Echoes: The Ten Sigma Series Book 3

by A W Wang

  Jinn’s judgmental stare blazes from across the semicircle.

  Uneasy with the scumbag’s sanctimonious attention, I purse my lips, but when her eyes linger, I reply, “Thanks, you too.”

  She grabs my hand. “We’ve planned enough. Let’s make today the day.”

  Uncertain about my willingness to go through with the charade, I return a nod.

  Chew pops in and saves any further awkwardness by starting the debrief.

  Although barely paying attention, I find my score has increased to 4.92, while Cat’s reaches five and a half.

  As the monotonous words near their conclusion, Cat squeezes my fingers, and I raise my hand. “Cat and I would like to speak privately after you dismiss everybody.”

  The dragon nods with a huff of cinnamon incense. When the speech finishes, the golden sparkles remove the rest of the team, leaving only Cat and me in the semicircle.

  Chew descends to our eye level, keeping her body coiled, and positions herself in front of us. “How may I help you?”

  “Can you perform a wedding?” I ask.

  “The information is available.”

  Cat leans against my shoulder. “We’re making up a wedding story, and we’d like you to do the ceremony.”

  The ruby eyes pulsate before she says, “Very well, when would you like to do this?”

  “Now,” Cat says.

  “On the sunburst circle in the Oriental Garden,” I add.

  A moment later, we stand on the blue sunburst. Surprisingly, our timing is just right with low orange rays from the setting sun creating the perfect lighting.

  As a breeze rises, Cat releases my hand. “Hold on, I have to do a few things.”

  While she dashes into the long finger-like shadows outside the circle, I think of my old teammate Cheri and shout, “Hurry up. The lighting’s perfect.”

  “She’s taking this pretty seriously,” a voice says from inside my head.

  Somewhat shocked, I reply to internal me, “It’s been a while. What have you been doing?”

  “I’ve been around, but you didn’t seem interested in listening to anything I had to say.”

  “You’re stuck in my head. It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

  “Did you miss me?”

  “Are you the woman with the red mane?”

  “Do you think I’m a goddess?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If you don’t know, how would I? But, I think she’d be someone you’d remember meeting.”

  “Not if she’s from my real-world memories.”

  “Nobody in the real world looks like that.”

  I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, not understanding how the woman with the red mane fits into everything.

  A few moments pass before Cat returns, and I drag my thoughts back to reality, saying, “The light’s almost gone.”

  A loud slap comes as Cat smacks my arm.

  “Ow,” I yelp.

  “We’re only doing this once, so let’s do it right.”

  Afraid that any attempt at humor, especially mine, would worsen the situation, I reply with a meek nod.

  Cat reaches around my neck, tying a vine that’s been stripped of leaves into a loose version of a bow tie. “Not exact, but we’ll just have to imagine that’s part of your tuxedo,” she says, slipping on a necklace of white flowers.

  I smile.

  “Here,” she says and places a tightly wound stem in my hand. “This is the ring you put on my finger. I have one for you too.”

  My expression flattens. She’s being more serious than I could have imagined.

  Chew huffs a flower-scented breath. “Now that everything is in place, shall we begin?”

  “Yes, please,” Cat replies.

  We take our positions, much like that day before the scenarios began with Saya playing the minister and Cheri acting as…

  I shake my head; I’m not even sure whose memory we were recreating.

  As Chew begins the oration, Cat and I hold hands, facing each other.

  A pop comes, and I flick my eyes toward the edge of the circle where orange sunlight glints against silver. It’s Haiku.

  Cat murmurs, “Imagine your family and all your friends in the crowd. They’re really happy.”

  I try to visualize my parents but can only picture my long-dead teammate Gil sitting on one of the benches. As anger washes up my hollow insides, I repeat my mantra about loving parents, romance, and love. All to produce this moment of marrying my teenage crush…

  Chew turns to Cat. “Do you take this man to be your husband? To live together in the blessed state of marriage? To love, comfort, and honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and to forsake all others and be faithful to each other for as long as you both shall live?”

