Shades of Gray
#2
From Moscow, With Love
Kristie Lynn Higgins
SHADES OF GRAY: From Moscow, With Love
Text Copyright © 2007, 2011 by Kristie Lynn Higgins
Cover Art Copyright © 2007
Smashwords Edition
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I have glimpsed into the future and seen a world of darkness and sorrow. It is a place where the clouds hide the sun and human machines walk and terrorize the land. But there is nothing darker or more horrifying than the hearts of those who live there.
Will no one save them?
From the Assembled Works
Ginn L. Irynkissgthie
525 B.D.C.
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Chapter One
The Raven And the Wolf
The year 32 A.D.C...
October 22...
Friday...
6:23 A.M...
Hellenistic Sector, Residential Vicinage...
The blackness of night hung over the early morning as mile-thick Dry Clouds shrouded Noir’s sky. They hung over the city like a sleeping dragon. They were a sleeping dragon that the Earth feared one day would wake and devour them. And so far, no magic of science could stop the beast.
Purple lightning lit up the heavens, but the density of the barriercumulus muffled the thunder. A Common Raven flew below the clouds, dove into a park, and landed on a branch of a Transgenic Maple. Scattered lamps lit up the dark empty paths surrounding the tree. A cold wind rustled the blades of the spongy Transgenic Grass that surrounded the truck's base and the hybrid maple’s leaves. The breeze then died. The large bird heard a twig snap and tilted its head, staring at a bush. A pale-white Tundra Wolf emerged and looked up with its golden-yellow eyes at the raven. Their gazes locked.
Across the street from the park...
A black Cadillac stopped at a curb. Nikolai got out of the driver’s side. He was dressed in a white pin striped gray business suit and wore a WM-A. He placed a gray Fedora hat on his head, smoothed its rim, straightened a white tie, and shut the door. Natasha exited the passenger’s side. She also wore a filter mask.
Natasha, a Life Closer like her twin brother, inhaled through the triangular filter over her nose and exhaled through her mouth. She looked to the old apartments in front of them then to the park across the street. She glanced at her brother. Natasha removed her white fur-lined, long, black coat, revealing a tight fitting red leather outfit. It consisted of pants, a vest, and high heel knee boots. She threw the coat in the back seat, grabbed a black leather satchel from the front floor, and closed the door.
She checked on her throwing knives’ sheaths that were velcroed to each wrist. “So my Sweets...” She caressed the blades on her left wrist with her index finger. “Ready for some action?” Natasha made her way to the back, joining her brother.
Nikolai popped the trunk with a remote, lifted a case, and set it on the sidewalk. He removed his mask and asked, “How does it look?”
His sister glanced up and down the deserted street. “It is clear.” Natasha replaced the WM-A to her face.
He set his mask in the trunk and holstered a Glock 25. He grabbed the mask, closed the trunk, and picked up the case.
She motioned to the case. “I cannot believe you are going to use that thing.” Her Russian accent clung to every word. “It is ancient.”
Nikolai removed his mask. “Tasha...” He patted the case. “I like it for this kind of job.”
“You mean the kind of job where it does not matter how messy it gets. Remember my brother, this is still a Life Closing. Please, be professional.”
“I always am.” Nikolai winked at her and started up a gravel path, crunching over rocks with his black cap toe shoes. He made his way to the apartment’s entrance and entered the glass front door. Once inside, they both removed their WM-A, and Natasha placed both of them in her satchel.
A security guard looked up from a desk and stood, seeing the tall woman. His gaze slowly ran up her figure before he asked, “Can I help you?” He adjusted his pants and holster then made his way to the front of the desk.
“No, thank you.” Nikolai noticed the lustful eye the guard gave his sister and scowled. He put the case down, pulled his Glock, and fired once, hitting the man in the knee.
The guard fell and grabbed his leg, screaming in pain.
“Brother! What are you doing?” Natasha folded her arms, knowing that once his temper erupted there was no stopping him. “We were not ordered to kill security.”
“Did you see how he looked at you?” Nikolai marched to the man like a crazed bear.
She ran her fingers through her hair. “I am a beautiful woman. What do you expect? And how many times must I tell you, you cannot kill every man that glances at me?”
“No one will look at you like that!” He fired a round into the man’s heart.
A second guard exited an elevator as Nikolai killed his partner. The guard dropped his coffee and pulled his Python 4 revolver. Horrified by what he witnessed, his hand shook as he blurted, “Hold it right there!”
As the guard covered her brother, Natasha reached for her left wrist, pulled a knife from the sheath, threw it, and hit the man in the throat. The guard fired as he grabbed at the steel in his wind pipe. The wild shot hit the glass front door and shattered it. Shards rained, pinging to the tiled floor. The guard dropped his weapon and collapsed to his knees. He choked on his blood as he pulled a radio. Natasha walked over to him and kicked his revolver away. He tried to use the radio, but only made gurgling sounds.
Almost with pity, she knelt and covered his eyes with her hand. “Do not look. The pain will be over soon.” Natasha leaned to his ear and whispered, “From Moscow, with love. Now for the Executioner’s Adieu.” She French kissed him all so gently.
The guard dropped the radio to grab her arm, but before he could, she removed the knife from his wind pipe. Blood spurted her face and neck as the guard held his throat, trying to prevent his own demise. She wiped the knife on the guard’s shirt, cleaning off his blood and sheathed the blade.
Natasha leaned to his ear and whispered to him as uncalloused as she could, “I am sorry. You were not meant to die.” She stood, looked one more moment at the man, and walked to her brother. Natasha berated him. “Now we will have to file extra reports, and you know how I hate excess work. Not only that...” She glanced back at the second guard as he expired and then turned to her brother. “How are we going to explain your actions to Voice and the Assassins Guild? You needlessly killed the first guard. He would not have stopped us from going up.”
He hung his head like a scolded child. “I do not know.”
