"Take your pick, Chinese, Russian, Cambodian, or even Corsican. Tons to choose with just a word from you," Bright Eyes offered. My curiosity got the better of me.
"Oh hell, I don't know," I growled. "Pick the one with the most intense expression."
"Using facial recognition," Bright Eyes laughed. "Hmm? Ha! Gotcha!" My upper right-hand corner field of vision showed the young lady in question. Her name was Laetitia Balandina, and she was a screamer. Her flawless skin had that Mediterranean olive complexion without a hint of tan lines or birthmarks. Laetitia had long black hair, blue-green eyes, and her looks were a nice blend of Latin and Greek. She was a heartbreaker for sure. "She trimmed for her audience," Bright Eyes noticed. "Perhaps I will pattern my avatar after her. Your vitals have spiked, but in a good way." The live stream had a thousand guys watching her use an impressive-looking toy. The dildo was thick and long, and despite Bright Eyes' commentary, Laetitia knew what she was doing. The ever-growing fund from contributors seemed earmarked for Laetitia to use the toy on her ass. I doubted she was that industrious. An icon began flashing on Laetitia's screen indicated that things were about to change. She got onto her hands and knees giving her audience a clear look at her butt. "Good god," Bright Eyes nervously chuckled. "Now, that is an ass." She took the words out of my mouth. "You could bounce a piece of eight off those cheeks." Laetitia's audience donated enough to get her to switch targets. She slid the dildo from her slick sex and aimed it at her asshole.
"That's it, drive that bad boy," I grunted as an explosion behind me tore my attention away from the girl and to the flaming debris half a mile back. I spun on my skates to face where the smoldering van burned brightly in the distance. Flames licked the night sky, sending up incandescent sparks that blazed and then died seconds later. Bright Eyes brought the drone in for closer inspection. "How did the van explode if the drone is here?"
"Microwaves and fuel under pressure are not a good mix," Bright Eyes explained, her voice noticeably changed. The little shit had gotten enough sound bites from Laetitia to mimic her perfectly. Stay focused, I told myself. So, that is what the AI meant by not really. There were mentions of the military developing microwave weapons for crowd control. The drone's primary weapon must be a compact version that could subdue a single target with ease. The machine was sophisticated and yet bore no manufacturer's mark or logo. "The van was closing the distance between it and you as the armed me inserted clips into their weapons. I acted on your behalf."
"And a good thing that you did," I praised Bright Eyes. "We need to take the drone apart and examine its insides," I ordered.
"What about the girl?" Bright Eyes asked. "Your vitals were peaking. Surely you find her attractive."
"Yeah, but a threat to my life takes precedence," I said. "We may need to find an independent contractor to examine this beast. Power it down and keep it that way until I get a chance to secure it. Make sure there is no GPS or signal of any kind coming from this guy." The drone fell into my outstretched hands. It was time to return to Numenor. I stood for a moment watching the rising moon as storm clouds darkened in the distance as a single bolt of lightning crossed the face of the moon and smashed into the ocean. The crashing waves and kiss of Seabreeze hinted at the oncoming storm.
"I have disabled its core processor and power supply. You should return to Numenor. It is a shielded facility. There is little chance of the drone reactivating within its walls."
I raced the storm back to the facility as it strengthened and pursued me the entire way back. My head and back dripped from the strong breeze carrying the rain and a surprisingly bitter wind. The door slid shut behind just as the torrent pelted the glass and a blinding flash of lightning lit up the early morning sky. I crouched as I removed the rollerblades. The rain had made them nearly lethal, and it took all my skill and agility to keep from falling. I shivered as I waited for the elevator to arrive. Besides the wind and rain, the building was silent. The ding of the bell as the elevator opened startled me. I rode up to my floor with skates in one hand and the drone in the other. I ached for a hot shower and a few hours of sleep under warm covers. Surfer opened the door for me, and I set my burdens onto the sofa and stripped down. Like a dutiful guest, I dropped my clothes into the hamper, started a shower, and basked in its deliciously hot embrace.
"Surfer, inform Akira that our road trip is delayed and oh the attempt upon my life," I added the latter part as casually as possible. "Any hint as to who it might be?"