  Cat looks me in the eyes and says, “I will.”

  As Chew recites my vows, my gaze wanders back to the silver avatar. Despite the flatness of her expression, I can’t help but imagine disappointment coming from her silver eyes.

  “Vic?” Cat says.

  “I will,” I blurt, trying to avoid another slap.

  “Since there is nobody to give either of you away, I shall skip that part,” Chew says, breaking the mood.

  Cat glares at the dragon while I nod.

  “Will all those present be witnesses to this ceremony and do all in your power to have these two persons uphold their vows?”

  Haiku remains silent.

  “We shall now move forward to the blessing and exchange of rings.”

  As Chew continues, Cat and I push the tied stems over each other’s fingers. I force a smile to match hers.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  Like Cheri so long ago, Cat looks up, her face catching the final rays of sunlight. She looks beautiful, and the depth of emotion in her eyes matches that of Cheri’s performance.

  “Oh, it’s not exactly the same.”

  I blink in understanding. Cat isn’t acting; this is real to her.

  As she leans up for the kiss, the glittering form of Haiku disappears with a faint pop.

  More than a little self-conscious, I peck Cat on the lips and say, “I guess we’re like a married couple now, just without the sex.”

  Rather than answering, she furrows her brows, lost in thought.

  Forty-Five

  Torchlight glimmers on a raised bronze dagger. An instant later, the decorated blade rushes at my face.

  I stop the attack with a two-handed block. When my opponent, a tall man in a red Egyptian tunic, pushes downward, I grunt, shifting position and pushing the gleaming metal past my cheek.

  The move is successful, but the point digs into my shoulder before I twist and smash the man’s hand against the stone wall.

  As the dagger thuds into soft earth, I launch my fist into his throat.

  While he gags, I draw a slim knife and stab into his gut, pushing underneath and sending the tip into his chest cavity.

  His muscles spasm, and he collapses at my feet.

  Nearby and dressed in yellow, Cat stands above another body from the red team. The rest of the dim corridor lies still.

  “Which way?” I ask, leaning down and wiping my bloody knife on the dead AI’s tunic. “Everything looks the same.”

  Bathed in flickering torchlight, she wipes a mixture of sweat, blood, and oily smoke from her face. As she turns, trying to get her bearings, I wipe my cheeks, realizing I’m splattered with the same foul mixture.

  Now that the initial pandemonium of this contest has passed, things have fallen into an eerie quiet. Unlike most other goals which require some form of death, this scenario is a race to find an obelisk in this ancient temple of endless stone corridors.

  Although, of course, killing an enemy or two in the process would still be considered a positive.

  Cat’s bare feet tread silently as she finds her bearings and heads to the next intersection. When she nears the corner, a torch jitters from a gentle breeze. She points. “This way.
”

  Unsure of how she can sense direction in this nutty, darkened maze, I ready my knife and follow her down another hallway lined with torches jutting from giant stone blocks. A few steps later, the air freshens. After two more turns, a light appears at the end of the tunnel.

  Cat hurries. “Come on, it’s just ahead.”

  I increase my pace, staying close enough to protect her.

  A few seconds later, we dash through a colorful archway and enter a circular expanse resting under a cloudless sky. Curved stones, covered with simple, repeated hieroglyphs, form the high surrounding wall. The scenario goal, a ten-meter-tall, octagonal obelisk with a different Egyptian god painted on each face, sits in the center.

  Fortunately, we only need to touch any part of it, not the top.

  Happy for the easy win, I step forward to end another successful mission.

  Cat grabs my arm. “Wait.”

  I arch an eyebrow.

  She says, “I told you I wanted to do something special for our twentieth scenario together.”

  More than a little puzzled, I watch her step to the entranceway and study the side columns.

