by Isaac Nasri
It couldn’t make sense for Delgado not to know Eva’s whereabouts when the latter defected a few days before his PMC struck. Bringing Ottoman’s true intentions to light, Soriana couldn’t afford to let Eva slide with the other cyborgs to incite their imminent insurrection. Not when the Jaguars of Apollo have found access in their parent nation. “We…we may be missing—”
“Yes,” he cuts off. “But that’s another inevitable consequence. All non-Virtual agents must refrain from travel or action outside the US at this point. No need to pressure the operative. His Virtual Network won’t give you the direct intel to whom you’re looking for.” Pause falls for a few seconds, much to Soriana’s dismay. “Don’t be indecisive, Salazar—”
Soriana turns off the recorder quickly without further debate. She bites her lips, irate, and her hand leans on the table. She glares once again at Delgado.
You left me with no choice then, Wayne.
Grabbing the bag at hand, Soriana bustles the door leading to the room across. Her eyes kindle with fury. She was far from done with Delgado. Not by a slight chance. With Nikolai out of view, nothing was going to hold her from what she bent to jab at him. For every affront splashed at her in this cabin, her fingers were twitching.
Entering the small dark area, she takes a moment of brief silence before saying begrudgingly, “Let’s get comfortable, Delgado. For your information, I’ll brief you on this. Virtual was a trusted friend of mine in the CIA. I was her CO.”
Delgado laughs under his breath. “What a shame. You must be the WORST friend she’s ever had—”
Her foot thrusts at the door, and it swings violently. Soriana rushes hastily inside the room, dropping the bag on the table. She unzips the bag, preparing for what’s about to come. Her fingers fold into a knuckle.
“You’re wasting your breath, Salazar,” Delgado criticizes. “Playing devil’s advocate while mending with the agents you’ve slandered will NOT be forgiven—”
Soriana swats him, and an ounce of blood splashes on the table. She presses her arm toward his chin, bending Delgado’s head. She heaves in exasperation.
“I want to let you know. You know NOTHING about me,” the officer admonishes furiously. Her eyes flash without a blink. Streaks of her hair swing over her eye as she stands over the prisoner. “Or our friendship. Two, don’t ever speak for my family, ever. My father was almost a dead man to the regime.”
“Words mean nothing,” Delgado bares his blood-stained teeth, chortling behind the bandaged mask. “You can’t win.”
Her eyes squint, and the air in her drops. Without looking, she reaches her hand inside the bag. The last device circles in her grasp.
“Too bad.”
Soon as she says this is the moment Soriana plows Delgado’s temple against the table. He groans loudly as his head squirms to her grasp. Raising the sedative block, the officer plunges the device onto the cyborg’s neck, and the block highlights on the skin. Delgado’s pupils turn inert like ice, and his head slumps in a drunken state.
The temperature in the room decreases, washing away the color on her face as she gazes at the soporific cyborg. Soriana’s bones begin to ache, feeling the rush of apprehension and dismay return in a heartbeat until a lightbulb sparks in her head. Despite her askance, Soriana realizes that Wayne was halfway right. What if she doesn’t need Delgado to find Eva? Then the idea rears its head, shining light past her trepidation.
Guess I need to get my hands on one of the big drones somewhere. Here we go.
Retrieving her bag, Soriana’s ample eyes glower at the cyborg one last time as she brushes from the room. Soon her phone buzzes in her pocket. Raising an eyebrow, the human reaches for the phone. What she witnesses on display comes at her like the deadliest stab in the abdomen.
EMERGENCY WARNING: MASSACHUSETTS DEMOLISHED TO DIRECT ENERGY DETONATION AMIDST JAGUARS OF APOLLO STRIKE. THREAT LEVELS HIGH NATIONWIDE.
Chapter 18
The dojo’s gust brushes at Eva’s skin as she stands with the sword at hand. Fire kindles on the row of torches, and auric statues stands in asperity behind the shadows. The untamed hardy cats rest each of their paws on round shoulders, and their eyes fixate at the lone agent as if fluctuating whether to strike or spectate on what’s on display. Drawing away from the sheath, the longsword’s crimson surface gleams, illuminating like a coral landscape at her face.