“We will say the guard tried to stop us and that you had to shoot him. The second guard saw us kill his partner, and we had to kill him also. But you cannot keep doing this. Voice will find out.”
“If that happens, we will become marked like the Phoenix. We will be marked for Closing.”
“Yes, like the Phoenix.” She smiled at her sulking brother. “Now cheer up. You still have your new toy to play with.”
“You are right.” He picked up the case. “Come, Tasha.” He entered an elevator and pressed button thirty-one. “Let us go blip off the bird.”
Puzzled by what her brother said, she raised a black eyebrow and followed. “Remember the Closing File states we keep collateral damage to a minimum.”
“A minimum not zero.”
“Please do not kill anyone outside of the apartment.”
The elevator started up.
She removed a gold compact and a white silk handkerchief from her satchel. She looked into the mirror and wiped some of the splatter from her face and neck. “If we go out later, I will have to clean up. The guard is all over my face.”
She placed both items back into her satchel, the cab opened, and the two of them walked out.
“What apartment number are we looking for?” Natasha asked.
Nikolai removed a H.H.C. from his suit pocket as they walked from the end of the hall. He looked at the numbers on the doors before they passed them and stopped. “This one.”
She noticed a dark crack beneath the door. “Lights out. They are probably still sleeping. Do you want to knock?”
“Knock? No. Not with this heat.” He patted the case, set it on the floor, and opened it. Nikolai removed a Thompson Submachine Gun. “This bean-shooter announces itself.”
“Of all the people to idolize, you had to pick 1930’s gangsters.”
“Every gink needs a hobby. I happen to be good at two.”
“Half the time, I do not know what you are saying.”
Nikolai winked at her, stood back, shot several rounds into the frame near the knob, and kicked in the splintered door. Light from the hallway rushed into the apartment. He proceeded down an entry, and an armed man appeared at the dark end. Nikolai fired, dropping the man and headed into the pitch black living room. He heard two men whispering. Nikolai yelled like a maniac and wildly shot in their direction as powder blast lit up his smirking face. The men, hiding behind a couch, fired a round apiece and missed him before the Tommy sliced through the sofa and cut them down. Nikolai flipped on a light, retrieved his case, and reloaded. He headed down a hallway and kicked in the master bedroom door. The light was on, and a man was in bed with two women. The man had pulled an Olympic 6 revolver from a night stand.
“I’ll blow your head off!” the man threatened.
The women squealed, covering themselves with the sheet, and one of them asked, “Vicky, is this another one of your sick games?”
“No, babe. Not this time.” He aimed the revolver. “Puck! I don’t know who this guy is.” He snarled. “I’m Vic the Vulture. You don’t know who yer messing with! I've a contract with the Valhalla Corporation.” The man shot. “I’m under their protection!”
The bullet grazed Nikolai’s shoulder. In anger, he grabbed the gun from Vic and pistol whipped him.
One of the women screamed and covered her face with her hands.
He threw Vic's gun across the room. Nikolai pointed the Tommy up, put one foot on the bed, and leaned toward Vic. “Here’s the wire, lug. Your Chicago overcoat has done been fitted.”
Vic grabbed his bloodied cheek. “What are you blabbering about, you mother-pucker? What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. All I know, yer dead! Dead when the Corporation finds out you messed with me!”
“Shut your trap! Your yap’s why I’m here. Your so called friends at Valhalla found out the trade secrets you were supposed to be brokering for them, you’ve also been selling off to other corporations. Now...” Nikolai’s demeanor changed from one of a wise guy to a serious Life Closer. “Victor L. Boons, also known as Vic the Vulture, on behalf of Valhalla, I am terminating your contract.”
“Wait! You can’t! They can’t! Puck! It's a mistake. I've only sold to Valhalla!”
“It is no use lying to me. They have audio evidence that you did.”
“I... I can explain. Let me get their Vice President on the phone.”
“Did you not read your contract with them?” Nikolai shook his head, irritated by the man’s ignorance. “You should have read it more closely. By signing, you agreed to the Life Closer Clause should you violate the contract. There are no second chances.” He glanced at the two hookers. “It is a pity these two women are here. They would not have to die, if they had not seen my face.” Nikolai opened up one last volley, and the women screamed.
White goose down flew up from the dozens of bullet impacts in the mattress. The feathers fell like snow, landing on the three bodies and blood tainted the down.
He added, “As stipulated, your employment has been terminated.”
"My turn has finally come,” Natasha said as she walked into the bedroom behind Nikolai. She had already secured the rest of the apartment.
Vic gasped as he clung to life.
She walked over to him, bent down, and whispered in his ear, “From Moscow, with love. Now for the Executioner’s Adieu.” Natasha French kissed him, and as she intertwined her tongue with his, Vic died. She stood, wiping blood from her lips with her index finger. “This Closing was most enjoyable. Now...”
Natasha turned, saw her brother’s wound, and scolded him, “Look at you. I hope you are happy.” She examined the minor shoulder graze. “See what you get for wanting to play with your toy. You could have used a hand gun with a silencer.” She glanced at the man in bed whose glassy eyes stared up at the ceiling. “If you had, Vic the Vulture would not have even known you were here. But you wanted to go all Al Ca-put.”
Nikolai pointed the Tommy gun up again as if posing for a picture. “He was named Al Capone. And it was worth it, my sister. I do feel like a gangster.” He smoothed his fingers across the rim of his Fedora. “Now please, place our calling card, so we may leave before Noir Civil Police Force is called in. Dealing with the N.C.P.F. could be time consuming. Let our calling card talk for us.”
She nodded, walked over to Vic, and placed a business card of a wolf and raven on his chest. A barcode, printed on the bottom of the card, included the Closers’ information. The N.C.P.F. would use these cards to verify the killings were Life Closings not murders.
“Now we only have one more assignment to complete, then we can leave this wretched Dark Half.”
