The Dark Messiah Read online

  Michael turned towards her, flinging the sword. It stabbed through her stomach, embedding its point into the wall in front of the bar.

  She looked shocked, staring at the sword which now pinned her to the bar like a butterfly on an entomologist’s display board. The gun dropped from her fingers when she grabbed the sword and tried to pull it free, each tug had less strength as her body slowly bled out.

  Michael turned away from her to look the other way. He spoke to the man who was reaching for his gun, “You pull it, you will die.”

  “I pull it, I ain’t the only one who is going to go down fighting.” He growled out, “You just killed a lady.”

  “One that set me up to die, yes I did. I don’t think you did anything to stop that, now did you?” Michael asked as he walked over to Billy, who had been trying to wrap his shirt around his bleeding stump. “Judged,” Michael spat out and slit his throat. When he reached down to clean his sword on Billy’s shirt, Michael reached under his jacket with his left hand. Standing up, he aimed the Jean Dukes special he had pulled and shot the man who was still pulling his pistol up.

  The man shot in the chest, fell backward, his body crashing over his chair.

  “You see,” Michael told the group casually. “Injustice only survives when justice allows it to continue. When those who won’t shy away from violence are determined to see justice served? Then opposites attract, and only one, justice, or injustice, can continue. So, I’m going to go see Kraven and have this confrontation.”

  During his conversation, Michael had placed his sword back in the scabbard and then pulled his other gun. Another seven men had come to stand in the doorway with all of the noise. Michael could smell perfume, so he suspected another woman or two must also be in the group.

  He looked around the room, his pistols down by his side. “Now, I’ve tried this once before, so I’ll just say that I am leaving and it can be with, or without you dead. Which is it going to be?”

  No one wanted to be the first to pull their gun at the moment.

  “Well, that is rather disheartening, folks. I was rather looking forward to seeing what these completely unique pistols could do.” Michael pulled one to look at it, providing everyone a chance to see that it was unique. No one had seen one before, “It’s a shame, really. Because with these pistols, a man,” he looked out at the crowd in the front, “or woman might rule.”

  Someone in the doorway yelled out, “Kraven says fifty bucks in coin for each pistol!”

  Now, Bethany Anne might not appreciate Michael’s baiting the people around him, but her lawyer Jakob Yadav would appreciate the gambit. He didn’t randomly shoot people, and those who had evil in their heart went for their weapons.

  Those that didn’t want to be a part of it were either running, ducking, or jumping out of the way.

  They say that there is a certain enjoyment in being in one’s element. Michael wasn’t normally someone who enjoyed guns. However, these were beautiful weapons and made with exquisite care.

  Who was he not to use them appropriately?

  At least, that was his story for Bethany Anne, he decided, and he was going to stick to it.

  The first shot at Michael missed since he had already ducked and rolled out of the way, to pop up ten feet away from where everyone else was aiming.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was a beautiful symphony of destruction.

  Michael stood up, his pistols aimed in opposing directions, each turned to eleven on the knobs. Then he became a blur of action.

  He would shoot from both guns, turn and roll backwards, popping back up five to fifteen feet away. Keeping the people aiming at him guessing.

  Twice, instead of shooting people, he shot the wall they were hiding behind. With a Jean Dukes special, walls weren’t that much of a concern. Most died immediately, it was a rather pass/fail pop quiz.

  When the last person who had been trying to shoot him was down, Michael looked around, making sure he had no one else to worry about, and reached out to feel the intent of any minds near him.

  Huh, one around the corner.

  Michael holstered his pistols and walked over to the woman, now dead, who was stuck with the sword. He grabbed the handle and yanked, the dead body falling into the pool of blood congealing on the floor.

  Walking back through the wreckage of the room, he went to the wall and tapped on it with the sword. Moving down away from the door opening, he tapped again, and smiled.

  He took another step further down and tapped once. Using his Vampiric speed, he rammed the sword through the wall. A scream erupting from the other side confirmed he had guessed very well.

  “One shouldn’t expect an ambush to work every time,” he spoke aloud. He yanked the two pistols back out of their holsters and mentally listened for anyone.

  It was quiet, except for some movement where he had stabbed, what sounded like, a woman.

  He stepped around the corner, noticing the ambusher on the side of the walkway, a few feet from where the sword had erupted out of the wall, blood still dripping off of the tip.

