by Jim Roberts
He pushed the elevator button for the penthouse suite. Arriving, he stepped off into a much different floor compared to the one directly below. Designed with an eye for extravagance, the penthouse was expensively decorated with elaborate murals spread across the walls. A corridor split the floor, separating the two massive suites located on either side of one another. Titus had the one on his left, while Vorena had taken the one on the right.
At the elevator entrance, two Centurion troopers stood guard—armed with FN 2000 assault rifles. They saluted as Titus marched through the corridor toward Vorena’s suite.
He noticed her door was guarded, not by powerful Praetorians or Centurions, but by a diminutive woman with horrible scars across her head. Claudia sat perfectly still in a chair beside the suite entrance, swaddled in her black cloak.
As Titus approached the suite, there was a loud crash from behind the door. He started at the sound, putting his hand to the .50 Desert Eagle strapped to his thigh.
“What the hell is going on in there?” he asked Claudia. There was another smashing sound inside the suite, followed by a scream of rage.
“The mistress is angry,” Claudia said, simply. She looked up at Titus, meeting his gaze with her own red-tinged irises.
“Why? What happened?” Titus asked. He was nervous about even talking to Claudia ever since she’d invaded his mind that day in the streets.
“There was a defeat,” Claudia murmured, “The Secutors have failed again.”
Titus felt his gut clench, “What? How? When?”
“The mistress will explain everything to you.”
Creepy bitch.
Titus shook his head and went to knock on the door.
Claudia spoke, “You are attracted to the mistress, aren’t you?”
Titus froze. “What? How did—”
“I saw it when I looked into your mind.”
“You’re wrong, I care nothing for her.”
“You’re lying. She excites you.”
Titus felt his temper flare, “Shut up! Do you even know who you’re speaking to?”
“The mistress wants you as well.”
Titus felt the rebuke he’d prepared die on his tongue.
Claudia curled up on the chair and closed her eyes. “I must rest. There isn’t much longer now.”
Wanting to get as far from the twisted Siren as possible, Titus opened the door and stepped into Vorena’s suite—
—just in time to duck a priceless jade sculpture thrown at his head. The piece shattered against the wall beside him.
Titus saw the room—once a beautifully furnished suite worth millions—had been reduced to rubble. Vorena must have been going for a while, as every piece of furniture was either smashed or overturned. A beautiful grand piano positioned close to the balcony door had been damaged in several places.
The destruction was still ongoing. Titus saw Vorena—her blonde hair swirling like strands of pale fire—let out a howl of rage as she broke apart several more priceless trinkets.
“Vorena, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Titus asked, still amazed at the damage done to the room.
“Get out!” Vorena screamed.
“No.”
“I said get out!” she lifted a vase from the floor and flung it straight for Titus. He threw his arm out and swatted it away to dash against the window. Titus could see streams of tears pouring from the Siren’s eyes. Before she could lift another piece of furniture, Titus rushed forward and grappled her arms to her sides.
“Listen, damn it! Tell me what happened.”
“My Fausta…she’s dead!”
“Tell me how. How do you know?”
“They killed her. The Peacemakers killed her!”
She broke out of his grip, sobbing. She slumped onto a couch, covering her face from him. Titus was confused by the show of emotion, especially coming from a woman who had only a day earlier beaten to death one of her own female soldiers.
“The Peacemakers—” Titus repeated, “Listen…get a grip and tell me what happened.”
Vorena took several breaths before speaking, “The Secutors had followed your man into the cloud forest. This man—this Braddock—killed dozens of my soldiers and…Agrippina killed my Fausta.”
“Agrippina?” Titus asked, surprised, “You mean she’s working with the Peacemakers?”
“Yes, you idiot! They fought in a ravine. Fausta was close to killing them all, but Agrippina…cut her head off.”
Damn, thought Titus, amused. The traitorous assassin bitch was full of surprises. “What about Curtis Walker? Did they at least find out where he was leading them?”