The sheath drops. The turrets turn clockwise, honing at her spot delicately. Unmoved, Eva levels the katana in a vertical position, at the midline of her nose. Her hair is wrapped in a ponytail, and a curly streak conceals the right side of her face. Rogue soldiers with RPGs corner the agent, but her focus remains unswerving on the sword. Once hardened with pure carbon steel was now synergized with the might of infernium, one of the rarest new elements ever mined on this earth. Its former identity of itself now morphed into a form she’s in unison with. A faint ringing slithers into her ear like a drop of water, and Eva breathes.
Eva twists her hilt, and the first turret belches fire. She wields her Neo-Oni, and the beast servers upon contact. Hell storms as soldiers charge, followed by retaliatory fire. The second fire misses past her shoulder, blinding her in smoke. However, her vision ignites, and Eva gyrates, splitting the katana past the soldier’s rib. She eyes another one charging, but she locks him by the throat, plunging the blade into the soldier’s heart. The enemy’s body disintegrates, and a rocket zooms in.
Air flees from her as she deflects the blow, and the impact pushes her like recoil. Cannons roar at her without pause, but she continues to spin her sword rapidly. The sword’s surface ignites with each blow coming her way, and the combustion splits past the Neo-Oni. Her foot skids backward on the ground, and her grounding shatters. She pants until a scorching beam hones toward her. Time dims, and she raises her katana, shielding against it.
Her eyelashes shine to the plasma searing upon the Neo-Oni. Eva’s grasp on the handle grows torrid as she stalks sideways, maintaining her level on the blade, and sparks spit near her cheeks. Breaking the pressure, the cyborg brings down her sword, redirecting the plasma’s direction, and the beam tears at the ground.
She flips sideways, and upon reaching stance, she slashes her radiating katana. The blazing scar unleashes from the Neo-Oni like a boomerang, lashing through the turrets and RPGs. A tangerine aura kindles before fainting back to normal. Blue particles pervade in the dojo, and the sword’s torrid vapor excites her nostrils. The Neo-Oni’s radiance diminishes in seconds. She straightens the black strap underneath her pallid tank top as she stalks toward her sheath. It’s been a while she’s ever embraced the exquisiteness of a dojo; before graduating from Georgetown University thirteen years ago, Eva would carry her steely katana forward, whirling it in the thin air. The lamp’s particles rained gently upon her like fireflies in the nocturnal field.
Eva reaches a hand to the tie on her hair. Before she can reach her sheath, she jerks to vibrations in her neural interface.
“How you’re so agile?”
The Virtual strips away her ponytail, letting her straight hair blossom with liberation. She freezes to see a strikingly familiar contractor standing. The visor on his helm erases away, betraying a darkish olive skin and a glinting azure pupil fixated on his left slanted eye. His beardless face resembled him be close to his late twenties. If it weren’t for Eva having her neural interface programmed into the Jaguars of Apollo’s Virtual Network, she would’ve been oblivious to such a surprise.
“Hello…”
“Interrupted you the second time, didn’t I?” His cheeks blush. The contractor’s voice rings in the capacious studio, and the blaze roaring in the torches dance.
Eva levels her Neo-Oni downward, scanning the edges as she twirls it sideways. Her reflection reveals the sword’s surface. “It…goes back—” A snap breaks her previous thought, and she meets his gaze. “I didn’t get to introduce myself yesterday.”
A croak booms above the two. However, barely startled, the contractor lo
oks over to see a brown falcon gliding. The bird lands base at the cyborg’s shoulder. His azure eye twinkles as he beckons toward his pet, plucking a seed out of his hand. Warmth hits Eva’s heart.
“Pardon,” he states, smiling cordially toward Eva. His bird catches the seed, breaking and gobbling it with its beak. “Hai Chin.”
“Oh.” She returns the smile, despite the diffident. “It’s…Eva Moreci.”
“Right here’s Felix.” Hai gestures toward his falcon. Felix shakes his head. “Felix?”
Eva blushes upon Hai, nearing his pet toward her. The Virtual kneels halfway, meeting the bird’s eyes and chirping amicably toward Felix.
“How are you there?” she says, approaching a finger toward the falcon’s head delicately. Bubbles rise in her.
