My vision clears and I notice that my black oily arm has Tomas lifted off the ground and his face is white as a ghost. My black oily arm is like HIS arm, the dark assassin who took my dear wife away from me. My brow furls in anger, grief and frustration and I slowly lower Tomas to the ground just as he passes out and just as Connie runs out of bullets from the clip he is unloading into my back. Connie rushes to Tomas' aid and says, "Please ifin there be any gods left on this dark rock, give the boy another chance." As if in answer, Tomas clutches at his throat coughing violently and takes in a few breaths of air. Connie looks at me in disgust, "You coulda kilt the boy ya stupid ghoul!" I ignore Connie.
We are in a large server room filled with acrid smoke. All of the computer panels are badly damaged. Dim backup lights are the only source of light in this chamber. A score of men in black swat-style military uniforms lie dead near the doorway to this room, looks of pure terror etched into their faces.
"What happened?" I ask in a monotone voice.
Rodney answers, "We were busy destroying the servers when I noticed the volume was turned on a radio attached to a charger along the wall of this room. There was a voice coming over the radio. At first it sounded like Pablo but then changed to the voice of Angelica. She was whispering and speaking in some sort of code. I heard her say to send the revenant and have it hone in on her tracking device. She said kill all the ghosts first. I assumed when she said revenant she was talking about you. Then we heard gunfire outside and alarms going off. We assumed we were out of time and so we began destroying the servers with weapons and acid injections. Before we were done the SWAT team arrived, broke down the door and demanded we surrender. We were completely outgunned so we dropped our weapons. They were in the process of interrogating us when you arrived. You were the devil incarnate. You sizzled and popped, an oily mass of destruction. Your only words, "my life is gone, now you will forfeit yours." When you had finished them off you turned on us and nearly killed poor Tomas."
"Mrs. Archer was destroyed by a foul assassin that looked much like I do. Her last act was destroying Angelica, who had been disguised to look like the historian Pablo. Life must have recognized that Angelica was using a device to give our position away when she severed Angelica's arm. Realizing the ruse was up, Angelica tossed a Society grenade at us which glowed with a bluish light. Suddenly none of our Society technology worked. Everything became chaos, Joe was firing his gun at people below us, we were trying to gain access to a secure door and then a dark wraith destroyed my dear Life. I filled with uncontrollable rage and remember nothing after that moment until I heard Tomas' pleas for his life." I say.
Rodney says urgently, "We need to get out of here. We felt several tremors that suggest this building is becoming unstable. We've done what we can to disable the drones and whatever else is powered by these servers. The battle must have started outside by now as we've heard some thunderous explosions for the last twenty minutes or so."
As if to mirror Rodney's statement an explosion rocks the building and all the glass windows explode in a hail of shards. Rodney's group was mostly protected by the walls of servers, but we take this as our cue to get moving. Tomas is well enough to walk on his own and with the aid of Connie he is back on his feet. We exit the door and see that the main hall is on fire. A trail of dead soldiers dressed in black act as bread crumbs back to the scene were I lost my wife and my reason. Angelica's body is still here but no trace of the other members of Eddie's group remain. The mezzanine hallway shakes uncomfortably. We decide to exit the way we entered and head back to the old factory to survey the battlefield.
I find that I am having great difficulty focusing on protecting the group as my mind drifts. I need to kill the pain of loss that is there on the edge of my mind. It is my desire to kill it by unleashing the dark beast within me. Why should I care who suffers? Who is left who cared about me? What has this time and place done to my benefit? There is no freedom, no liberty, only death upon death upon death and I am death's champion.
We pass quickly through the farcical terminator robot room now transformed into the scrap rubble of burned crates, melted masks and twisted metal. The Society grenades had a devastating effect on this room. The room smolders with thick smoke and a few small fires.
