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Part 4 – Sanguinary Affliction

London, 2209 – 276 Years Before Impact Day

Alarms blared around him as Tyson watched the catastrophe unfold on the monitors in front of him. A knot began to twist in his stomach even before Mason’s orders came through.

“Fuck me.”

The order came through. Meet me in my office. He didn’t waste any time.

Despite the situation, Mason seemed calm, almost preternaturally so. It was almost worse than the alternative.

“What happened?” he asked. Mason took a while to respond.

“Do you know what I created?” Mason asked, instead of answering.

Tyson had never thought to question Mason on his work. It was better not to ask questions.

After Mason was called to Melbourne, he’d come back changed. He obsessed over his work. Then, when his daughter had died, he’d changed again, disconnected from everyone around him.

Tyson never asked why Alice was alive and well again, or why she no longer aged. He never asked why Mason had a small community of seemingly perfect humans kept far below the surface, each of them beautiful and charming and unspeakably dangerous.

He’d never asked why Mason looked younger and healthier every day.

He’d never questioned the meetings Mason had with high-ranking government officials, owners of prisons, hospitals, detainment and refugee camps. It wasn’t in the job description, and he rarely wanted the answers.

“I assumed super-soldiers,” Tyson said diplomatically.

“Narrow minded as always,” Mason replied. “I created the future. The next step in human evolution. I created the prototypes for a species beyond humans, a species which could stand against any threat to them. And do you know why?”

“Isn’t that your job?”

“Do you know what it means to conquer evolution?” Mason asked, ignoring him. “It means responsibility. It means that if we don’t push ourselves to change, we remain the same. And everywhere around us, everything else grows stronger.”

“Last I checked, we were only gettin’ more dangerous too,” Tyson offered. “Guns are getting bigger, and the only thing that really kills us is, well, us but with bigger guns.”

“You’re wrong,” Mason scolded. “There’s so much more out there, and we’re as fragile as we’ve ever been. But not anymore.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that they’re out,” Mason snarled. “Every one of them is more intelligent than any human out there, idiot or genius, but they couldn’t understand. No, they chose not to understand. They turned their backs on me, and now they’re gone.”

“So, a bunch of superhumans are on the loose, and your work is down the shitter?”

“A lesser man would concede so,” Mason said. “Not me. You’re going to bring them back. Starting with my daughter.”

“And how do you think I’m gonna manage that?” Tyson asked. “You may have given me a few upgrades over the years, but I don’t stand a chance against them.”

“With this,” Mason said, holding up a syringe. It seemed to give off a dull glow.

“Another upgrade?”

The upgrade,” Mason told him. “It’ll react with the nanotech in your body already, bring you up to a physical match.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. Just remember, the progenitors are more than dangerous. Any one of them could cause more damage to the world than any bomb, and there are over twenty of them out there.”

“Don’t you fret, boss. I always knew I’d end up saving the world one day.”

* * *

Of all twenty-six of Mason’s progenitors, Tyson liked the youngest one the least. Specimen Z was every bit as dangerous as the rest of them, but with an added layer of being prone to bloodthirsty rages. She killed mercilessly, savagely, taking a cruel delight in her physical superiority.

G wasn’t much better. He was insidious; a careful planner, charismatic manipulator and unwaveringly dedicated.

Of course Alice had ended up with the two of them.

He tracked them to a small hostel in the middle of the city, closer than he’d ever been. His patience was wearing thin, and the other progenitors weren’t going to catch themselves.

The girl behind the counter, an awkward young thing with pale skin and blue hair, looked up at him, but didn’t say anything.

“Good evening,” he said, forcing himself to be courteous. It was harder than it should have been. He was angrier than he should have been.

“Uh, hey,” the girl said, clearly bored. “Lookin’ for a room?”

“No,” he said, fighting the temptation to simply yank her over the counter and bite her. Where was that coming from?

“O…kay? What can I do for you, then?”

She seemed sweet, and entirely unconnected to any of this. So why did he want to kill her?

“I’m looking for some friends of mine,” he said, trying to handle things reasonably. Violence wasn’t necessary.

“A’ight…”

“They just checked in here, but I don’t know their room number,” he lied. It wasn’t his strong suit.