“Who knows? Who fucking cares! What are you going to do about the Peacemakers?”
“What do you expect me to do? This is your command.”
“Not anymore. The Imperator relieved me an hour ago. Two failures are too many. You are now the Commander of the Venezuelan task force.”
Titus was not expecting that. His heart momentarily swelled at the thought that his father believed him ready for another chance to regain his trust.
Vorena stood up from the couch, her face hardening as her tears dried. “I’m asking you, Titus, Secondus. Give me vengeance. Hunt down the Peacemakers. Kill them for me, please.”
He looked into her grief-stricken face. Titus wanted to say yes, but he knew the PMC was spread too thin already. He would soon need to allocate additional resources to help move the drone army from Sledge’s facility. Lennox would have to wait and the Peacemakers with him.
“No…” Titus answered, “Not yet. Sledge is more important for the time being. We need to make sure the transfer of the drone army is completed.”
Vorena’s face turned red with rage, “So your own ambition comes before justice to our fallen comrades?”
“No, I just meant—”
Vorena’s face twisted in anger. “I ask for vengeance for our Olympus brethren and this is your answer. I thought you were more of a man than this. Instead, you’re just a coward!”
Titus felt his blood boil. “Be careful, Vorena.”
“Why? You’re just a pathetic child. A freak masquerading as a leader to please a father who cares nothing for him!”
“Shut up!”
“Just a poor little boy, lost in a big world.”
He snapped. Thrusting his arm out, Titus slapped Vorena full across the face. A small trickle of blood dripped down from her mouth. She placed a finger on her lip, dabbing at the wound. Titus felt the rage recede as he realized what he’d done.
Vorena looked at him, the anger gone from her eyes, replaced now with a strange, drunk look.
“Fuck me,” Vorena said.
“What?”
“You want to fuck me, don’t you?”
“I…”
“You want to. I know it. You have since I met you. You think you’re such a tough man. Prove it.”
Titus was completely taken aback by Vorena’s bizarre behavior. There was something animalistic in her eyes now—a lust he’d not seen in the demure woman since they’d met several days past. He was about to turn away—get out of there before he made a mistake, but he realized he didn’t want too. She was right—he wanted her…desired her more than any woman he’d ever known. Her sensuous body—perfectly toned and curved—had frequented his thoughts daily. Her demanding words turned him on in a way he almost couldn’t imagine.
But why would she want me? I’m a monster...
Vorena reached up, placing her hands on the mask. Titus stopped her, gripping the woman by the wrists.
“It’s only flesh, my Secondus,” she said, firmly.
Titus dropped his hands as Vorena removed the helmet. She looked for the first time on his scorched face.
“You’re a mess,” she said, a smile arching across her face, “But…I don’t fucking care.”
Titus felt his desire overtake him. Her body was in his arms before anything more could be said. He hadn’t had a woman since the explosion
had scorching him a year ago. Ever since then, he’d known only one desire—to find and kill Joe Braddock. But now his mind was consumed with this inscrutable woman who excited him to no end.
Vorena pressed her lips to Titus’s, not minding the intense scarring.
“They took my Fausta from me,” she said, pulling back for a moment, “I want you to make me feel alive again.”
Titus didn’t need to be asked twice.
* * *
They lay naked on the carpet next to the damaged coffee table. The sex had been fantastic; as if everything was in unison between them. The war outside could have been a thousand miles away for all it had mattered in that incredible half hour. The first go around had been intense…urgent, with both of them rushing toward a maddeningly enjoyable climax. The second time was more measured and deliberate, but no less fierce. The fury of their lovemaking was only matched by Titus’s anger for not doing this sooner.
Vorena was nestled under his arm, her soft body pressed tightly against his own, heedless of the roadmap of scar tissue covering his torso.
“Care to explain?” Titus asked.
Vorena frowned, “Explain what?”