“Yes, my sister. We only need to bop the Phoenix, and we can return home to Moscow. We can return to Mother Russia.”
“That will not be so easy. We do not know what the Phoenix looks like. Is this Life Closer a man, woman, or child?” She shrugged. “All we have is an appointed time and place for the Closing from Voice. And I do wish you would stop talking that way. Honestly, I do not know what you are saying. It kind of had a sexual connotation, which I hope you did not intend.”
“No.” His face reddened. “I did not mean...”
She put her hand under his chin, reached up, and kissed him on the cheek. “Come then, I am famished. We will clean up, and I will tend to your shoulder. After that is done, we can see what fine delights Noir has to offer.”
Chapter Two
A Past Mistake
Nineteen days earlier...
October 3...
Wednesday...
6:01 P.M...
Russia...
A chilly breeze swept across Moscow’s Red Square as hundreds of tourists visited St. Basil’s Cathedral, GUM department store, the Historical Museum, and many other attractions. The clear western sky exploded with hues of orange and red as the sun started its descent. Twilight approached this part of the Light Side of the planet. A place where the sun existed, separating day from night. Dry Clouds didn’t pollute the air or obscure the heavens, and darkness didn’t rule the land. Though, eventually even this part of the world would be covered if the Dry Clouds were not stopped. They spread about an inch every week.
Ten days before meeting Kat, Kim walked out of GUM department store. She put on sunglasses before stepping out into early evening, protecting her blue-green eyes. A native of the Dark Half of the planet, the sun’s light hurt her even near the twilight hours. She pulled back her blonde hair, tied it in a pony tail, buttoned up her long dark gray coat, and pulled on black gloves. She straightened a black knapsack slung over one shoulder.
Kim noticed a woman holding a little girl in her arms and grinned. She had fond memories of her mother, that was until Kim turned eighteen. Her mom left her and her father without a word nearly twenty years ago. At this time, Kim hadn't yet discovered the truth about Theresa.
“Moms should never abandon their daughters,” she thought, making her way out of Red Square.
She hurried to Kalancheveskaya Street and to the rooftop of the Leningradskaya Hotel, making sure no one saw her. The sun plunged over the horizon, and darkness flooded the sky. She removed her sunglasses and placed them in the pocket of her coat. Kim pulled on a knit mask to hide her identity, not that she expected anyone to see her. She inhaled deeply, filled her lungs with the brisk air, and exhaled. Her hot breath appeared as mist.
“Winter will be here soon.”
The air smelled clean, unlike Noir’s. It energized her and made her feel more alive. She waited for two hours near the ledge, kept to the shadows, and monitored the lit sidewalk below with binoculars. She glanced up at the cloudless night.
“Stars,” Kim thought. “They’re so bright. To think, Noir’s sky once looked like this.”
She placed her knapsack near the ledge, moved to a different part of the roof, and pulled out a large case a Guild Prep/Cleanup Crew hid the day before. Kim removed the sections of a M24 and put the sniper rifle together. She went to the ledge and peered down the block through the scope. Her target would leave the tea house within the hour. Many people went in and out of bars, eateries, and stores.
A cold wind swept through, whipping her hair and coat. Kim glanced at her watch, seeing it was time. She placed a silencer on the rifle and knelt beside the ledge. Peering through the scope, she aimed at the entrance of the tea house. She removed a H.H.C. from her coat pocket, opened up the Closing File on the touch screen, and studied the picture of the Mark. Voice had told her the target would be leaving around this time. All she had to do was wait.
Minutes turned into an hour, and soon, a woman walked out of the tea house along with four armed bodyguards. Kim aimed for the woman’s heart, waiting for a clear shot as people walked by on the sidewalk. A limo pulled up. One of the bodyguards moved to the vehicle and opened the back door. She put her finger to the trigger, ready to pull it, when the target paused and turned. A little girl ran out of the tea house and took the woman’s hand. The child held something.
“A little girl?” Kim glanced up from the scope. “Voice said nothing about the woman having a child. Hades! It should have been included in the Closing File.” She peered back through the scope, taking aim again.
Kim placed her finger back on the trigger. The woman and the child walked forward to enter the limo and paused as the little girl knelt to tie her shoe. The child laid an object on the sidewalk, grabbed her laces, and tied them.
“Hades! What’s wrong with me?” Her hands trembled, so she removed her finger from the trigger. “I'm acting like this is my first kill, but that happened years ago. I've long since hardened my heart to my work. I've closed my own conscience, so what is it?” Kim took several deep breaths till her hands stopped shaking. She placed her finger back to the trigger. “I shouldn't let whatever is affecting me get in the way. I need to take the shot.”
The child laughed, then after finishing with her laces, the child picked up the object. She glanced up at her mother with adoration.
Kim berated herself, “This is your job, kill the woman. For Ares’ sake! It doesn’t matter if the child’s watching.” Her usual calm heart pounded with indecision. “I can’t let the thought of the child seeing her mom murdered affect me.”
Even in the cool air, sweat speckled her brow beneath the mask and absorbed into the material. She aimed again. “This time I won't hesitate.”
A street vender approached, selling glowing balloons.
“Hades! Pull the trigger! Who cares what happens to the little girl.” Kim looked up from the scope, thinking of her past. “Look how I turned out without a mom.” She shook her head to erase the feeling of abandonment, peered one last time into the scope, and with shaky resolve, pulled the trigger.
A balloon popped.
Chapter Three
Picking Up From Where We Left Off
Present time...
October 22...
Friday...
12:56 P.M...
Noir...
Hellenistic Sector, Commercial Vicinage...