My wife displayed amazing skill in that room. The terminators had no chance against her furious blades. I had such pride in her. She was at her best when tackling impossible tasks and I was fortunate to be able to follow her lead. Now she is gone. My incompetence in battle cost her the phantasmal existence we both shared. I should not have been distracted by Joe. The damn fool was going to get killed sooner or later. I should have been by my wife's side. As a team we were unmatched. Now there is only emptiness. We were blessed with some great years together and even some time after death and yet now I doubt my ability to remember completely how she looked, what she sounded like, how she felt. As I think about this my heart fills with rage. What if there are more revenants about? They must be destroyed. They must suffer. All who would side with injustice must die. Briefly I look back at my companions who are continuing at a brisk pace back to the factory. I sift into the darkness and melt through the walls. My rage burns as I increase my velocity. My only thought...destroy all life that gets in my path.
This is my first war. It is difficult for someone who has been in a war to describe it to others. When I emerged from the building complex to unleash my fury I was not prepared to witness what I saw that day. Some of the rage drained from my body as I surveyed the battlefield. The dying and wounded writhed on the ground like thousands of white maggots hidden under a half rotted raccoon on the side of the highway, all seeking to escape the scorching sunlight and return to the feast. Just as a bare patch in the lawn is filled with the wind sown grass in hopes of renewal, so were the bodies of the dead strewn upon the grounds near the Capitol building. A thousand probes have crashed to the ground, rendered inoperable by Rodney's team, but just as evident they cost The Society many brave people. Somehow The Society's cloaking devices were disabled ending that hoped for advantage. The forces from Lansing have been bolstered by forces from Illinois and Ohio. Some of the Lansing forces are using Society technology. I notice that The Society forces are weakened in three areas where a dark revenant has joined the battle on the side of Lansing. How many of my brethren exist?
I rush to meet the closest one. A nearby Michigan militia man implodes in front of me, struck by a microwave weapon attached to a tank. I reach for the weapon and twist it into a useless lump. The distraction allows the other revenant the opportunity to attack me first with a powerful thrust to my spine. I have grown powerful from my encounter with the dread assassin who killed my wife. I say, "I know not what manner of tragedy produced you. I do not care. You have sided on the wrong side of history today and I have no patience or mercy for your kind. If you have someone you still love, something you still care for, I offer you the gift of a moment to think upon it, for your time is at an end." Enraged, the dark wraith attacked me, but true to my word I ended this one quickly, draining its force into my own form. The malevolent force from the wraith fills me with bitter hatred and I dance a dark waltz of death to any who stand between myself and the remaining two revenants.
Four ghosts and two revenants later, I have a moment to focus on the chaos and destruction around me. Each dark spirit I have drained has hardened me. Whoever or whatever I was before today is no longer important to me. What matters is victory at any cost. I shall not rest until none oppose my might. These unwashed masses are but playthings to me. They wasted their living years in selfish pursuits, unable or unwilling to live up to their potential. Soon they will all be lost in the pointless cycling of death. I am a god among them. I have transcended death and now I choose who shall have life and who shall be damned with me. I think what I find most pathetic is the war leaders so eager to push the youngest and most green of the fighters into the mouth of certain death, all due to some intuition that doing so will give them an advantage in the battle. As the missiles fly, the rifles fire and the bombs go off these green soldiers are picked off like insects and I am forced to witness the cycling of their last moments as they become ghosts. Those who survive look up at the inexperienced lieutenants with scorn. Some of the more veteran soldiers throw grenades at some of their worst leaders, at least for the moment slowing the tide of death.
Three days later the final stages of the battle for Lansing has commenced. My rage has finally subsided and I have rejoined what remains of The Society's forces. Here and there you can still hear the cries of the dying and wounded and the occasional firing of a mortar, assault rifle or pulse weapon. Both sides are pitching for one decisive battle. Ivanova, Fast Eddie and most of his team have somehow survived the three day battle and have rallied as the leaders of the majority of the allied militia and Society forces. The break in the fighting has allowed Society medics to save many of their wounded. The probes injected their paralytic attacks on many soldiers. Many of those soldiers have been saved. Thanks to the advanced medicine the Society can employee many of the wounded have returned to the battlefield eager to put an end to the tyranny imposed by the State of Michigan.
