure that rose in front of him.
“My turn,” Warrens said from beneath the gunmetal gray armor.
“Synchronization initiated,” the robotic voice said. Warrens looked beneath his forearm. There was Coeus, his handheld computer synchronizing with the fourth dimensional metal.
Warrens reached down, grabbed Iké by the throat and held the giant aloft. Iké slapped at the metal arm as hard as he could, but couldn’t break the grip. Warrens didn’t feel a thing.
“This is for holding me hostage!” Warrens growled as he snapped Iké’s neck. The man went limp, and Warrens discarded him like a rag doll.
Multiple SALF soldiers saw Warrens and opened fire on him. The bullets bounced off the armor, while Warrens reached down, snagged a gun from a fallen soldier and opened fire on them. After three soldiers fell, their resolve broke, and they turned tail. One by one Warrens used the ferromagnetic material within his armor to pick up the discarded guns. Then he placed them on his armor, while the fourth dimensional metal fused itself to the rifles and created a seamless immersion between armor and weapon.
The two tanks turned their guns on Warrens. They fired their shells, but he kept walking, unfazed by the display of aggression. One of the soldiers had left behind an energy blaster. Warrens picked it up, and merged it with his armor underneath his right arm. The fourth dimensional metal seemed to swallow everything it touched.
He held out his palm and fired the energy blasts at the tanks, dislodging their treads. They were dead in the sand. More soldiers charged for him, but he kept shooting from the more than half a dozen guns embedded in his armor.
As the soldiers fell, the tanks whirred up to fire again. Warrens heard the soldiers load the main gun, the all to familiar clank echo across the battlefield.
“Drones en route,” The robotic voice said.
“Can’t you take control of them?”
“My programming was to help you secure control of the armor. I could access the utilities of your armor and make you take control of the drones sir.”
“Yes! Do that! Coy...uh...”
“It’s pronounced ‘Coy-us’ sir.”
“Too complicated to remember. I’ll call you Cal. Yeah, Cal.” Warrens felt a new presence in his mind. It was as if he could detect new sensations on the edges of his vision. He felt light headed for a moment, but then his perception was greater than ever before. He realized the airlessness was him feeling the connection of the drones overhead.
“Sir, you’re now in control of drones overhead.”
“Holy shit,” Warrens said. “Locking on to two Rommel Series tanks…” He saw the targeting systems appear through his eyes and as he glared at the tanks, the systems locked on.
The battlefield grew silent as everyone held their breath. The lead tank fired at Warrens. He blocked with his arms and was launched backwards from the explosion, but he was unfazed. Two missiles rained down from the sky overhead, one for each tank. The tanks were engulfed in a devastating fireball as two more missiles screamed through the sky and obliterated whatever remained.
As the dust settled, all of the warehouses were either in flames or leveled. Bodies littered the landscape. Innocent workers lie massacred, their only crime having been working for the wrong warlord.
“Synchronization complete. Congratulations Mr. Warrens, you are the only human who can now wield this weapon,” Coeus said. Warrens wasn’t sure what the computer meant by that.
“WAHHENS!” A voice screamed behind him. It was Iboee and his other guard who were holding Gladys at gunpoint. Tracks from their eyes revealed their tears since both of the men were covered in ash. Warrens recognized the gaze from one he’d seen in Gladys’ eyes as well as his own. It was an emotion imposed on the two by Iboee: fear.
Warrens thought long and hard to himself. He could end this. End Iboee and his guard, take Gladys and fly away to safety. It would be so easy to kill the two men.
No.
That wouldn’t end the war. That wouldn’t protect the people of Africa. If Warrens was to accomplish his end goal, he’d have to surrender to the imp one last time.
“Thanks for your help Cal, but I’m going to need to eject you,” Warrens mumbled. The armor popped his computer out and slid the device into the palm of his hand. The guns fell off of his frame and the metal retracted from his body and reformed itself into the vibrating sphere.
Warrens slid the computer into his pocket, hoping against hope that neither Iboee nor the guard saw it. He walked up to them slowly, holding the orb in front of him.
“Please, don’t hurt her. I beg you,” Warrens said as tears formed in his eyes. He was both anguished and relieved that his grandmother was still alive.
Warrens approached Iboee and handed him the orb. He shoved it into his pocket, while a sadistic grin spread across his ashen face.
“Abdul, go help him load up the nucleah missiles. We’re taking them to Egypt, as well as this weapon here. Diallo will be able to sue for peace now,” Iboee said.
Warrens held his grandma close for three days as the convoy closed in on the pyramids. The separation had been hard on her. She looked frail, tired and weak. Gladys spent most of the trip asleep in her grandson’s arms.
