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Post by melodierivers on Feb 6, 2022 19:49:21 GMT
Chapter 14 - AD - Delicatue
Ysadora breathed deeply, the sound of a martial beat coming from the sound system in her training room, her right hand high above her head, firmly grasping the wooden hilt of a strange-looking sword. It wasn’t a typical sword, however: the blade was a thick curled block of chain, with diamond-tip shaped slits across all the blade.
The martial rhythm beat suddenly shaped to include a secondary rhythm; Ysadora pressed on a discrete switch on her hilt, and the blade uncurled, straightening in a slim, flexible thirty-three inches double-sided blade, pointing downward. Ysadora began to breathe following the rhythm, and the words of her instructor resonated in her mind:
“Breathe throughout your body, not just your lungs; fill every muscle, leave not a single part untouched by your breathing...”
“Become aware of every minuscule muscle in your body, and move them. Make your body one with your mind; feel every movement, and move every part...”
“Feel with your head, not with your heart. Disconnect all emotions, all sensory inputs that could distract you...”
“Feel the presence of pain, for it will save your life; but do not fall to its limitations. Conquer and endure pain, lift your perceptions above that of useless senses...”
“Move to the rhythm of Gaea; feel the wind, the ground, the density of air or of water. Tune to it, and feel your opponent’s intentions as they are carried through Gaea’s currents...”
As the rhythm suddenly picked up into a full-blown music, Ysadora began her martial practice, her sword and her body moving into a fast and deadly dance of war of kicks, blocks, punches, elbow and knees hits, slashes, whips, flow eight figures and windmills. Not a single movement was set aside, not an angle dismissed, from neither her sword or her physical attacks.
At the apogee, Ysadora pressed another switch on her hilt, and the sword underwent a sudden change: the blade separated alongside the diamond-tip-shaped slits, and it transformed into a long chain, measuring seven feet from the hilt to the tip of the weapon, a small triangular blade that once formed the tip of the sword. Seamlessly adapting to this weapon change, Ysadora moved as elegantly as a dancer as she spun the new weapon around her like a barrier, or forwarded it in swift and fluid motions for long-range attacks, not missing one beat nor her imaginary targets.
For the next fifteen minutes of practice, without any loss in speed or efficiency, she had moved back and forth from physical, sword and chain attacks and defences, her deadly dance as thorough and perfect in execution as expected of a master.
It was however interrupted by a knock on her door, and Ysadora stopped fluidly her practice and turned the music down. She retracted her weapon into its sword shape, hid it behind her back, and grabbed a folder off her desk
“Enter,” she announced, leaning casually against the table, as if deep in study.
Randall entered the room, and paused as he noticed her stance.
“Is it safe?” he asked worryingly, discreetly stepping back into the door's entrance.
Ysadora walked over to her desk, snapped back the sword into its curled shape, and laid it securely in its sheath.
“It is now,” she reassured Randall as she applied an antitoxin topical cream on her hands for his safety. He moved further into the room and looked her over.
“Aren’t you supposed to practice in your designated uniform?” he wondered; Ysadora looked down at her office dress and her high-heels.
“Usually; but I also practice with any other formal clothes, as I must be prepared no matter what the occasion,” she explained, picking up a nearby towel to dry herself. “I got bored at the office so I thought I’d head out and practice.”
“Incredible; and you don’t even look as if you’re out of breath. You truly do justice to your master,” Randall admired, though his smile was hollow.
“Thank you; though I’m afraid that even now, I’m nothing compared to his other students.”
“Only because your body limitations cannot perform such inhuman physical tasks as the other students could. But no other can best you at your art because of your dedication and perseverance. That much should make you proud.”
“I am,” Ysadora smiled. “What did you wish to see me about?”
“There is an issue I would like you to resolve; it must be done unofficially, and Scott would not be qualified,” Randall began, referring to their unofficial garbage man, Scott Johnson.
“What, or rather, who is it?” Ysadora asked.
“A rich Hollandt entrepreneur, Jan Andersen, acquired the funds and means to begin a space colony. Right now, he’s undergoing negotiations with the International Federation of Gnasci to make it official. He must be stopped from it, if we want our own plans to progress unhindered,” Randall explained.
“Can’t he be made into a useful competitor, like those before him?”
“Not this time. His system will be based on pure democracy, not on autocracy; we could try to infiltrate his colony with agents and control it through there, but the time and resources required makes it an unprofitable solution. It’s best if he is eliminated. His colony would be completely independent if we let him go through with his plans. It could cause a real danger to our plans.”
“No problem. I will take care of it. Where can I find him?”
Randall coldly smirked.
“Here’s why I said you’re more qualified than Scott for this one. Andersen has a predilection for the Rouge Lux District, in Amaesteldam, during his visits... The thing is, at his age, his heart condition is rather fragile...”
“How unfortunate,” Ysadora smirked with an equal mischief. “Consider it done. I will do my utmost to solve your issue without witnesses.”
“And if there are, you are free to deal with them in any way. If anything goes out of control about it, we will use Scott as a scapegoat.”
Ysadora frowned in worry.
“I doubt our superiors will take this action kindly; Scott is after all their emissary to keep us in check.”
“Scott can take care of himself in these situation; and I doubt the superiors would mind if it’s done to protect their plan.”
Randall turned without saying more, and walked out of the room. Ysadora went to the desk, opened a drawer, and picked up a locked box; she then took delicately a hairstick. Twisting it in a specific way, the hairstick opened in two, revealing a small vial with a clear liquid; it was linked on both side to both end of the stick, one extremity being a needle-like pin, and the other extremity, bigger, where rested a very small discreet mechanism to push the liquid into the needle. Ysadora smiled proudly at its sight, and closed the hairstick again, nestling it temporarily in her hair. She then made a call to her assistant.
“Daniel? I’m going to need your assistance for Situation 6.”
“Understood, ma’am,” her assistant replied.
********* AE *********
Night was well underway as trance music filled the specialized nightclub Delicatue, as many of the world’s most prominent celebrities enjoyed the night’s various pleasures away from the eyes of the public. Many were dancing on the dance floor, whereas most of the more prominent ones settled on resting on the many soft couches, or at the bar, listening to music, enjoying a couple of drinks, or other delicacies allowed only in Amaesteldam, and taking delight in the spectacle from the professional erotic dancers. Some others, nestled in their private nooks, were enjoying the company of the club’s escorts. Amongst this last category of guests was the inventor and entrepreneur Jan Andersen, and his right hand, Hinrich Strömberg, as they were sharing a good time, surrounded by their two usual escorts, and drinking cocktails.
“So how did the negotiations go, Jan?” Risa asked the entrepreneur, playfully running her fingers up and down on his dress shirt, while Michelle was talking with Hinrich. “You seem in a good mood; and this time, the drinks have nothing to do with it!”
“So far so good!” Jan answered happily, his arm around her waist, feeling her soft skin beneath her dress. They all knew each other since six years, and nothing much was prohibited between themselves, except having fun and giving it… at the conditions the required fee was met with.
“That’s great to know!” Risa squealed excitedly, hugging him. “That means soon, you’ll be living amongst the stars… How wonderful would it be?”
“Indeed… But there’s a chance it won’t be in my lifetime… I have so few years left,” Jan sighed, rustling the few grey hairs that were left.
“Don’t say that, Jan. You’re still young and full of life!” Risa comforted him, planting a soft kiss on his cheeks.
“I don’t believe you,” he teased her, nudging away from her kisses. “Besides, I’m doing this for everyone else. For Hinrich’s generations, and for yours, Risa...”
Risa laughed.
“Nah, don’t say that, we both know it’s not true; anyhow, your wife will be furious if you do this for us girls,” she poked him, faking disapproval.
Jan smiled kindly at her, and then Hinrich turned to him to cheer and toast with his newly served glass, the girls giggling at some inside joke. The song playing in the background began to fade, and as the new one slowly rose into existence, the club’s host picked up a microphone and addressed the clients.
“Welcome back ladies and gentlemen, are you still having fun?” the clients cheered and the host continued, “Well, Light of the Night is beginning, and who better to illustrate this song, than our beautiful and ravishing guest dancer, ‘Aurum’!”
The clients cheered excitedly as the lights began to probe, and an athletic tall woman, slim yet gifted with all the right curves, clothed lightly with a showing translucid dress, climbed as elegantly as a cat upon the dancing table, her hips and her body moving to the rhythm in a hypnotic dance of seduction. Her blond platinum hair, held up in a loose braid by a discrete hairstick, flew around her, as if framing her curves; but all the clients were taken by the dancer’s turquoise eyes as the lights enhanced their sparkle.
“Who’s that?” Michelle asked Risa, just as much captivated by the dancer’s beauty as the clients.
“I don’t know, but she sure is gorgeous; I wouldn’t mind dating her for more than a few nights...” Risa admired, her eyes glazing over the dress which hid nothing from the imagination. She turned playfully toward Jan: “For tonight, I don’t think either of us would mind if you decide to pay for her; after all, I’m sure she’s worth a lot, and half of it will still go to our club!”
Jan rested his glass, not leaving his eyes off the dancer.
“I believe it’s what I’ll do, then.”
Noticing the stares upon her, especially those of her target, Ysadora Dawn smiled derisively: it wasn’t hard to trap human beings. Noticing her target’s escorts leaving him to meet with other clients, and he brandishing a thick pack of money, she climbed on the wide wooden rail that circled the whole club, upon which the seated clients could rest their arms or their drinks. Elegantly jumping from each section, she reached Jan Andersen’s private nook, and she doubled her moves in front of him, enticing him with her movements and her seducing stare; if there was one thing she was better at than fighting, it was her seduction skills. It also helped that she had no qualms to trick her targets in such a way, even if others would have found her situation dishonourable; to her, it was just another way of reaching and eliminating her target, and an easy one at that.
Jan smiled with appreciation, and as Ysadora lowered to his level, he slipped the pack of money up her thigh under the end of her undergarment; he used this gesture to caress her skin, to which she answered with a suggestive smile.
“If you wish, for that amount of money you gave me, you can have a private session,” she said to him in a soft voice, running delicately her fingers along his chin, locking his sight with hers.
“I hoped so,” he answered.
Seeing the disappointed look of Jan’s aide Hinrich, Ysadora smiled at him, and said:
“One customer at a time, dear sir; I’ll come back to see you after,” and she blew him a kiss; Hinrich smiled happily, and nodded in agreement as Ysadora took Jan’s hand, and jumping down the rail, led him to the discreetly hidden stairs.
As Jan installed himself comfortably on the love seat, Ysadora mounted him, and never leaving her eyes off his, she slowly began to unbutton his shirt, his own hands caressing her hips; she took off her hairstick, and let her hair come loose as she leaned over Jan. Her hair covered both their heads as she laid a kiss on his lips; smiling softly as his field of vision was now impaired, and he was completely distracted, she applied delicately the hairstick against Jan’s neck, pressing on the hidden switch at the other end. She leaned back, and watched with satisfaction at the few small seconds that it took the poison she just injected to reach Jan’s heart. His eyes opened wide open as he searched for breath, his hand clutching his chest, and she unmounted him, putting back the now-empty hairstick in her hair. Blowing him a kiss as Jan drew his last breath, she turned on her heels, and discreetly descended the stairs, on the look-out.
Looking at the crowded nightclub, she knew that witnesses were indeed inevitable, as feared; her eyes surveyed the drinks as her nose suddenly picked up the smell of more potent intoxications. She smiled mischievously, and walked to the backstage, disappearing behind the swing door.
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Post by melodierivers on Feb 6, 2022 19:54:50 GMT
Chapter 15 - BF - Some Time Aside
“And so, that’s why I think something is coming. I just don’t know what, or how it will come.”
Gabzryel sighed as he closed his notebook, and laid back in the uncomfortable chair. He looked over at the man laying in the hospital bed, the beeping machines the only sound in the room.
“I was hoping you’d know. You always tried to figure out how events undeniably led to others, how history was never a coincidence, how order could be found, and its effects was distinctive on society...”
Gabzryel stopped talking, in search of new points. He looked again at the man in the coma.
“I’m always expecting you to scoff at me, when I tell you these things, like you used to when I contradicted you in your classes. I still believe it, you know? I still believe I can save both boats, even though you gave me a -C on that ethic thought experiment test. No, even more than that. I know we all can save both boats.”
He passed his hand in the black hair of the immobilized man.
“Hang in there, Bryan. The hospital direction allowed me to pay for your convalescence; but that’s not an excuse to sleep all day long, you know?”
Gabzryel sadly laughed; as he stroked the hair, he frowned.
“I wonder what happens to you during this time? Are you dreaming? What do you dream about? If you have all that time, are you able to go beyond what we’ve discovered that we can do? Don’t forget to tell me about it all when you wake up, got it? Okay, I’ll let you be. Nighty night, and as you bear so well that name, Shalom.”
As he left the hospital, Gabzryel’s phone rang.
“Oh, y-ello?”
“Yo Gab, it’s Alan! That request of yours is completed; can Clara and I drop by the farm to deliver the What-Must-Not-Be-Told-To-The-Siblings?”
“Hell yeah; besides, knowing them, Tom challenged Mad to a chess rematch, so they’ll be too busy to see you if you stop at the garage.”
“Okay; see you in ten!”
**
The small farm in Kansas was flooding with midday sun’s rays when Gabzryel barged in the living room and found Tom and Madzistrale in deep thoughts over a near-empty chessboard.
“Guys, come quickly!”
“What is it? I was about to kick Tom’s buttock with my single queen!” Madzistrale pouted, pointing to her two only standing pieces, a few cases away from Tom’s lonely King.
“No you weren’t; your single queen and king can’t checkmate my king, it’s almost impossible,” Tom answered, raising from his chair to follow their friend.
“I’m sure there’s a way,” Madzistrale answered with conviction as she followed them as well, glancing one last time at her game.
“You finally succeeded your never-ending motion machine?” Tom teased Gabzryel as they walked out the house.
Gabzryel frowned in disappointment, but immediately rectified:
“Disappointingly, no. It’s another surprise. Alan and Clara came over the garage, but you were too absorbed to have noticed them.”
“What?! Why didn’t they stayed? I would have made them cupcakes!” Madzistrale replied, offended.
“People have jobs, you know; they were just passing through,” Gabzryel replied.
“Now, why would two mechanics come over and not stay for tea?” Tom wondered, silently suspecting the nature of the ‘surprise’ Gabzryel referred to. “Please tell me you didn’t made a prop hero car.”
“No, we didn’t. We made two cars. Big difference. I gotta drive to the city with style too, don’t you think?” Gabzryel replied teasingly.
He led them toward a temporary plastic shelter, where he took it down to reveal his surprise. The siblings gasped at the two sleek cars waiting before them.
“This is yours, and this is mine,” Gabzryel precised, pointing respectively at a futuristic-looking silver car, and a forest green modern version of a 1930s-style car.
The two-passenger silver car belonging to the siblings looked like coming straight from a science-fiction movie, with its low and elongated shape, back wheels close to the body near the door, and the front wheels at the very end of the front bumper. The wheels themselves were unusual, looking like a round thick mesh.
“What are the wheels?” Tom asked, poking them.
“A new type of mesh wheel the aeronautics researchers were working on. Being a mesh, it will grip at absolutely anything and absorb much better shocks and bumps; the material is also much tougher than rubber as well as being adapted to all seasons, so I figured I’d make my own variation of these wheels, and put them on our cars.”
“The car’s amazing!! It looks like those amphibian/flying/sci-fi spy cars!” Madzistrale marveled, gaping at it.
“But yours is equally amazing, I love it!” Tom said appreciatively, looking at Gabzryel’s.
The second car had every aspect of a typical 1930s European car, with a more squared look, the two-seat driver compartment pushed toward the back, a long nose, wheels close to the body, and a fabric open-top; only more modernized and complemented with a touch of racing style.
“The green colour really fits it!” Madzistrale complimented. “It suits you perfectly!”
“When can we drive them?” Tom asked excitedly.
“Whenever you want. Alan and Clara made all the steps to ensure that the cars passed the road regulations.”
“Let’s go, then!” Madzistrale exclaimed gleefully, taking Tom by the hand and running to their silver car.
“Hang on, I’m coming too,” Gabzryel said, running to get his keys.
Inside, they found that not only it was comfortable, but the dashboard contained every necessities they could ask, including an integrated shortwave radio and phone.
“You know what would push those car to incredible?” Tom said to Madzistrale. “No gasoline!”
“Who do you think I am?” Gabzryel’s annoyed voice suddenly came from the radio. “I couldn’t call myself a fake mad scientist if I didn’t made electric cars!”
Tom and Madzistrale high-fived, and the trio started their engine, ready to take their beauties on the road.
“I know a little track not far used for racing car competitions; we’ll be able to have fun there. Dear Tom and Mad, follow me!” Gabzryel ordered, driving in front of the siblings.
As the day passed, the trio of friends spent some well-deserved time having fun, for a moment oblivious to the troubles of the world.