During the initial combat the fighting style of the Cherokee and Michigan Devil Dogs has proven legendary as they joined together to form an elite force. Tales of their heroism will be told for many years, if there are any survivors this day. That elite force has taken positions in plain site, often burying themselves in the ground or hiding among the trees to aid in concealment. They use a Society masking agent that hides their heat signature from infrared detectors which makes them nearly invisible to probes.
It has been rumored that reinforcements from Grayling are headed this way. Grayling means more tanks and jet fighters. The Jets will have pilots which means no disabled servers will ground them. The rumors and general murmuring of the nervous forces is finally put to an end as the first of the Jet fighters streak over our positions. The jet fighters fire a savoy of missiles and bullets into our ranks scattering units and ending lives as if they were a tiny flame on a candle stub blown out by an unexpected breeze. Next is the roar of the Lansing infantry with their troop transports and the remains of the armored brigade. Their charge is met by the hidden elite forces of Cherokee and marines ending the Infantry charge abruptly. The surprise and intense counter-attack results in a quick retreat of those Lansing forces and then a panicked route as the Society forces concentrate their advanced weapons on the troop transports and tanks.
A short-lived whoop and hur-rah comes and goes as we notice a strong tremor that causes what remains of the capitol building to collapse inward. The tremor grows more intense and then we hear a booming voice come over a loudspeaker. "Lucifer was the first to rebel. Then Adam and Eve rebelled against God. People are born sinful and rebellion is a sin and an affront to God. Isaiah 1:2 Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth: for the LORD hath spoken, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me.
They rebel against authorities
Wives against their husbands
Children against their parents
Church members against pastors
Citizens against the police
Students against teachers
They rebel against the scriptures - Job 24:13; Ps. 107:11.
They rebel against the Spirit of God - Isa. 63:10.
Surrender to the authorities, lay down your arms and you shall witness the mercy and compassion of your God. For all those who have sinned can yet be saved as long as they allow God into their bosoms while yet they live."
I recognize the voice immediately as that of Pastor O' Kelley. I can feel the rage start to boil within me when the origin of the tremors becomes apparent. A leviathan not shaped as the whale in the biblical Jonah story, but more like a massive turtle lumbers through the remains of the capitol building toward our position. Its head is armed with turrets that is firing Society pulse weapons directly into our lines, scattering soldiers and equipment. There is a landing strip for fighter jets on the back of its hard shell. Legs crush anything in its path and a powerful tail swipes away anything foolish enough to get near it. Overall it must be sixty feet tall and the length of two football fields.
One fellow near Donna Ivanova shouts out, "They made Herb! How did they get my plans!? "
Ivanova asks him, "What are you talking about, what is Herb?"
The fellow says," I am a Society scientist. I submitted blue prints to a research station capable of surviving in any environment. The shell is hardened to the point where nothing less than a nuclear attack can hope to harm it. This can't be happening. I submitted my plan to the elders and they sent me a notice that my plan had been rejected due to the impracticality of building it in our limited underground facilities. I named it Herb after my pet turtle."
I say, "Angelica must have given away the plans for this machine months or even years ago."
A new wave of jets launch from the back of Herb. The marines and Cherokee are concentrating their efforts on getting to Herb by any means necessary. I too recognize the need to stop Herb and rush forth with the speed only a revenant possesses. I pass through Herbs walls and find my way to the control room in Herb's head. A dozen swat team members guard the inside of the room. Six men control the movement of the colossus and four more men control the turrets that fire the pulse weapons. Sitting at the command chair, legs folded in a pose of ease and dressed in the finest parade uniform imaginable is Pastor O' Kelly repeating his message of rebellion, sin and redemption over a communication device. Only a moment passes and Pastor O' Kelly recognizes me.