Iboee hung up his comm device. “Diallo be pleased! He would love to meet the man who made it all possible. You get to meet Diallo Mista Wahhens! Oyy-yeeehhhaaayyy!” He held his arms up in triumph.
As the convoy closed in on Cairo, a massive, ornate palace came into view. It was a vibrant palace, lush with color. A gift from the Russian Federation to Enai for allowing the Russians to come in and mine his continent for resources. Since then, the Palace has been the heart of African authority and the home of Enai’s lineage.
It’s also the palace Diallo had claimed for himself.
The three day trip through Africa left its mark: devastated villages, maimed innocents, and razed landscapes. The plight of
these innocent people steeled Warrens’ resolve to end this Civil War once and for all.
Cairo was a city burgeoning with industry. Cranes towered the skyline, factories churned out machines, all a ploy to showcase Diallo’s grandeur as the leader of Africa.
Gladys and Warrens were escorted into a plush bedroom within the palace. Their tattered clothes made them stand out in the midst of luxury, the opulence of their surroundings threatened to overwhelm the senses.
The room had a televisor, which displayed looped feed of the fighting between the three African forces. Images of the dead, the wounded, the displaced, the vicious, the hopeful and those who’d lost everything filled the screen. Warrens felt a blanket of grief overcome him. The despair boiled over, and for the first time since his capture, he wept.
He mourned for all of the deaths he’d caused. All the men, women and children. Sons and daughters, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, grandparents, all who died on the continent from this ravenous civil war. Gladys shuffled over, put her hand on his shoulder, and rubbed it gently.
“I killed them Grandma. I’ve killed so many…” He said in between sobs.
Gladys’ misty eyes looked at the screen. She tightened her lips together, a gesture she used when she had something to say, but didn’t want to say it.
“What is it Grandma?” He asked.
“Jackson...none of those people would’ve died if you’d just let me go!”
“Grandma! How can you say that? I would do anything to protect you! You raised me!”
“Jackson! My time is over! I have seen enough carnage wrought by these savages! And it tears me apart watching you build weapons for those animals. All because you had to be selfish and only worry about yourself!”
Warrens recoiled in horror at his grandmother’s words. He’d never heard her talk like this before. He’d thought he’d been doing the right thing by protecting her.
Gladys rubbed Warrens’ shoulder again. “I don’t mean to hurt you sweetie, but it tears me apart to see one of the greatest minds of our time toiling as a slave to protect me. You were supposed to launch us into a new technological age, not slaughter innocent people.”
Warrens sat in quiet contemplation, mincing over his grandma’s words. He rose to his feet and towered over his grandma. “I will protect them grandma, no more innocent people will die, including you.”
“Don’t worry about me Jackson. Save the people of Africa from these brutes. You said you have a plan didn’t you?”
“I do grandma, but I need to get ahold of the fourth dimensional metal. It’s my only chance to knock them all out at once.”
“What does that thing even do?” Gladys asked.
“It’s metal that exists in all states at once. It can become anything it ever has been or ever will be through thought. And it makes other machines become a part of me. It can control every device in its presence and they all become an extension of my being.”
“Huh?” Gladys asked. “I’m a simple woman Jackson, you’ll need to explain it better than that.”
“Sorry grandma,” Warrens replied. “Let me put it this way. With Cal here, I can program the metal to become anything I need it to,” he said as he pulled the computer out of his pocket.
“How does that work?”
“To be honest, I have no idea, but someone’s out there watching over us.”
“They need to do a better job since we’ve been locked up for over a year and a half.”
The bedroom door squeaked open, and Iboee slid in. “Diallo would like to meet the man who made peace possible. Mista Wahhens, get yourself cleaned up, help yourself to some clothes and be ready. Dinnah is in thirty minutes.” Iboee sneaked out and closed the door as quietly as he came in.
“I can’t stomach the idea of you dining with that beast! I won’t have it!”
“Grandma, if my plan is to work, then I need to dine with the devil.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it!”
“No grandma, you don’t.”
Iboee escorted Warrens to the Presidential Hall, the seat of the African Continental Government. Diallo seemed to have all of the assets necessary to begin rule under a new family dynasty. Warrens felt a chill run up his spine, he could almost hear the screams from both elephant and man with all of the ivory and gold trim that blanketed the walls. The floor was cut from marble which made their shoes click.
In the main dining hall, there was a lone figure who feasted on smoky meats and bright fruits, and was flanked by two guards. His hands labored under the weight of his rings and decadent cuts as he sliced the tender flesh and brought it between his lips. He noticed the two men approach, wiped the juices off his chin and stood up to greet the pair.
“Please forgive me. The food was growing cold and I couldn’t resist,” Diallo said in a velvet voice. It was pleasing to the ears, full of charisma that could entrance the most stern men. Warrens couldn’t believe that a man with such a luscious voice could be a brutal warlord who razed an entire continent. Three scars on his cheek wriggled like worms as he spoke, which broke the spell for Warrens. He had to concentrate on the scars.