“So message ’em. Call ’em.”

“They’re currently offline.”

Just give me the room number. The longer this conversation goes on, the harder it is to resist…

“Then I can’t help ya. Sorry.”

“It’s important,” he insisted, leaning on the counter. It took all of his restraint not to simply grab her head and slam it into her computer.

“So are the rules,” she said. He sighed, trying to expel the violent urges. It didn’t help.

“Can you at least tell me if you’ve seen them?”

“Yeah… No.”

Don’t kill her. Don’t kill her. Don’t kill her.

He reached into his jacket, and pulled out his tablet. She flinched, but he barely noticed. Instead, he pulled up a picture of the three of them, showing it to her.

“Those sure are some people,” she said.

Don’t kill her.

“Gabriel, Zoe and Alice.”

“Nope,” she said.

Don’t.

“You’re lying,” he snarled.

“Does it matter?”

Don’t…

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation,” he said.

“Well, you just told me you were only looking for some friends, so…”

Kill her.

“They’re very dangerous,” he said.

“I try not to judge.”

Kill.

“If you don’t start taking this seriously…” he threatened, but she seemed unfazed.

“Yes?”

Kill her.

“Those three people, they’re fugitives,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to bring them in, but I need your help.”

“One of them is a kid. What’d she do, push someone in a playground?”

“She’s their captive.” Another poor lie.

“She seemed pretty happy to me.”

It would be so easy, too.

“So you did see them.”

“Still doesn’t matter,” she said, shrugging. “I can’t tell you anything.”

Rip her fucking throat out and watch the blood spray over the desk.

“You’re endangering countless lives,” he snarled at her. “Is your petty service job really worth that?”

“Yep.”

“Idiot!”

“Well, now I really want to help you,” she said sarcastically. “What were those names again?”

Tear off her arm and use the bones to gouge out her eyes.

“Get out of my way,” he said, barely able to contain the violent urges. “I’ll check myself.”

“Yeah, or not.”

That was the last straw. He vaulted over the counter, throwing her against the back wall like she weight nothing. He barely even noticed, checking the computer for recent check-ins.

“Room 12. Thank you.”

“You’re breaking the law, you know,” she said, sounding winded. She probably had a broken rib. Maybe more.

Crush those ribs into dust. Make a soup out of her organs.

“I’m saving the world,” he countered.

As he walked off, he heard her speaking again, but it wasn’t to him.

“Guys, this is is Roxie. You’re about to have company.”

She warned them. The little bitch warned them, and they would be well and truly gone by the time he got to their room.

She ruined everything. Kill the fucking bitch.

He slammed his fist into the computer, smashing it. She recoiled in fear.

“Oh, you stupid kid.”

“Feel free to report me,” she said, with a clearly false bravado.

Nail her to the wall and leave her there.

He shook his head, but the violent images just kept getting stronger. He needed something else, something to focus on.

Break every bone in her body, one by one. All 206 of them.

Mason had warned him about something…

The progenitors. They were infectious. That was why they were dangerous. That was why they had to be contained.

“You spoke to them,” he said, pulling out his pistol. “You’re infected.”

“Say what now?”

“It’s too late for you.”

“Uh…”

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

“I don’t want to fight,” Z said, with a gun pressed against his temple. “I really don’t.”

Alice stood behind her, a sombre expression on her face.

“What do you want, then?” Tyson asked.

“A cure,” Z crooned. “He infected us with something. We didn’t know. We never wanted any of this.”

“We only wanted to be free,” Alice added.

“So come back with me,” Tyson said.

“I want a promise,” Z insisted. “I want a cure, and I want freedom. No more living in a lab.”

“I take it G wasn’t on board with this decision?” Tyson had watched as Z stabbed her brother through the heart, dropping him down a twenty story elevator shaft.

“He’s more stubborn than I am,” Z said.

“He’ll be okay,” Alice said.

“You lot are bloody hard to kill,” Tyson agreed.

“So, do we have a deal?” Z asked him. “Or do I blow your brains out right now and figure it out myself?”

“It’s not my deal to make,” Tyson argued. “But I can call. I can ask.”