“The way you were acting back there. What was that?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Vorena stood to her feet, collecting her clothing. Her nakedness was even more enticing to Titus as he watched her.
“Is this a game to you?” he asked, standing up and pulling on his own jumpsuit.
“Everything is a game,” she said, buckling her rynohyde body armor back on, “You either play or you die—simple isn’t it?”
Titus reached out and grasped her hand, “Stop this, Vorena.”
The woman, still half undressed, pulled her hand away, “You are the commander now, my Secondus. We both owe a blood debt to this Joe Braddock and his Peacemakers. Promise me you will end both him and that bitch Agrippina for what they did to my Fausta.”
Titus touched her face, “I promise. I will give you their hearts on plates before this war is finished.”
A beeping sound came from Titus’s PDA. Quickly pulling on the rest of his armor, he answered the palm-sized device.
An image of Falco appeared on the screen.
“Where the hell have you been?” Titus barked into the small handheld device.
“I apologize, Secondus,” Falco’s visage spoke flatly, “but I was called back to the Titan to put together an important mission.”
“A mission? For who?”
“Tiberius.”
Titus felt his anger boil up again. “Tell me everything.”
“We’ve located Jackson Walsh. A source close to the General has informed us he’s on board the Nimitz-class aircraft carrier off the coast of Venezuela.”
“How do you know that?”
Falco ignored the question, “Tiberius wants Walsh captured at any cost.”
Titus felt his mouth go dry, “You’re going to attack a US aircraft carrier. Are you insane?”
“I am merely following orders. But this isn’t why I contacted you, my Secondus. The inside source also told us of an attempt by the Peacemakers to locate Sledge’s drone facility.”
Fuck.
Titus gritted his teeth, his mind racing. How did they know about Sledge and the drone army?
“Falco, I need you back here now.”
“I am truly sorry, my Lord. I have my orders. Once I have captured the General, I am to bring him to Corvo Tower, where you and the Sirens shall interrogate him. The Imperator wants this matter to be dealt with only by high-level members of Olympus. Be ready. Falco out.”
“Dammit!” Titus shouted, throwing his PDA as hard as possible. The device hit the plexiglass window surrounding the suite and broke apart.
Vorena spoke, “Looks like we have a long night ahead of us. What are you going to do?”
“What can I do?” Titus said, his frustration apparent, “Capturing Walsh can net us the Code of War and Tiberius will take all the glory. But if the Peacemakers know about the drone facility, how long before they compromise my deal with Sledge?”
“No one ever said command was easy,” said Vorena, watching as Titus replaced his obsidian mask, “If you are to survive in this game, you need to choose your battles.”
“I’ve been ordered to stay here and await Falco to bring Walsh to me. I can’t be in two places at once.”
“Then I’ll go to the Drone facility.”
“You?”
Vorena nodded, “I’ll make sure the area is fortified against an attack. You stay here and wait for Falco. Claudia shall stay as well. If Walsh knows the location of the Code, she will wring it out of him.”
Titus went over her words in his mind. Her plan made sense. All it required was for him to trust her and he was unsure if he did. Sure they’d made love, but it was simply a physical act. He still knew practically nothing about Vorena and couldn’t even be sure if she was manipulating him somehow.
But if he didn’t trust somebody, his entire plan would go down in flames. The Peacemakers would foul up his deal with Sledge and Tiberius would have all the excuse in the world to declare to the Imperator that Titus was unfit to lead the Brotherhood.
No.
That would not happen, not now or ever.
“Alright,” he said at length, “Take three squads of Centurions and add them to the defenses. Make sure Sledge fulfills his side of the bargain.”
Vorena nodded, “I won’t be long from your side, my Secondus.” She placed her hands on his chest, tracing them along his body.
Titus touched her face gently where he’d struck her. “I’m sorry about this.”
“You are under great strain, my Secondus. But know that if you ever strike me again—” her eyes glinted with unkempt fire, “—I will cut your eyeballs out and suck them dry.”