Pastor O' Kelley nonchalantly flips the mic to the off position and looks at me with a confident smirk before saying, "Mr. Archer, you seem to have a problem with me. I am certainly tired of seeing you my personal Lucifer, and your cast of heathen sinners interfering in the will of God. I must thank you though for saving us the problem of looking for you by delivering yourself to us directly. I guess it is too much to suppose you are here to receive confession and your final holy communion?
I say, "You created me. You destroyed my garden. You sent that hot-shot lunatic in a tank to make an example of me. He killed my dog. Soon my mortal form left this Earth in retaliation for that and for the death of my dear wife. You have taken everything that I cared for. Now your creation has come to destroy his master. Soon you will find that death holds no sanctuary for one such as you. Then you can ask forgiveness for your sins. I would pray for you but I know the truth about Heaven and Hell and so I will waste no more words on you."
The pastor signals and his swat team opens fire on me. I flash a wicked grin as the bullets pass harmlessly through me hitting the control panels and blast shield behind me, killing one of the turret men and wounding two of the control officers. The pastor looks at me in disgust and says, "I have one more surprise for you, one you can't seem to dispatch and so I pray as my avenging angel that he shall finally dispatch you with most haste."
A quick nod of the Pastor's head and a panel opens from a supply room behind him. Lt. Col. Daniel Cooper emerges from the chamber behind him, Winston cigarette hanging from his lip and before I can react he hurls a strange looking grenade at me. I am not sure how long I was stunned by the grenade by I come to my senses as Cooper is unloading his assault rifle into my chest. He shouts in a maniacal tone, "Die you scum! Go join your mutt in hell!"
I feel myself fading under the intense barrage of his attack. Weakly I ask him, "How...how did you come back? My wife killed you with her Katana. I saw your head leave your shoulder and you vaporized before my eyes."
Cooper flicks his Winston into my face and smugly brags, "What a fuckin idiot! You can't kill me you fool. All you can do is send me to another time or place. It took me a while to find my way back here, but I sure as hell wasn't gonna give up until I made you pay. I'm not saying it doesn't hurt like hell. Oh there will be torments, but now its time to send you there for your own personal experience. Time to finish this!"
I dissolve into a black ooze crawling up Cooper's leg and slowly enveloping him. "I agree Cooooo-per! It is time to finish this. You have provided me with valuable information that may be of assistance to me in the future and for that I will forgive you for trying to end my existence today. However, I have not forgiven you for killing my sweet little dog." I draw Cooper's essence into my self, slowly and persistently I crush his will until I have snuffed out his energy. Cooper did not have time to scream. I let out a mild cough as his form evaporates for a final, definitive time.
When I look up the Swat team begins firing at me again, this time more careful not to cause friendly fire. I take the time to eliminate them and all the other men who are running this monstrosity leaving the beastly Herb on autopilot until I have time to deal with it. Quickly studying the instrument panel I find a button that seems to indicate that it will open access hatches to the outside. I push it and hope that at least some of the marines or Cherokee can make there way inside the belly of this beast. Another quick glance and it is apparent that Pastor O' Kelly has fled. A wicked smile crosses my face as I anticipate the hunt.
Thankfully most of the interior of this behemoth war machine is straightforward. A few narrow halls lead to barracks, weapons depots and the mess hall but the simple design made following the pastor relatively simple. As I suspected he headed straight for the top deck in an attempt to escape his fate. As I arrive on the landing pad on Herb's shell I see the pastor nervously barking orders to some pilots as the Jet Fighter he has entered hovers a dozen feet over the shell. The pastor looks back nervously and I am seated next to him. The pilots nervously hit the thrusters and flip the jet upside down hoping to dislodge me from my seat to no avail. The pastor says, " May the Lord bless us, protect us from all evil, and bring us to everlasting life." As I snuff his miserable existence with a black oily grip I say only "Amen!" The pilots eject themselves and the jet spirals down to the battlefield below. I do my best to get to the seat and turn the Jet toward enemy tanks a moment before we explode on the surface in a fiery blast.