“Do it, then.”

He already knew what Mason would say. Any lie was worth it to get his daughter back. But it had to look convincing.

He rang his boss.

“What is it?”

“I, uh, I got a proposition, boss. From one of your girls. Z.”

“You’re supposed to be bringing them back, not having a tea party,” Mason chided him.

“She’s got me at a… disadvantage,” Tyson said. “Says she’ll come back if you can promise her a cure. And a little more room.”

“It’s not a negotiation,” Mason said. Z leaned in, whispering into the mic.

“I know your dog here is disposable, but you might want to reconsider,” she said. “I’m not travelling alone.”

“…Alice?” Mason asked.

“She wants to come home,” Z said. “You can make that happen.”

“Fine,” Mason said. “You have my word. Tyson, start looking for the others. The girls know their way back.”

Tyson just growled as the line shut off. Z smirked, and lowered the gun.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Just go,” he said.

“Those are some serious anger issues,” she taunted him. “Are you sure you’re not infected too?”

“I’m immune,” he said. “Had to be. Been around you your whole lives, remember?”

She smiled, taking a step back.

“It must be peaceful, being an idiot,” she said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you really trust him?” she asked. “Do you trust anything he says?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“If you knew what we really were, if you knew what it took to make us, you wouldn’t believe him either,” she said. “Whatever you think his plan was, you’re wrong. Whatever he told you, he’s lying.”

“Then why are you going back?” he asked.

“To kill him,” she said, before picking up Alice and darting from the room, leaving him alone in the darkness.

 

Next Week: XO

Part 2 – Nothing, From Nowhere

London, 2175 – 310 Years Before Impact Day

Shortly after sitting down, Tyson found himself watching an attractive young redhead enter the cafe. To his surprise, she walked straight to his table, and sat down opposite him. Her intense yellow eyes bored into him, catching him completely off guard.

“Tyson Briggs?” she asked, with a tone to her voice that suggested it wasn’t really a question.

“That’s me,” he said, glancing around. “And you are…?”

“A representative of Genesis Laboratories,” she said. “I’m here to conduct your interview.” He was surprised to her an American accent.

“No kidding,” he said, wishing he’d expected such an obvious tactic. “Alright then. Shoot.”

“Your record is stellar,” she said, in a slightly detached tone of voice. She didn’t seem particularly interested in being here, or talking to him. “Service in both military and paramilitary organisations, and work as a private investigator. We checked with your contacts and accessed the secure records of your service, and we were very impressed.”

“Good?” he said, not sure what else to say.

“Why are you interested in security work?” she asked. “We’re concerned you might not find the work as… stimulating as your previous employment.”

“That’s kind of the point,” he said, shrugging. “My lady’s pregnant. We’re looking to settle down. I’m interested in staying in one place, with regular hours and regular pay, y’know? And a little less danger, hopefully.”

“Satisfactory,” she said bluntly. “And you’ll consent to the security precautions necessary for the position?”

“So long as it don’t affect my family, I don’t particularly mind what you do to me,” he answered. The list of requirements had been a little too long for him to get all the way through, but it seemed pretty standard. More intense than he was expecting, but nothing compared to the black ops missions he’d run in the past.

“Perfect,” she said, with a surprisingly intimidating smile. “When can you start?”

* * *

“This is Charles Mason,” Haylie told him, gesturing to a wiry man, middle-aged, with strawberry blonde hair and focussed cyan eyes. “He’s one of the leading researchers here, and your primary client here.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Tyson said, offering a hand.

“Likewise,” Mason said, shaking with his left hand. Tyson noticed a simple silver band on Mason’s ring finger, and saw an opportunity.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” he asked.

“The owner of this facility,” Mason replied, disapprovingly. “James.”

“Oh,” Tyson said awkwardly. “Sorry, mate. Anyway, what do you do here? Are you allowed to tell me?”

Mason sighed, and started walking further into the lab. After a few moments, he gestured for Tyson to follow him.

“Ordinarily, I’d not share this, but it’s important for you to know what you’re protecting,” he said. He pressed a button on a wall, opening a secret door into a hidden room. To Tyson’s surprise, it appeared to be a nursery. An infant was crawling around a penned-off area.