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Post by melodierivers on Feb 6, 2022 19:59:12 GMT
Chapter 16 - AG - Cat and Mouse
Dawn rose for yet another day across Uni-states, and Ysadora walked into her office, the morning’s sunlight flooding through the full wall’s windows. She sat at her desk, her steaming coffee mug in one hand, and booted her computer. She scrolled briefly through her mails, then clicked a window to see the national news:
“Breaking News: The Anonymity Alliance has leaked documents linking several members of the Presidential Council to various doubtful expenses. Notably, Council member Jones has been linked to several offshore bank accounts, all of which served to furnish weapon supplies to Euphratia in the 80s.”
Ysadora smiled. Abraham Solomon had accomplished Randall’s mission. She lingered on this thought, despite herself, remembering their fleeting meetings with a growing liking. She quickly pushed that thought aside, almost ashamed to even think about it, especially considering their last conversation at the cafeteria. She sighed as she laid back into her chair. She couldn’t really blame him for his opinion, and could hardly expect him to understand her reaction; but why did she felt that way at all, when she already had made peace with her unexpected life a long ago?
And why did she wished so hard to understand him, while at the same time desperately trying to find a fatal flaw?
She shook her head in confusion. Her youth was one of training, missions, tactics, reason. Meager human emotions had no role to play; and to this day, she still couldn’t allow them into her life. So what was it with her nowadays?
The news changed, and a live report came in, a reporter standing in front of a burnt building, its familiar silhouette bringing Ysadora’s mind to attention:
“Meanwhile, in Amaesteldam, we are reporting the sad development of the incident at the famous nightclub Delicatue. If you remember three nights ago, the firemen had received a call from an outsider about the nightclub succumbing to a growing fire. The rescues arrived, but too late, as the club was already engulfed in raging fires. When the firemen finally put it down, it was already too late for many of the clients and workers trapped inside. Today we have the list, and the toll amount to 61 people killed, and 216 severely injured; amongst the deceased bodies was found the famous Hollandt entrepreneur Jan Andersen, and his aide Hinrich Strömberg, whom were on visit to finish negotiations with the International Federation of Gnasci for the right to establish Andersen’s planned space colony. Other members included Puertugal’s State Secretary, Cruithinian chef Miranda Cox, and ex-Olympiad athlete Veronica Smith, amongst many others; you can see the full list in our Interweb channel.
» To conclude, the authorities ruled out the fire as an accident, resulted from a likely contact between alcohol and the other volatile components of which Delicatue was reputed for, with repetitive uses of lighters.”
“A sad outcome indeed,” the studio’s newscaster sighed; she turned to the camera: “Following that incident, the IFG has regrettably postponed their acceptance of Andersen’s nation, until the Andersen organization found a new leader, and most of all, can come up with a complete set of constitution and regulations, something that was the job of Andersen and Strömberg. Now, to the other news of the day...”
Ysadora closed the Interweb page, and laid back victoriously in her chair.
At that moment, Randall’s voice appeared in her mind:
“I see your mission went well.”
“Perfectly, in fact,” Ysadora answered proudly. “The news even left out where and how exactly Andersen had been found dead, I imagine in a wish to keep his reputation intact as a faithful husband and virtuous man. As for the witnesses of my presence, no one will bother about that after the shock of surviving a deadly fire.”
“Good thinking to hide your mission with that incident,” Randall admired.
Ysadora smirked.
“Nightclub fires are much more common than people are aware of; such clumsiness to combine alcohol and fumes with fire to light such fumes...”
Someone knocked on her office’s door, and a male Britannian voice announced, in a tone which was cold, almost monotonic in nature:
“Ma’am, I have Mr. Abraham Solomon’s files, as you requested.”
“I have to take care of something else; was that all you wanted to contact me about?” Ysadora asked.
“Yes, for now. Thanks for taking care of that little problem,” Randall replied, before his voice disappeared.
“Come in, it’s open,” Ysadora answered back.
The door opened, and a tall man entered. Looking in his early fourties, his medium-short hair was blond, combed professionally to the back; he stood, and was dressed, in a military manner, his silver-grey officer-style uniform reflecting his sea-blue eyes. He walked to his boss’ desk, and placed upon it a small folder.
“That’s it?!” Ysadora wondered with surprise.
“Yes, ma’am; his history is concise and without any major trouble.”
“Thank you, Daniel,” Ysadora distractedly thanked her assistant, taking immediately the file, filled by curiosity.
“You are welcome, ma’am.”
And Daniel stood in front of the desk, staring at her with a blank face.
“You can sit, you know,” Ysadora said without looking up.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
He quickly looked around, searching the room, found a seat a dozen pace away from Ysadora’s desk, and sat down rigidly on it, back upright, hands on his straight knees, his eyes never leaving Ysadora. Used to this, Ysadora continued nonchalantly to flip the folder’s pages.
“Parents, birth, blah blah, towns, schools, blah blah,” she quickly resumed out loud the first page.
Daniel reacted with a puzzled expression at her resume.
“Forgive me, ma’am, but I do not recall any categories or mentions of ’blah blah’. Where have you seen it?”
“Nowhere, it’s an expression. Ooh, he was a chaos theory teacher and advisor!”
“Yes, ma’am, at the QOEC, in 2029, before he…”
“Yes, I know, I’m reading it right now, idiot,” she exasperatedly replied.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Ah!” she suddenly exclaimed, finding the part she was interested by:
“Psychological Profile:
Mr. Solomon is the archetype representation of a lifetime partner. Confident about his abilities, but respectful of a person holding higher ones. As he will make his own decisions and plans, he will nonetheless listen to suggestions that are viable, or will follow someone else’s plans, if they reveal themselves to be more logical. He has the mixture of obedience and individuality, which makes him an excellent partner in business; the ability to make decisions, but also to follow those of his partners or superiors.
Mr. Solomon show signs of the lack of father figure, an important aspect of a person’s growth. Coupled with psychological and physical bullying in his childhood, Mr. Solomon exhibits an unconscious need for a strong father figure; and such lacks causes occasional outbursts. But once Mr. Solomon will find a strong father figure, he will be completely loyal to this figure.
One major aspect of Mr. Solomon, when tested against the Zelekov Scale, is his lack of desire for extreme power. He will rather physically and mentally work hard, and in a team, to accomplish a project, than become a leader. Such a position doesn’t give him any accomplishments, unlike seeing a result from his hard work.
Mr. Solomon is ideal for positions such as…”
Ysadora overlooked the rest, which was a long list of potential positions, as well as the various historical figures he was likened to.
“Nice,” she commented appreciatively. It explained Randall’s choice; and part of her also sighed with relief that Abraham’s profile didn’t revealed a hidden persona or ambitions. She could now allow herself to begin to trust him just as Randall did.
“To what are you referring to, ma’am?” Daniel’s question pulled her away from her thoughts.
“What?”
“Your sudden comment, ‘Nice’, ma’am.”
“Oh. I find Mr. Solomon to be promising for our plan. I needed to confirm whether Randall’s people made a right decision.” She paused, and realizing he was still around, she asked: “Why are you still here?”
“You gave me the permission to sit, ma’am,” Daniel replied.
“Yes, I already told you, you can always sit; but what are you doing here after giving me the file?”
Ysadora sighed discreetly. Though he was an useful and indispensable assistant, he could sometime be thick.
“I was waiting for you to finish reading, ma’am,” Daniel answered, as if it was the ultimate answer to Ysadora’s question.
“Why?”
“In case you further needed my assistance, ma’am.”
“Well, I don’t. And if I would have needed your assistance, I would have told you at the start.”
“As you wish, ma’am.”
Ysadora stared at him, expecting him to leave her office; but he kept seated, staring back at her. She sighed, and finally ordered:
“That means you can leave, Daniel.”
“Yes ma’am,” he acknowledged, rising from his seat and walking out of the office.
Ysadora sat back in her chair, and stared at her computer. This day was exceptionally calm, and she found she had nothing to do or sort for Randall.
Her thoughts came back to Abraham, and the file she read. Despite the new knowledge, she was having a harder time trying to put away his unexpected appearance. She and Randall searched for loyal allies since the Society’s genesis, and the ones they gathered after all this time was Scott Johnson, their superiors’ emissary (whom was more a spy than an actual ally); and her assistant Daniel Fitzgerald, with incredible mental and physical abilities, yet considered a thorough failure by the military to which he belonged.
And here came a perfect man, with all the right profiles for what they were looking for, flawless yet obedient to Randall’s ideals.
Too perfect, Ysadora decided, rising from her seat. She needed to know him hands-on; Randall’s game was too important to be ruined by a single pawn.
“Daniel, tell me where is Abraham Solomon,” Ysadora called her assistant.
Silence ensued for some seconds, until he answered:
“In Corridor 3-11, walking with Mr. Redspear, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Daniel,” she replied, leaving her office, making sure to lock the door.
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
**********************
“The new recruits you requested should arrive between this afternoon and tomorrow morning,” Abraham announced to Randall.
They were strolling down a long corridor linking two sections of the Capitoline; the walls were made of glass panes, looking out on both side to a strip of garden passing through the building.
“Perfect, thank you,” Randall thanked him, his cold eyes lighting up in a rare smile. “What about the senators and the counsellors against Bohm’s leadership, are they all eliminated?”
“Not all of them, no,” Abraham sighed in disappointment. “I spent the last two days trying to find a speck on them, but they’re too careful.”
“Hmm,” Randall acknowledged, his brow furrowing.
“Don’t worry,” Abraham reassured him, “with enough pressure, they’ll expose their flaws by themselves.”
“Do you have an idea on how to do that?”
“It’ll take some time, but I think I can coax them. Sudden transfers of money, unplanned trips, things like that which will reveal their guilt.”
“Please try to hurry; time is a much more dangerous enemy than people,” Randall replied.
“Of course.”
“Next thing on the list. What of the money? Did you get to formulate a working plan for that scenario of yours?”
“Yes, I put some time into it; I predict it should take about two weeks to become fully functional. Although I would need to meet those investors you mentioned.”
“They were last expected to arrive within three days,” Randall reassured him.
“Are you boys talking of business without me?” a female voice interrupted them from behind, at quite a distance.
Randall and Abraham turned around, and the latter fought to keep himself focused as Ysadora strolled elegantly toward them, her tailored dress and jacket showcasing just as much her physique as it did the last two times they met.
“Of course not, I would not dream of keeping you out of this,” Randall replied, smiling broadly as he gestured her to walk by his other side. “We were merely resuming the last two days’ work.”
“A most amazing feat, may I say,” Ysadora appreciated, smiling at Abraham.
“Thank… thank you,” Abraham stammered. He silently cursed himself for losing his cool in front of her; but everything about her made him lose his words. Their last conversation also managed to make him feel like a fool: a feat he hadn’t experienced since college.
He was glad when they resumed walking, for Randall stood between him and her, so he couldn’t see her as well.
“I was browsing through the reports, and I couldn’t help but notice something, and I’m not sure what are your intentions about it,” Abraham carefully said.
Randall smirked.
“Who says whatever you read was my idea?”
“Well… In all honesty, sir, I doubt anything in this country happens without your knowledge. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
“Oh?” Randall asked, an eyebrow raised, while Ysadora discreetly snickered. “You learn quickly. But any typical man would be appalled by that idea. Why aren’t you?”
“Let’s just say I have first-hand experienced what a world without order is like. Humans are very instinctive, and it doesn’t take forty years of freedom that they already start derailing down into a chaotic and self destructive path. To live an orderly life is only detrimental to those that lives in chaos and decadence… No other lives should be left in the dark because of the few that resist order and law.”
Randall smiled proudly.
“So what did you see that bothers you?”
“There seem to be no true regulations against certain forms of drugs; and reports show increasing mental instabilities in the entire Norr Americae population. The numbers are quite high...”
Through the glass panes’ reflections, Abraham noticed Ysadora jerk her head toward Randall, her jaws clenched; he pretended not to have seen their interaction as Randall gave her an ever-so-discreet nod before replying:
“I’m afraid I cannot yet tell you the reasons and the plans. But let me ask you something in return. How do you see the world, Abraham? When you watch it, the people, and yourself, what is the image that best represent it?”
Abraham thought about it, but it didn’t take long before he answered:
“Right now, the world feels to me like a detuned clock. Every lives, including my own, must follow a straight path of evolution and knowledge from birth to death; that is our worth, our destiny. Every day must count as something sacred, to not be wasted. Every seconds must be used to better not just ourselves, but the world around us, not just for our generations, but those in two hundreds, three hundreds years. If everyone would do that, the world, history, would be an ever-ticking and expanding clock, carrying the past into the future, creating the best outcome possible, where every lives is a crucial gear, each day is directed toward a common goal and worth.”
“But?” Randall asked.
“But right now, the lives that should become those crucial gears are doing nothing but spending their lives in laziness, and as if they have all the time in the world before them. And before they know it, they wasted fifty, sixty years doing nothing important, nothing worthy, and they became only burdens to the overall welfare of the world. They became faulty parts.”
Another silent nod happened between Randall and Ysadora, as the latter relaxed. It wasn’t hard for Abraham to understand that she was performing to perfection her role as a bodyguard and warning Randall of not exposing so much. He continued to look ahead and ignore their otherwise discreet exchange, and Randall replied:
“It goes without saying that one has to be able to not only find these faulty parts, but sift through them as well, so only the functional and worthy ones remain.”
Abraham suddenly understood; Randall winked at him, knowing he had found the answer to his original question, even if he didn’t say in any case of outsiders listening in to their conversation.
“I see. Well, since it has nothing to do with our plan to bring back the economy of the Uni-states, it’s not really worth my further attention, if you don’t mind,” Abraham simply said.
“You’re the Public Advisor, your call,” Randall answered as simply. “I need to go, I believe an investor already arrived. I’ll also arrange with him, and the others when they will arrive, a meeting in your office for tomorrow morning. I’ll call you when it’ll be done.”
“Thank you,” Abraham said as they shook hands; Randall then held lightly for a short moment Ysadora’s arm before leaving, a cellphone already in his hand.
Abraham watched as Ysadora looked after Randall until he entered an elevator.
“You’re extremely protective of him, aren’t you?” he asked her, amused.
Ysadora looked back at him, her turquoise eyes staring deep into his, as if trying to size him up.
“It’s my duty. I owe everything to him.”
“How come?” Abraham asked her, resuming walking.
“And when something is too good, he can sometimes blindly put his faith into it,” she continued, averting the question. “I’ve read your profile, so I can understand what he sees in you as his potential partner.”
Abraham smirked.
“But you don’t trust me.”
“You shouldn’t be surprised, I’m sure you have seen it from the start,” Ysadora replied teasingly.
“And I’m sure you’re aware that most betrayals come from people like you, people who worked for years to become extremely close to the target,” Abraham equally teased.
Ysadora’s eyes flared in pure anger, and she stopped right in her tracks.
“Be careful of your words,” she warned him.
“You should’ve expected them, considering you accused me first,” he replied, a small innocent smile on his lips. He wasn’t as much accusing her as teasing her; he felt he could see her true personality: fiery, passionate, and like no one could boss her around. Something that suited her much better than the obedient assistant personality she put on around him and Randall.
Somehow she seemed to see what he was doing, and she relaxed.
“Quite right. It is true that I was testing you,” she conceded. “We have trusted people in the past, especially Randall, but these people ended up betraying us,” she finished, her face becoming somber. “I’m just making sure it doesn’t happen again; Randall’s worked too hard to achieve his goals. And as I’ve said, I owe him, so it’s my duty to look after him.”
She walked up right to him, her eyes drilling into Abraham’s, and he felt deeply in his spine the sudden cold and merciless glare that she gave him as she finished:
“So know that if you’re doing this for your selfish ambitions, and you end up betraying Randall, I will personally make sure you end the rest of your days alive but completely crippled from head to toe in your bed.”
She turned on her heels and walked away without looking back:
“Have a nice day!”
Abraham stood there slightly shaken (though a part of his mind admired the sight of her figure from the back), and he replied:
“You too.”
He let out a sigh. Although her threat was clear, he nevertheless felt relieved. Those people had backbones and weren’t scared to let it show. True change came from these kind of people, and he had the fortitude to work with them. Whatever it took, he decided, he would show them he belonged in their world, in their ideals. He would show he was a crucial gear to the perfect clock Randall was creating.
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Post by melodierivers on Mar 28, 2022 15:19:39 GMT
Chapter 17 - BF - The City of Glass
Night had come, and Tom and Madzistrale joined Gabzryel to his lab after their day of fun and racing.
“Tonight, we’ll be trying something different,” Gabzryel announced. “I’ve managed to hack a bit deeper into our Orb Weaver experiment, and I think I’ve succeeded to help you guys be at least twenty percent cooler in your roles of heroes.”
“Hein?” Tom wondered, puzzled by what Gabzryel just said.
“Never mind, just go to the laboratory,” Gabzryel sighed. “In fact, there’s plenty new things that I want to try now we’ve gone further into the experiments.”