  Michael turned and walked towards the stairs.

  The person he wanted to talk to was up on the top floor. Why is it they were always on the top floor?

  With his enhanced connection to the Etheric, Michael did not feel like his energy had diminished so he felt no need to feed. Not having to ever drink from a neck again? Under normal conditions he would think that priceless, then he rubbed the top of his head and the payment was obvious.

  Again.

  His priorities, he decided, were first ... figure out how to follow Bethany Anne into space. Second, have her put him into the Pod-Doc so that they could figure out why the hair that should be on his head wasn’t growing.

  And, for dessert, kill Kraven.

  Bethany Anne had told him one time he needed to save the dessert for after he ate his dinner.

  Well ... what she didn’t know, wouldn’t get him into trouble.

  ---

  Gerry made it to Kraven’s fortress and he could tell, based on all of the people running around, that Michael was still here.

  He smirked. The general chaos of people trying to carve out their own kingdoms in the Fallen Lands, or power in the City-States through economic means, was more dangerous for those alive now, than before the fall. But what they believed was power, was a mere pittance of what had been wielded centuries before.

  Michael and Bethany Anne had taken out the worst of the most powerful. For those in the UnknownWorld, the stories Gerry told of the times before were met with skepticism.

  He had his life enhanced and cleaned up by Bethany Anne before she left. He had taken on another wife, after the fall. Then, later, they had a child. A daughter, one who didn’t believe his stories until now.

  Now, she was not only a believer, she was damn near an apostle.

  Unfortunately, Gerry’s time was up. Even with Bethany Anne’s enhancements, he was fading, fast. That Michael rescued his daughter was something he never would have thought a possibility. Unfortunately, he needed to ask that he do it one more time.

  —

  Michael was enjoying the hell out of himself. This building was like those video games he had heard about from the guys around Bethany Anne. He hadn’t played them, and hadn’t cared to learn about them. However, he could understand the attraction at the moment. For each floor he went up, the challenges went up. By the fifteenth, he had someone throw a grenade down at him.

  He Mysted, and floated up.

  Puzzled, he thought about his success as he left the stairway and solidified behind those who were watching it. Michael holstered one pistol and grabbed his sword. The first figured out where the stranger was when a sword tip erupted from his stomach and he looked down, surprised. The sword pulled back out and he didn’t register that the man next to him had his neck sliced open.

  Because he was on his knees, his hands failing to hold in the blood spurting out of his body.

 
The third, turning around when he heard the commotion, had his brain splattered across the wall. A round from Michael’s gun exploding out the back of his skull.

  The fourth died when Michael kicked him into the stairway, where he failed to catch on the metal railing before falling over the side, screaming on his way down. He hit the railing on the third floor with his forehead, and died instantly.

  His body, corpse really, made a disgusting sort of splat when it impacted on the ground floor a fraction of a second later.

  The fifth had his eyes wide open, staring at the barrel of Michael’s gun, which was pressed against his forehead.

  “Now, I can be a conversational person,” Michael explained, “and I’m sure you understand I might be a little twitchy at the moment.” The guy, his eyes still on the barrel of Michael’s pistol, nodded minutely. “Good, that makes this conversation easier. Is Kraven an honest leader?”

  Michael allowed the man to answer, but he trusted what he took from his mind. The man licked his lips, “Yeah, honest…He uh, he uh, he tells it like it is.”

  “And what does he tell most people?” Michael continued.

  “He tells them…” The man started trying to concoct another lie when Michael heard three sets of footsteps come out and start rapidly jumping down the stairs from above. Michael reached up and grabbed the man. Aiming his gun, he shot into the wall parallel to the stairs going up, blasting concrete chips up the stairway. A long string of cursing occurred and Michael threw the man he was holding, into the stairway heading up, as he heard a pair of boots coming around the final corner.

  “No, It’s MEEE!!!” Too late ... the man was shot three times before the one coming down realized he was shooting his own man. His mistake was short lived, as Michael, stepping around the corner shot him between the eyes before resuming his climb up the stairs.

  Step…step…step…

  Michael could see a man leaning over the rail trying to get a clue. So, Michael shot through the railing then watched as the man fell screaming past him.

  Step…step…step…

  The third man had turned, retreating back up the steps.

  Step…step…step…

  Michael looked at the count on both of his pistols. He reduced his loadout about seventy-five shots in one, eighty-two in the other.

