Gwen didn’t want any of it. Her mother was a master of building her up, then tearing her down. She was a hero to them now, but the minute America found out she was a former junkie and whore, they would trip over themselves to abandon her. Yet despite it all, she kept finding herself in meetings with old men dressed in red silk, building her up, telling her it was a new dawn for the country, a new day for her. She did her best not to commit to anything and found excuses to make herself scarce. The problem was when she was alone. Guilt would come calling, the voices of those lives she had stolen accusing her of all manner of sins. The torment was inescapable, a terrible parasite she couldn’t remove. Luckily, she had found a way to hide from it all: D. She had stashed a few vials on her cargo plane. She found that if she took small sips she could control it, be functional. The velvety, red drug left her numb, took everything away, quieted the voices. So she did her best to skulk around corridors, hiding in empty rooms, avoiding people in general, high as a kite.
It was in one of these moments, trying to avoid prying eyes, that she saw Arthur, her odd-looking boy. He had shaved off his beautiful hair and was dressed in tactical gear, wearing a heavy leather coat for traveling and knee-high boots, sneaking through a secure doorway into a stairwell, doing a piss-poor job of not being seen. On impulse, she moved quickly to follow, slipping into the stairwell just before the heavy door closed behind her with a hollow thud. She found herself in a dimly lit landing, rough concrete stairs descending into darkness, Arthur’s hurried steps echoing below her. Not wanting to be heard, she concentrated for a moment, searching for the slight vibrations that were always there now. She lifted off the ground, drifting ever so slowly inches above the steps. Quiet as a shadow, she followed him downward.
After what felt like an eternity floating down in the darkness, she heard the squeals of long unoiled hinges echoing through the silence, causing her to jump. The hollow thud of a slamming door, steel on concrete, reverberated through the stairwell, quickening her pulse, driving her to haste as she circled ever downward.
Finally, she found herself at the bottom of the stairwell, a steel-plated security door barring her path, the thick, beveled metal cool beneath her palms. Peering in through a tiny window, Gwen drew in a sharp breath. She could see a small antechamber, the security station in shambles, the men on duty unconscious or dead on the floor. What was he doing? What had happened to him? The door was closed, locked by whatever security protocol the fallen men provided. Never one for subtlety, Gwen braced herself, pushing ever so slowly on the frame of the door, the metal making a horrible grinding noise as the steel ripped from the concrete, dust filling the air. Tossing the heavy metal door aside, she entered the room, scanning for threats, primed for violence, ignoring the men at her feet. She found Arthur behind a glass wall that ran the length of the antechamber, standing at a terminal, a single pool of light washing over him. In front of him was a large bank of servers that stretched to infinity. A subtle glow shimmered over his small form.
“Arthur, what the fuck are you doing?” she asked, knocking on the glass, trying to be heard over the echo of fans that cooled both rooms.
“Learning,” he shouted, not bothering to look at her, his voice strong, confident once again, the doubt of the other day having vanished. “So many secrets, so many lies. I think every lie ever told could be found here.”
“What are you looking for? Are you killing innocent people who get in your way now?” she asked, looking back toward the fallen guards, trying to understand.
“Those men were not innocent. They got what they deserved,” he said, shaking his head, finally turning to look at her, walking toward the glass. “We’re so far above them, you and I. I tried to tell you the other day, before you flew off. I understand now. I know what needs to be done.”
They were face-to-face now, only the thin layer of glass separating them. She could see the shimmering glow around him more clearly, an aura reaching back like thin wisps of near invisible vapor, flowing over the servers like waves on a beach. His face in rapture, he placed his hands on the glass.
“What needs to be done, Arthur?” she asked, placing her palms to match his. She was frightened for him now. His eyes were frantic, his breathing short. His smile was odd. He didn’t seem himself.
“I know why the major bishop wanted me so much now. The things I can do... Well, let’s just say—ah! There they are, Bobby; you’re such a scoundrel,” he said, looking at something only he could see.