“Umm… Will it be dangerous?” Madzistrale asked worryingly.
Gabzryel thought for some time, and Madzistrale stared at him ardently:
“What?! You’re actually hesitating?!”
“No, no, it’s not that kind of dangerous,” Gabzryel defended himself. “Don’t worry, you guys will be safe no matter what happen… -ish. It’s all new theories, we have to up our game, and I think I know how.”
“Come on, Mad, you know Gab will never risk hurting us; if he thinks the experiment is safe enough, then it’s safe enough.”
Madzistrale pouted, throwing a suspicious glare to Gabzryel, who had already turned his attention to his computer set-up, their Afghan hound Loki looking at them in his usual uninterested manner.
“Okay, now, to the lab! Off you go!” Gabzryel told them, like a parent telling a kid to go to bed.
The siblings dutifully obeyed, and Gabzryel followed them to the basement.
“To train at being heroes, we will start by engaging in a conflict; and a conflict that you can escape from if anything happens,” Gabzryel explained in a microphone, from within his control room, composed of an electroencephalogram, a functional magnetic resonance imaging system and an electromyography, amongst his main computer, and various other machinery, including a frequency emitter. “So, we’ll try such a scenario tonight. Ready?”
“Yep,” the siblings’ voices answered through his speakers.
Without saying anything else, Gabzryel muted his microphone, tapped a few instructions upon his computers, and leaned back in his chair while a soft trance music invaded his laboratory.
The strange chirping of birds brought Madzistrale and Tom out of the blackness that fell upon their mind for a few moments in reality, but which seemed eternity for the siblings. They blinked as the typical morning sun rays hit their faces. They shielded their eyes with their hand, and studied where they were.
“Wow...” Tom spoke suddenly with admiration.
Before them stretched an ocean of shining glass skyscrapers as far the eyes could see. At one extremity of the city, the towers were fewer, and surrounded a space that the siblings could not yet see. But what was even more unique to their mind than the futuristic towers, were the cars: they were flying.
“Are we in Japan? Or Dubai?” Madzistrale gaped with wonder.
Tom rose an eyebrow at her question:
“With flying cars?”
“Dubai’s technology is quite advanced now, you know,” she defended herself. “They have hovering police bikes; who says we’re told of their complete achievements?”
“Nah... Something’s different. Speaking of different… Don’t you fell more heavy”
“Oye, I'm still 160 pounds!”
“I meant clothing wise...” he paused as he turned to look at her, his eyes widening.
“Oh, yeah… I know what you mean; besides, am I wearing at hat?” Madzistrale wondered, feeling the heaviness and the rough edges on her head. She went to touch it, but as she turned toward Tom, her mouth fell; Tom mirrored her expression. They simultaneously looked down at themselves, and they understood the reason.
“Cool...” was the only thing they could say.
Madzistrale’s usual white tank was covered with a white long-sleeved fitted jacket attached by a single button in the centre, the two pans forming an X. Her wide white trousers was accompanied with a cape-like fabric from her waist down, attached with an ornate silver Celtic brooch, and the overall look giving the impression of a frontal slitted skirt. A Victorian-type hat completed the unexpected uniform, the whole complemented with emerald green borders and ornaments at the extremities of her sleeves, and jacket pans.
Tom’s uniform, as for him, was a simple straight-forward suit with a Chinese influence in its design, completely dark grey, with electric blue borders.
“Neat!” Tom said with an appreciative smile. “And guess what, Mad? The zipper is on the side of the pant! I won’t have to worry anymore about my crouch!”
“I know!!” she replied excitedly; then she frowned. “Wait a tick… where’s the pockets?”
Tom searched, and he finally found an inside pocket in his jacket. .
“Looks like I carry both our things. Let’s see… some money, of which I’ve no idea what country they’re from… Oh, a wallet! Wonder what’s in there it… Hmm, citizen cards; well that’s a start.”
Madzistrale looked over his shoulder to read the two cards that he pulled out.
“Hey! Who’s the bakka that made our citizen card? The family name doesn’t match!”
On Madzistrale’s, it was written ‘Madzistrale Korfmann’, whereas on Tom’s, it was written ‘Tom Dzifforyy’.
“I honestly don’t mind,” Tom commented, smiling. “I think it gives us a form of anonymity, with people not knowing we’re siblings.”
“Hmm, good point,” Madzistrale realized. “Nothing else?”
“Nope, that’s it,” Tom fiddled in his pocket before replacing everything. He thought for a while, looking around him for clues as to their location and the city’s origins. But then he shook his head, and took his sister’s hand.
“Well, let’s see that city from up close!”
The two figures, who seemed surrounded by a shimmering glimmer under the sun’s rays, one clad of white and the other of dark grey, climbed down the hill and walked toward the unknown shining city of glass.
********* AI *********
The city’s centre, a great plaza surrounded by business buildings and commercial skyscrapers, was animated with life as the crowd moved from buildings to buildings, some shopping, some going to work, and some stretching their legs before their shifts. The plaza was free from the noise of the flying cars, as no transport other than by feet was allowed; up in the sky, fences of hard steel enclosed the space above it, as if to prevent any vehicles from landing or flying near the plaza.
Madzistrale and Tom walked amongst the strangers, none of the latter paying them any attention. At the centre of the plaza stood several boots, and the siblings walked up to one of them, where a portion of the crowd was already gathering around.
“People, people, listen up,” a tall and built man upon that stand was saying, “you are being fooled by this ‘new’ government. Follow it, and you will be lead to mud, just like before!”
“Yes, we will be in deep mud when my family will finally be able to eat,” one of the shoppers sarcastically replied.
“Or when these damn fuel companies will be taken down,” another added.
“The government is giving you everything so that you won’t revolt against them!” the public speaker retorted with heat.
“And the opposing party won’t give a damn about our existence. Of course we don’t want to revolt against President Bohm, he’s on our side!” the members from the crowd continued.
After a few minutes, the debate became more heated, and soon the crowd grew restless against the public speaker.
“He’s one of Them!” some started to accuse, referring to an enemy that Madzistrale and Tom knew not of. “He’s trying to confuse us!”
The tension climbed as the crowd gathered tighter around the speaker, who finally understood the gravity of his position. Soon, it degraded to physical violence, and a group dragged to the ground the speaker, and started to beat him.
Desperate to end the fighting, Madzistrale raised her hands, but she let out a gasp of surprise as she found herself holding two heavy metal sticks. Although surprised by its apparition, she did not miss a beat and smacked the two sticks together. The refractive metallic sound stunned for a short moment the crowd, and Tom used it to push aside the people standing between him and the small group beating the public speaker.
Madzistrale followed, taking a quick look at her unexpected weapons: as long as a short sword, a dark brown colour like rusted meta after brushing, and engraved with decorative filigrees. She set them down on the ground while silently wondering how come she came to hold it in the first place, and helped Tom push away the crowd when they tried to gather back around the public speaker. Tom grabbed by the collar the main leader of the group beating the speaker, and threw him back into the crowd. The same fate fell upon the second and third semi-leaders, while Madzistrale put herself between the rest of the group and the crowd, and the public speaker. Upon looking at the siblings’ strange attire, and their furious stare, the crowd decided it wasn’t a fight worth of pursuing, and they gruntingly dispersed.
Madzistrale knelt beside the trembling speaker, who was curled up in a defensive ball, and touched kindly his shoulder, indicating that it was over. The man slowly uncurled, and looked around him fearfully, his medium-short brown hair messy from the attack, and covering part of his forehead and his blue eyes.
“It’s all right, they’re gone,” she reassured him. “Are you hurt? I can help if you are.”
The man slowly nodded, and lifted up slightly his shirt to reveal a bruised rib.
“Alright, I got a thing for that, just trust me,” Madzistrale said softly; she reached for her purse, until she realized she had none. Yet, as she opened her hand, she was holding her familiar small vial filled with a somewhat clear liquid; she again wondered silently how it could have happened.
“Do you have a tissue that I can wet it?”
The man shakily nodded, taking out his handkerchief; Madzistrale poured some of the vial unto the bandage, before sticking it against the man’s wound.
“Press on it for awhile,” she instructed him. She noticed his water bottle on the booth. She went to get it, poured more of the mysterious liquid into the water, shook it slightly, and instructed the speaker to drink it.
“There, keep the vial, and do these two things again each four hours until your wound gets better,” she told him before leaving in his hand the small bottle.
“Thank you, miss,” the man finally spoke. “What is it you gave me?”
“Achillea millefolium extract. Yarrow, soldier’s herb, or Achille’s herb, it’s also called. It’s an effective and quick coagulant and wound healing. In the external application, it will help seal the wound, and internally, it will repair the veins and slow down the flow of blood, so that it doesn’t overly bleed, or swell,” she explained, glad to finally get to show-off her herbalist knowledge.
“Well, thank you to both of you,” the speaker once more said, standing up with some difficulties. “I’m surprised you helped me at all.”
“Why shouldn’t we? These people were beating you for expressing an opinion,” Tom hotly retorted.
The speaker smiled derisively.
“In the world we are now living, an opinion is more dangerous than you think. Who are you, if I may ask, so I can repay you for your kindness?”
“I’m Madzistrale, this is Tom, my brother. And no need to repay us; violence is against our belief, especially needless violence.”
“But I do insist, Ma… Masi… Madsis...” the man tried to say her name.
“Mad is just fine,” Madzistrale assured him. “And we insist ourselves. In fact, as a Christian, I cannot allow you to repay us for helping you out; it wouldn’t be fair.”
The man smiled kindly.
“I’ve never heard of that term, but I think I understand what you mean. It’s rare indeed to meet people like you. I’m Frank, pleased to meet you.”
“So who is this Bohm?” Tom asked Frank, after they shook hands.
Frank looked surprised.
“How come you don’t know? His name is more popular than that of Gaea nowadays…”
“We’re travellers,” Madzistrale quickly explained.
“It’s a surprise the oversea countries hasn’t yet caught up with the news…”
Tom and Madzistrale answered that remark with only an innocent smile.
“Well, Bohm is the new President of Uni-states, with his new ‘liberal’ party, the AAP.”
“And what makes you so afraid of him?” Tom asked.
“Well, it’s actually quite nothing...” Frank began, prudent and looking around him in a furtive manner.
“We won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. We’re merely curious. These people seemed very devoted to the new President,” Madzistrale reassured him.
“Exactly! He knew exactly what to say, what to do. His party is too perfect, so are all his new Directives. We are even apparently going to hear the announcement that they are cutting links with some of the most powerful fuel corporations! Old members of the old governments are also being exposed about various controversies…”
“I see...” Tom replied, thoughtful.
“I know, I know, it’s just theories. But no one seem to find any of that even remotely odd!”
The siblings smiled.
“Yeah, it’s like that too where we come from…”
“Well, I need to go, but thanks anyway!” Frank shook their hands once more. He looked frightfully toward the sky, and hurried away.
“Don’t forget to do the treatments each four hours!” Madzistrale yelled after him.
“Will do!” he shouted back.
Madzistrale turned to her brother, and found him thoughtfully examining the buildings.
“Do you know when something is wrong, Mad? When the people look toward the buildings.”
“The walls are ugly?” she half-joked.
“No. They fear that they are spied upon.”
“All buildings have cameras to protect against burglars,” she reasoned.
“Not at five stories high. The cameras aren’t meant to monitor the entrances; they are meant to monitor the plaza. Did you noticed something else odd?”
Madzistrale looked hard around her, but she couldn’t find the answer.
“No one stopped you when smacked your weapons together, Mad. No policeman, no security guard, not one person. You just did something dangerous in a crowded plaza, yet no one came to arrest you. And yet, that speaker looked at a five story high camera with dread…”
Both looked at each other, puzzled by this strange mystery.
“Let’s try to find out more about this Bohm,” Tom decided, taking his sister’s hand, and moving toward an extremity of the plaza. “Who wants to bet that the Presidential sector is that vast park surrounded by towers that we saw earlier on the hill?”
“You mean over there at a half a day walk, with no money to rent a cab?” Madzistrale joked.
“So? We’ll take that opportunity to explore the city,” Tom cheerfully replied, as the siblings merged back into the crowd, once more unbothered by the strangers around them, despite the recent events.
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Post by melodierivers on Mar 28, 2022 15:24:11 GMT
Chapter 18 - AH - The Superiors
A faint blue light enveloped the mountains as the enormous carved gates closed behind the last convoy of military shipments.
Feldsmarschall Johann Teiwas surveyed as the soldiers saluted, and a man in a suit walked up to him with a briefcase, clearly shivering in the morning dew. He sighed; ruled by men in flimsy suits, preferring to spend their times clenching suitcases of money, no wonder the world was in such a mess.
“Feldsmarschall Teiwas, I’m Mr. Meyer. I represent the Twelve Imperial Gnasci. Here’s your part of the investment in Project Vymana.”
The nervous man handed the heavy briefcase to the Feldmarschall, and the latter opened it, revealing mass of gold.
“It was an unusual request, but as you can see, we were able to provide it,” Meyer said.
Teiwas turned the pennies of gold between his fingers.
“I’m old-fashioned. Don’t give me those meaningless, worthless pieces of paper that you call money. Or worst, imaginary money within your banks.”
The man fidgeted nervously under the Feldsmarschall’s intimidating presence.
“Thank you for your collaboration, Feldsmarchall Teiwas. Because of this facility and of your men, our armies are in safer hands than anywhere else.”
Meyer and Teiwas shook hands, then the former hurried to his SUV.
Teiwas watched them leave before feeling safe enough to turn his back on the road.
“And you people really believed Redspear, that old skinny snake of a man?” he thought bitterly.
Climbing into his own Willy, he took, for what he knew would be the last time, the sinuous road leading to the mines. Upon arriving at the cabin, he was relieved to see eight more Willy, as promised. Entering the cabin with his briefcase in his hand, he smiled broadly upon a good twenty soldiers saluting.
“Perfect, you’re all here,” he said with joy.
“Where else would we be, Feldsmarchall?” a tall broad woman answered, smirking.
Teiwas put the briefcase down and opened it, revealing the gold pennies.
“This is our way out. Doesn’t matter where we go, gold is an universal trade object.”
“What if it’s tracked?” one of the younger soldiers asked, worried.
“The briefcase might be, but not the gold itself; by its own properties, it will interfere with the signal.”
Teiwas looked around him.
“Where’s the stuff, Donna?”
“All ready here,” the broad woman pointed to four duffel bags under the table. “If I may, whoever makes the video will become the first one targeted...”
“...hence why I’ll be the one doing it,” Teiwas cut.
The soldiers stared at him and each other, then they all moved one step to him.
“Sorry, sir, but we decided that we would all show our face. The world will never believe us if we remain in the shadows while only one man exposes the truth,” Donna said.
The Feldsmarchall stared at them with pride: they were truly his loyal comrades. Something that old man never could have.
“Fine. But after that, we move out in groups, and we go our way. We must keep on exposing them even if some of us falls.”
“Casualty of war, sir. It doesn’t change our decision. Strength in Unity: that’s what you showed us.”
“Then let’s get this done the old-fashioned way: early in the morning, before the world wakes. These men in suits think they were our superiors... Let’s show them what true war is. Let them try and stop us.”
********** AI ************
Randall walked out of his house, and briefly pausing, he let the morning sun hit his face. This afternoon was his meeting with the investors, and it was one of the rare days that he did not looked forward to. Investors were greedy sharks, and were the worst to manage; luckily he knew how to play his cards, and he felt lucky to also have Abraham helping. This man’s mastery in psychology was a huge asset, and he was feeling more and more happy to have him in his plan, even if for the moment in a minor role.
Still, these kinds of meetings were his least favourite tasks to take care. He breathed in the cool air, and resumed walking toward the parking lot, where he spotted his car, standing out from the other governmental ones by its black and gold, slender yet elegant Evropan look.
Not one second after he sat in the car, closed the door and started the engine, his front passenger door opened and a peculiar man sat down beside him. Randall knew better than to letting show that he got startled by the newcomer’s sudden entrance into his car.
“What do you want, Scott?” he asked, annoyed.
“Is that any way to talk to me?” the stranger smirked; doing so, he cocked his head sideways, and smiled in the most chilling fashion Randall had ever seen on anybody. The terrifying smile was accentuated by the stranger’s peculiar eyes, emerald green when in full sunlight but gold when shaded, and by the messy spiked fiery-orange hair. The skinny jeans and leather jacket he wore did nothing to hide his extreme thinness, yet, he was the only man Randall did not dare to turn his back to, despite his own intimidating appearance.
“I’m about to spend the entirety of this afternoon bargaining with money sharks, I don’t have time for your trivialities,” Randall finally said.
“Your superiors wants to know how it’s moving along,” Scott replied, placing himself more comfortably on the passenger seat, facing Randall with one leg on the seat and the other resting lazily on the wooden dashboard. Despite being forty-one years old, he looked and acted much too young to Randall’s comfort.
“It’s moving at the speed it should; and they are your superiors as well, so don’t give me that tone,” Randall answered roughly.