  Step…step…step…

  He wasn’t attacked again as his final step took him to the door on the twentieth level.

  If those waiting on the other side thought he was just going to walk on through those doors, they were insane.

  —

  Gerry watched the confusion on the second level from his position on the first floor. Looking around, he also noticed the group of people around the stairway. It was too clogged up to use so, Gerry decided he would wait for Michael to come back down. If he chose to come back down, that was. He could always Myst out of the building.

  But, that didn’t seem to be what he was doing. Assuming he could Myst, he obviously wasn’t doing it. Not based on…

  Gerry heard a very weak scream that was escalating in loudness, and closeness. People started rushing away from the open doorway to the stairs and Gerry heard a THUD as a body landed on the bottom floor. The guy’s head, did a good imitation of a dropped egg, exploding on impact.

  Seemed Michael was still busy up top, he mused. Gerry turned and looked around, finding a niche in the wall near the exit. It would allow him to see what was going on, while still being out of the middle of the floor. No telling how Michael would come back down and he would prefer not to be killed by friendly fire.

  —

  Michael tried to Myst again, and it didn’t happen. His lips compressed in annoyance.

  Apparently, some of his abilities worked on instinct and need. He needed to get past whatever block was happening. It’s almost like his mind associated the pain of Mysting and the explosion, and didn’t like going back into that state due to negative associations.

  Well, there was always one talent that worked every time he tried it.

  —

  Alvin Sudacki sucked on his lower lip, looking to his left and his right. There had to be … seven, eight, nine. He turned to look on his right and finished his count with seven. Plus himself, that made seventeen men aiming guns at the doorway to the stairwell. This guy might be a badass, he thought to himself, but he can’t dodge seventeen guns all aiming at him.

  A sudden pulse of fear went through him. He clenched up on his pistol and let his eyes dart to his left and right. He wasn’t the only person who felt that!

  At least four that he noticed turned their heads, questions written on their faces.

  “Don’t let that bastard in here!” Kraven commanded from behind them. He was in the back, so technically there were eighteen men.

  And Kraven counted for two, easily.

  Alvin was up top because his usual post, two floors down, had been called to come up top for the ambush.

  Another flash of fear ran through the group and two men shot into the closed door.

  “Stop!” Kraven called. Another three started firing before Kraven was able to get them to stop wasting ammunition. “I don’t know what’s happening, but we are just wasting our ammunition. Wait until…”

  That’s when the real fear hit and the men ignored Kraven. Guns started blasting at the door. It was an old door. An original for this building from so many years before. It was made of metal, but holes were being punched into it. Some bullets getting lodged in the door, most moving on to pepper the stairwell beyond.

  A few men, bullet’s spent, grabbed another magazine and reloaded.

  “SSTTOP!” Kraven was yelling, but his commands were being ignored.

  —

  Kraven was frustrated. He hadn’t had his command authority ever tested like this. The fear was real, palpable. He had a slight idea what might be on the other side of that door and, as far as he knew, it shouldn’t be there.

  The men were gone, mentally. He stepped backwards, turning finally and entering his office. He moved with purpose to his armory and opened the door, reaching in to grab his M1911 with silver ammunition. He checked the magazine, made sure the ammunition was silver like it was supposed to be, and stuck it in his waistband.

  He turned back towards the firing and was walking back almost to his office suite door when the third wave of fear elevated, and he dropped to his knees in pain and fear. He turned slowly, and looked at his window, the external staircase was just outside.

  —

  Michael waited, his guns holstered for the moment, he was looking at his nails wondering where he was going to find a pair of nail-clippers. Was he going to have to raid an old drugstore? The metal wouldn’t degenerate over time, but were they all stripped bare over the years?

  He sighed and pulsed another level of fear, amping it up this time and the gun fire ratcheted up. The wall across from the door one floor above was constantly getting peppered by the gunfire. He imagined no one up there could hear anything.

  Awwww, dammit! Michael could sense Kraven leaving the group. He grabbed his pistols and started for the steps, his coat fluttering behind him.

  He pushed out his fear, turning it up to eleven, as Bethany Anne would say, and the gunfire stopped.

  Step…step…step…

  He made it to the final landing and walked to the door, kicking it off its hinges and stepped into the hallway, both guns out in front of him.

  —