A dim light illuminated a back alley. Kat glanced around a corner of an old brick building and peered at the end of a deserted road. A ten foot chain link fence surrounded the back entrance of their destination. The wind blew a newspaper along the bottom of the barrier, changed directions, and flattened the debris against the diamond mesh. The newspaper flapped in the breeze slap... slap...before the wind tumbled it further down the road. She looked within the fence. A S.C.M. sat in a guardhouse, reading a Guns&Knives magazine and drinking coffee. Every ten minutes or so, he would look up from his reclined position.
“Sheez... I imagined this place having better security,” Kat thought as she glanced at a scrap piece of paper with writing on it. “This is the address the hologram Theresa Griffin gave us.” She sighed, disappointed with the defense and the rundown appearance of the building. “This place must have some information about the Pandora Project.” Kat wore her usual white t-shirt, a gray-black athletic jacket, and gray-black pants. “Or have I gotten my hopes up just to find a load of crap?”
Kim stood beside her and looked through night vision binoculars. She wore her all black work outfit consisting of thin gloves, a tank top, jogging pants, running shoes, and a zipped up hooded sweatshirt.
“What do you see?” Kat asked.
“What? Don’t you have super vision?” Kim asked.
Kim then thought, "I reluctantly partnered with Katharine four days ago, and I'm still uneasy about the collaboration. There’s something about her. There's something I can’t place my finger on. Hades! I hate this. I was told she was the Key.” She glanced up from the binoculars. “But to what? And what about what the Rogue said? Is Katharine organic-mecha? Is she a living robot? Hades! I hate not knowing.”
Seeing the mistrust in Kim's face, Kat knew the snide remarks were Kim's way of keeping herself at arms length. Kat wondered, “When will Kimberly believe in my sincerity to help her? Or is it something else that's making her on edge around me? Does she think I'm a freak? Is that why she can't trust me? Sheez... This partnership is going nowhere.”
Kat finally answered her, “No. I don’t have super vision. All I see is the soldier.”
“There's nothing else to see.” Kim handed her the binoculars.
She peered through them and saw the S.C.M., the guardhouse, and the loading dock behind the small building. He wore a dark green uniform, and a XM8 leaned against the wall. His shoulder patch had the Sphinx Corporation Emblem with the Council’s Crest.
“A Council S.C.M.,” Kat thought. "This has to be the place, but what’s inside?”
On the top part of the large building was written, Etna Toys Distribution Station Bravo.
“Etna?” she wondered. “That confirms it. This place belongs to the Council. But is it a lab?”
Kat handed the binoculars back, and Kim placed them in the knapsack.
"Let's go to work.” Kim removed a metal object from the knapsack, pulled her gun from a shoulder holster, and screwed the silencer on the PPK.
Kat asked, “What are you doing?”
“For Ares' sake! What does it look like I’m doing?”
Kim glanced at her and thought, “I don't see anything special about her.”
Kat was plain looking with hazel eyes and short brown hair.
“So what is she?” Kim continued to wonder. “A weapon? And why is one of the departments in the Sphinx Corporation after her? There are too many unanswered questions. All I know is, if Katharine is important they won’t let her go so easily. This could cause me problems. And if that's so, maybe I should take her out now.” Kim glanced at the PPK. “Maybe I should end this partnership before it causes me anymore grief. After all, I can’t let anyone live who knows I’m the Phoenix. Anonymity is life. So why wait?”
As if it was a normal everyday thing, Kim pointed at him with the PPK and answered, “I’m going to take out that S.C.M. and go into that building. I'm going to see why this address was in the file labeled the Gorgons.”
“You can’t,” Kat said, keeping her voice down so not to alert the S.C.M. “Killing's wrong. Sheez... Everybody knows that.”
"For Ares' sake... Of course it's wrong,” Kim whispered. “But how else are we going to get in? Hades! I can't believe we're arguing about this. Actually...” Her anger increased. "I can't believe I'm letting you stop me from doing what I normally do.” Kim pushed her against the wall. "Now listen... I’m a Closer and this is what I do.” She started around the corner, and Kat grabbed her arm. Kim glared at her.
As if it were a laser, Kat felt her stare bore right through her. She released her wrist and said, “That doesn’t make it right. Please, don’t kill him.” In a gentler tone, she added, "There are other ways.”
Kim scoffed. “Other ways?” She pointed toward the corner. “Show me then.” She dared her. “Show me how you’re going to get us in without him sounding an alarm.”
"Watch me,” Kat said as she took on the challenge. “Maybe you'll learn something.” She removed her single strap backpack and opened it. She pulled out a Gel-Taser. It was a device that resembled a mini TV remote. Kat also removed a dog collar and then dropped the backpack to the ground. She tucked the oblong silver Gel-Taser in her back pocket, walked around the corner, and started whistling. “True! Here boy! Come here! Mommy’s looking for you. True!” She walked up to the gate. “Excuse me.”
Seeing her approach, the S.C.M. put his magazine and coffee down, grabbed the XM8, and came out to the entrance. He kept the assault rifle at the ready and peered through the chain link fence.
Kat acted hopeful as she questioned, “Have you seen a dog?”
“No.” He relaxed his grip on the XM8. “I haven’t seen one.” The S.C.M. eyed her, decided she wasn’t a threat, and slung the assault rifle. He removed his cap and ran his hand through his short hair. “Maybe you should try around Joe’s Diner. His dumpster attracts hungry animals.”
Back at the corner...
“No way,” Kim thought. “Katharine walked right up to him. Sure, but can she get us in?”
At the fence...
Kat glanced at the dog collar and back to him. “I don’t know where the diner is located. Could you give me directions?”
“Yeah. Hold on.” He went into the guardhouse and came back with a Hellenistic Sector, Commercial Vicinage map. The S.C.M. pointed to the paper. “We’re here. Joe’s up there. First, go back down the alley you came up, then...”