Gwen looked at him, confused. “Bobby? You mean the major bishop? Arthur, do I have to come in there and get you? You sound fucking nuts. Have you lost it?” she asked, getting ready to break through the glass wall. Arthur shook his head, backing away from the wall.
“No, my dear, I’m just fine. I found where Bobby was hiding my parents,” he said triumphantly, returning to the terminal before continuing. “You don’t have to do anything, Gwen. Why would you? You could tear down this entire campus and no one could stop you. Why do we take orders from these evil men? Why do we let them hurt us when we can go wherever we want—do whatever we want?”
Gwen paused for a moment, hearing her own thoughts repeated back to her. They could, they could do anything, but— “We made a deal, or at least I did,” she said, trying to convince herself. Arthur began walking up and down the length of the servers. He seemed to be looking for something, irritation echoing from his quick stride. “Why would you want to find your parents, anyway? Didn’t those assholes literally sell your ass to the major bishop?”
“My mom made the call, not my dad. My dad, he was a good man...” said Arthur quickly, sounding desperate. Finally finding what he was looking for, he placed his hands directly on a terminal at the far corner of the room. After a moment, Gwen could hear an ear-piercing wail, the sound of a fist on metal. The lights in the server room flickered as sparks exploded in the twilight of the room. Even through the glass, his anger was palpable. He stalked up and down the line again, touching each server in turn, his aura enveloping them, silencing them. Gwen jumped as an alarm sounded, a deep resonating pulse reverberating through the concrete and steel of the facility. Behind the glass, rage enveloped Arthur, tears running down his face.
“Arthur, what did you find? We’ve got to go. They know you’re down here now. Can’t you hear?” she said, trying to remain calm. “We’re going to eat shit for this if we’re caught.”
He stood in front of the glass, center stage, fists balled. “Let him come,” he whispered, looking her directly in the eye. “I’m the one who turned on the alarm. I have summoned him. I’m sorry you got involved in this. I wish you hadn’t followed me down here; that was a mistake, but I did plan for the contingency,” he said, his voice going flat and emotionless.
“Arthur, we’re friends—”
“No,” he said, looking away, “to you, I’m your friend, a nice safe friend for emotional comfort, nothing more... To me, you were everything!” he finished in a whisper, his voice raw.
“Arthur, look at me. We can talk—”
“I’ve tried talking! You never listen, and you do your best to ignore me. You don’t care what I feel,” he said, eyes downcast, refusing to look at her. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m sorry, but you are too loyal to him, to the life he provides; I can see that. And I don’t think I could stop you any other way. I wish it didn’t have to happen like this.”
Gwen was taken aback for a moment, confused by the sudden shift. Arthur’s face became a cold, emotionless mask as he stood, waiting. “Arthur, this is stupid, I’m coming in there to get you,” she said, raising her fist to shatter the barrier. Just as she was about to charge through the glass to end this nonsense, she felt a tightness in her chest, throat constricting, stumbling back.
“How do you stop an unbreakable girl?” he asked rhetorically, placing filters in his nostrils from a compartment in his coat as he watched her. Gwen could feel herself losing control, her limbs failing. She cringed inwardly as she fell, her fac
e bouncing on the rough concrete. “Sarin gas, colorless, odorless. It paralyzes the muscles, the lungs too—strength doesn’t matter. Imagine my surprise when I found they have a stockpile of it in the ventilation here,” said Arthur as the ventilation system became much louder. “Luckily, the same system can remove it just as quickly as it enters the air supply.”
The glass doors slid open with a hiss as Arthur stepped out, hands gripped behind him. He looked down at her, a trace of a frown on his face that quickly vanished.
“Why are you doing this?” she said, words spilling from numb lips. “What did you find in there?”
Arthur squatted, rolling her over, his hand gently caressing her cheek, slowly drifting to her breast. “Everything! Every secret... Do you know what happens when we age out?” he asked, his face a mask. “We’re, what, the third generation of Divinity Corps since the start of the war? You would think they would have an army of super-powered soldiers, instead of the desperate handful we have now.”