"I have consulted with Wraith, and he leaves little doubt that Maxwell Schmidt hired the assassins. Your clean energy facility has caused a stir among the fossil fuel industry and its investors. Clan Schmidt has been in decline for the last half-century. When Maxwell assumed the mantle of the family chief, he invested heavily in oil and natural gas. The ZPEM's will likely bankrupt him."
"Not my fault," I commented. "Is this a common occurrence in the scheme of things?" I asked, not wanting to use the word order or even hint at its existence.
"There are rules to place a contract on a fellow member," Surfer explained. "With enough money or favors, a black decade can be sanctioned. If Schmidt mustered the fees, then tonight was just the first of ten legal attempts at your life."
"How do I find out?" I asked as I lathered up my hair and wondered if a road trip was a good idea right now. "And how long does this decade last?"
"Until you defeat the other assassins or you reach Schmidt and either kill him or force him to recant the contract," Surfer explained. "I have requested armor and weapons from the nearest Silent Shadows chapter house. Akira will deliver them as soon as possible. Sleep tight."
"Yeah, right," I mumbled.
Day Two: Sodomy on the Orient Express
How I managed to sleep eluded me. Not only did I sleep, but my dreams made me think I had tapped into Left's early life before the ghost lines failed. The Farcaster War was at its height. The Duskwalker civil conflict raged across a hundred worlds and culminated upon the Earth. I fought on the left-handed side with the would-be empress Kadaena. She was a lover, goddess, and inspiration that burned cities to ash. Her mind seared the thoughts of billions as she waged war beyond the limited concept of mere humans. Kadaena pulled nuclear matter from the heart of a dying sapphire titan and boiled the homeworld of the resistance. Haven was no more. Kadaena reveled as the death cries echoed across lightyears to serenade her to sleep. They had to seal her away in a higher dimension so that the war could end. The united might of a million K'Ta'Viiri hurled her through time/space to a conceptual prison. To keep Kadaena contained and the prison secure, the galaxy forgot. Those same million Duskwalkers wiped the minds of every sentient they could reach. With her imprisonment, the ghost lines died, and with them the K'Ta'Viiri race.
Left fled the wroth of his fellow Duskwalkers and reduced his form to blend in with mere humans. You maimed yourself to keep from being destroyed. I held up my hand with its two opposable thumbs and between them four long delicate fingers. My eyes regarded the proper shape he had hidden from the beginning. The reflection in my mother's mirror revealed the bright violet eyes, slit cat-like pupils, and the symmetry only the K'Ta'Viiri may possess.
"Not alone," the voice whispered. "You are not alone, Duskwalker."
I woke covered in sweat and the fading viridian light leaving my room dim and painted with weak starlight. It took splashing water on my face to drive the last of the afterimages from my retina and thoughts.
"Someone has been keeping secrets," I said as I brought Left up to eye level. "You were, or are, a Duskwalker. Which is it?"
"Correction Booker, we are a Duskwalker," Left laughed as he winked at me from the palm of our shared limb. "My DNA has crept into you while those clever nanites worked their magic. My superior genetics aided in your survival. You would have died if it wasn't for me."
"Thank you," I said with no hint of anger or regret. "I owe my continued existence to you."
"I am thankful for your generosity and letting me remain," Left said without pride or malice. "I am not the being I was in my youth."
"We all change," I said. "Kadaena was something, eh."
"You are bold," Left snapped, and then his tone softened. "Yes, she was my universe." A mental image of the would-be goddess blazed in our shared collective. How do you describe perfection? I recalled the mountain-sized deity I had encountered early on during the Disney princess storyline. I had gotten up close and personal with her. Left's hunger for this woman had diminished little over the millennia. If it were physical beauty, I understood his passion. Her charisma was not limited to physicality. Oh no, she was intelligent, cunning, and entirely without remorse. Kadaena was a Warmaster, tactician, and a psion of unfathomable power. I remembered the dream where she ripped the heart out of a colossal blue star and hurled it at a planet. Fuck the Death Star. Kadaena was a world-ending threat. I stood on my balcony and looked up.