She stepped closer to the fence, scratched her mid-back, and slowly removed the Gel-Taser. With her thumb, she flipped off the safety at the bottom of the weapon that was below a large red button. She then palmed the small device and moved her hand to the fence. Kat carefully aimed, pressed the red button, fired a green jelly string through the diamond mesh, and hit the man in the neck. The end of the gel substance clumped on impact. It formed an acorn size circle and adhered to his skin. The rest of the string dangled still attached to the Gel-Taser. She pressed the large red button again as the S.C.M. grabbed at the string, and 1,500 volts surged through the jelly. He cried out, convulsed, and fell to the ground unconscious. She looked around, making sure no one saw her, then hit a blue button that recoiled the string. Kat set the safety, tucked the taser back in her pocket, and climbed the fence.
Back at the corner...
Kim holstered the PPK and ran up as she buzzed open the gate. Kim handed her her bag. “Have you done this before?” she asked as she helped Kat drag the man into the guardhouse.
“Actually, a couple of times.” Kat took his keycard. “He’ll be out at least two hours.” She placed the Gel-Taser in her backpack and the keycard in her back pocket.
Kim glanced at her watch. “Let’s get inside and see what we find.” A little impressed, she added, “See how far we can get without killing someone.”
Chapter Four
The Council
1:19 P.M...
Hellenistic Sector, Unknown Vicinage...
The Sanctum...
Within the Chamber...
“Come on people!” a male supervisor barked. “You're behind on your one o'clock reports. Let's get them in.” After a few minutes, he scanned over a H.H.C. and moved to one of the twenty-four analysts. "You're the last one. What's the hold up?"
"It's these readings from the new project. There was so much to compile that–" the male analyst started, "–I didn't leave enough time to write out the report. I won't make the same mistake again."
"The Council doesn't tolerate inefficiency or errors."
"I know, but like I said, I discovered my miscalculation." The analyst sent in his report. "It won't happen again."
"Make sure it doesn't." The supervisor went back to walking the line of workstations.
In the center of the Chamber...
The Council sat at a long rectangular table that was the darkest point of the room. Light from the laptops and H.H.Cs. were the only things that illuminated the area. The Council monitored many black projects, and on this day, they monitored one experiment in particular. Mr. Morta, a tall man with a stout built, sat at the head of the table.
The door to the Chamber opened, and light from the hallway revealed Ms. Nona was a slim lilliputian and dwarfed Mr. Morta's frame. She sat to his right on a specially designed chair that raised her to the table. Ms. Nona turned to her laptop and stated, “We are receiving a report from Cerberus.” She typed across the keyboard with her cherry-red nails. “Vulcan Station is now in our hands. Two of our squads of Sphinx Corporate Military have already arrived in Antarctica. The S.C.Ms. have taken over the base.”
“Good, good,” Mr. Morta said. “Vulcan Station was the last Factory facility in operation. The acquisition of our sister department’s assets is complete.” He paused and asked, “What of the two scientists at Vulcan Station?”
Mr. Decuma was a meager man of average height. He sounded disappointed when he said, “Cerberus did not kill them, as instructed, but...”
Mr. Morta demanded, “But what?”
Mr. Decuma replied, “Well...”
When he hesitated, Ms. Nona answered, “Dr. John Gelid and Dr. Robert Seeker were injured.”
“How?” Mr. Morta inquired.
“Cerberus tortured them with a laser cutter," Mr. Decuma answered. "Both men have severe burns. They have been flown back and are recuperating in our medical facility.”
Mr. Morta stated, “It would appear we need to be more precise in our instructions. We did want the cooperation of the scientists.” He leaned back in his chair. “Where is Cerberus now?”
“It is flying back to Noir.” Ms. Nona looked to the clock on the laptop. “Cerberus should arrive within a few hours.”
Mr. Morta thought for a moment and asked, “How is Argus? I would like him to monitor Cerberus.”
"He is still receiving care," Mr. Decuma said. “The injuries he received from the T-3s, when they tortured him, were not life threatening. He should be ready to return to work in a few days.”
“Did he give up any information about our work or the Sanctum?”
“He says no,” Mr. Decuma answered. “He said that they were rescued before he broke.”
“They?” Mr. Morta was puzzled for a moment. “Ah, yes. The two Factory technicians we acquired. Tech One-eleven and Tech One-twelve. What are their names?”
“Peters and Maxwell,” Mr. Decuma answered. “We never did find out who rescued them. The men are closed mouth about it.”
“Do you believe Argus divulged any information?” Mr. Morta questioned.
“No,” Mr. Decuma replied. “We did condition him to withstand pain. With time, the T-3s may have broken him, but not in the short span that they had him. They had him three days to be precise.”
Ms. Nona questioned, “What intel do we have on the T-3s?”
“The operatives we had following them turned up dead.” Mr. Decuma scanned another H.H.C. “The last report we received from them stated they left the Hellenistic Sector of Noir.”
“Create a new team,” Mr. Morta commanded. “The T-3s must be found. We cannot have these machines on the loose. One Rogue is enough.”
Mr. Decuma went to work on the task and pulled up personnel files. After several minutes, he started compiling a new team.
Ms. Nona’s laptop beeped, and she opened the incoming message. “I have received a new report. Cerberus has stated its excitement.”
“Over what?” Mr. Morta questioned.
He thought, “Excitement? Cerberus must be experiencing a full range of emotions. This is good.”
“Over tracking and eliminating the Pandora Project,” Ms. Nona answered and then bit her left thumb nail as she continued to study the data.
Mr. Morta sounded concerned. “Does Cerberus understand it is not to terminate Pandora?”
“Yes.” Ms. Nona moved her hand back to the laptop. “Cerberus anticipates the order will be given to take out Pandora. It indicates it will study Pandora, so it will be better equipped to eliminate the old Project.”
Mr. Decuma questioned, “Why do you hesitate in giving the termination order?”
“The Pandora Project’s tracking beacon was destroyed, but we still receive bio-data from Pandora.” Mr. Morta felt Mr. Decuma’s eyes on him. “You do remember what happened two days ago?”
