Project Phoenix

by D. C. Fergerson

  “Karl, little Native girl has you,” he spoke English in heavy, foreign accent. His voice sounded like a cartoon dog come to life, and not a very bright one, at that. “Maybe Derk should hire Native girl, Karl.”

  The troll had a big belly laugh at his own joke. Cora turned her head to him and raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re Derk, I’m guessing?”

  The troll nodded. “You guess right. You look for Derk?”

  “Johnny Clean is dead. I want revenge and I want it tonight,” Cora replied, staring hard at the troll. She held back tears, but she knew the pain was written in her face. “Johnny told me you’re the man to see if I have credits to burn. Was he right?”

  Derk’s jaw clenched, his protruding lower fangs shifting back and forth as he gnashed his teeth. He nodded, but he was furious.

  “Johnny good friend,” he said. He gave a dismissive wave at the bouncer on the bar. “Let Karl go. We talk in Derk’s office.”

  Cora bowed her head and released Karl. The troll stood up, almost twice Cora’s height. He turned around, staring at the ground in shame as he left. Derk watched his man leave before waving Cora to follow him. She grabbed her bottle off the bar and trailed behind. Derk led her around the dance floor, to a back door beside the DJ’s booth. Another two equally imposing trolls guarded either side of the door. Their gaze did not waver from the room, even as Cora and Derk walked between them and through the door.

  As the door shut behind her, Cora felt the sudden absence of all that noise ringing in her ears. She shook it off and walked down a dimly lit corridor to a back office only big enough for a few people or a couple of trolls.

  “This is your club?” Cora asked.

  He nodded over his shoulder. “No, but Derk make safe place for kin.”

  “I can speak German if that would be better,” Cora said.

  “Derk German worse than Derk English,” the troll laughed.

  He entered the office and lifted the corner of his desk with one hand. Moving it to the side as though it were a child’s toy, he exposed a wooden door hidden in the floor. He grabbed a handle and pulled it open, revealing a wide ladder to a basement. Cora followed him down the ladder to another office.

  The room was much larger, extending from the office to encompass most of the space occupied by the dance floor above. The beat of their terrible dance music made the room feel like it was vibrating. The walls were lined with tech, with large holovid monitors on all three walls besides framed paintings of the Berlin cityscape. Three black leather couches were positioned in a U shape with a glass coffee table in the middle, creating an inviting space for a business meeting. Cora had business to do, so she took a seat and waited for Derk to sit down at the adjacent couch. The troll hunkered down and got comfortable, spreading his arms across the top.

  “Derk has questions,” he announced.

  “Okay,” Cora replied.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Cora Blake,” she said. “NSA agent on an operation here.”

  Derk scoffed. “You the one Polizei was after.”

  “You knew about that?” Cora asked, surprised.

  “Derk know everything in Berlin. How Johnny go out?” he asked, his voice solemn.

  She wanted to tell him he went out firing shots at an impossible army of enemies with guns he bought from Derk. What she didn’t want to say was that it was a car bomb, and that his death and everyone in that van was meaningless. It was only meant to hurt her.

  “It was less than he deserved,” she replied. “He didn’t suffer, though.”

  Derk nodded, puffing hot air from his nose like a bull. He stood up and walked behind his couch to a counter beneath one of his paintings. He came back with two glasses and set them down on the table in front of Cora.

  “Derk drink to Johnny,” he said.

  “I can do that,” Cora smiled, pouring a double for the both of them.

  Derk grabbed his glass and tapped it against Cora’s like he was handling an egg. He went back to his seat and downed the drink in a single shot. Cora couldn’t even fathom how much of her bottle it would take to even give him a buzz. As it was, the third glass was starting to make everything fuzzy around the edges. It was the pleasant numbness she hadn’t had in days.

  “Need something better than toy,” Derk said, pointing at the sword strapped to her back.

  Cora raised an eyebrow. “That toy can cut your hand off.”

  Derk motioned to space between them and laughed. “Not from here it can’t. What you need?”