“You’re looking for a babysitter?” Tyson asked, beginning to wonder if the job was really going to be worth it. Would the boredom kill him before he ever met his own kid?

“This is my research,” Mason said, slightly exasperated. “Meet my daughter, Alice.”

Tyson looked back down at the infant. Nothing about her seemed unusual, really. She was fairer than Mason, with deep, purple eyes. She was a little young for a gene mod, sure, but stranger things had happened.

“She special?”

“Every father thinks his daughter is special,” Mason said. “But yes, she’s special. I created her from the combined genetic material of my husband and I.”

“Bloody Hell.”

“I don’t need for you to interact with her directly. I just need you to know what it is you’re protecting.”

“You got it, Boss,” Tyson said. “There isn’t an army in the world that can get through me to your kid.”

“Good,” Mason said. “Haylie?”

“Come with me,” Haylie told him. “We’ll finish your initiation and have you ready for work in no time.”

Tyson followed her back out of the lab, leaving Mason alone with his child. It was a little odd, Tyson thought, but nothing he had a problem with. Lab-grown kids were nothing new, although he did have to wonder if there was something different about this one to warrant such high-priced protection. Then again, maybe the parents were just rich. He had said his husband was the owner of this absurdly sized underground facility.

Haylie led him into a room with the sign ‘Induction Room‘ over the door. It was a sterile white, and once he entered, the door sealed behind him.

“What’s this?” he asked, feeling slightly nervous.

“Security,” she said blandly.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need more details than that, love.”

“Don’t call me love,” she replied shortly.

“Sorry, alright.”

“You did read the conditions of employment, didn’t you? You’re to be injected with a mixture of nanotech which will allow us to monitor your vitals at all times, track your location, and allow you to interface with the security systems in this facility. In addition, if you attempt to misuse your position here, your employment and life can be terminated in a single moment.”

He had to blink a few times, sure she had to be joking. Her expression was anything but mischievous, though.

“You’re serious?”

“It was in the contract,” she said.

“This is bonkers.”

“You’d rather leave?” she asked.

“I’d sooner not have something that might kill me if someone gets hammered and hits the wrong button, you know?”

“It’s perfectly safe,” she told him. “I’m the only one who can activate it, and I assure you, I’ve never been hammered in my life.”

“Right, so if I wanna steal company secrets, all I have to do is off you first?”

He had meant it as a joke, but certainly hadn’t made it sound like one. Still, if she felt threatened, she showed no sign of it.

“I wouldn’t suggest trying it,” she said, and for some reason, he felt threatened. Who was this woman?

“Alright, alright, it’s a good gig,” he said. “But if you’re gonna blow me up, just remember I have a kid on the way, yeah?”

“I will deliver the news to them personally,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if she was joking, even as the corners of her mouth curled up.

* * *

It didn’t take Tyson long to slip into a routine. The work was easy, the pay was good, and he did find himself enjoying the workplace. Haylie was always around, and had a composed, controlled energy that he appreciated. Mason’s husband visited often, and Tyson couldn’t help but admiring the ways they interacted. It reminded him of his parents.

Everything was going perfectly when Mason received the invite. Tyson was there when it happened, a simple email that had Mason pacing about the office like a restless hunting dog.

The creature beneath the Tower has spoken your name. So rarely does this happen, we must invite you to speak with it.

We must insist.

Please, Charles Mason, come to Melbourne. Come to the Tower.

Tyson couldn’t make heads or tails of it, and frankly, he didn’t care. He knew Melbourne’s Tower was a scientific anomaly, producing enough power to supply the entire country with plenty leftover to export, but didn’t care beyond that. He’d never heard of a creature, but evidently, Mason had.

He packed in a hurry, pausing only to consider bringing Alice. In the end, he decided against it, citing the unknown danger of the trip. She was left in Haylie’s care, and Tyson’s job remained the same.

And so Tyson and Haylie were left alone for several days. Without Mason around, it was significantly more boring, but a job was a job.

Two days in, sitting at Mason’s desk, enjoying a packed lunch, he noticed something odd. There was a large mirror on the wall near the desk, which Tyson had always considered an odd aesthetic choice. Sitting where he was, though, he was certain he could see a shadowy figure in the reflection, one that wasn’t there when he looked around the room.