Scott looked at him, smiling.
“Time is not something you can play around with. You know the Prince is only passing through; and he won’t stick around if you’ve got nothing to give him,” Scott looked at the elegant dashboard, running a thin finger along the veins of the wood. “And when that happens, you can kiss goodbye your reward.”
Randall glared at him.
“Don’t threaten me. You know better.”
Scott laughed.
“I’m not. Just relaying the message that there isn’t much sand left in the hourglass for your precious plan.”
“Then tell our superiors that time is my specialty, and always have been. And that they know better than to doubt my honour and loyalty. Perhaps they forgot what happened twenty-seven years ago?”
Scott humphed, and looked at his fingernails.
“I do remember. Not bad what you did back then… but there was one tiny minuscule detail that you overlooked...”
Randall’s eyes turned icy.
“Don’t tread down that road with me, Scott. She may have escaped from me, but let’s not forget that she escaped from you. I find that much more unforgivable, don’t you think? I think our superiors did too, hence why you’re under my command.”
Scott stared at him, his smile frozen, his golden eyes not leaving Randall’s in a deadly staring duel. Not a word was said for a few moments, until Scott turned his eyes away, and opened the passenger door.
“Our superiors will be glad to hear everything is going according to plan.”
“Do me a favour, Scott, and just enjoy yourself as you always do. Leave politics and strategies to us,” Randall replied roughly.
“Will do!” Scott cheerfully answered, before slamming the door behind him.
Randall sighed in relief. He hated that out-of-control guy; he was only useful at cleaning up the occasional garbage resulting from failed deals, and as an intermediary to their superiors. Nothing seemed to please Scott more than this task, which made him at least worth the occasional jeers. Randall was under no doubts that in return, Scott got assigned to him only to keep an eye on him on behalf of their superiors. Who cared, let them spy, he always thought. His goal was crystal clear, and he would let nothing go awry.
He put on his security belt, and as he did, he felt the subtle painful jab from the scar on his left shoulder, a twenty-seven years old wound. Quickly putting it aside, he started the engine, and drove out toward a rail leading to the aerial highway.
It was nearly fifteen minutes later when a light bleeped on his console. Randall quickly gazed at the pattern of the bleep, and realizing what it meant, slowed down his car. Sure enough, an old-looking car cut in front of him, then signaled right, and drove down, losing altitude. Randall followed, and they parked under a bridge. The other driver got out of her car first, and recognizing her, Randall did the same.
“Jane, what’s the urgency?” he asked, joining the middle-aged woman.
She dug in the breast pocket of her suit, and handed him her cellphone.
“We intercepted this. We are doing our best to block its transmission, but the people behind this are really good. We can only delay it, but it will inevitably find itself in the communication system.”
Randall took the cellphone and squinted in the sun to see the screen. Not a minute later, his eyes turned an icier shade than before, and his fist tightened.
“When was this released?” he asked, his voice betraying his anger.
“4 hours 46 minutes this morning,” Jane answered.
“Old dogs with old tricks,” Randall mumbled. He thrust the cellphone back at the woman. “Keep it delayed from reaching the system for as long as it takes.”
“Yes, sir. Do I contact the cleanup agents?”
“Certainly not. One betrayal is enough; I’m using my own men,” Randall said before turning on his heels and getting back into his car.
He didn’t wait one second before rising his car to the sky again, and resuming his flight to the Capitoline at a faster speed than before. |
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Post by melodierivers on May 11, 2022 13:54:16 GMT
Chapter 19 - AI - The Hunt
The personnel taking their breakfast in the peaceful cafeteria glared at Randall as he stormed in. His grey eyes scanned the tables, and he found Ysadora eating in the back, as usual. He moved in, but suddenly slowed down arriving at her table as he noticed Abraham seated across the table with her, reading his newspaper and drinking his coffee alongside her.
Upon seeing him, Abraham rose his head in surprise, Ysadora doing the same.
“Mr. Redspear? I didn’t thought you were already awake,” Abraham said.
Randall eyed him suspiciously before turning to Ysadora.
“I don’t mean to interrupt your breakfast, but I need your help.”
“Of course,” Ysadora said, rising from her chair, Abraham following in curtesy.
“Anything I can help as well?” he asked.
“Certainly not!” Randall hotly cut. Seeing the surprised stare of both Ysadora and Abraham, he calmed himself. “Don’t let me disturb your morning. We have a long and arduous meeting later on.”
“No problem,” Abraham acknowledged. “See you later. And you, Miss Dawn, see you next time.”
Noticing the anger in Randall’s voice, Ysadora only saluted before following Randall out of the cafeteria and into the main corridor. When they reached an empty corridor, Randall stopped and turned to Ysadora, handing her a digital tablet.
“I need you and Scott to hunt these people down,” he simply said.
Ysadora looked at twenty-two faces, all showing the typical hardened look of belonging in the military for long years.
“Aren’t they members of the Vymana squadron?” she asked, studying Feldsmarschall Teiwas’ face.
“Yes. This morning they released a video showing the underground base and the hidden militia.”
Ysadora stared longer at the tablet, then handed it back, looking at Randall with an accusatory glare.
“I warned you not to trust their loyalty. This was a big risk, and a fatal one if they succeed to leak this.”
“It was one we had to take, trust me,” Randall replied. “I never held their oaths true, and I do know it was a big risk. That’s why I’m asking you and Scott to take care of them. They won’t take the civilized path, so it makes it easier for you to eliminate them without witnesses and proof.”
“We’re on it,” Ysadora simply said before immediately rushing away.
Randall looked back at the tablet, and threw it down on the stone floor, where it broke into pieces. Picking them up, he began to plan his counter strategy.
********** AJ ***********
“What’s the verdict?” Teiwas asked Donna as the group drove along a treacherous path of rocks and dirt stumps on their off-road three-wheeled bikes.
She was wearing a backsack containing the battery for the computer that she was holding.
“Group C is informing that within forty-five minutes they should be able to pierce through the defenses. But I’m afraid that we still don’t have luck on our side and with Group B and D.”
“We’ve been trying at it for six hours; we’ll have to expect it won’t be so easy as we originally planned,” one of the soldiers intervened.
“Indeed; we have to keep at it,” Teiwas agreed.
They had driven for another twenty minutes when Donna suddenly stared at the screen with dread.
“Feldsmarchall, Group D just sent its black box!”
The whole group looked in shock. Teiwas looked at Donna, his bushy eyebrows frowning.
“How can they have been eliminated? They haven’t sent any indications beforehand of an upcoming attack.”
“I don’t know, sir, but the black box is there, and I no longer have contact.”
“They were taken by surprise?” one of the soldiers asked worryingly.
“If yes, then we need to move further on,” Teiwas ordered, picking up the pace to a quick run.
As they passed in a valley of alpine flowers, seeing from afar a peaceful village, Donna spoke again:
“It’s done, sir; Group C has broken through, and the video is currently playing on all networks.”
“Order all groups to keep going and to make sure the video stay active,” Teiwas ordered.
“On it.”
Suddenly, a sand-coloured vehicle sped through the valley toward them, and then skid to a stop.
The bikes halted as well, and the soldiers unholstered their gun, aiming at the newcomer.
“Steady, hold your fire,” Teiwas ordered, taking out his own handgun, Donna laying down her backsack and doing the same.
The door of the car opened, and a shot was heard, hitting the backsack.
“Fire!” Teiwas immediately ordered, dread filling his trained mind. They were completely exposed, the valley of flowers offering no protection.
A raffle of shots was heard as the soldiers reared their bikes and chose random movements; the bullets hit the sand-coloured car, but nothing seemed to happen.
“Drive away as fast as you can, don’t stop for any of us,” Teiwas yelled to his soldiers.
Another shot came from behind the car, and this time, hit one of the soldiers dead on. Teiwas cursed, and adjusted his bike’s trajectory to an head-on course toward the car. Donna gestured her cover, and she fired successively toward the car as she sped to go around it. More shots came in return, and hit two more soldiers; Teiwas quickly observed that they came from under the car, and he fired that way, noticing that Donna was almost through toward the escape route. The remaining soldier sped faster, and before disappearing from their view, he yelled:
“They’re behind the car!”
Teiwas had just begun to register the warning as his bike jumped over the sand-coloured car, that a long sectioned blade resembling a chain wrapped itself around him. It yanked him out from his seat and slammed him unto the ground.
“Scott, get after that woman; I’m taking care of him,” a female voice ordered.
Teiwas rolled on the ground, and pointing his handgun toward the location of the voice, he unholstered the other gun strapped to his thigh, and shot toward a running man with spiky bright orange hair. The man swirled into his run to dodge the shot, and threw him a dagger, which landed mercifully a mere inch of Teiwas’ face, before resuming running behind Donna’s bike.
Teiwas rose on his feet and faced his opponent, a tall slender woman dressed in silver and blue. As she came to retract her chain, Teiwas wrapped the end around his arm, and violently yanked it out of her grip, relieved in the strength of his coat’s sleeve, as it merely tattered but didn't ripped completely to his arm. As she stumbled toward him from the resulting forward movement, he lunged and smacked his whole forearm against her thorax, relieved to hear her cough. He threw the chain on the ground behind him, and pointed his gun toward her as she retreated.
“You people force dishonour around those you meet. Here I am, a gentleman forced to fight a lady; and here you are, ordering a man to fight a lady,” Teiwas growled.
“You brought your own fate by betraying your contract,” Ysadora retorted, unholstering her own gun.
“One day, young lady, you’ll need to learn the difference between loyalty to a piece of paper, and loyalty to the people you’re sworn to protect. But it obviously won’t be now, so I guess I’ll teach you a lesson of justice.”
Before giving her a chance to react, he lunged forward, caught her armed hand, and almost simultaneously hit her nerve receptor in her elbow, and then her solar plexus with the pommel of his handgun.
Ysadora coughed as she dropped her gun, and stumbled backward, her mind dazzled by the speed and accuracy of the attack.
“Do you think a young woman, a faithful pet of an old man who thinks himself king of cities, can really fight against a squadron raised and trained in the treacherous mountains? You may have taken by surprise our youngest members; but you won’t win against boars like Donna and I.”
A shot rang in the air right after Teiwas finished talking. Both Ysadora and the Feldsmarschall turned their head toward the origin; but Ysadora smiled and turned back to Teiwas.
“Looks like your own faithful pet has lost. It would take more than one shot to take down Scott. Which means, considering your military stand regarding capture, that my man won, and your woman chose her death.”
Ysadora straightened up, and her metal heels dug into the dirt as she relaxed her limbs.
“As for you, old man, don’t think for one second that you won simply because you’re trained like any other humans on this earth, and simply because you’ve taken my sword and gun.”
Upon those words, she kicked the ground, and threw dirt at the face of Teiwas; quickly following, she sprinted to him, and at the last second, pivoted her body on the side, shielding her descent with her left arm and leg, as she used her right feet to kick right at the knee junction. As Teiwas knelt under the force, she continued her movement and hit with the foreleg his throat. She then expertly rolled over his back and landed behind him.
A fierce fight followed, evenly matched by Teiwas’ powerful hits and determination, and by Ysadora’s agility and use of severed junctions. She finally got the high hand and pinned him to the ground; she reached for her nearby gun, and aimed at his head.
“Your last words? I’ve got all the time in the world; but you better hurry before Scott returns, for he won’t be as patient,” she asked, a small smile on her lips.
Breathing hard, Teiwas looked at the hardened woman kneeling on him, her fierce turquoise eyes showing nothing but coldness.
“I pity you, lady. I took an oath to protect complete strangers whom have families and know nothing of the wars and the troubles that threaten them daily. My whole motivation was to grant them blissful ignorance and peace; and I am glad to die with those terms.
» But you... You kill for a man that doesn’t care one bit about those families, about the simple luxury of life that is peace and joy. Your boss will gladly watch those people burn to obtain whatever ambitions he desire. And you follow that man blindly, and I pity you, because your soul is more tinted with sins than a soldier who fought in the worst wars there could be. So here are my last words: kill me now, because those are your orders. But think deeply about whether you still have a drop of humanity left; and how long before you lose even that drop?”
Teiwas grasped Ysadora’s hand and made her press the trigger.
*********************
Scott looked furiously at the immobile form of Donna on the ground before him, her victorious smile teasing him. He looked in protestation at his clean katars, and then at the soldier’s self-administered fatal wound. She had put up a bigger fight than he expected, and when he finally won, even went as far as pulling the trigger before his daggers could reach her. Her smile taunted him, her determination to face death annoyed him more than anything. How could someone like him lose against a mere woman? It made no sense.
Scott slipped the daggers under his sleeves, and spitting at the still form, he jogged back up the hill to assist Ysadora. It was then he heard the distinctive sound of her handgun shot; and it annoyed him even more: even she took down her enemy by her own hands.
When he reached the valley, he saw her talking:
“Yes, the computer got destroyed. We lost one soldier from Group A, but he’ll be harmless without the computer and the software.”
Ysadora turned to look at Scott, and upon seeing his flustered face, she restrained a smile.
“Yes, the leaders are eliminated,” she resumed. Her face then frowned in worry as her interlocutor answered. “How will you take care of it? Calling it a fake news won’t cut it...”
Scott drifted out of the conversation; it was formalities, as usual. He took out his anger by kicking the bodies lying around and slashing the bikes with his katars.
Finally, Ysadora joined him, picking up her chain and holstering her gun.
“The cleaners will arrive within half an hour. So come on, Scott, we’ve got one more Group to chase after if we want to permanently shut down the transmission. The latest news is that they reached Kairyo.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Scott hissed back.
Ysadora smiled as she opened her car’s door.
“Fine; go by foot. I’ll see you in two days; can’t guarantee you’ll have any prey left, though...”
She closed the door and giggled as Scott lashed at her, the metals screeching as the katar hit the metal door. She waited a few seconds before Scott grudgingly sheathed his katar and sat in the passenger seat in a protestful manner, then the car rose in the air and flew toward the south.
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Post by melodierivers on May 11, 2022 13:55:09 GMT
Chapter 20 - AI - The Appearance
The buzzing of everyday life had increased exponentially when noon came, and Tom and Madzistrale reached the outskirts of the glass city. Around them laid a whole casual sector of the city, obviously oriented toward accommodating the simpler lifestyles and commercial needs of nearby farms. But a few hundred yards further, stretched before them the peculiar park-like opening the siblings had seen from the hill upon their arrival.
A soft and calm jazz music drew Madzistrale toward a cozy-looking cafe.
“Ooh, Tom! Can we eat here before continuing?”
“Yeah, sure. Gab spent a great deal of time reminding us we should have money...”
They sat outside at the terrace, and while they waited for the waitress to welcome them, a nearby screen was playing some sport that looked like hockey, only with boots instead of skates, and a softball-sized ball instead of a puck. The schedule then changed to a news report, and the newscaster looked up at the camera and smiled.
“Welcome to the mid-day news. The International Federation of Gnasci meeting is still underway after their second week, and doesn’t show any signs of slowing down. After discussions of issues such as the rise of poverty, lower incomes, illegal trading, and economical fluctuences, the latest news is that they’re now discussing climate change and new protocols...”
The cafe became silent as the news report suddenly got cut and replaced by a mountainous view. As the camera moved, the scenery showed a breathtaking view of a colossal mine lodged between snow-topped peaks. Then, as it descended into the mine, it stopped in front of a massive smooth granite wall. The crowd watching the video gasped in shock as the wall suddenly slid sideways back into the surrounding stones to reveal a gaping hole. Twenty-two soldiers then moved in front of the still camera, and stood at the ready, with two at the foremost of the line. A tall built man, with a bushy mustache, obviously the leader by his age and intimidating stature, stepped forward, followed by an equally built and mature woman, her face stern and almost manly.
The older man spoke, his booming voice clear and steady despite his thick accent:
“Good morning. We, the Vymana Squadron, address all of Terra’s population with this message that will undoubtedly bring about the deaths of some of our members. My name is Feldsmarschall Johann Teiwas.”
In suit, all the soldiers spoke out their names and ranks. When they were done, the Feldsmarschall resumed:
“We were recruited by the Twelve Imperial Gnasci to carry out a secret operation. Project Vymana, named after the Shindu legend of an outer realm craft hiding under their mountains. The operation was simple: to hide all the Twelve Imperial Gnasci’s main military forces under the Schwyzryvan mountains, to later on release them unto the public when it would be least expected. That was of course not the official reason; the official motive was demilitarize the Gnascies in faces of oncoming peace, and to store the forces until such times as they could be dismantled properly. But it doesn’t take an idiot to understand the real meaning behind Project Vymana: to hide a full-fledged military forces and unleash its power when Terra would become weak enough.
» The location of this underground base is located at coordinates 46.3254°N and 7.5463°E within the bowels of the Magnetite Mine; although I cannot guarantee that upon release of this video, the access will remain available. It is your duty to send reporters as soon as possible and investigate before a mysterious shutdown is executed and that the access is blocked. Within shortly, I will show you the extent of the forces that lies hidden in this base. But I want to make one thing clear before anything else.