“Yes,” Ms. Nona answered. “We received an influx of data, indicating Pandora reached the Delta Phase of its metamorphosis, that it had reached the Knowing.”
“The data cannot be correct.” Mr. Decuma tapped the table with his finger. “There is no possible way the old Project reached the Delta Phase without first achieving the Gamma. And its bio-data indicates that phase was never achieved.”
“Do you both agree then? We should suspend Pandora’s termination.” Mr. Morta hoped to change their minds or at least, postpone a negative decision. “We must analyze the bio-data. Once we have the correct information, we can decide whether or not to destroy Pandora.” He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and folded his dark brown hands. “If the readings are corrupt, it is one thing, but if the readings are true...” Mr. Morta hoped to give his favorite project some more time. “We should investigate it further. After all, we did want Pandora to reach all of its phases. We want it to become the killer we programed it to be.”
The other two glanced at each other and nodded.
“I have one condition,” Mr. Decuma added. “We will terminate Pandora even if the information is inconclusive.”
Mr. Morta nodded reluctantly. “It is agreed. Cerberus will observe Pandora. We will hold off termination until we have had enough time to study the data.”
He thought, “Pandora, I have bought you a little more time. I hope you find the answers you are seeking.”
Chapter Five
The Rogue’s New Focus
1:41 P.M...
Near the Hellenistic Sector’s boundary...
Within the shambles of the Factory...
The Rogue repaired the artificial epidermis covering its pale face. It wore a brown, dingy business suit, and black oil covered the jacket’s left arm. The area under its left eye had been damaged two days before in a battle with Kat. The Rogue stood in one of the many rooms the Factory devoted to bio-mecha research, especially the assassins line of Un-Men. The room was labeled Bio-mecha Research Seventeen or BR17. It stared at a table mirror with its red artificial eyes. The Rogue's eyes looked more like red ringed spheres. It used a soldering iron to melt patches of skin to its own. The skin was made from a manmade substance known as X-74. The Rogue paused from its work and set down the solder.
“You did a number on me, Pandora. ASCII! I was so close to ending your existence, but you reached the Delta Phase of your metamorphosis. You reached the Knowing and stopped me. You shot me when no one else could.” It fisted its hands. “What are you? Are you something created like me? I must know.” The Rogue examined its hands as if the answers would be there.
“Why is it, out of all my programing, I cannot disobey the one to destroy you? Why do I find pleasure in hunting you? Me!” It jabbed its chest. “I am an Un-Man, but I appear to be showing feelings. I appear to have self awareness. Why? And even though I have tried to kill you you spared my life. You had the power to take it, yet you fled the room. Why? Why show me mercy? Do you know something I do not? Is there another purpose to my existence?” The Rogue leaned on the table. “And what about the stone tablets?”
“After our encounter, I stumbled across the hidden chamber in the back of the Gallery." The Rogue moved to the center of the room. "What of the words written on the stones? Are they only poems? Or is there more to their meaning?” It accessed files stored in its automaton brain. “I have gone through some of the Factory’s research on the tablets. Archaeologists believe they were chiseled by Ginn L. Irynkissgthie around the year 525 B.D.C. They believe the words speak of future events. Are they about you, Pandora? Is there some sort of prophecy about you? Right now, I do not know. One of the tablets was broken. How much of the text is missing? So many questions. Do the two tablets go together or are they part of a separate message?” It returned to the table. “Are you the Rushlight mentioned in the one? Are you some sort of destroyer? If so, what are you a destroyer of?”
“And what of my suspicions? Can you be organic-mecha? Are you a machine completely composed of lab grown parts? Or are you a human with unique abilities? I will find out. My new objective will be to find this out, and once I find the answers, I can terminate you, Pandora.” It picked up the solder and continued the repair of its face.
After sometime...
“There. It should do.” The Rogue turned its head side to side, examining its work. “As good as new.” It glanced at its left arm. “Now to fix the shoulder.” The Rogue removed its jacket, picked up a pair of needle nose pliers, inserted the head into a bullet hole, and clasped a 9 mm round. It pulled the bullet out, dropped the slug to a metal tray, and it clanged. “A parting gift from you, Pandora.”
Black ooze ran down from the wound, till the Rogue used the solder to stop the oil leak. It waved a scanner over the hole and examined the results on a H.H.C. “Nothing more is damaged. I only need to patch the hole.” It placed a piece of X-74 over the wound and soldered it in place. Once done, the Rogue moved its arm up and down. “Not bad, but the coloring is all wrong. I am too pale. I am too pale for what I need.”
It removed its Coffin Handled Bowie, placed the knife and sheath on the table, took off all its clothes, and stepped into a specially designed shower. The Rogue set a color knob on the wall to olive and turned it on. Dark dye sprayed from the shower head, darkening its skin and hair. The dye ran for several minutes until the coloring covered its entire body. It turned off the shower and stepped to a drier in the back. The machine roared as hot air rushed over its body, setting the new color. The Rogue stepped out and studied itself in a full-length mirror. It studied its artificial eyes and the blood-red dot-light of its I-Link sensor. “If I am to pass as a human, I will have to do something about these peepers.”
The Rogue stepped closer and examined its red irises. It removed the eye cover to the sensor input compartment by screwing it off. The Rogue placed the cover on the table, picked up the needle-nose pliers, and carefully removed the orange bulb from the compartment. “I have removed the blinking light.” It screwed the eye cover back on. “All I need now are contacts to hide these peepers.” The Rogue walked over to the table with all the equipment. “But what color?” It opened a container filled with lenses. “Brown. They need to be brown.” It inserted them. “There. Now I look more human.”
A question crossed its processor, and it studied the bulb. “I remember in the past the dot-light blinking blood-red. How could it possibly be that color? The bulb is orange. It does not make sense. A lot of things do not make sense. But time is short. I will have to consider these mysteries later.”