Curious, he approached the mirror. The shadowy figured moved with him, cautiously at first, then more fluidly.

“More weird experiments?” he muttered to an empty room.

He raised a hand to the mirror, touching his own reflection. The entire mirror shimmered, then faded to clear glass.

“What the…”

Behind the mirror, now visible through the glass, was what appeared to be a small prison cell. Inside that cell was a person, young and thin, with dark skin and green eyes. Eyes that were staring directly at him.

“You alright, mate?”

If the prisoner could hear him, they didn’t respond. Tyson frowned, his eyes scanning the cage. There was nothing in it, no bed or toilet or even a chair. The prisoner was just sitting on the floor, legs folded beneath them, staring back at him.

“This is fucked up…”

“This is fucked up,” the prisoner repeated, in a perfect imitation of his own voice. For a moment, he actually thought he’d just heard a recording played back, but they continued speaking. “You can credit Mason for this.” They were still speaking in his voice.

“So you can hear me. How are you copying my voice?”

“It’s not hard,” the prisoner replied. “Be careful. The golem is nearby.”

“The what?”

“She calls herself Haylie,” the prisoner said. “She’s not human.”

“Alright…”

“Do not trust her,” the prisoner insisted. “She is more dangerous than she appears, and capable of infinite cruelty.”

“Whatever you say, mate,” Tyson said, looking nervously around the room. Whoever this was, he knew he definitely shouldn’t have been talking to it. “Look, I gotta—”

“Don’t talk to that thing,” Mason said from the doorway, surprising him.

“You’re back?” he asked, backing away from the mirror. As he turned to look at his employer, he noticed a harrowed look to the man, like the short trip had aged him many years.

“Yes, I… I need to get back to work,” he said. “I need to prepare.” He pressed a button under his desk, and the prisoner’s cell returned to a mirror.

“Prepare for what?”

“The creature,” Mason said, his voice strained. “The beast. The monster that will tear this world to pieces just to slake an insatiable thirst.”

“I’m sorry, what are you on about?”

“The Destroyer,” Mason whispered.

 

Next Week: Genesis

Step 1 – All You Have To Do Is Die

London, 2209 – 276 Years Before Impact Day

It started the same as any typical day. She slept in, ate an unhealthy breakfast in the early afternoon, dragged her guitar into the city centre and busked. When her throat was sore and her fingers were throbbing, she ate another greasy meal, and went to work.

Work consisted of sitting behind a counter in a cheap hotel, maintaining a presence, answering emails and calls that came once every few hours, and helping the people that came in looking for a room. She was lucky to see more than one of them a night.

She liked the quiet, though. The city was bright and noisy, full of people and advertisements. Are you happy with the way you look? Our new gene therapy works 50% faster, giving you the body you always dreamed of.

Gene mods for naturally blue hair, for silver eyes, for naturally pale skin. Was it kind of racist to want that last one? She tried not to think about it. She wanted to look like a goth pixie. It helped her earn money when busking.

She spent most of the day surrounded by all of that noise. She made some of that noise. People going by, hundreds, thousands of them. All of them different, all of them beautiful.

There was something very relaxing about boxing herself in, leaning back in a chair behind a desk, munching on a steady supply of chips. There was always music playing, though it was set so nobody else could hear it. The music was hers, she controlled it, it helped her feel quiet.

Work was good. The pay was poor, the hours sucked, but it suited her. It was perfect for her.

There was a man, sitting in the lobby, not paying attention to her. She hadn’t noticed him come in. He hadn’t spoken to her. He didn’t make a sound at all. Far too well dressed for the kind of establishment he’d wandered into. He seemed occupied reading something. She was content to let him be.

A lot of nothing. Peace, quiet, respite from the world outside.

Then they entered.

Three of them, two adults and one child. Not so well dressed. Looked kind of desperate. Much more appropriate.

She gave them her warmest smile, keeping her curiosity to herself. Despite their clothing, all three of them were staggeringly beautiful. They could easily have been supermodels. There was something about them, the way they moved, that wasn’t quite human. Perhaps they were angels, she joked to herself.