»…unlike what you will be led to believe, it is not the Twelve Imperial Gnasci that are to be blamed for this abhorrent project, but is the sole fabrication and dirty manipulation of a...”
The image flickered, and then the screen went blank for a few seconds. The screen flickered back to a weather radar map of Norr Americae, a weatherman reporter pointing to a mass of cloud, explaining its trajectory.
The cafe exploded with nervous and excited chatter; puzzled, Tom and Madzistrale looked at each other, wondering what just happened.
“Reminds me of how that British radio show was hacked in 1977,” Madzistrale commented, worried.
“Unluckily for the whistleblowers, someone got to cut the video before the culprit was revealed,” Tom said, looking gloomy.
Madzistrale looked around her, at the people embarking in heated discussion, and rose for her chair.
“I think we should just move away, in case another protest erupts. One for the day was enough.”
“Agreed,” Tom followed her out.
As they walked toward the park opening, Madzistrale mused.
“What do you make of it?”
“Dunno,” Tom honestly replied. “I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do exactly. It feels like Gabzryel’s stored theories bunched up in one.”
Madzistrale let out a small shocked cry as suddenly, one step ahead got them in the middle of a lowly-lit library alley, high shelves filled with old-looking books surrounding them.
“I am glad you finally found your way,” a soft woman’s voice spoke from the next alley.
As they approached her, the woman picked up a book lying open on the floor, and replaced it in the shelf. She wore a colouful and complex wrap dress of a warm earthy palette that contrasted with her black beaded braids and her tanned skin. Ornate jewelleries adorned her ears, nose, lips, neck, arms, fingers and ankles.
“Your friend didn’t seem to like what he read; he threw the precious book away, the poor thing,” she playfully added. She turned to the siblings and smiled. “I have to be careful in how I interact with you; I can’t have you startled, the shock might break the link.”
“Umm, who are you?” Tom asked, completely confused, holding firmly Madzistrale by his side in protection.
“I kinda helped your friend find his missing link; it’s harder than everyone thinks to coordinate such things. You actually got in my library by mistake; you must have found one of those little doors. But since I got you here, I only wished to welcome you, and to say this: when we’ll meet again, you will understand a bit more what’s happening, so I’ll be able to explain it better to all of you. Until then, I wish you good luck, and most of all, to keep yourself true. Times ahead will prove challenging; and only you can find the right path.
» I won’t keep you. Goodbye, and until next time. The door is that way!” she pointed to the exit past a few rows of books.
The siblings dutifully followed, and opened the exit door. The clamour of the glass city’s plaza greeted them once again, and they blinked at the sun’s rays striking them painfully after the dark library.
********* BF *********
Tom, Madzistrale and Gabzryel stared in utter incomprehension as the scenes they experienced replayed on the computer’s monitor.
“What the heck was that?” Madzistrale wondered.
Gabzryel only answered with a puzzled frown.
“Well, at least it wasn’t another boring walk through a forest,” Tom cheered them. “We get it: we love forests.”
“Okay, I’m going to sleep,” Madzistrale decided, turning on her heels.
“Oh come on. After that?” Tom complained.
“Thinking about it while falling asleep and yawning won’t get us anywhere,” she reasoned, climbing up the staircase to the house’s ground level.
Gabzryel barely registered Ton following her while arguing. He was looking thoughtfully at the serene face of the stranger. Looking quizzingly at Loki, he found the dog merely looking at the screen for a short term, then resuming washing himself. A dog had instincts beyond those of humans, yet this stranger seemed to stir nothing in Loki.
“Who are you?” Gabzryel asked the screen. “And why are you in my library?”
He closed the window, and opened another folder, clicking on the most recent report. Reading the endless string of data and numbers, he stopped at one particular line:
2,345,218,609,546 å - ø x ý
It took him several seconds before Gabzryel realized that his jaw was dropped.
His heart racing with this discovery, he closed the file. He turned excitedly to Loki, and bending down, stroke him, the Afghan hound willingly turning over for a better massage.
“Shush. You’re not to say a word of it to the kids,” Gabzryel whispered. “They need to remain ignorant if we want to see this through. But if this number is right... I think I can safely start writing my scientific paper essay on Project Orb Weaver.”
Loki barked in return, and Gabzryel giggled in excitement. Finally some answers to his lifelong questions. Perhaps they would also answer those relating to his sister... even if part of him wished that mystery to remain unexplained.
“Until next time,” he wished to the empty air.
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Post by melodierivers on May 11, 2022 13:56:15 GMT
Chapter 21 - AL - Disturbance
Morning rays hit the curtains, softening the incoming light into Ysadora’s bedroom. Lying with her eyes wide open, Ysadora contemplated the light, noticing the clock at the corner of her vision: 25-07, 6h43 a.m. Rising in a seated position, pulling her blankets around her, she grimaced as her muscles ached. It had been two days since her fight against the Vymana squadron; yet, she had to grant their strength for making her feel like she underwent weeks of training.
Those thoughts only added to the reason why she was already awake; for the Feldsmarschall’s last words had resonated throughout the following nights despite her best efforts to eradicate their memory.
Ysadora rose from her bed, and walked to the bathroom. Pausing in front of the mirror, she analyzed her reflection. In an almost disgusted manner, she stroke her platinum blond hair. That alone was the only tangible proof of her transgression against her human nature. Losing her natural brown hair color, and giving faithful obedience to her saviours, was the exchange for the life she should never have had. She leaned closer and looked in her reflection’s turquoise eyes. Poets once said that eyes were windows to the soul. If that was true, then she certainly could see hers, strong and unwavering; so why did the Feldsmarchall’s words stirred something in that soul? Why did she, in occasions, still felt under-par to those around her? Only because she shouldn’t be alive right now? When has loyalty and gratitude ever equated to losing one’s humanity?
Ysadora turned away. What did the Feldsmarschall knew of her? How could he ever understand? Loyalty and honour was something she knew; that was her humanity. And if it wasn’t enough, then she would prove its existence.
**********************
Abraham examined with suspicion the plate of oatmeal and fruits; taking another bite, he cringed at the taste, feeling as if he was eating dry sand.
“These people seriously need to add milk to the oatmeal,” he sighed, pushing the bowl away and keeping the fruits, which tasted decent.
“Having trouble with cafeteria-based breakfast?” Ysadora teased him, sitting at his table without invitation, her own plate containing nothing but toasts and three slices of cheese.
Abraham grimaced.
“It seems to be the norm everywhere, at any cafeteria: cheap coffee that tastes bland, or mud, and sand-like dried breakfast,” he sighed.
“Should use your power to change that,” Ysadora continued to tease him over her own cup of coffee.
Abraham looked at her with amusement for some moments, before finally saying:
“If you’re trying to be discrete about keeping an eye on me, it doesn’t work.”
“I’m not hiding. I told you: I am keeping an eye on you,” Ysadora nonchalantly replied, sipping her coffee.
“You’re gutsy in your confidence that by knowing what you’re up to, people will still reveal their true selves,” Abraham smirked. “I like it. After all, you’re right.”
“I am?” Ysadora smiled innocently.
“Confidence works both ways; and the victims are more often than not too confident that they can keep secrets when knowing they are observed.”
Ysadora considered him.
“You truly know your psychology.”
“Surprised?”
“A little. Many people are all talk, no action.”
“Except Randall; hence why you’re protective of him.”
“And you’re here because you feel your ambitions might finally bloom under the right superior,” Ysadora countered.
“Nothing wrong with that. We all need teachers to show us the way; and they need students to prove their teachings right.”
Abraham paused to take a bite at the orange quarters, then he smirked at Ysadora.
“But my earlier words still apply. As much as you think I’ll drop my guards knowing you observe me, as much as I’m confident you’ll drop yours while believing you are safe.”
Ysadora considered him, her turquoise eyes turning defensive.
“And why are you so interested?”
Abraham smiled softly.
“I told you last time: you look like someone that deserves being understood.”
Ysadora stared at Abraham, and he chuckled as she tried the best she could to hide her shock. And her cheeks becoming red certainly didn’t help her desperate efforts.
“Miss Dawn?”
Ysadora and Abraham rose their heads and saw Daniel standing by the side, carrying a pile of folders.
“What do you want?” Ysadora sharply asked.
“I have the documents that you requested, ma’am: the compilations of all...”
Ysadora rose abruptly from her chair and laid her hand on his elbow.
“Not here, Daniel. People are eating breakfast, they don’t need to hear about business.”
“As you wish, ma’am.”
She picked up her coffee cup, and smiled apologetically at Abraham.
“Sorry. We’ll have to continue this conversation another time.”
Abraham rose from his chair, and kissed her hand in guise of goodbye, smirking at her surprised expression.
**
Ysadora closed her office door and sat behind her desk.
“Okay, you were saying?”
“I have the documents that you requested, ma’am; the compilation of all the actions, investments and vices of our current, and past, council members and investors,” Daniel resumed in his usual monotonic tone, setting down carefully the folders upon the glass table.
“You’re fast, as always,” Ysadora complimented him, sifting quickly through the names.
“May I ask the purpose of this compilation, ma’am?” he asked, a hint of curiosity showing through his impassible face.
“The plan is starting to enter its final stage. I need insurances against anyone who will rise against us to tear it down,” Ysadora explained.
“Why is the population not happy, ma’am? Are you not offering them security on all vital aspects of their life?” Daniel asked, visibly puzzled.
“It’s not the population that worries me. It’s those we kicked out of their powerful position; and those we will kick out in the future. Power is not something humans give up easily on.”
“And you are afraid they will undermine your plan in revenge of their lost power, ma’am?”
“Something like that. With your compilation, though, we’ll have the upper hand. It’s hard to look good when everyone knows about your flaws and vices.”
“Although I have some flaws resulted from my military work, I am not aware that I have vices, ma’am. Am I not looking good because everyone knows of vices that I am not aware of?” Daniel asked.
Ysadora looked at him blankly.
“I wasn’t referring to you, Daniel.”
“But you did, ma’am. You said...”
Ysadora stopped him with a raised hand.
“Thank you for the compilation, Daniel.”
“You are welcome, ma’am.”
Ysadora returned to reading the morning political news, until after a few minutes, she realized Daniel was still standing in front of her desk.
“Yes? What do you want?” she asked, annoyed.
“I have urgent and intriguing news for you, ma’am,” he answered simply.
Ysadora’s frown lifted with interest, and a bit of annoyance.
“And why haven’t you started with the ‘urgent and intriguing news’ first, since it was so important?”
“You wanted to see my compilation of all the actions, investments and vices of our current, and past, council members and investors, ma’am. It was thus the priority.”
Ysadora sighed; he was really thick sometime.
“Next time, the priority is the news, okay?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Silence fell in the office. Ysadora waited expectantly to hear this famous news, but Daniel still wouldn’t talk, looking straight at her, unflinching.
“Daniel?” she asked, worried.
“Yes, ma’am?” he answered.
“So?…”
“...fia, ma’am,” he replied proudly.
“What?” Ysadora was now deeply puzzled.
“Sofia, ma’am. The ending for the most relevant word to our conversation, beginning with ‘So’, that you were asking for. It is the Greek word for wisdom.”
Ysadora restrained herself from making a facepalm.
“I meant, what is the news that was so urgent?”
“A public disturbance, ma’am. In the Plaza, two days ago, 23-7, at 9:38 a.m. A citizen, Frank Cooper, spoke against the government, and 48 other citizens spoke in favour of the government; afterwards, 6 minutes and 23 seconds later, five citizens endeavoured to administrate pain to Frank Cooper…”
Ysadora restrained a chuckle upon hearing Daniel describe a beating, like a scientist observing rats.
“...when a metal shock sound was heard, three of the five citizens were pushed to the crowds, and the disturbance ended. The name of the five attacking citizens were...”
“I don’t need their names. Okay... so, that’s it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How is that intriguing and urgent? Public beatings are common, and it’s none of our business. Even if a few citizens goes, it makes that much less to spend our resources on. It’s been like that since before you got employed.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“So?...” Ysadora asked after a few moments of silence, to have more informations.
“...phie, ma’am. A French common name for female gender, derived from your previous inquiry, Sofia, the Greek word for wisdom.”
“Stop it with the Sofia/Sophie!!” Ysadora burst.
“Yes, ma’am,” Daniel impassively replied.
Ysadora calmed herself down; nine years she had him as her assistant, and she was still not used to his train of thoughts.
“What’s so intriguing about this disturbance?” she clarified.
“The two that protected the public speaker do not belong to any database, ma’am,” Daniel explained.
“What do you mean?”
“As always, I checked the origin of the metallic sound. It came from this weapon, ma’am,” he rose and took out a phone-like device; he placed it on the desk, and opened it.
A holographic screen floated, showing a live footage of the previous day in the Plaza. As he said, a public speaker began to shout, and Ysadora smirked upon hearing the crowd basically swearing their allegiances to Bohm’s government. The crowd beat the speaker, but two figures walked up to the crowd, previously observing the scene. Ysadora paused in shocked surprise at the following scene, and even had to replay the instant where the one with a hat and clad in white, a woman judging by her demeanour, came to suddenly hold two long baton-like weapons, set them down after scaring the crowd, and joined the second figure, a male and clad of dark grey, at helping the public speaker. Despite the camera filter, Ysadora could swear that the two strangers seemed to be surrounded by a glimmering shimmer; it was as subtle as fleeting dust in sun rays. The three figures spoke together for awhile, then the public speaker hurried away. Ysadora rose her eyebrows in a second surprise as the male figure in dark grey looked around him and settled at looking straight at the camera, his dark eyes burning with both curiosity and suspicion; a small shiver ran on Ysadora’s neck as she felt as if he was staring straight at her. The young woman by his side looked too at the camera after he showed it to her; after a few words, they walked away.
“Okay, that was new,” Ysadora commented. “While they obviously didn’t knew of the existence of the cameras at first, they then knew exactly where they were…”
“And the weapons, ma’am,” Daniel reminded her, while rewinding the footage to the moment the woman clad of white held the sticks.
“I know, I know. But where the hell did they come from? She has no scabbards, no belt, no holsters, and they just… appeared out of nowhere?” Ysadora asked, her mind racing at figuring out the answer to this mystery.
“I do not know, ma’am. But it has no match whatsoever with any weapons sold.”
“Homemade, then... That might be a danger, especially if made to fight against our government...” she said thoughtfully.
“What brings you to this conclusion, ma’am?”
“They helped that man, the one against us.”
She rose, determination in her eyes.
“Alright, I want a face match right away, Daniel,” she ordered.
“I believe I already told you, ma’am. I have taken the liberty to search for one. They have none, ma’am.”
Ysadora slowly turned to him.
“What?”
“They have no match, ma’am. They exist nowhere in our database.”
“That’s impossible! We own all the population database, every births since ninety years, every deaths,” she replied.
“Yes ma’am. To an exception.”
“Really? Which one?”
“The Africani, Suth Americani, Pacifica native tribes, as well as underground communities with unregistered births, ma’am,” he answered impassively.
Ysadora stared at him, annoyed.
“Do they look like tribal natives, or hippies, Daniel?”
“No ma’am.”
“Exactly. So why don’t they show up in our database?”
“I do not know, ma’am.”
“Great... I have to warn Randall; this might be serious,” she decided, walking out of her office, Daniel dutifully following her.
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Post by melodierivers on May 11, 2022 13:57:16 GMT
Chapter 22 - AL - Knuckle Sandwich
“Good afternoon, Mr. Solomon,” the Capitoline receptionist greeted Abraham as he arrived into the Hall, returning from his lunch break.
“Good morning, Mrs. Williams. Any message from the President or Mr. Redspear?”
“No sir,” she answered after quickly verifying.
“Thank you.”
“Have a nice day, Mr. Solomon,” she flashed him an inviting smile, immediately blushing afterwards from her daringness.
“You too, Mrs. Williams,” Abraham answered, hiding his annoyance at her subtle intentions.
As he went to climb the main spiraling stairs, leading to the above stories and his office, his instincts warned him of a danger. Pretending to stop to verify the time on his watch, he took the opportunity to look around him. His keen eyes fell at last upon the guest waiting section of the hall, where two men were seated. Dark suits, their briefcases at their side, they could have passed for ordinary business men waiting for a meeting. But subtle ticks, such as their fleeting stares, constantly looking at the hall, the fact they were reading a magazine, yet never turned the pages, and their generally tense body, led Abraham to believe that they were more than just waiting for a meeting.
They finally turned their stare toward the stairs, toward him, and he quickly returned to pretend to look at his watch, and tap on it, as if it was broken (part of him noticed with annoyance that it was indeed still malfunctioning, showing 10:34 a.m. despite the hour being 14:58 p.m. on the Hall’s clock). Once he resumed climbing the stairs, he heard the men rise and start to walk toward the stairs. As soon he reached a level of the spiral where they couldn’t see him, he picked up the pace and started running up the stairs. With some surprise, he suddenly found himself at the story of his office. Part of him wondered how he got there that fast, while the most urgent part of him told him to think quickly about his next move against the oncoming attackers. Public Relations Advisor wasn’t a dangerous position, and unlike the President and the most important positions, Abraham didn’t owned bodyguards. And he doubted that the briefcases were empty.