With nothing else to say, Vorena tossed her blonde hair and left the suite, closing the door after her. Titus exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He stood there for a time, looking out the windows as the rain poured down on the beleaguered city of Caracas.
I’ve built a house of cards, he thought to himself. One wrong breath and it all comes tumbling down.
Chapter 20
The Vagabonds
Puerto Cabello Industrial Zone, Venezuela, October 6th
AS BRICK Reynolds and his small team of operators moved through the dense jungle surrounding the Sledge Dynamics Industrial zone, he wondered if God truly enjoyed pissing on his day. The rain hadn’t let up for the entire two hours since they’d deployed via Sikorsky SH-60 Seahawk in a small clearing four miles west of their current position. The hike to get here had required traversing a brutal forest thick with choking vines and roots that threatened to trip a man to a broken ankle.
Still, Brick Reynolds was having the time of his life.
It felt good to get back in the field. The past few months of sitting at a desk in his official capacity as heir apparent to the Peacemaker Corps had become stifling to the veteran one-time SAS soldier. He craved the crispness of the field, to truly lead men into battle first hand.
Well, his wish had been granted and then some.
Brick’s mission this time, was simple—recon the Sledge Dynamics Industrial complexes for any sign of Olympus activity. By his reckoning, they were a few minutes from the first refinery on his checklist of targets. Sledge had over a dozen facilities clumped together in a mini community that made up his primary source of industry within Venezuela. They would have to check them all first hand for any proof that Sledge was, in fact, dealing with Olympus.
He’d chosen a small team for this mission—only three Peacemaker Operators. The first was Derrin ‘Gator’ Johnson, a handsome go-to Army grunt with a chip on his broad shoulders. Next was Mike ‘Buddy’ Rafelson, a friendly Texan homeboy who clutched a suppressed M4 carbine in his steady hands. And finally, Teresa ‘Rabbit’ Michaels, a highly motivated lady warrior from New York state. She and Gator had equipped FN SCAR r
ifles, also with suppressors. Each Peacemaker specialist was kitted with DPM fatigues to blend better with the heavy foliage.
Brick himself had chosen his signature weapon: a DSA SA58 FAL Carbine fitted with a YHM muzzle flash suppressor. The gun had a habit of being gassy when fired, due to a design flaw between the receiver and the Picatinny Rail system. A simple bit of duct tape solved that problem just fine. It had been his preferred weapon while serving in the Iraq War and it could handle anything one would need a trusty rifle for.
Hopefully, there would be no use for any of their weapons.
This was a recon mission only.
It was a good ten minutes of hard hiking before they reached the first target—an oil refinery nestled in the corner of the sprawling industrial region. Coming to the edge of the tree line, Brick pushed the assortment of vines and brambles aside to take a good look with his binoculars. Rain splashed against a log to his side, spraying water onto the lens. Grumbling under his breath, he wiped them off and continued his observation.
Gator sat himself down beside the Lieutenant, peering at the installation. Rabbit and Buddy took guard positions behind them, watching the jungle for any tangos.
“Lieutenant, what exactly is it we’re looking for?” Gator asked. The man was chewing a piece of gum, a habit that seriously annoyed the gung-ho Brick.
“Anything that might implicate Damien Sledge with Olympus.”
Gator frowned, “Why not send a Predator drone to scout this place out?”
“Because, Specialist, if Olympus is in any way involved, they will have anti-drone technology set up to find anything suspicious in the skies. We’ve seen it before. Down here, we’re simply observers taking a look see.”
“Right sir, of course, sir. Didn’t think of that, sir.”
Brick sighed. Gator was a good soldier, but the man had an annoyance quota per day and he obviously hadn’t filled it yet. As Gator blew another bubble with his gum, Brick reached over, stuck his fingers into the man’s mouth and yanked the piece of candy out.