Was it a family? A couple and their child? There wasn’t a strong familial resemblance, but that didn’t mean much. The dynamic seemed off, though.

He approached first. Fair skin, dark hair, deep amber eyes. He smiled awkwardly, a look of pain and regret. Was she reading too much into it? Probably.

“Welcome,” she said, taking her feet off the counter. “Need a room?”

“Please,” he replied.

“How many nights?” she asked, running through the availability. There were a lot of free rooms.

“Just one.”

“How many beds?”

He glanced back over his shoulder. The woman shrugged. Same fair skin, short blonde hair, eyes that couldn’t decide if they were ice-blue or a fierce red. That was a neat trick.

“Just the one,” he said. “We can rotate.”

“You got it,” she said, shrugging. It didn’t particularly matter to her. “Need a name to put the room under. Names for all three of you, actually. And ID.”

The two adults exchanged a glance. Discomfort? Irritation? Fear? It was difficult to tell. She didn’t really mind. She’d expected that to be an issue. It frequently was. It was just that kind of establishment.

“That could be difficult,” he said.

“Let’s start with names,” she said, smiling. She had no intention of denying them a place to stay. They looked like they needed it.

“John,” he said. “John Smith.”

She nodded, hiding her smirk, and typed it in.

“Jane Smith,” the woman said.

She looked down at the child, a slender girl with porcelain skin, lilac hair and kind lavender eyes.

“Alice,” the girl said.  “Ma-”

“Smith,” the man said. “Her name is Alice Smith.” He and the woman both stared, but she didn’t challenge them. Their situation was none of her business.

“Three Smiths. Makes it easy. In fact, it looks like you’ve stayed here before. I can just use the information we have on file. And… you’re good to go. Room twelve, first floor. Here’s your key.”

The three of them smiled, and John collected the key. Roxie smiled as she watched them disappear into the stairwell. The way they moved was odd, even the girl. There was a sort of fluid grace to it, like an animation that was just a little too smooth. The adults were almost predatory in their movements, whilst the girl just seemed… unsettlingly solid, Roxie decided. Like nothing could move her if she didn’t want to be moved.

She didn’t give them a lot of thought once they were out of her sight. Their business was their own, and she’d certainly encountered weirder customers. They were polite, and that was all she really cared about.

The man in the lobby continued to read, ignoring her. Something about him made her feel uncomfortable, like something bad was going to happen. Even still, she didn’t want to say anything. He had an aura of unapproachability that seemed unassailable.

Well, he wasn’t hurting anyone. She decided to leave him be. That worked out better for the both of them.

She looked up as the door chimed, and another person entered. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and moderately attractive at best. His face was set in a determined expression, like a poor attempt at disguising anger, frustration, or both.

He was well dressed, in what appeared to be a reasonably-priced suit, though it was also obvious he was carrying a weapon. He didn’t seem to be trying to hide it at all. It made her feel intensely uncomfortable, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

“Good evening,” he said, with forced courtesy that felt entirely unnatural.

“Uh, hey,” she said, then remembered she was supposed to be professional. “Lookin’ for a room?”

“No.”

She frowned. He wasn’t exactly making a good first impression. Something about him felt off, like he was broken somehow.

“O…kay? What can I do for you, then?”

“I’m looking for some friends of mine,” he said, his eyes scanning the lobby. He didn’t seem to notice the reading man at all.

“A’ight…”

Just tell me what you want so I can stop talking to you, she thought.

“They said they checked in here, but I don’t know their room number,” the man said. She’d never heard a more obvious lie in her life, but she knew better than to outright call him out on it.

“So message ‘em,” she said. “Call ‘em.”

“They’re currently offline.”

Lucky them.

“Then I can’t help ya,” she replied, shrugging. “Sorry.”

“It’s very important,” he insisted, leaning on the counter. His blue eyes were staring intensely at her, and she really, really wanted him to go away.

“So are the rules.”

He sighed, clearly annoyed. She felt a certain sense of pride in that.

“Can you at least tell me if you’ve seen them?” he asked.

“Yeah… No.”