To her shock, a wild Felix flaps his wings before Eva can even pet. Eva steps back, biting her lip. However, Hai raises a finger toward Felix and placates the falcon from his hysteria.
Oh. Did I do something?
“Not so carefree to play,” Hai says arbitrarily. Then the cyborg plops a seed out of his hand, and it drops on Eva’s lean bionic palm. Hai winks. “Felix, they’re friendly. Try again this time.”
The cyborg exchanges a doubtful glance with the PMC. Swallowing aside her tension, Eva leans in again but with deliberate care. She manages to smile toward Felix, who seems to shift. The cyborg does not bulge any further as the seed remains rested at her finger. Seconds pass by, without anything said, until Felix motions. Eva’s finger gets caught between the falcon’s beaks, but Felix manages to catch the seed into his mouth. The cyborg’s cheeks brighten.
As Eva reaches to stroke the bird’s back, Hai says, “Seems our attack today sent a message. But, it’s different being here.”
She lets go of Felix, nodding. “I know. I understand.”
“My parents once said that when the Cyber Drift started sixteen years ago, they called it a moment of ho woon ki. So many opportunities…they were engineers for how long before my didi joined.”
“So they were SMART workers,” Eva confirms.
Hai glances down, rubbing his nose, and Felix looks away, croaking. “For my didi, it didn’t last long. After the Drug War, life wasn’t the same. For any of us, Eva. I was forced to flee here with the other agents while my family in New York was left executed by rioters—gangs…records stated they were Latin Kings or either MS-13 enforcers.” He plucks another seed toward the falcon that gobbles it ravenously. Hai’s frown decreases whatever warmth consumed the dojo, pervading a chill around Eva’s bare shoulders.
“Felix is the only family I have,” the JOA agent says, looking toward his pet with a saddening smile. It didn’t take long for his lips to transition to frowning. His voice darkens. “It still leaves me infuriated that humans can be so demented. They died like…trash. That’s why I still fight.”
Eva looks at Hai sadly. Moments of her mother’s voice waning on the phone sweep over her like a star of birds gliding. The pain choking in her throat as she stepped from the doors of Langley without looking back became solid in her eyes. Hai must be living vicariously, and her heart crumbled to this notion. He was a young man lost, and so was the nation she and her late mother’s immigrants deemed home. For depravity to not be reprimanded by regulators brought a stain in her tongue in which she cannot let them pass unscathed.
Bending to reach the sheath on the floor, Eva mentions, “I actually thought I had an ally, back when I was CIA.” She inserts the Neo-Oni inside the sheath, and a lump snakes down her throat. The years of her working under her commanding officer dangle in her mind like figments out of a nightmare until she shrugs it off abruptly. She was more than certain that today’s strike bereaved Soriana of the Director she’s so abided towards, a satisfying blow that will leave her eyes open to her actions. However, the notion of having to relive everything starting from being a recruit tore an opening into Eva’s chest, leaving her morose and mortified.
“It took me up to now to know how blind I was about our trust,” she continues. The arbitrary vituperations she endured in the streets of Chevy Chase rattle her nerves. Eva shuts her eyes, dabbing a water sprinkling on her lower eyelash. Her fingers harden on the sword’s handle as fire courses into her veins.
“Their deaths didn’t go in vain, Hai. Our regulators think we’re scrapdogs, but with preparation, they will be avenged.” The two cyborgs lock glances at each other. Hai’s expression becomes flummoxed. “June 27th. Soon that day comes and we will bring them down for good. Give Virtuals a place where they don’t have to be scared anymore.”
Hai sighs. “I always wondered, Eva. If we win this uprising…then what do we do with the outside world? How will other humans look at us?” He stalks, almost in circles. “How will they respect us?” Soon he looks into Eva’s eyes, pensive but tainted with cynicism. “Then Ottoman…”
Struggling to reach an answer, Eva looks at Hai for a brief period in cogitation. The last question buried into her brain like a scar scorching on her skin. Her thoughts are interrupted as a light reaches the dojo from afar. Felix croaks to a broad figure standing with hands in the pocket. She grimaces.
“Moreci and Chi,” Ottoman calls out in the entrance. “Discussion time in the cyber room. Should be fun.”
Must be updates about my virus then.