“Bodyguard!” he suddenly thought.
He had a bodyguard. He walked briskly toward his office at the end of the corridor while taking out his cellphone and pressing a speed dial that Randall had programmed the evening before. Putting the volume to the utmost minimal, he pressed it hard against his ears to avoid the conversation being heard.
“Hello?” Ysadora’s voice finally answered, with a touch of defiance, as if the call had better to be important.
“Ysadora, it’s Abraham,” he whispered; before she could answer back, he continued quickly, still whispering as low as he could, as he wasn’t sure where the attackers were now: “I need your help; someone, I suspect a council member that got exposed, sent two big men to give me a knuckle sandwich. I can manage them for awhile, but they might have time to escape with no one knowing.”
With relief, he heard her say some instructions to someone beside her, something about sending her second assistant to greet some newcomers, and then started to run, her heels clicking harder and faster upon the marble floor. At least, she was too in the Capitoline.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Going to my office; they are climbing the stairs, and are most probably at the top.” He reached his office, and closed the door behind him.
“Can you get out of there?” she asked him, her breath finally catching up with her running speed.
“No, there is only one way, and they’ve covered it. It’s fine, I’ll keep them trapped in my office; I might succeed to get a confession recorded.”
“I won’t be long, I promise. Keep out of the door’s way,” upon this instruction, Ysadora hung up.
Abraham stopped the call; he quickly turned on the audio recording, muted the playback audio, found some office tape, and taped the phone under his desk. As he heard heavy steps approaching his door, he opened a file at random, and looked busy as the door slammed open.
“Come in,” he said sarcastically.
The two men closed the door behind them as Abraham rose from his chair, examining the situation; he noticed that once they had been alone, they had put on masks.
“You know, if you want to look incognito, you have to stop to be so damn obvious that you are about to do something outlawish. Fleeting gazes and not turning the pages of your magazine, especially when the page you are ‘reading’ is an impotence cure publicity picture, are big signs that you’re waiting for someone,” Abraham told the strangers, with a pleasant smile. “Tell me, you got sent in response of the leaks, didn’t you?”
The men said nothing, putting down their briefcases. They were blocking the exit, but Abraham didn’t mind. He intended on keeping them busy; and he knew exactly how to handle them. Bullies always reacted the same way; that much hadn’t changed since his youth.
“It’s their fault, really,” Abraham continued, going around his desk to stand in front of it. “The first key to a good business is to never soil it. If you do something illegal, you do it unrelated to your professional name and business. No linked banks accounts, no…”
He paused as the men opened the briefcases, then a secret compartment, and took out matraques. Abraham laid nonchalantly back against his desk, his hands firmly flattened upon the varnished wood. He smiled mischievously at the attackers, and waited for the leader to attack first. His heart began to pound with the adrenaline flushing through his veins, and he tensed as the leader finally made his move, raising his matraque, the other man moving sideways to cut an escape route. As the first leader approached close enough, and the matraque fell down toward Abraham, the latter pivoted himself toward the back, his arms supporting his weight. His feet left the ground, and in the same movement, he slammed his legs against the leader’s chest. The leader’s matraque hit the air, and he retreated a feet or two back under Abraham’s leg hit at his lungs; Abraham returned back on his feet as it was the second man’s turn to attack. Abraham pivoted to his left to avoid the first matraque blow, which fell heavily upon the desk; the first leader came back with a second blow, one that Abraham countered with his arm. With his other arm, he threw a glass ashtray to the face of the second hitman, who dropped his matraque and flew his hands to his face in a failed attempt of dampening the hit. The first man tried to hit once more, but Abraham ducked and in the same movement, lunged forward; he administered an uppercut to the leader’s jaw, who dropped the matraque in pain. As the leader retreated a few steps back, dazed by the pain in his jaw, Abraham took the opportunity to give a kick to the man’s right knee, making the hitman fall, and temporarily paralysing him. The second man snuck behind, took Abraham by the neck, slammed him flat against the desk, and attempted to choke him. Abraham struggled to get his legs free, and once they were, he pushed with all his might against the hitman, attempting to weaken the hold on his throat; but the man was as motivated than him to accomplish his mission, and the grip stayed tight, and Abraham began to gasp.
Suddenly, the hitman let out a surprised gasp, and he was yanked backward, Abraham almost following him due to the man still trying to hold on to his throat. As Abraham clumsily stumbled upon his feet, and the hitman fell to the floor, he saw Ysadora standing in the room, finishing a spin upon herself, holding a strange chain-like metallic weapon. She was holding its sword-like handle, and Abraham noticed a triangular tip wrapped around the ankle of the hitman that was strangling him, linked to the handle through a long link.
“Don’t come close or touch either my weapon or the man; if you have any cuts or wounds, it will kill you,” she warned him, retracting her weapon back to her side.
Abraham saw the leader, the one he had broken the knee, lying on the floor, immobile. Soon, despite his attempt to crawl out of the office (and Ysadora bringing him back and closing the door), the second hitman convulsed for a few second, then also laid immobile. Signaling Abraham to stay where he was, Ysadora knelt beside both victims, and took their pulse; with a satisfied expression, she rose, and retracted her weapon. This time, the entire length of the chain retracted, the triangular tip joined the handle, and Abraham saw that fully joined, it looked exactly like a segmented sword. The blade folded up into a roll, and Ysadora placed the now small weapon back on a strap unto her left thigh under her skirt.
“They’re dead,” she announced coolly, before talking to the empty air: “Daniel, I need the cleaning team up in Mr. Solomon’s office. Tell them to be discreet, we don’t want anyone to see anything.”
She applied some cream on her hands, then turned to Abraham, whom was examining the victims with an equally cool face.
“Are you alright?”
“Of course, just a few minus bruises. I don’t even feel anything,” Abraham answered honestly. He realized that he indeed didn’t felt any pain, which was a surprise considering the matraque hit on his arm, the impact of his back against the desk, and the strangling.
“I meant mentally. Are you alright? Seeing death for the first time can be traumatizing.” The way she said it made it seem like she considered such a reaction below her.
Abraham looked at her in surprise, and snorted.
“What, seeing my attackers dead? It was me or them. You forget that I have studied Nature’s law. Death is a constant.”
He realized it sounded terribly patronizing for such an innocent question from her part; at least, she was caring, unlike his youth years, when he was left alone to deal with bullies, even by his own parents. His tone softened, and he gave her a grateful smile.
“I mean, I’m okay, really. I’m glad you got them quicker, though. What happened?”
She smiled proudly, and Abraham couldn’t help but appreciate how her turquoise eyes shone when she did.
“A form of poison. My weapon is laced with it. Quick and nasty, especially with these big guys, with all their heart pounding fast. Carries the poison faster. That’s why I told you to stay clear.”
She walked to the window, and checked outside.
“Seems to be no one else.”
“No, they were alone. It was obvious by how they were fighting.”
She walked back to him,
“Right, well, you and I should go downstairs to let my guys clean up your office. In an hour, all will be back to normal.”
She paused, and looked at him with confusion.
“What?” he asked.
“You changed your tie?” she wondered with surprise.
“What? No, it’s the same one from this morning,” Abraham replied, confused.
Ysadora raised an eyebrow.
“Your tie was stripped black and white when we ate breakfast together; it’s now pokedot black and white,” she told him.
Abraham checked his tie; it was indeed pokedot black and white. His own eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Okay... Well, apparently, I did…”
Ysadora shrugged.
“It happens; beside, your new tie suits you,” she finished with a playful smile.
Abraham smiled too at the compliment, and he opened his office door to let her out first. He was starting to really enjoy working here; but most of all, to know someone had finally his back. He realized with a certain shock that he was actually starting to trust someone else; a beautiful someone at that…
Abraham shook vividly his head; it was really not the time to be thinking about that. Much more important things laid ahead of him, and for that, he needed all his focus. Randall wasn’t someone he wanted to disappoint. |
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Post by melodierivers on May 11, 2022 21:00:57 GMT
Chapter 23 - AL - The Disappearance
Warm air and an equally warm breeze welcomed Madzistrale and Tom as they put their feet upon the first patch of grass since the very beginning of their arrival in the strange city of glass. The space they found themselves standing upon was very large; grass, ornamental bushes, and small blossoming trees as far the eyes could see. The glass skyscrapers stopped short at the rim of the park, and their shadows barely touched the ground. A few hundred yards from the siblings stood several large white buildings. Specifically-placed stone pathways led to those various buildings, and a small group of tourists were waiting on one such pathway, their cameras at the ready. Silently agreeing in one fleeting look, Tom and Madzistrale nonchalantly joined the group.
The tourists gave them bright smiles, and everyone turned back toward the park as an auburn-haired woman walked in front of the group.
“Welcome, it’s a pleasure meeting you all; I’m Rose! Now, I know you’re all excited, and let’s not mention how hot it is...” small laughters resonated, “so without further ado, follow me, and allow me to present this beautiful country that is the Uni-states.”
Rose led the tourists into the closest building, and they whispered excitedly as the interior was an open-concept display of paintings and news clippings within elegant frames.
The next hour was spent discussing the various depicted battles, treaties, events, elections and such, when a particular painting captured Madzistrale’s attention.
“Excuse me,” she said, raising her hand; she pointed to the frame closest to her on the wall. “What are those seals?”
Rose came closer, the tourists eagerly following. Noticing the subject, she smiled brightly.
“Thank you for asking, I almost forgot! Those were the prototypes of Uni-states’ Great Seal, when the subject was under debate during the Infrastructure of 1789.” She pointed to each seals depicted: “Here you have the very first discussed, proposed by President Benson: the famous parting of the sea by Moishe. The rest of the council dismissed it, declaring it too religious-oriented.”
“No, you think?” Madzistrale whispered derisively to Tom as he chuckled. “Not too mention way too egotistical to compare a country as memorable as a biblical event...”
Unaware of the siblings’ concealed chuckles, Rose continued:
“The next prototype, proposed by council man Jeffrey, was yet another religious seal; then a mythological proposition by council man Jean. After many years of deliberation, secretary Tom then proposed this one: an eagle with its wings spread out, holding a laurel in one claw, and an arrow in the other. A powerful symbol meant to convey peace but also strength. However, it was quickly dismissed by Benson, as he felt the symbol contrasted drastically against the Uni-states philosophy. After all, an eagle lazily waits after its prey to die before feeding on its corpse, yet can be easily scared of by lower birds. Far from the pacifist but also proactive feeling that Benson wished to imbue this new country with.
» So instead, our current Seal was finally proposed and accepted: the turkey, a symbolism much treasured by Benson. For the turkey will remain peaceful as long as left as such; but even if seen inferior by its enemies, it will be fiercely involved and will defend with all its might those that it cares the most about.”
“The Uni-states’ Great Seal... is a turkey?” Madzistrale repeated, shocked and disbelieving.
Rose looked at her quizzingly.
“... yes, that’s right.”
Madzistrale turned her back to the group and clamped her hand against her mouth to restrain and mute her laughter. Eager to redirect the conversation elsewhere, Tom intervened.
“If I may, we’ve heard that the presidential sector was located in this city. Is it then a major historical location?”
“Of course. In fact, we are at the edge of the presidential sector. This whole park, measuring 280 acres, was the original location chosen when all seven fractions of the colonists united to create the Uni-states.”
“What were the seven fractions?” someone in the group asked
“The Imperialists, the Loyalists, the Entrepreneurs, the Faithfuls, the Rebels, the Great Nobility, and the Nations. Their names pretty much indicates on which side they were, and fierce wars erupted in order to fashion this country toward one which the world had never seen before. It took the Seven War before the factions lost enough power to consider uniting.
» It’s not quite resolved to this day, conflicts still arise, but we can be proud of calling ourselves a nation that united countless differences and found a way to live together without tyranny and without an iron grip on what’s proper or not.
» That, for me, is the beauty of my homeland.”
The tourists remained silent, some nodding thoughtfully; Rose smiled, and resumed walking.
Finally, after a few more demonstrations, she led them back outside, and started to walk toward the second closest building, which she revealed to be the technological advancements display.
Tom took Madzistrale by the arm, and separated from the group.
“Let’s snoop around. Rose said the presidential sector is right here; which means so is the big guy’s house. We’ve got a promise to hold to that poor guy who got beaten up, so let’s see if we can knock on the door and request an audience.”
“Yeah, right,” Madzistrale snorted, but followed anyway.
When they approached the biggest building of the park, the siblings paused. Strangely, no one had yet stopped them, which surprised Madzistrale and Tom. With a determined resolve, they started once more toward the paved way to the entrance.
A figure coming from the back of the park also embarked upon the pavement, and upon seeing them, halted in order to talk with them when they approached.
“Hello, strangers,” the man greeted the siblings.
The siblings fought hard not to stare, for he was quite a unique sight. His emaciated face looked older than the siblings, yet he managed to feel youthful; he was not only very skinny, but small as well, arriving at Tom’s shoulder. His bright orange hair stood up in spikes, and his eyes’ colour were hard to define, for depending on how the sun hit them, they were either green-yellow, or gold, almost ochre. He kept on cocking his head slightly to either side, and looked straight at them, never flinching, with a disarming smile.
“Umm, hello. Are we allowed to be here?” Tom asked with his most pleasant smile. “We’re travellers, see, and many of your buildings here are unfamiliar to us.”
“But of course. The Uni-states is a completely transparent country,” the odd stranger answered, still staring right at them, his smile never fading, his head still cocked.
Red alarms flashed inside Madzistrale’s mind as she kept on looking at the stranger. Something about him felt really off, and she was silently praying for Tom to end the conversation.
“That’s very good to know; not many countries are as such,” Tom replied, looking impressed.
The orange-haired man kept only smiling, and Madzistrale soon realized what she felt that was wrong. His smile was hiding more than it let seem, and looking at the man was like looking at a snake; sly, cunning, cold. His head turned the other way, and he spoke again.
“You’re the guys from the Plaza, from three days ago, right? Loved the weapons. Can I see them?”
Tom looked at his sister, and both exchanged a look of worry and suspicion.
“I’m afraid we left them at our hotel,” Tom lied, with an apologetic smile.
“I see. Where are you from?” the man’s eyes were now even more colder despite his incessant smile.
“Oh, we’ve been pretty much on the road since our childhood. Our parents and us loved to travel, see as much of the world as we could, you know,” Madzistrale replied, unsure of what exact name to say.
“And at this specific moment, you’re now in our country’s capital... and here,” the man said thoughtfully.
Tom and Madzistrale exchanged another worried look. They started to walk again, pretending they were interested by the buildings.
“Why do you say that? Are we missing a festival?” Tom asked pleasantly.
“No. But you did miss our President’s election. It was over six weeks ago,” the orange-haired man said carefully.
“Oh, is that this Bohm that the crowd in the Plaza were debating about?” Madzistrale asked innocently.
“Indeed.” The man turned to them suddenly, and extended his hand. “I’m Scott, by the way.”
“Tom, and this is Madzistrale.”
“Couple?” Scott asked.
Tom and Madzistrale looked at him with horrified shock, and immediately clarified:
“No, no, we’re siblings.”
Scott’s smile turned to one of satisfaction, and he pointed to the building:
“Since you’re new here, this is the Capitoline. It’s Uni-states’ second main governmental center. You can visit, if you wish. As I’ve said, we are a transparent country.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Tom replied. “Can you explain one thing, though?”
“Sure.”
“Why no police? No security officers, no guards, no one.”
Scott smiled even wider.
“We are in a free country, Tom. Free of everything. Free of tyranny, from both here and from the heavens.”
“Huh?” Madzistrale wondered.
“Who do you think created laws, Madzistrale?” Scott replied, his gold eyes staring right through her; the siblings startled at the stranger saying her name perfectly despite being the first time.
“Men,” Tom answered in her stead.
“Yes. And by the hand of men can we undo these laws. But where does most of the laws come from?”
Madzistrale and Tom thought hard, until Madzistrale understood.
“God. Many of the laws are religious in origins.”
“And if God doesn’t exist? What then of the laws? How can we trust laws that were born out of men’s hallucinations?”
“But how do you keep order?” Tom inquired.
“As it was always kept: Nature eliminates by herself those that disrupt her order.”
“Where is the difference?” Tom challenged. “Whether it be an abstract idea of a world ruled by God’s Laws, a being that is utterly incomprehensible yet responsible for the creations within itself, or an abstract idea of a world ruled by Nature’s Laws, a being responsible for the creations within itself... Both requires a faith and a willingness to manifest the belief of that which we cannot ever see or even conceive.”
The siblings could have sworn to have heard Scott hiss in anger, his eyes flashing.
“The difference is one that you humans have failed to understand.”
He turned swiftly toward them, and the siblings jumped back in surprise.