  Cora shrugged. “I’m running out as soon as I leave here, so I guess that depends on what you have on hand. This is my preferred weapon.” She pulled her Predator from her holster and set it on the table.

  “Saw that,” Derk paused. “Derk do better.”

  With that, he swiped out a screen from the silver Arcadia on his wrist. A few button presses later, the walls holding the paintings on three sides of the room pushed outward and lifted on a hinge. Behind the walls, rows of guns of every conceivable type lined up waist-to-ceiling. Each beautiful weapon had been given its own space on the slat-wall. Cora stood up and looked around her before picking a direction to start with. Derk followed her.

  “What Cora fighting?”

  “Bauer Security, if I had to guess,” she replied. “A lot of them, too.”

  Derk snickered. “Cora crazy. Derk like. Take Preshnekov.”

  The troll motioned to a Russian assault rifle. Like her Apex Predator, the Preshnekov had a magnetic propulsion system in the barrel, allowing the weapon to double as a sniper rifle. It already had a scope mounted to it. Cora never had the pleasure of using that specific rifle, but she had fired others like it. Johnny enjoyed taking her to the shooting range on days off. She looked for Derk’s approval before pulling the weapon off the rack. After looking it over, she set it down on top of the nearest couch.

  Derk picked up a black box beneath the racks and set it down in front of her. “KT-27 ammo. For Predator.”

  “Rhino bullets?” Cora gasped. That particular ammunition was outlawed by UN accords a decade ago, after their armor-piercing qualities caused a record number of fatalities during the Second Civil War and other skirmishes abroad.

  “Alright,” Cora said, mulling over the details of her plan. She grabbed up the box of ammo. “Do you have any explosives? I need explosives.”

  Derk smiled wide and brought her to another wall. He pulled a sealed metal case from the bottom of the recessed area. He opened it as if it were a Christmas gift, revealing reddish-orange bricks.

  “Semtex?” he asked.

  Cora nodded. She was trained to work with shape charges for infiltration, though her expertise was in C-4. If she made a mistake, though, she wouldn’t know it until she was already on the other side of the spirit world.

  “Yeah, I’ll take that crate, and a second, if you have more,” she replied. “Those can be set for remote detonation thru my Arcadia, right?”

  Derk adjusted his groin with a giant hand. Cora noticed it and looked at the troll with shock and disgust.

  “Giving Derk needs, Cora,” he said with a laugh. “You like troll?”

  “I’ve only met a few trolls in my life, Derk,” she said, her lip curled. “I never had to ask myself the question.”

  He set two small, metal crates on the counter in front of the wall. “Semtex make bang. But, Derk, Cora. Derk make bang.”

  Cora laughed for the first time in as long as she could remember. She turned and looked up at the troll with a coy smile.

  “Are you hitting on me, Derk?”

  The troll rubbed at the back of his head, tussling his thick black hair. “Troll girls alright. Native girls hot. Derk found holovids on NeuralNet of hot Native girls.”

  “Ooh, boy,” Cora replied, shaking her head.

  “Take Derk’s number,” he pressed. “Cora live, come see Derk. Derk bang.”

  She couldn’t be sure if she was only humoring him, but she swiped ou
t her Arcadia and had him pass his number to her. It didn’t hurt to have the number, anyway. He was a high-value contact with access to weapons. If it wasn’t a suicide mission she was on, it might come in handy, or perhaps curiosity would get the better of her after a few glasses of whiskey. Either way, the troll smiled ear-to-ear and followed her like a stray puppy while she perused his guns.

  “So, how do you run guns and not have the Polizei breathing down your neck? You already have all these magical beings gathered, that alone probably has them nervous,” Cora asked.

  Derk waved her off. “Polizei cheap. Derk buy Polizei like bitches.”

  Cora snickered and stopped on his last display, setup with holsters, gear, and related equipment. She looked, but didn’t see an Apex Camouflage suit. What she did find, however, was a bulletproof vest and a large black backpack to carry all of her purchases in. She pulled them off the rack and tossed them onto the couch behind her. She turned to Derk and smiled, cocking her head like a smitten girl in a holovid.