The Rogue looked at its shabby business suit on the floor. “Now for a change of clothes. I have to look the new part, if I am going to investigate the stone tablets.”
It streaked its way to a locker room, used a master keycard it took off the body of a dead manager, and opened lockers. The Rogue searched through clothing and personal items till it found what it needed. It put on a pitch-black business suit and studied itself in a full length mirror.
“Not bad. And it is my size. They will not even know I am an Un-Man. I have one last room to visit before company shows up.” The Rogue made its way into the hall and down several passages. Hundreds of dead Factory techs and S.C.Ms. filled the war zone laden hallways. It had been over a week since the T-3s malfunctioned and killed almost everyone at the Factory.
The Rogue searched several manager offices till it found one with a functioning computer. It sat at the desk and woke up the computer.
At the Factory’s main gate...
Lieutenant Creed held up his hand as a convoy of eight trucks approached. He wore a jet-black uniform, and a handful of soldiers stood behind him. His men were armed with a FN SCARs (Fredricks of Noir's Sphinx Combat Assault Rifle). The soldiers were part of the Third Branch Office's corporate military.
The armored S.C.M. vehicles, that had just pulled up, belonged to the Council. The lead truck halted. The driver, who wore a dark green uniform, looked over the Latino man in his late thirties with a black goatee. The driver noticed Creed’s name on his uniform and his rank and handed a H.H.C. to him.
“Lieutenant, I'm Lieutenant Walters.” The red headed man had a pale complexion. “The Council will be taking over the Factory. You and your men are to return to the Third Branch Office for your new orders.” Walters sported a high and tight crew cut and trimmed beard.
Creed slung his assault rifle over his shoulder, scanned the H.H.C., and nodded. “Use caution. All of the T-3s may not have left the Factory. They're like the Rogue now. They no longer follow orders.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
Walters slapped the side of the truck, and four Council S.C.Ms. jumped out of the back to guard the gate. The four men removed barricades from the back of a truck and setup a roadblock.
Walters ordered over the truck radio, “Move out!”
The convoy traveled down the long stretch of road toward two large buildings. The trucks halted. Walters turned off the engine, opened the door, and jumped down from the vehicle. His men unloaded from the eight trucks and lined up in eight rows of ten. The soldiers stood at attention, holding their assault rifles across their chest.
Walters walked up and down the line, stopped, and faced the men and women. “Team leaders, move your soldiers out. I want the Factory secured. If you encounter any active Un-Men do not engage. Radio in and wait for backup. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the eight team leaders answered.
Chapter Six
Mr. Pinchbeck
2:16 P.M...
The Rogue worked on the computer with inhuman speed. The printer behind it spat out document after document. The Rogue took an ID badge from a dead body out in the hall, removed the card from the plastic covering, scanned it, and printed out a version with a black square instead of a photo. It snapped a picture of itself with a digital camera acquired from a locker, printed out the photo, pasted it to the ID, and put the new card back in the plastic covering. The Rogue clipped the ID to its pitch-black business suit. It finished its work, signed a few of the documents with the Sphinx Corporation President’s signature it had copied from a document, and placed them all in a folder. It made digital copies of all the documentation and placed them on a H.H.C.
“Now to set the stage.” The Rogue looked at a Sphinx Corporation credit card it stole from one Mr. Frank Bygone. “I have all of my props, but one. A quick phone call from me will fix that.” It picked up the receiver, heard the dial tone, and dialed a number it found on the internet.
“Hello. Yes, I would like to rent a limousine for the day. Yes, I will be paying by Corporate Credit. I would like to be picked up from the corner of Limit Street and West 1000 Avenue. I will be there in three hours. Very good. Let me give you the Corporate Credit number now.”
The Rogue hung up once it was done. "Now I only need to get out of the Factory with out being spotted. It should not be too hard. And then, I can make my way to Limit Street."
About four hours later...
The limo pulled up to the Factory’s main gate. Two yellow and black striped barricades stood, blocking the entrance. A Council S.C.M. approached the passenger’s side door, keeping his XM8 at the ready.
"Now to see if all my hard work has paid off," the Rogue thought and rolled down the tinted window. It waited to see what would happen. It was ready to draw its hidden Bowie at the slightest hint of failure.
The S.C.M. glanced around the limo's interior then looked at what he believed was a man. "Can I help you?"
"I passed," the Rogue thought. "Good. Now to start my performance."
It said, “I am Mr. Pinchbeck. I am to take over management of the Factory for the Council. Here is my documentation.” It handed the S.C.M. a H.H.C.
The S.C.M. looked through the docs on the device and tapped his headset. “Lieutenant, a Mr. Pinchbeck is at the gate. He claims he’s the new manager of the Factory. Yes, sir. His paperwork is all in order. Yes, sir.” The S.C.M. turned to the new manager. “Lieutenant Walters says for you to proceed in. He’ll meet you at Building G. He also wants me to ride along in case there are any Un-Men on the grounds.”
“Certainly,” the Rogue said. “Sit up front with the driver.”
The S.C.M. relayed his orders to the remaining three, walked around the back of the vehicle, and entered the front passenger door. The other S.C.Ms. removed the barricades blocking the entrance to the side, and the limo pulled down the road. After a short time, the vehicle stopped in front of Building G. Walters, with a few of his men, waited outside.
The Rogue got out of the limo, walked to the driver, and said, “You may return now. I will call if I need a ride.”
The driver, along with the S.C.M. still in the front, headed for the main gate.
Walters walked to the new manager and offered his hand. “Mr. Pinchbeck, welcome to the Factory.” They shook. Walters removed an energy bar from his vest pocket and unwrapped the chocolate snack. “The Council sent you in a bit early.” He took a bite. “The dead have not been removed or the grounds secured.”