He stared at her, his face twitching in an effort to hide a scowl. After a few seconds, he reached into his coat. She flinched, but he only pulled out a tablet. He pulled up a picture, and turned it around to show her.

It didn’t surprise her at all to see the three people from earlier. It did surprise her to find she felt instinctively protective of them.

“Those sure are some people.”

“Gabriel, Zoe and Alice,” he said, not breaking eye contact. It was very disconcerting.

“Nope.”

“You’re lying,” he accused her, tucking the tablet back into a pocket.

She felt frightened, cringing at the unspoken threat under his words. Even still, her dislike of him was strong enough that she felt like she wanted to get in his way as much as possible.

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation,” he said.

“Well, you just told me you were only looking for some friends, so…”

“They’re very dangerous.”

“I try not to judge,” she said, with a lot more levity than she felt. The sense of danger was intensifying, and there was nowhere she could go.

“If you don’t start taking this seriously…”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Yes?”

“Those three people, they’re fugitives,” he said. “I’m trying to bring them in, but I need your help.”

“One of them is a kid,” she pointed out. “What’d she do, push someone in a playground?”

“She’s their captive,” he said, but the lie was still obvious. Even if she hadn’t seen them all together, he was just a bad liar.

“She seemed pretty happy to me.”

“So you did see them.”

Shit.

“Still doesn’t matter,” she said. “I can’t tell you anything.”

His face contorted into a snarl. She instinctively backed away.

“You’re endangering countless lives,” he told her. “Is your petty service job really worth that?”

“Yep.”

“Idiot,” he growled.

“Well now I really want to help you,” she said dryly. “What were those names again?”

“Get out of my way. I’ll check myself.”

“Yeah, or not,” she retorted.

Without warning, he vaulted over the counter, shoving her backwards. Her back hit the wall, and the force of it winded her. There wasn’t anything she could do as he took over her computer, checking through the recent bookings.

“Room 12. Thank you,” he said, without a trace of irony.

“You’re breaking the law, you know,” she threatened him.

“I’m saving the world.”

He started to leave, walking towards the stairwell. She found herself overcome with the urge to do something, anything to stop him.

Inspiration struck, and she tapped a button on the screen, opening a communication line with room 12.

“Guys, this is Roxie. You’re about to have company.”

The man’s fist slammed into the screen, shattering it. His expression was pure fury.

“Oh, you stupid kid.”

“Feel free to report me,” she said, with a lot more bravado than she was feeling.

“You spoke to them,” he said, pulling out his pistol. “You’re infected.”

“Say what now?”

“It’s too late for you.”

He’s really going to shoot me…

“Uh…”

He pulled the trigger, and her world went dark.

* * *

The world didn’t stay dark. Rather, her vision returned almost immediately, and everything was exactly the way it was before the gunshot. Nothing had changed.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. There was one new addition: her body, lying on the ground beneath her. The man who’d shot her looked right through her, completely expressionless, completely oblivious to her presence. He holstered the gun, then took off towards the stairwell.

“Uh, what?” she said, to anyone who might have been listening.

“You’re dead,” the reading man said, catching her entirely off-guard. She whirled around to face him. He’d stood up, and was slowly walking towards her.

“Who the Hell are you?” she demanded.

“Felix,” he said. “I’m a Reaper.”

“A what?”

“We collect the souls of the dead,” he explained.

“Which is me.”

Saying it aloud, she felt disturbingly calm. The realisation wasn’t lost on her. She somehow knew, unequivocally, that she was dead. Why didn’t that bother her?

“You catch on fast.”

He smiled gently. It meant nothing to her.

“I just got shot, it’s not that hard to wrap my head around.”

His smile broadened.

“I wish all my collections were like you.”

She looked around, wondering why everything looked the same. Even raising her hands in front of her face, they looked the same as they always did. They felt the same as they always did. If not for the body lying on the floor, she might have found it harder to accept.

She didn’t feel dead at all.

If anything, she felt hungry.

“Doesn’t feel like I expected,” she said.

“It never does.”

“So, what happens now?”

“Now, you come with me,” he said, the smile finally faltering.

Roxie frowned, then took a step away from him.

“To…?”

“Hell.”