“Arthur, please,” she said, her words a jumble, incomprehensible, drool spilling from her lips.
“You know, I thought that day you were asleep was the worst day of my life, and I thought you were lost to me forever,” he said, his face expressionless. “I was so relieved when you woke up, like I was given another chance to tell you how I felt, for us to be together...but it seems my pain could get worse, somehow. You being alive made it worse.”
Gwen could see through his calm façade. Hurt and burning anger coursed through him like a living flame, feeding his hate. How quickly it turned. “I’m so sorry, Gwen, our time is over. Bobby is here, and I need to have words with him before I go,” he said suddenly, looking up.
Arthur rolled her onto her side as she began to spasm, vomit pouring from her mouth. He stood, producing a small pistol from his long leather coat. “I don’t want you to drown in your own vomit. The end will come soon enough. Besides, like this, you get a front-row seat to the show,” he said, facing the door to the stairwell. Gwen could hear the thundering echo of boots racing down the stairs. Like a bull wildly charging the matador, oblivious to the blade beneath his cape, death waited. As the first soldiers arrived, the lights cut, plunging the chamber into darkness. It lasted only moments, the echo and flash of Arthur’s pistol telling a grim tale, the copper smell of blood filling her nostrils as bodies fell heavily to the ground.
“You can come in now, Bobby, I’ve finished playing with your friends,” she heard Arthur say as the lights came up. He stood at the ready, taking aim at the frail, old man standing in the doorway, his crimson robes hanging loosely around him as he stepped over the fallen soldiers at his feet.
“What are you doing, boy?” said the major bishop, taking a threatening step toward Arthur. “I will punish you for this.”
Arthur lowered the gun, deftly sliding it back into his dark leather coat. “No. No more punishment,” he said, quickly crossing the divide between them, grasping the old man by the throat and pressing him against the wall, driving the taller man to his knees. “This is where I end you,” Arthur began, fumbling around the major bishop’s silk robes, searching, his knee viciously pressed against the old man’s chest, pinning him to the wall. Gwen could see the major bishop struggling as Arthur’s iron grip held him, hate radiating from his pale-blue gaze. She watched it all with her body slowly dying, one side of her face in a pool of vomit and drool on the cold concrete floor. Finally, Arthur triumphantly pulled a small red vial from a hidden compartment in the major bishop’s robes. Her eyes widened as she recognized it. Diomoxicin. Uncorking the vial with one hand, he poured the ruby-red liquid into the major bishop’s mouth, forcing it down his throat.
“Drink,” he said harshly. “I want this to last.”
The vial empty, Arthur threw it to the floor, releasing his grip and stalking away, pacing back and forth in front of the major bishop, who slumped against the wall, his body frail and weak. A horrid cough rattled in his throat, a broken, old man waiting for the end. Then in a heartbeat, Gwen watched the drug take hold, and metamorphosis began. His pale, gray-blue eyes darkened to a deep cobalt and blood rushed to his pockmarked face, the old parchment-like skin beginning to glow pink with the bloom of youth. He stood straight, no longer using the wall to hold himself up, frailty vanished and body strong. Tendrils of red-and-black energy began racing up and down his whip-thin frame, the smell of ozone permeating the air. “Is this what you want, boy, to test your strength against mine?” said the major bishop, breathing deeply as he and Arthur began to circle one another. “In my prime, you would have been reduced to ashes by now, but age has tempered my anger. If you stop this foolishness now, I will not be so harsh with my punishments. Things can go back to the way they were between us.”
Arthur’s laugh was chilling. Gone was the odd boy she had met so long ago with the beautiful eyes and charming smile, the one who made her feel safe. He had been consumed, broken and remade by the monster in crimson who stood before him. Tears leaked from Gwen’s eyes, for Arthur, for herself.
“Things could never go back, not with what I know now. Every sin, so many lies. I gave you the Diomoxicin to make sure you won’t die too quickly,” said Arthur, flexing his fists, eyes drilling into the predator stalking him. “That was always your problem, wasn’t it, Bobby, always so quick! I want to take my time repaying you for every hurt, every thrust.”