  After a minute, she jams her dagger into an open slot, and heavy doors slide closed, sealing the secluded space.

  “How did you know how to do that?”

  “It’s the repetition you discovered in the maps. A lot of Egyptian battles are in the black threads. One has a last stand in this location.”

  I nod and shrug simultaneously, understanding the words without understanding why we’re having this conversation.

  She gives an easy smile and walks to me. “Don’t you get it?”

  “No, let’s just touch the thing and get out of here.”

  “Vic, we’re alone in a scenario. Nobody can disturb us now.”

  No answer fills my blank mind.

  “Men!” she says, throwing up her hands. “Of course, you don’t understand. This is our twentieth scenario together, and since twenty is a proper number, I want to celebrate by doing something special.”

  “It’s just us. What can we do?”

  She steps close enough for me to feel her breath. “Instead of making up a story, let’s do one for real.”

  I roll my shoulder from habit, enjoying the discomfort from the mild injury. Then I brush my fingers over her red-spattered and black-smeared cheeks. “What you’ve got in mind won’t work.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what happened with you and Jet. If she could get you excited by being really vicious, then a violent environment could also be a catalyst.” She runs a fingertip over my grimy cheek and holds it up. “Like here and now, with just a little blood.”

  She pushes up and kisses me. This gesture is more than relief from surviving the last scenario with Jet and Block. It’s laced with innuendo.

  After she pulls away, I say, “Cat—”

  Her fingers push over my lips. “Don’t talk. Just be in the moment. I want this. I need this.”

  Without allowing a moment’s pause, she reaches to the collar of my tunic and rips the coarse material off. Her hands run down my chest, and she pushes me toward the closest wall.

  I gasp as the cool stones touch my back.

  She yanks off my loincloth.

  Completely naked, I reach to help her out of her clothing.

  She slaps my hands aside and thrusts her body into mine, launching another passionate kiss.

  I respond as best as I can, pretending to enjoy the act.

  When she reaches down, my penis is flaccid. Before I can open my mouth, she says, “Stay quiet. Just concentrate on the blood and the fighting. Concentrate on being with me. This will be our story, one we’ll talk about for the rest of our time here.”

  My eyes focus on hers as she uses her fingers to stimulate me. When nothing happens, she wraps her hand around it and tugs harder. “I know this will work,” she mumbles.

  Nervous but too afraid to say anything, I push myself to stay in the moment, struggling to find something that could excite me.

  She leans up, pushing her tongue deep into my mouth.

  Although the invasion distracts more than anything, I push my tongue back against hers, attempting to respond with passion.

  No sparks of desire come from the mechanical actions.

  Anger rests in her eyes when she steps backward. A moment later, her tunic and undergarments flop to the stone tiles. Then bare skin rubs on bare skin as she again presses her lips against mine.

  We’re both completely nude, I think logically.

  After another minute, her fingernails dig into my penis.

  I grimace.

  “Just concentrate,” she says, pouring hot breaths over my face.

  “I’m trying.”

  “Do whatever it takes.”

  Her thumb caresses my wound, and I groan, more from surprise than actual pain. When she wipes the blood over her mouth and kisses me, I tighten my lips, not wanting anything to do with the metallic taste.

  A second later, she sinks to her knees.

  Warmth engulfs me.

  I moan, not from any pleasure, but from the sense I should be acting excited. As she tightens her cheeks and bobs her head, I close my eyes, trying to imagine anything that would be arousing.

  After several uneventful moments pass, she uses her tongue creatively.

  The new motions do nothing, except intensifying the shame from being flaccid.

  In her desperate search for a reaction, she scrapes her teeth over my length.

  My eyes pop open.

  From the obelisk, the painted countenance of the sun god Ra stares with unhappiness.

  Inadequate.

  The word first spoken by the overlords when I entered the universe again echoes through my head.