"Mighty Diallo, the next leadah of a United Africa. Peace be upon you," Iboee said as he embraced the dictator. Diallo noticed Warrens standing behind Iboee.
"And is this the man who made a United Africa possible?" Diallo asked.
"He be. Diallo, meet Mista Wahhens," Iboee said as he extended his hand.
"I cannot praise you enough Mr. Warrens. If it wasn't for you, peace wouldn't be possible in Africa," Diallo said as he extended his hand for a handshake. Warrens felt like a hot knife had been stabbed into his guts and was being twisted. The last thing he wanted to do was shake the hand of this monster, but he needed Diallo’s trust.
Warrens gripped Diallo’s hand tight. “I did it to protect my grandmother, the woman who raised me.”
“My apologies for resorting to such tactics Mr. Warrens, but I have an empire to rebuild and I needed to ensure that you would work. A technical man such as yourself understands that we need to know how to make things tick. I do the same thing, but with people. I knew that your grandmother would make you work, that you would push yourself to new limits, and create the weapon that will bring me total victory,” Diallo said as he pulled a metal orb Warrens knew all too well from his pocket. He felt like molten steel was being poured into his stomach.
“You two must be hungry. Come, sit and eat,” Diallo motioned to the chairs at the table. The three men sat down to the table, which had a gold trim along the edges, and a spotless white tablecloth. Waiters marched like a civil army from the kitchen, and brought trays of glassware, wine, coffee, flaky pastries and other decadent foods to eat.
“Iboee, please tell me about how Mr. Warrens repelled the Akiloye’s forces,” Diallo asked.
“Ah it was magnificent Diallo! He walked out like a bull elephant, using that metal there as armor. It pick up the guns and shoot all the soldiers! He even seize control of their drones which bombed their own tanks!
“A man who can build nuclear missiles and wield alien metal. Is there anything you can’t do Mister Warrens?” Diallo asked.
“Program computers,” Warrens replied. Diallo and Iboee broke out in laughter, while Warrens played with his food.
“So tell me Mister Warrens. How do I wield this thing?” Diallo asked as he held up the orb.
Warrens pondered whether or not he should lie to his captor. Diallo was much like this palace. Beneath the gilded exterior, one cannot hide that the they were both built atop blood and bones. Try as he might behind his bright, charming eyes, Diallo couldn’t hide the malice that slithered beneath the surface.
“You just...will it into existence. The metal becomes what you think it can become. There are limits, but that’s about it,” Warrens explained. He tried to be vague with the hope that Diallo wouldn’t figure out how to wield the weapon.
“So...if I imagine a gun,” Diallo paused as he look
ed at his hand. The orb shifted into the shape of a pistol. He flashed a menacing smile and pointed the pistol at Iboee. He laughed along, but got nervous and grew silent when Diallo wouldn’t point the gun away.
“BANG BANG!” Diallo screamed out, which made Iboee jump. Diallo cackled madly, and the metal shifted back into an orb. Iboee cackled nervously as well.
“You should have seen it Diallo, Mista Wahhens not only wield it as a gun, he make it into an armor that wield many guns! I cannot get it to work as well,” Iboee confessed.
“That is quite impressive Mr. Warrens. You know, I could use a man like you in my government. Would you consider a position as a technical adviser? Your current conditions will be vastly improved, I can assure you. Same with your grandmother,” Diallo said. He was bold, asking Warrens if he wanted a job in a dictator’s regime. However, Warrens knew in the back of his mind that Ministers and Advisers didn’t tend to last long in their positions.
Warrens lied. “I would definitely consider it. Thank you Diallo.”
“Fantastic!” Diallo stood up, and took a final sip of coffee. “Well, the others will be here shortly. Once I’ve dealt with them, we will address the details of your advisor position alright Warrens?” Diallo asked as he extended his hand.
“Works for me,” Warrens said as he stood up and shook Diallo’s hand. It took every ounce of restraint to stop Warrens from striking Diallo as hard as he could. Amidst all the torture, all of the agony, he walked with his God complex and believed he was making a better world.
“Perhaps, I can use you in the peace talks. Let the others know just who I have as my new technology advisor,” Diallo snickered as he nudged Iboee.
“Very good sir,” Iboee replied.
“Now, go rest up you two. Tomorrow is a big day. Peace will finally reign over Africa once again,” Diallo said.
Iboee escorted Warrens back to his bedroom. The two walked in silence, but Iboee had a question.
“So Mista Wahhens, you take Diallo’s deal? Technical advisor make you a powerful man,” Iboee said.
Horsemen United: Horsemen Origins Books 1-5 Page 18