“Come, then,” said the major bishop, bracing for what was coming.
With an awful scream, full of hurt and hate, Arthur leapt, soaring across the threshold between the two men in an instant. With a grunt, he drove hard into the wall as the major bishop slipped to the side, fracturing the concrete with his strike. Arthur turned and wailed in pain as the major bishop struck back, coils of red-and-black mist snaking around Arthur, boiling flesh and bubbling skin as he struggled to reach the older man. Ignoring the pain, Arthur swept low, knocking the thin man from his feet, bolts of energy vaulting into the ceiling and sending sparks of white light cascading down all around them. Quicker than a cat, Arthur then lashed out, kicking the prone major bishop with enough force to send him careening into the concrete wall beside the entryway, his impact shattering the wall, sending a spray of dust into the air. He fell with a heavy grunt, laying there for a moment, spitting up blood as Arthur grimly watched him struggle for breath. “Get up. You have more in you. I know you do. You’re very capable.”
“You mock me, boy, when I have only made your life better, set you on a path to greatness. Even if you kill me, you will live every day knowing that you were shaped by me. I have made you in my image. You’ll understand one day.”
“I am nothing like you, monster!”
The major bishop’s words sent Arthur into a deeper rage. Dragging the older man to his feet, facing off once again, he lashed out, holding nothing back. Arthur’s fists repaid every abuse, each trespass on his young soul. The major bishop fought for something simpler, survival, every desperate strike a chance for another moment, another breath. The entire chamber shook from their blows, dust filling the air as concrete shattered and steel bent. Finally gaining the upper hand, Arthur lifted the major bishop bodily, holding him high overhead, streams of darkness arcing in all directions as he slammed him painfully to the ground. Gwen could see the satisfaction in Arthur’s eyes as he grabbed the old man’s arm. The old man lay prone, struggling for breath. With a single pull, bone shattered, splintering into a thousand pieces like an oak struck by lightning.
“Stop!” screamed the major bishop, attempting to drag himself away with his good arm, his face marred by pain. Desperation was clear in his eyes. “Your parents will die if you kill me. I have made arrangements.”
“I know where my parents are. I’ll see them soon,” said Arthur, towering over him, linking his arms behind his back. “That threat no longer has any power over me...Bobby.”
“Major Bishop O’Connell!” he screamed through bloody clenched teeth. Gwen could see real fear in his eyes now. “You will ne
ver get to them in time. I saw to that.”
“I don’t think you understand,” said Arthur, a cruel smile of victory on his face. “This power you gave me, that you stole me away from my parents for, is far greater than either of us could have imagined. Your order will never be sent out, and I will see to that. I can control it all, machines, the web...all of it. I will end this war, my way, and you will be nothing more than a bad memory. Are you ready?”
He understood, Gwen could see it in the old man’s eyes. He said nothing, spitting blood on the floor defiantly, accepting what was to come. Arthur, satisfied, easily lifted him to his feet by his crimson robes, caressing his cheek almost lovingly. He looked directly into his eyes as he wrapped his hands around his thin neck, squeezing. It was dreamlike, the two men, eyes locked, holding one another at arm’s length as though dancing to some chaotic discord. “I’ll tell you this,” said Arthur. “Once I am done killing you, I’m going to go upstairs and kill every last one of those cardinals. I will tear down everything you and your kind stand for.” The major bishop stood stock-still, chin held high, refusing to give the satisfaction of a struggle, defiant to the end. Arthur held him long past the light vanishing from his eyes, the force of his grip increasing moment to moment, shaking with rage. The sound of the old man’s windpipe crushing beneath his fingers brought Arthur back, breaking the spell. With a shudder and a gasp, he opened his fingers to let the body fall to the floor like a broken doll, a look of amazement in his liquid-brown eyes.
Ascension: Children of The Spear: Book one Page 27