  Furious with their contempt, I look down. Even with the streaks of blood and black soot covering her face, Cat’s exceedingly attractive, perhaps even beautiful. This would be an amazing sight at any time or in any place outside of this insane program. I sigh in frustration.

  Cat pulls off me. “This worked for Jet, right? What’s she got that I haven’t?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Did you lie to me?”

  “Of course, I didn’t. This just isn’t going to work.”

  She shakes her head. “This is going to happen, Vic. Or are you going to embarrass me?” Her mouth moves back over the limp organ.

  Nervousness creeps into my guilt. I can’t let her down.

  As Cat slurps to add sexy noises to the act, I search through my memories for anything that will work.

  Nothing.

  My anger blows through the clouds of frustration.

  I will prove them all wrong.

  Jet, the source of my current troubles, pops into my thoughts. The unique, innocent, crazy, beautiful, backstabbing, Jet. I imagine giving into her demands and taking her virginal body.

  I lick my lips, enjoying the blood from Cat’s last kiss.

  A dark desire rises.

  I visualize ripping Jet’s clothing off in the museum. When she’s naked, I force her to the ground and slap her across the face.

  Heat spills into my groin.

  Startled by the physical reaction, I realize Cat’s right. Somehow, someway, in this place away from the citric scents and calming atmosphere of the sanctuary, thoughts of sex are working.

  Violence is the way…

  I smack Jet’s writhing body across her chest, my fingers leaving red marks over her flawless breasts.

  Her sparkling green eyes bulge as my hand squeezes her throat.

  Yes, hurt her. Make her feel pain. I backhand her face, drawing blood by splitting her lip. She smiles from the cruelty. As maroon drips down her chin, I wipe it off with my thumb and draw lines of blood on my cheeks and down my chin.

  I look down, enjoying the smears of red and black over Cat’s face and the sensation of being buried in her mouth. The lust of defiling the rest of her virginal body overpowers my last resistance, and I reac
h down, grabbing her head. My grip tightens as I hold her in place, forcing her to match my rhythm.

  A stifled moan of pleasure comes from her throat.

  My excitement rises when she rolls her eyes to me, begging for air.

  I push in further. Soon, I’m erect and throbbing. I pull back when she shudders for breath.

  As she gasps, the violent thoughts again take over, and I shove myself forward, enjoying her helplessness.

  My fingers tighten, and the muscles of my forearm flex.

  I stare at the smooth skin.

  In bloody letters, “RED MANE” should be cut there.

  The woman with the red mane is my true goal. She’s the one I have to find. Everything else—the blood, the soot, the fantasies of Jet, and especially what I’m doing with Cat—is wrong.

  Cat reaches behind her head, grabbing my hands and pulling them off her. “Why are you stopping?”

  My erection fades.

  “Go back to whatever you were thinking of,” she says in a pleading tone.

  “I can’t do this.”

  Her shoulders slouch into a demur posture. “Please, I need this. We’ve fought together, been wounded together…”

  “I’m sorry. This isn’t right.”

  “We’re married.”

  My voice rises in frustration. “That’s just a story we acted out. None of that was real.” I hold up my hands and gesture at the surroundings. “None of this is real.”

  “Vic—”

  I step to the side, hating myself, and push past her.

  “Get back here!”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I say, “Cat, we’ll be friends, but I can’t give you more than that. I have to find the woman with the red mane.”

  The facade she’s crafted with so much care crumbles, and her face contorts in rage. “That’s nonsense,” she screams. “She’s not even here anymore. Why can’t you let go?”

  My pace slows, but I keep walking because I don’t have the answer. However, I know my destiny leads to the woman with the red mane.

  “Don’t you touch that thing, Vic. Come back here.”

  Like me, the Ten Sigma Program has brought out the worst in Cat. Maybe it brings out the worst in everyone. But, I sadly admit to myself, those horrible traits have always been a part of us.

  When I slam my hand against the painted-face of Ra, a curse leaps from her mouth.