  “I do need one other thing,” she said. “One of the bikes out front. I don’t care about the cost, just so long as I can fit on it.”

  “Derk will get,” he replied, rubbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Derk call a favor.”

  Cora bowed her head. “I appreciate that. Total me up, let’s do business.”

  The troll pressed a few buttons on his screen and slid the display into his wrist. The paintings moved back into position, returning the room to its modern deco feel. Derk took a seat on the couch opposite Cora as a knock came to the door. The door opened without waiting for a response. A elven man with long blonde-hair entered the room, wearing a three-piece gray suit with a blood red tie. He took his time, shutting the door behind him, then walking around Derk and the coffee table to take a seat at the only unoccupied couch. With a pointed finger, he went over each of Cora’s purchases, mouthing something to himself. His thin, almond-shaped eyes squinted as he totaled numbers in his head.

  “I’m sorry,” Cora said, pointing at the elf as she spoke to Derk. “Who the hell is this?”

  “Daiki,” Derk replied, pointing at the ceiling. “His club.”

  The elf bowed his head. “Daiki Nakamura. The house needs a fair percentage, for the risk.”

  “I see,” Cora said, her expression dour.

  “It should go without saying, but since Derk brought you here and vouched for you without consulting me first, discretion is paramount,” Daiki said. He folded his hands over his knee and awaited a response.

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Cora replied.

  Daiki bowed his head. “Wonderful. Your total, with a percentage for the house-”

  “Cora taking your bike, too, Daiki,” Derk said.

  Cora’s mouth fell open. Daiki followed suit.

  “My bike?” he said. “Why is she taking my bike?”

  “Cora small, like elf,” he said, gesticulating with his hands. “Derk can’t sell troll bike.”

  Daiki tripped over his words, aghast. “Why did you think you could sell mine?”

  “Cora need it,” Derk paused and raised a finger. “Daiki owes me.”

  The elf put his hand to his chest while he digested the news. “Am I selling it or loaning it? Am I getting it back?”

  Derk turned to Cora. “Where you going?”

  Cora shrugged. She wasn’t too keen on giving her exact location, but she didn’t really have one. “Would you happen to know of a secret satellite station in Spreewald?”

  The troll grabbed his belly and let out a hearty laugh. Daiki turned to him, perplexed. Derk shook his head and looked at his business partner.

  “No, Daiki, not getting bike back,” Derk said, still laughing. He turned to Cora, saying, “Hour south on 13. Connect to L49, keep going until big satellite.”

  Cora rolled her eyes. Of course he knew where it was. He probably had no clue what was going on there, but he was connected enough to know when Tetriarch constructed a giant satellite station in the middle of nowhere. His lack of eloquent speech hid intelligence, she knew that much. The elf gave off too much confidence and business acumen to align himself with a fool.

  “Two-hundred twenty thousand,” Daiki said, shaking his head. “That includes a gratuity for making me take a cab home.”

  “Throw in another five hundred for the fairy waitress in the black miniskirt,” Cora said, raising a finger. “She was a sweetheart.”

  “Done,” Daiki replied, projecting his screen, awaiting transfer.

  “Thank you,” Cora said, bowing her head in respect. She swiped out her screen from her wrist and tapped her comm as she fiddled through the apps. “Initiate transfer of two-hundred twenty thousand to this device.”

  Daiki got up and leaned over her, offering his wrist. Cora pressed her Arcadia to his and swiped the transfer of funds from her screen to his. The elf stood erect, shaking his head. He dug his hand into his pocket and tossed her the biometric fob. Cora pressed her thumb to it and looked up. Daiki moved through screens on his own holographic display. With a few button presses, the fob in Cora’s hand lit up, scanned her fingerprint, and blinked green. She tossed her new key into her pocket.

  “I’ll have it brought around the back for you,” Daiki said with a sigh. He left the room with tense quiet until he was out the door.

  Derk stood up and offered his hand. Cora stood up and tried to shake, but the troll’s hand was so big it wrapped around her all the way to her wrist.

  “Think about Derk offer,” he said, licking his lips.