“So let me clarify it for you in terms you will understand. The world is ruled by preys and by predators. Preys never survive, or when they do, they are bound to be worthless vermins. That is the one universal truth. And human society corrupted that truth, they tried to escape it.”
Ton and Madzistrale looked at one another, and they slowly backed away, for now Scott wasn’t smiling anymore, but advancing dangerously upon them.
“You, are such preys. You are disrupting the system. Three days ago, one prey was supposed to fall, to make space upon our precious planet. Yet, you saved his life. You allowed a parasite to go on.”
“And what gives you the right to know which humans are parasites?” Tom angrily challenged.
Scott approached even more, and the siblings kept backing away. They began to feel a pull upon themselves, something that urged them to escape as soon as possible, and quickly.
“Every life on this planet has a right to live and a right to kill, Tom. And you are right now on such a thread. So answer my questions: where are you from, who are you, and what is your mission here?”
“We are travellers,” Tom answered truthfully.
Scott snarled; before the siblings could blink, a katar dagger slid from under his leather jacket sleeve into his hand, and in a flash, he slashed Madzistrale’s face, who let out a scream, half out of pain, but most of all, out of deep shock. Which cut almost immediately.
**
Scott stood still where he was, and something he hadn’t experience in a long time, fear, crept within him. Where his knife was a second ago, there was now only empty space. The sun continued to shine, the grass to move beneath the small breeze, the pigeons messengers continued to sing, but the young woman had disappeared out of thin air in a split second.
A powerful right hook to his jaw snapped him out of his shock, and he stumbled under the unusual power, as her brother glared at him with pure anger. And suddenly, he too disappeared into thin air, right in front of Scott’s eyes.
“Impossible...” he began, his body suddenly shaking.
It was simply impossible, he tried to convince himself. Yet, it seemed that the tales he had been told during his training years were true. Such peoples existed.
His fears grew stronger. If they were interfering, then it meant...
His bosses’ plans were endangered by a force beyond human abilities. |
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Post by melodierivers on May 11, 2022 21:01:51 GMT
Chapter 24 - BG - Rough Start
“Am I okay, am I okay?!” Madzistrale panicked while Tom held her tight, back in Gabzryel’s laboratory.
“Yes, you’re okay, Mad,” Gabzryel repeated for the dozen time. “Injuries sustained in those scenarios don’t affect your real body. Technically, you could have gone on and sustained more slashes. As long your real body isn’t present, you won’t die, and you won’t have any real injuries.”
“Did you saw that punch?!” Tom asked, shocked. “I never hit that hard.”
“You will find that strength and many other abilities are manifested in random ways,” Gabzryel explained, with an air of an occult teacher.
“Well that was a rough start,” Tom accused his friend. “And it’s the first time in all these years that we actually went at the same place twice, and spent time there; not just glimpses.”
“Don’t look at me, apparently it’s the best place to start testing your heroic abilities,” Gabzryel defended himself.
“Why have you even picked that place? And how?” Tom wondered exasperatedly.
“It’s not my fault, I kept reading that specific number in all the damn books I was reading, in all the dreams I was making. Jeez, in a recent dream, I even opened a locked book that I waited for months to finally see what it contained, and BAM! Only blank pages with just that specific frequency written upon them. A man’s gotta understand he’s given hints after awhile.”
Tom, seeing Madzistrale was still shaken, kissed her playfully on the cheeks, making suction noises until she cracked up laughing.
“Do you mind, guys? I’m trying to say something,” Gabzryel interrupted.
“Sorry,” the siblings said together.
“As I was saying, from what I’ve seen, you should have an interesting simulation, because what is playing out in that world has similar ramifications in our own world.”
“Psychotics orange-haired guy deluding about preys and predators being the one universal law when managing human society?” Madzistrale answered sarcastically.
“Actually, that is similar to some underground beliefs going on here too. The belief that just like animals are not bothered by killing other animals, since the victims offered competition for food and shelter, humans are not so different; and if done in self-defense or for a ‘good’ reason, murder shouldn’t be a crime, any differently that we don’t put to jail lions when they kill gazelles. Or when we kill animals to eat.”
Tom and Madzistrale looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“Yes, guys, that really exist as a belief system. Absolutely rubbish and wrong in our opinions, but with more followers than we would like to think. Anyway, the tactics used in that world we just saw, has remarkable resemblances to past tactics in our history. And since everything repeats itself, I think that you guys beating them at their game will actually be really useful, for such a story might unravel in our own world in the near future.”
“What a bundle of joy you are,” Madzistrale sighed.
“Hey, just saying the truth. If you think the peace we’re having right now will last, I hate to break it to you that it won’t. A handful of people will always find ways to twist and use humanity’s nature to fulfill their own ambitions. History has shown that tyranny don’t get things done; but use humans and pit them against one and another, and that’s the world you’ve just witnessed. That’s where our own world is heading, and the signs are clearer than people want to admit.”
Gabzryel let silence follow his statement for a moment, then he rose, checked the clock, and looked hopefully at Madzistrale.
“Given that you took four hours before getting to that place, dreamt a whole day in an hour and a half time, and that it’s already 5:30 in the morning, and that none of us is getting back to sleep any time soon…”
“Pancakes?” she guessed with a corner smile.
“Please?”
Madzistrale laughed at Gabzryel’s pleading eyes, and she briskly climbed the stairs leading to the kitchen.
“Come on, boys, time for breakfast.”
Tom high-fived Gabzryel for succeeding to coax Madzistrale into preparing a lengthy breakfast, and they followed her up the stairs.
“By the way, do you guys like the modifications I made to your clothes?” Gabzryel asked proudly the siblings.
“No...” Madzistrale answered in a deadpan manner, taking out the ingredients.
Gabzryel’s expectant face turned to a pout, as his pride fell upon the sister’s comment. Madzistrale smiled broadly and hugged him tight.
“Kidding! It’s absolutely marvelous! And cool!”
“I love it too,” Tom added. “Much more cool! The hat fitted Mad so well, she looked like those old-fashioned lady jazz singers. It also seems as if you always know what we both liked. How do you do that?”
“Too long to explain,” Gabzryel smirked. “Beside, you wouldn’t remember it ten minutes after I tell you.”
“Amen to that,” Madzistrale replied in an unconcerned honesty.
“Hey!” Tom shot them an annoyed glare, before suddenly remembering something: “That knife, what the heck was it?”
“A katar dagger; they’re a South Asian weapon, especially found in India. Nasty weapon. The triangular shape of the blade is in fact two movable blades; when they open into an inverted V shape, they reveal another blade under. It was designed so that when stabbing, the three-blade V system creates even more damage to the wound. As I said, nasty weapon,” Gabzryel shook his head.
“No kidding,” the siblings replied, lightly horrified.
“Speaking of weapon, I did wanted to ask how I came to hold the sticks we asked Bruno to make us, when I used it to repel the crowd last time. It just sort of appeared out of thin air...” Madzistrale asked.
Gabzryel frowned.
“No idea. That was new and unexpected. I’m as much curious as you to know how it happened, and if it can happen again. Will be very useful for possible future attacks.”
“They were perfect,” Madzistrale sadly mused.
“To be honest, I don’t get what actually happened; so many things don’t make sense according to what we’ve learned in the last years in our experiments...” Gabzryel finished.
He nearly added the mystery of the librarian and her words, and how come she held the book he saw in his own dreams, but bit his lips and said nothing. The only info he was able to gather from that scene was one he could not let the siblings know, lest it affected their own experiences.
The siblings sighed in disappointment, and Madzistrale returned to preparing her pancakes whereas Gabzryel decided to lighten the mood by putting on his progressive rock playlist; an unwelcomed sound to their sleeping dog Loki, who raised his head, growled with annoyance, and walked sleepily to Gabzryel’s bedroom.
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Post by melodierivers on May 11, 2022 21:02:40 GMT
Chapter 25 - AM - The Old Order
The clock stroke 14:00, and the cameras turned on. It was time for another publicized presidential meeting. The chatter around the meeting table diminished when the door opened, and Abraham entered briskly.
“I hope I’m not late. My watch keeps on malfunctioning, and gives me odd hours, every time,” he apologized, sitting on the only empty chair, by Randall’s side.
The meeting office was now filled with almost entirely new recruits from Randall’s own council, picked by Abraham during the past week. Abraham noticed that the old man seemed very pleased with whom he chose, so he considered it as a test well passed.
Seemingly more at ease with his new position, President Bohm cleared his throat, and the room became silent, beside of the sound of the camera rails.
“Some of you may see that my council has undergone deep and fast reshaping. An entire council replaced within less than two months,” Bohm began for the survivors of the old presidential council, but more importantly, for the public’s knowledge. “Well, this is how my leadership work, from this moment on. We don’t sit on our behinds, and do nothing when, as bright as day, corruption stand before ourselves. We work day and night to uproot infections, and that is what we have done. It took only a few days of researches to unravel all these corrupted actions of your past Presidents’ council members.
» And while evil lurked within our sacred walls, bright, young, ambitious Americani citizens, like you and I, were working in meager jobs, shoved down the pipes. Well, you have seen today what are my thoughts on such disrespectful actions. I have sworn that no man would be superior to another, faithful on the principles upon which Uni-states had been once founded. And I delivered. Uni-states’ hard working citizens will not be frowned upon, and here they stand, around my table.
» This, is only an overview of what, as a true president, I am ready to do. When I promise the population something, I do it,” he finished, staring authoritatively at his old and new council members.
The new recruits applauded warmly whereas the old members applauded halfheartedly; Abraham could easily guess their fear, that their turn would soon come.
“Now,” Bohm’s tone turned even more authoritative. “I want an immediate explanation of what happened in the news four days ago. Would anyone care to explain what that Feldmarschall was warning the population about? And please don’t answer with ‘it’s a hoax’, or I’m firing you on the spot.”
“It’s not a hoax, Mr. President; it’s a man who was delusional about an event that happened twenty years ago,” one of the participants spoke out, a stern old man with various scars across his hands and face, and equally as much medals upon his colonel uniform. “Feldmarschall Teiwas is part of a joint program in the 90s that encouraged all Twelve Imperial Gnasci to work together in the event of a future World War. By working together, it was an assurance that neither of the TIG members would be responsible for such a war, as the information were automatically shared.
»… Sadly, and that is a well-known fact, this program became quickly the opposite: it became a weapon for an authoritarian master (at the time, ex-President Bermon), and became later on famous for putting the TIG soldiers under various experiments. Any of those included mental and psychological reprogramming. It took many deaths and many whistle-blowers, myself included, to finally expose this program.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Abraham said. “Wasn’t there also a Mount Radar secret project, which looks surprisingly like what Teiwas seemed to talk about in that release?”
The stern man sighed.
“Yes, there was. Mount Radar was an underground facility where weapons prototypes and a great militia force were stored until such time where it would be unleashed. That was also, thankfully, revealed under investigation when the whistle-blowers risked everything to bring it to the public’s knowledge.”
Bohm stared at the old colonel.
“Are you telling me that what we saw was a delayed release of an old news?”
“Please understand, Mr. President. Feldmarschall Teiwas and the so-called Vymana Squadron (in reality the people in his command twenty years ago), are people whose minds have been completely destroyed and affected by the secret program Ewen Project under the orders of the Authoritarian government that was in charge back then. Upon divulgation of the program, they disappeared as the Authoritarian police tried to silence the witnesses. As much as I’m glad to see they survived, it also pains me to say that they never recovered. It is my firm belief that since you revealed yourself to be a president of honor, of justice, one that prevailed over the Authoritarian government, they instinctively reacted by coming out. ‘Revealing’ the secret of what they’ve been forced to go through. It’s just the wrong time; they probably never noticed that twenty years had passed, that the information has been already revealed.”
“And the mine they talked about?”
“Was meant to refer to Mount Radar, in Benson City. It was used as a magnetite mine, to hide the electromagnetic interference of what was hidden inside.”
“I’ve personally sent to Schwyryva a team to investigate, just in case,” a woman spoke out; Abraham recognized her as a reputed political journalist. “Found nothing but a magnetite mine; geolocation revealed nothing out of the ordinary in the mountains’ walls. Just stone all the way through. Upon investigation, the coordinates do point in the range of Schwyryva; but nothing’s there. However, if we keep one of the coordinates, the location we can find along that line is Mount Radar.”
“I see,” Bohm said thoughtfully, his voice calmer. “What can we do for these soldiers?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. They’ve been in hiding all this time. We can chase them and bring them back, but they are hardcore survivors. They will kill themselves before getting captured: that’s what they’ve been trained to do,” the colonel answered.
“May Gaea bless their souls, then,” Bohm sighed. “I’ll pray that they find peace.”
“This is why I’ve been very strict to request, with Vice-President Griffith, that we dismantle and eradicate all Authoritarian remains that we could find,” Randall added. “Nothing good ever came from that government, and to think that our past presidents and most of all, our armies, were under such control...”
“Indeed,” Bohm acknowledged. “But for the sake of our citizens’ peace of mind, I would like to bring to the table that there is indeed a demilitarization going on?”
“Absolutely,” the colonel explained. “The International Federation of Gnasci calculated that in average, we own seventy percent more military forces than required for the defense of the involved countries. If the purpose is not war nor conquest, why such great amounts of militia? And so, an accord has been passed to demilitarize the excess of militia, and store them safely in specific locations until proper and secure dismantlement can be made. Recycling companies are preparing to accomplish this enormous project, as the metal, components and parts can instead be re-used for peaceful purposes such as rockets for space exploration and settlements. The treaty and paperwork are being worked out and should be released very soon.”
“My sources say for the 15th September, or in three weeks,” Randall precised.
“That corresponds with my information as well,” the colonel and journalist said at the same time.
“Well, thank you for the clarification. I hope it settled the population’s worries as much as it did for mine,” Bohm said softly.
“Now, to more pressing matter than a twenty-year old warning. Mr. Solomon,” Bohm’s tone softened as he turned to his Chief Advisor of Public Relations, “how is your plan advancing, for the economical restructurization.?”
“We have eighty-two percent of the money required, but some investors are still a bit reticent, due to the ambition of the project,” Abraham replied.
“My best diplomat is right now taking care of that; you can be assured that by the end of this day, we will receive the approbation of the remaining investors,” Randall added.
“We could give out right now the money if we have it,” one of the new recruits suggested.
“No. Once all the money is available, we will give it out for everyone at the same time. Being hasty will result in unfairness and useless discrimination,” Abraham explained.
The members nodded or affirmed their agreement.
“If I may, Mr. President, I would like to issue a warning for you but also for all our members,” Randall began.
“Of course.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the path we have embarked upon since the election, is sadly a dangerous one. Many, out of greed and out of desire to keep their power, will oppose our generosity and our true democracy. Mr. Solomon has himself already been attacked yesterday, no doubt by a bitter opposing ex-member of this council. There will be great obstacles facing each and every one of us, but mostly, people that will try to stop our endeavours, from all positions of power, small or great. Is it your duty, citizens of Uni-states, to either report anyone whom you feel are against what you elected the AAP for, or to yourself bring down these black sheep. If there are any corporations, any leaders, anyone that is trying to bridle your freedom, it is your duty to report them to us, and we will act.”
“Well said, Mr. Redspear,” Bohm congratulated him. “Indeed, as I have sworn, I represent the people, and abide by the people’s choices. Any threat to that promise, and it will be swiftly dealt with, like within these few last days.”
Those that were left of the old presidential council looked at each other with concern.
“Now, Mr. Redspear, do you have that promised list of the controversial corporations, to which the old order was linked with?” Bohm asked pleasantly.
“Yes, Mr. President, I have it here,” Randall took a small folder from his briefcase and handed it to him.
Bohm took the time to read it through, and made some concerned whistles.
“I believe that it’s something the population might want to be warned about…”
Upon his sign, a camera dolly mechanically approached behind the President’s shoulders, and he carefully showed the document. The first page was written ‘The Eighteenth Directive of the Uni-states’, with below the governmental seal, a shield with twelve stripes, six white and six red ones; above the shield laid a turkey, holding an anchor in its beak. A scroll ran on top of the herald, written in archaic language: ‘Bello vel pace paratus’, or ‘Prepared in war or in peace’.
Bohm slowly turned the rest of the document’s pages, filled with lists of various names, allowing enough time to let the camera film it all. When he was done, the camera retreated back to its initial position, and Bohm gave the folder back to Randall.
“Is it all for the moment?” he asked the council, to which everyone answered in the positive.
“I will inform you as soon as my diplomat have acquired the investors’ approval,” Randall answered.
“Very good. Until we receive the citizens’ thoughts about the controversial corporations issue, whose decision will guide us on our response, you are all dismissed.”
Upon those words, the council rose, shook hands, exchanged goodbyes, and left the room.
“Any special services, sir?” Abraham asked discreetly Randall.
“Not at all. Just make sure that all the media convey the exclusive discoveries of this meeting.”
“Of course,” Abraham gladly accepted.
“And try not to be late, for the next meetings,” Randall smirked.