“Is there an option B?” she asked, without hope.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Well that sucks.”

“It’s not as bad as you think,” he said, in what she assumed was supposed to be a reassuring tone, but wasn’t.

“No eternal punishment and damnation?”

He laughed.

“Not unless that’s what you want.”

“So what am I in for?” she asked, still eying him warily.

“Depends on what you’re expecting,” he said.

She tried not to let his vagueness irritate her. It wasn’t successful.

“Not really expecting much of anything, to be honest.”

“It’s going to be rather dull, then,” he said, with a bemused smile. She prayed he was joking.

“Two decades of life and all I get is a bland nothing of an afterlife?” She shook her head. “Nah. No thanks.”

He put his hand against his hip, the sort of motion that would suggest he was about to draw a sword, except there was nothing hanging at his waist. Even still, he continued the drawing motion, and by the time his hand was in front of his body, there was a sword in his hand.

Roxie stared at it, her eyes wide. It was a thin, elegant weapon, with a simple hilt and a crystal vein running down the blade. And he’d pulled it out of nowhere.

“You don’t have a lot of say in the matter,” he said.

Her eyes darted to the door, and she grinned.

“Well, there is one thing I can say,” she said.

“Please don’t.”

Her grin widened.

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

She vaulted over the counter, narrowly avoiding his blade. He followed, but she was already moving, racing towards the front door. It occurred to her only as she reached the door that a ghost might not be able to open a door, but then again, in that situation she imagined she could probably just pass through it.

The sensors didn’t detect her, and the door stayed close. She slammed into it, rebounding in a surreal, painless way, whirling just in time to avoid another attack from Felix and his sword. He looked moderately distressed.

“Roxie, please…”

She took a step back, and somehow managed to pass through the door. Nothing seemed different, except that she wasn’t actively thinking about the door.

Either way, it got her outside. She turned, and ran.

The streets were mostly empty, though that probably didn’t matter. It was obvious nobody could see her, or the well-dressed man chasing her whilst holding a sword. It would have been a rather ridiculous scene, had anyone actually witnessed it.

She wrapped a hand around a lamppost and used it to quickly change direction, hurtling down a side street. Glancing back over her shoulder to see if Felix had followed, she discovered he no longer seemed to be following her.

No, it’s too easy-

He was standing ahead of her, poised to strike. She pulled herself to a stop right before she entered his range. He lowered the sword, and sighed.

“Please, don’t make this worse on yourself.”

“How is this worse?” she asked, glancing around. She wasn’t even a little out of breath, her and though she couldn’t feel a heartbeat, somehow she still felt full of adrenaline. It was fantastic, and she had an entire world to explore.

“Let me take you to Hell,” he said, avoiding the question. “You’ll be processed, it’ll be peaceful, you’ll get to move on.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d rather stay here.”

How long would he keep chasing her? Did he have other souls to collect? Would he call in reinforcements? Were there others like him?

“You’ll decay,” he said, which gave her pause.

“I’m dead.”

“Surely you have ghost stories here.”

She glanced around the side street again. If she doubled back, she could probably stay ahead of him for another few streets.

“Ooh, do I get to be a vengeful spirit? That sounds way better.”

“Roxie…”

She shifted her weight, ready to run. Not yet, though.

“Y’know, I never actually told you my name,” she said.

“I already knew it,” he replied, sounding tired. “Part of the job.”

“And who put you in charge, anyway?”

She was almost far enough away to safely make a break for it. Just a little further…

“Lucifer.”

The name sent an involuntary chill down her spine.

“Okay, now I’m really not coming with you,” she said.

“You really don’t have a choice.”

She started to run, but he was already in front of her. Too late to stop, she all but ran into the tip of his blade.

To her surprise, there was no pain as he thrust forwards, driving the sword through her heart. It didn’t feel like nothing, but it certainly didn’t hurt. If anything, it was like a physical sensation of intense nostalgia, mixed with the feeling of falling a great distance, and longing for something far away.

There was no sense of the world fading out around her. Everything just ended abruptly, gone in an instant. She never even noticed. The moment the sword touched her, her existence ended.

 

Next Week: Dying Was The Easy Part