  Cora’s eyes flared wide. “Oh, I will. Don’t see how I’m going to think of anything else for a while.”

  She gathered up the ammunition and explosives, packing them carefully into her bag. The Preshnokov was another story. It took her a few moments to figure it out, but she field-stripped it down to its three major pieces and placed all of them into the bag. Her head popped up from her task, surveying the room. There were two other doors near the exit. She motioned towards both of them.

  “Is one of those a bathroom?” she asked.

  Derk pointed out the door on her right. She snatched up the bulletproof vest and walked into the room, saying she’d only be a moment. At over two-hundred thousand, she knew they were giving her Johnny’s discount. With Derk having even a vague sense of where she was going, he must have known she was crossing the dragon. That risk alone was enough that most people wouldn’t have even dealt with her.

  The bathroom was larger than she expected, and included a shower. The mere thought of it tempted her like nothing else. It was only hours since her last one, and she already needed to feel clean again. She used the toilet, getting rid of some of her whiskey, then took off her t-shirt. It smelled like copper with all the dried blood she couldn’t see. She pulled on the black bulletproof vest and adjusted the straps, but no matter what she did, the cut of it still felt tight against her breasts. She slapped her palm against her chest. The material felt rigid, but not so much that it would restrict her movements. She put her shirt back on over it, flushed the toilet, and returned to the office.

  After getting her backpack, a quick nod to Derk and he led her out of the office, back upstairs, and into the corridor behind the club. Through a winding path around the back of the club, they ended at the delivery door. Derk held the door open for her and smiled.

  “Cora come back alive,” he said with a nod. “Native girl too hot to die tonight.”

  She laughed again and patted him on the shoulder. Stepping into the alley, she froze to take in the beauty before her. An enthusiast’s sports bike, Daiki must have spent a small fortune on the Yamaha Roadster. It made sense that the elf would enjoy luxury riding, given his disposition, but the sleek racing lines and raw power of its engine demanded respect. Cora gasped to herself as she got on. His helmet rested off the side of the handlebar. She picked it up and tried it on, finding a perfect fit, albeit a little roomy in the ears. She was lucky elven men were rarely built much larger
than her.

  As the bike came to life, a heads-up display came on the visor inside the helmet. It flashed ‘Welcome Cora’ across the screen as it synced with her Arcadia.

  “Gotta love modern technology,” she said to herself.

  Derk still stood in the doorway like a lovesick dog. It was almost sweet, if his intentions weren’t purely sexual. She gave him a thumbs up, threw back the kickstand, and sped out of the alley. Her hand fumbled at the side of the helmet to find the comm button, but she eventually got to it and pressed it.

  “Directions to Highway 13,” she said.

  The heads-up display projected everything for her - lane assistance, route, estimated arrival, current traffic and forecast, it was almost too much information. The engine rumbled and moaned beneath her, taking all the gas she could give. She sped off into the night, an hour and a half from revenge or death. Either way, Project Phoenix would come to an end for her.

  By Any Means Necessary

  Cora had ridden through miles of empty land and forests before spotting the massive satellite from the road. As big as any she’d ever seen, it was recessed a mile back from the highway. The trees had obscured it so well, had she not been looking for it she might have passed it by. It took a few minutes of driving at low speeds before she found a single dirt road that headed in the direction, cutting through the tree line. Lucius wanted to keep this place well under wraps and far from prying eyes.

  The dirt road went on for half a mile before it abandoned the off-the-beaten-road look and switched to fresh pavement. A fence ahead contained a single guard tower outside the entrance. Sure enough, two Bauer Security soldiers were standing at the ready, awaiting the arrival of the powerful engine they no doubt heard a quarter mile back. Both of them casually rested a hand on top of the Apex Hellion submachine guns strapped across their shoulders.

  Cora slowed down and approached with care. Neither of the guards were taking chances. Bauer may have been the more reasonable of the PMC’s in Berlin, but they still weren’t above shooting first and covering it up later. One of the guards stepped forward, raising a hand to signal a stop. Cora obeyed, braking the bike ten feet from them.