Eva glances toward Hai again. She reaches for the pack attached to her waistband and sets the items in his hands. He raises his eyes to three fresh shurikens shining on his palm, only for Eva to lean close.
“You can stay if you want,” she advises in a hushed tone, “Want to avenge your family, then I can show you my style.”
***
“So it seems,” one of the cyber technologists says tentatively. He rotates on his seat, meeting Eva and Ottoman’s gaze. “The bad news that due to reports from our agents, the CIA Director Wayne is still alive.”
Eva’s mouth drops, disquieted to what was stated. She folds her arms, sharing perplexing glances with the CEO. He grunts behind the cigarette in his mouth.
“How do you know that?” she questions almost hotly. The Virtual shifts her feet to the thought of it. Her first thought rushes to Soriana, and her blood boils. If it wasn’t the former, then who would it be among those nameless human officers slaughtered?
“Attempt was intervened before one of our agents can advance,” the technologist mentions. “It was announced, a few hours ago, on the international news. Government’s undergoing martial law.”
His two uniformed coworkers behind the keyboard nod in approbation. Ottoman chortles under his breath. Eva’s lips tighten, and a nerve strikes at her lateral temple. Whatever taste of satiation wallowing in her crushes like a gem shattering on the marble floor, substituting it with a shock that leaves her in an internal paralysis.
Soriana, without a doubt. Who wouldn’t?
The technologist returns his focus to the capacious computer in between the other models. Activity on the following continents pends on the screen.
Pointing to where the United States stood on the chromatic-hued map, the technologist’s tone alters as he says, “But the good news is Moreci, the malware’s set.”
Eva raises an eyebrow. She witnesses the technologist gesture to his coworker on the right, forcing the coworker to skid aside. The Virtual steps a foot closer, scanning the serpent icon gleaming on the lower screen, followed by one key button below the symbol.
DOWNLOAD FILE
“The Infernal Python,” he says. “Virus with full access to EVERY SMART program in the US.”
Eva looks at her left, leaning a hand on the technologist’s chair as she analyzes the myriad of radiating triangles plastered on all the regional continents, with the exception of Antarctica and the Arctic Circle. She traces her finger downward to Central and South America.
SMART programs are still viable worldwide, she surmised.
“Seems you covered a very large scale,” Eva mentions. The tip of her finger warms to the proximity on the scre
en. Even at the cost of the PMC moving out of Latin America and the tension, it astonished her that so many of SMART’s programs were still operating in those regions. Perhaps it conveyed something grim that Eva didn’t know to the fullest.
Despite the setback, this meant that there are still plenty of unfortunate Virtuals, not aligned with the JOA, currently active in the derelict regions. Riddled with questions, she asks, “I actually thought SMART would’ve closed—”
“Well, not exclusive to the US,” the technologist corrects right away. “What you’re seeing is the endless list of SMART systems and hosts still operating globally that the malware has scanned. You were right earlier that this is…indeed, NO ordinary virus. It starts as a body of catalyst, infecting the neural interfaces and Apt Brains alike.”
“Catalyst?”
“Break it down…you and the entire PMCs are what drives the Infernal Python to its fullest. Instant contact, whether engaged in Virtual or Martial, can make a great difference.”
Ottoman whistles steam as he looks over, arching an eyebrow foxily toward the virus creator. On the other hand, Eva glances down at her hands as if in disbelief at the amount of blood she’s spewed in the warzone, not like she would recoil from it either way. The dismay that was boiling in her begins to wane, being abrogated by a spirit hardening her muscles.
“So our parent nation may have shut down all Martials in the state,” the technologist continues, “but the Python’s algorithms remain the same.”
“Well, that limits us down to 49 states on the map,” Ottoman remarks in a witty tone, “since Massachusetts’ has been obliterated by the time of the strike.”
Eva grimaces. “Obliterated? Was agent one of our—”
“Seems to be a lone wolf,” Ottoman says. He lights his cigar. “His name’s nowhere near detected on my database here. I don’t blame him.”
With that said, Eva lets her direction drift toward the area where the eradicated state resided. No triangle in sight. Despite being disclaimed from what was dealt, Eva couldn’t deny that this had given her and the army the deadliest advantage they needed while it lasted.