“My apologies. My lucky watch seem to have trouble keeping the time right...” Abraham sighed, checking again and seeing that it announced 4:45 of the morning.
Doing so, he noticed out of the corner of his sight that his tie had once more changed colour. It was now deep burgundy. His brow furrowed in deep puzzlement. How could he keep changing his tie without realizing it?
**********************
As Randall left the Council Meeting, he was frowning worryingly at the news that Ysadora’s assistant, Daniel, gave him yesterday about the public disturbance at the plaza from the two unregistered strangers. He had personally sent their personal garbage disposal man Scott Johnson to deal with them, but he knew that man enjoyed playing with his food, so it could take days before returning with information.
Locking himself into his office overlooking the Presidential sector and the White Castle, he looked once more at the recording that Daniel left him, and he frowned. Who were the two strangers, clad so bizarrely, owning weapons without any matches, and especially, a completely unknown identity? And then, the way the man immediately spotted the surveillance camera, despite it being five stories in the air. Randall had a dangerous feeling when watching them; something was not right, though he couldn’t tell whether it was because of the strange mirage effect that surrounded them, or just by how they were acting. Zooming closer, he laid his eyes upon the citizen that the strangers helped.
Finally knowing what to do, he sent a call to the only person he knew that could help him.
“Yes, sir?” Daniel answered.
“In the surveillance record you gave me, that citizen that the strangers were helping, the one protesting against the AAP, who is he?”
“Frank Cooper, sir. Forty-eight years old, born 9th February 1989; has an ex-wife, Victoria Cooper, maiden name Jones, forty-one years old, born 17th December 1996; they have two children, Anton...”
“I don’t care,” Randall sharply cut. “Go see him and ask him about everything that happened at the incident. Absolutely everything; collect all evidences and clues you can find.”
“Yes sir,” Daniel simply replied.
“Just use your usual I.D., and say that you’re investigating an unknown weapon that was fired in a public area.”
“You are mistaken, sir, it was two metal sticks that...”
“I don’t care what exactly it was, keep the story simple. People don’t care about metal sticks, but they will care if it was a gunshot. So say it’s about an unknown gunshot.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“Contact me as soon as you have everything.”
“Yes sir.”
On that, Randall hung up. He walked to the fully windowed wall of his office, and looked down at the people walking, like a shepherd overlooked his flocks. It was as if he could see the gears of the Universe through these people, and through the environment surrounding him; and in less than two days, a small gear somewhere had begun to misalign the desired mechanism he had taken so many years tuning. It was more than necessary to replace the faulty gear right away.
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Post by melodierivers on May 11, 2022 21:03:49 GMT
Chapter 26 - AM - The Strange Officer
A chime was heard; Frank Cooper dried his hands on the towel around his neck, and walked to the door, opening it. Before him stood a tall man in a silver-gray uniform, almost military in style and look.
“Are you Frank Cooper, sir?” the stranger asked with a monotonic Britannian accent.
Frank’s two kids suddenly burst out laughing from the living room, about something between them, and Frank shout back, a bit worried about the stranger:
“Kids, please keep quiet and go to your rooms!”
“Yes, dad!” the kids giggled, and ran up the stairs, still laughing with one another.
“Sorry about...” Frank began to apologize to the stranger.
“Are you Frank Cooper, sir?” the man cut.
“Yes, yes I am,” Frank replied, slightly taken aback.
“Here is my usual I.D, Mr. Cooper. I am Daniel Fitzgerald from the Columbus Police,” the man said, handing out his I.D. badge.
Frank took it and looked at the badge, and seeing all was in order, gave it back to Daniel.
“How can I help you, officer?”
“May I enter, Mr. Cooper?” Daniel asked.
“Umm, sure, yeah, come in. Sorry for the mess, I was just doing some chores,” Frank apologized, opening his door wider and moving aside to let Daniel enter.
“I am investigating about the public disturbance resulted from an unknown weapon fired in the plaza, four days ago, the 22th of August, at 9h38 a.m. What can you tell me about it, Mr. Cooper?”
“Oh, well...” Frank was startled at this question. “Not much, I’m afraid. I was attacked by a couple of guys after my protestation, and I heard a metallic clank from somewhere in the crowd, and then the guys paused. I didn’t see who it was, didn’t even think it was a weapon, as it sounded more like those construction metal ladders. And I was… well, sorta curled up...” Frank trailed the last words and avoiding the officer’s unflinching stare, as if ashamed by that weakness.
“I see. The people that took the people away, and helped you up, do you know who they are, Mr. Cooper?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I was already rather surprised they helped me at all...”
“Their names, Mr. Cooper?”
Frank thought hard.
“Umm… Bob, and… Ma… Ma-something.”
“It was Tom and Madzistrale, Mr. Cooper,” Daniel said matter-of-factly.
“Right, yes, these two!” Frank exclaimed, pointing his fingers. “I remember now; that gal had a really weird name!”
“She was the one that fired in the plaza, Mr. Cooper” Daniel said as equally matter-of-fact.
Frank’s eyes widened, and he started panicking.
“I assure you, officer, she absolutely hurt no one. As I said, it wasn’t a gun, it sounded more like a metal tube. Besides, no one was hurt. She just made some noise to scare my assailants away, that’s all. She was really sweet and kind...”
Frank saw that the officer listened to him calmly, but soon began to be distracted by the various items laying several places on the kitchen’s counter and floor. He picked up a small orange plastic duck, and became puzzled by the squeaky sounds it did as he was handling it.
“Officer?” Frank interrupted, puzzled.
“My apologies, Mr. Cooper. What does it do?” Daniel asked, handing the duck.
“Umm… it’s a toy for my kids’ bath time. I put it in the sink to encourage them to do the dishes...” Frank answered, still puzzled.
“I see...” Daniel’s eyes turned toward a small vial on a high shelf in the kitchen. “Is this the pharmaceutical drug that you mentioned, Mr. Cooper?”
“Yes.. yes, that’s what the lady gave me for my bruises. It definitively helped. Officer, what is going on?” Frank asked, concerned.
“I am not familiar with its chemical compounds,” Daniel observed, looking intensely at a drop of the vial’s content.
“Officer? Does this have to do with my protestation? If yes, the lady and the young man have nothing to do with it. They just helped me with my injuries.”
“May I bring this drop of the vial’s content with me back at my lab, Mr. Cooper?” Daniel requested.
“Umm... Sure, yeah,” Frank accepted, considerably more confused than before.
“Thank you, Mr. Cooper. To resume your words, you have never met Madzistrale and Tom before your encounter during your protestation, and you didn’t meet them afterwards?”
“That’s right. As for the disturbance...”
“And you have absolutely no idea who they are from what you gathered during your talk?” Daniel continued.
“No...”
“Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Cooper. Have a wonderful day.”
Upon these words, Daniel walked straight to the door and left the house, carefully holding on his upright finger a drop of the medicinal vial. Frank looked after him in confusion, then shook his head.
“That was weird,” he finally said, breathing deeply in relief that nothing more came out of the encounter with the strange officer. Hearing his kids play, he smiled faintly and resumed his chores, hoping to put behind the whole strangeness of the situation.
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Post by melodierivers on May 11, 2022 21:04:40 GMT
Chapter 27 - BH - Coincidences
“Thank you so much for doing this, Madi! You sure I can’t give you something, perhaps at my next pay check?”
A woman in her fifties was holding the rear door of her SUV while Madzistrale loaded a few baskets of fruits and veggies in the trunk.
“It’s no problem really. I’m relieved the few things we got can help your family out, that’s the primordial factor,” Madzistrale waved her thanks away.
“But…”
“Gather your money, rent and debts are hefty enough as it is; we always grow too much for us anyway, that’s our point.”
Madzistrale’s neighbour wrapped an arm around her shoulder as a tentative hug.
“Thank you so much, Madi. And Tom!!” she yelled out at him, and he waved back from the garden. “And Gabriel too, since he’s out. You guys are always giving us a big hand.”
“That’s the least we can do as fellows; it’s nothing special...” Madzistrale uncomfortably blushed, distractedly scratching the ground with her boots, trying to end the conversation less awkwardly.
Another car drove up the driveway, and honked as a welcome.
“Oh, that’s our cue. You sure are popular today, must be the good weather,” the woman smirked at Madzistrale as she walked to her driver’s side.
“Nah, that’s our blacksmith Bruno. He usually only wants my cupcakes,” Madzistrale laughed.
“Okay, then bye! And Jonathan says hi too, and that he’s taking good care of his carousel.”
“Glad to hear it. Bye bye!” Madzistrale waved.
Bruno took off his shoes before walking into the siblings’ living room.
“Cupcake?” Madzistrale guessed with a smile.
“I wouldn’t say no, but as you can see, I, for once, didn’t come just for the cupcakes,” Bruno smirked as he picked up two cases and carried them to the table.
“They’re already ready?” Tom marveled; he then paused and shamefully continued: “and yes, that phrase was redundant.”
“It’s metal rods. How long can it seriously take me, come on, give me some credit,” Bruno replied, faking a wounded expression. “So, brother or sister first?”
“Give me some credit. Ladies first, as always,” Tom gentlemanly gestured his sister.
“Alright-o.”
Bruno opened one of the case, and unwrapped its content. Madzistrale’s eyes widened at the sights of the two metal sticks that Bruno handed her. The dull silver material was beautified with elegant emerald green markings and engravings running all its length; and the stick ended with an adapted wooden-finished handle and an aged golden guard reminiscing that of the Chinese jian sword.
“Awe...some...” Madzistrale marveled; but she paused further as she looked carefully at the sticks. She turned to her brother with wide eyes, her shocked realization sinking in, and was about to speak, but then noticed Bruno and restrained herself. She instead said: “That is way cooler than I ever thought they could be!”
“You ask for cool sticks, I deliver cool sticks; that’s how it works,” Bruno politely ignored her awkward moment; he then put on the table the second case, and opened it: “Tom, here’s yours.”
Tom looked over his pair: hued toward an aged iron rod, his also had engravings and markings, but electrical blue. The markings molded into the tips as a casing for several inches; the other ends featured a leather grip and a slanted silver guard.
“So here’s how I went about it, knowing a bit about you guys,” Bruno proudly explained. “Mad’s a strong steel called the L6 Bainite. Knowing she likes to divert, trap, deflect, etc, that metal will allow torsion and stress but is nearly impossible to break or bend it. The handle and guard is also designed with that concept in mind; polished wood is easier for sliding hand positions, while the jian guard design can allow such trapping while protecting the hands. Tom, on the other hand, likes to slam and knock, and take in those shocks. So his own metal is the S7 Shock steel, the metal used for the forge instruments that themselves forge strong metal objects. It’s extremely tough and resistant, but will require a more constant and heavy maintenance than Mad’s, as any onset rust will weaken the metal and make it favourable to cracking...”
“Tom, taking care of stuff? Good luck with that,” Mad cut him to tease her brother, nudging him.
“Oye, I take very good care of things that matter to me,” Tom winked back.
“… Again, a wooden handle for sliding and gripping, and the slanted guard is to distribute away the shocks.”
“You thought about it all?!” Madzistrale marveled, while Tom tested out the grip on his sticks.
“That’s my life job, remember? Unlike some friends I know who farms for fun all day long, and daydream about smacking sense into future probable bad guys.”
“Low blow, mate, low blow...” Tom pretended to turn away with hurt feelings.
“Okay, so… How much?” Madzistrale reached for her purse.
Bruno held out his hand.
“A dozen cupcakes per week, six chocolate and six salted caramel; a honey jar every month; and free repairs of my trousers when I need them.”
Madzistrale looked at him confused.
“But that’s… that’s what we already do for you.”
“Yeah! For the last five years! And only now you’ve asked me for a full job. That means I still owe you for many more jobs.”
Madzistrale jumped on him and hugged him tightly.
“Okay, okay, not too much, Maria will get jealous otherwise,” Bruno uncomfortably wiggled under her hold.
“Pfft, everyone knows Mad is far too picky on her prospects, and prefers anyway foreigners, like Brits, Frenchs, Dutchs, or Gab’s Japanese godfather...” Tom waved Bruno’s worries away.
Madzistrale stepped back and threw them both a raspberry.
“Thanks again, Bruno, these are awesome and exactly, even better, than what we had in mind. You’re a genius.”
Bruno blushed, picked up his cases, and pointed to Madzistrale’s tray of cupcakes cooling on the kitchen counter.
“Now, payment, please!”
The siblings locked their front door, and picked up once again their sticks. They tested the weight, handling… and then they looked at each other… back at their sticks… back at each other. They smiled and pierced each other with fake evil eyes, then jumped into a fighting stance.
“Prepare to feel the awesomeness of my hazardous years of training!” Madzistrale faked a heroic tone.
“Fool! You forget who defeated you at chess for the 82nd time!” Tom countered, spinning his right handed stick.
“How dare you?!”
**
“At your visits at the hospital, make sure that they give you the daily records of their services. As guardian of the patient, it is your right to have all the legal proof that they are indeed taking care of him in return for the fees spent,” Clara explained to Gabzryel as they arrived at his front door.
Gabzryel nodded, taking in all the information she had given in the last hour regarding the legal procedures surrounding his guardianship of his professor Sollow. He unlocked the door, and let her enter first, knocking the mud from his shoes.
As they entered the living room, they stopped short and met the surprised and guilty expression of Madzistrale and Tom.
“And what the heck happened?!” Gabzryel wondered, half angry, half amused at their expressions.
Madzistrale looked back and forth from her friends and her broom and the pile of glass and ceramic bits around her; Tom innocently continued to hang a Salvador Dali replica painting over a hole on the wall. The sofas were tumbled over, the central table had moved a couple of inches, and the rug was messed.
Gabzryel’s eyes finally settled on two pairs of sticks on the kitchen countertop.
“Ah,” he finally simply said. “Bruno finally delivered them, heh?”
The siblings smiled gleefully despite the chaotic state of the living room.
Clara assessed them and the damage.
“I guess this is the first time you wielded handheld weapons?”
Madzistrale puffed up in indignation.
“Don’t be silly, we trained in sword-fighting when we were young.”
“When you were young, were the key words. And my faith in your skills doesn’t improve much even after hearing that,” Clara picked up one of the pair.
“We were actually not that bad,” Madzistrale defended herself, while Tom wisely chose to keep away from the conversation.
Clara raised an eyebrow.
“The holed walls and the broken items in the trashcan don’t share your confidence.”
Gabzryel finally let out a laugh, and he passed a hand over his brow.
“Had to expect this would happen,” he finally said with a big smile; the siblings sighed in relief. “I actually think I would’ve done worst damage than they did; singlehandedly, mind you.”
Clara sighed and rolled her eyes. She picked up the pairs of sticks and walked to the patio door.
“Join me in the backyard once you’ve done covering the holes with Dali and Van Gogh. I’ll show you how to actually fight with bastions. You know, the way the military and police do it, against actual opponents; not what your illuminated yoga guru taught you.”
“When she puts it that way...” Tom mused.
Gabzryel stifled a laugh and went in to help them clean.
“Oye, don’t help out, it’s our mess,” Madzistrale protested.
“Yeah, but I have to see how Mad Klutz versus Cadet Clara will end up as a fight! And Stubborn Tom versus Cadet Clara, since we’re there,” Gabzryel teased them.
It was Tom’s turn to blow his friend a raspberry.
While they finished cleaning, Tom asked his sister:
“By the way, what did you wanted to say, when you first saw your sticks?”
Madzistrale paused, and her brow furrowed.
“The sticks… it was the first time we saw them. I mean, Bruno never showed his progress with us, we never went to see him neither. Today was the very first day we laid our eyes on the weapons.”
“Yeah?...” Tom hesitantly confirmed.
Madzistrale looked at her brother and her friend, her expression a mixture of confusion and worry.
“So how come these were the exact same sticks that appeared out of nowhere in my hands, that day at the plaza, when I smacked them together to scare the crowd?”
Tom looked at her in shocked wonder.
“Are you sure?”
“100%. I adored the design, I thought to myself at that time that it would have been cool if Bruno could make them that way for real. So how come today, Bruno reveals he’s made the exact same sticks that appeared in my hand three days ago, at that event?”
Gabzryel and Tom pondered, just as confused as her. Clara banged on the patio’s door, taking them out of their spell, her face annoyed at their waste of time.
“Well, I guess this will be another mystery added to our already long list,” Tom sighed, rising and grunting from his previous position. “Oh, and don’t forget, Bruno said we can call them ‘bastion’. Will sound cooler if we talk about them to someone than saying ‘stick’.”
Gabzryel kept silent as the siblings went out talking about the names of their new toys; he was still trying to find the answer. He saw the scene in his cameras as he watched over them during that plaza incident. He hadn’t noticed until Madzistrale spoke about it, but that was what mainly surprised him about seeing the bastions on the counter: she hadn’t imagined it, these were the same pair of bastions. Just like the very real pink diamonds yearly gifts from his long-passed sister; something was inexplicably connecting the ongoing coincidences.
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