“I am aware that cleanup has only started and know full well what to expect inside.” The Rogue opened a folder on its H.H.C. and scanned through some of the files. “All I request from you is two of your soldiers till my own report in.” It closed the folder. “I will not get in your way. I want to set up my office and begin work. There is so much data to catalog in the Factory. It will take us years to go through everything.”
“I can loan you some officers.” Walters waved two of the S.C.Ms. forward. “You two, go with Mr. Pinchbeck. Stay with him till his people relieve you.”
“Yes, sir!” the two men replied.
“This way gentlemen.” The Rogue headed into the Factory.
It thought, “The first part of my plan is complete. I have the Factory at my disposal. Now I must begin on the second. I will uncover everything the Factory has on Pandora and Ginn L. Irynkissgthie. I will determine if my drive is more than programing. I will unravel why I am fixated on killing Pandora. And if that is my purpose in this existence, I will destroy her.”
Chapter Seven
Etna Toys Distribution Station Bravo
Asp was originally a word for a venomous snake. Later around 700 B.D.C. in slang, it referred to person who was so low that they slithered on the ground. Over the centuries, the word also referred to a vain, self-important, silly, or aggressively stupid person and the anus.
2:58 P.M...
Hellenistic Sector, Commercial Vicinage...
The corridors smelled dusty and looked as if no one had used them in years. A fluorescent light flickered overhead, and all the lights hummed. It was a maddening sound in the otherwise silent building of white block walls and concrete floors.
Kim brushed a cobweb out of the way. “All we’ve found so far are a few boxes of toys.” She held the PPK at the ready. “So where’s the lab?”
“You mean if this place has a lab.” Kat followed behind her. “The deeper we go, the more I believe this place is only a distribution station. Sheez... I don't think we'll find anything here. For all we know, the Gorgons are a new line of toys Etna's developing.”
“It's stupid comments like that, that really pisses me off! You can’t honestly think they're toys. For Ares' sake! Why would their file be on the Data Crystal? They have to be more than action figures.”
“I know,” Kat said. “But I can hope.”
“You can hope? What kind of asp-inine comment is that?!” Kim paused at another door, opened it, and peered inside. “Don’t you want to find something?”
The room was empty like the three dozen or so they had already searched.
“I do,” Kim said. “That’s the only reason I came. The info we downloaded from the Data Crystal has to have some importance. Otherwise, why would my mom have created the crystals and have hid them?" She shut the door. "Hades... I better not be wasting my time.”
“Sheez...” Kat mumbled, “I really hate it when she yells at me.”
“What did you say?”
Kat said loudly, "I said...” She then spoke normally, “What kind of project is the Gorgons? I've encountered a lot of the Council's experiments over the past year, so I'm imagining the worst. So a toy sounds better than what I’m visualizing.”
She thought, “If I’m the Pandora Project, what could the Gorgons be? In Greek stories, the Gorgons were three sisters so hideous the mere sight of them turned people into stone. So I know... I know the Gorgons have to be weapons. Why else would they give them that name?”
“You and your dream world,” Kim said. “You can't go by your imagination. You have to go by the facts. And then they'll lead you to the truth." She stopped and faced Kat. "Did they do something to your mind when they experimented on you? Maybe they replaced it with the brain of a two year old.”
"That's kind of mean. Why would you say that?"
“Because you’re an idiot. I've never seen somebody so naive.”
Kat slowly blinked three times, processing her statements. “Naive? So you see me as a child?”
"Yes. An annoying child. The world works certain ways, and you can't see it. Let me point out one example. You didn't want to kill the guard."
“What's wrong with that?”
“What's wrong with that?! Oh my Zeus! I can't believe you asked me that.” Kim shook a condescending finger at her. "You're not understanding anything I'm telling you." She rubbed her temple and said calmly, “Oh, for Ares’ sake... Never mind. Maybe you'll never understand. Come on.”
Kat watched as she walked ahead, and Kat mumbled, "I might be naive, but at least I'm not always angry."
"What? Did you say something?"
"Nothing."
Kat hurried to catch up as she thought, "And I don't believe murdering people is how this world's supposed to work. If it is, maybe it's better I'm an idiot, a freakish idiot."
They hurried through the first section, entered the second, and came across a long hall with no doors. Blue pipes ran along the ceiling. Water beaded on one of the pipes, and in places, the liquid fell to the concrete floor. Drip... Drip... Kim and Kat started down the passage. The blue-gray concrete corridor ran for about four hundred feet and went around a corner. The corridor continued for another four hundred feet and ended at a door with no knob. On each side of the door was a scanner.
Kim threw up her hands. “Great, now what?” She went to the door and pushed up on it with her body. “It won't budge. How are we going to get in?” Kim kicked the door and stood back. “Maybe we should have brought the guard. Or at least, we could have cut his hand off then we might have been able to use his palm print.”
Kat said nothing, only stared at the scanners.
“Well, we can’t go any further.” Kim started back through the corridor. “Let’s go. See if we missed anything.” She mumbled, “Come back once I get a grenade launcher.”
“Wait.” Kat glanced at the star that marked her left palm. “I encountered a scanner like this at the Factory. I placed this on the scanner, and it let me in.”
Not understanding, Kim asked, “Placed what?”
"This." Kat showed her the star that had been burned into her palm and walked over to the machine on her right. She found an outline of a right hand was on its glass top. She moved to the other machine and it had an outline of a left hand. Kat placed her palm on the scanner, and the device activated. It scanned her with the different bars of light like the one at the Factory had.
“Ginn’s Cipher detected. Activating micro-reader," the device stated. “Access granted.”
The door unlocked and slid up.
The Sanctum...
Within the Chamber...
A female analyst turned from her workstation to the Council. “The door to Station Bravo has been activated.”
“Bravo?” Ms. Nona said. “Which of our places is this?”
“It was our third lab,” Mr. Decuma answered. “We long ago abandoned it once we finished the Gorgons experiment.”