Chronicles of the Apocalypse:
Revenge, Everything is Nothing
By: Zach Richardson
Copyright © 2009 by Zach Richardson
First published in 2009
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted through any means, by anyone, without the prior written consent of the author. This publication also may not be circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it was originally printed.
All characters portrayed within this work are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-0-578-02176-8
Table of Contents:
1. The Return 1
2. The Message 7
3. The Informant 29
4. Hoxie 36
5. Mordechai’s Life 44
6. Mordechai’s Truth 55
7. Jin’s Redemption 68
8. Jin’s Defeat 78
9. The Nightmare 94
10. Leah & Will 103
11. Jin’s Story 131
12. Safety & Deception 147
13. Eyes of Hate 158
14. Understanding 172
15. Chasing Shadows 189
16. Preparation 198
17. Execution 203
18. Pyre 216
19. The Beginning of the End 226
20. Blitz 235
21. Love and Sorrow 255
22. Hate vs. Hate 262
23. The Last Loose End 276
24. The End of the Beginning 283
Chronicles of the Apocalypse
--<(0)>--
Part One: Revenge, Everything is Nothing
Chapter 1: The Return
Jin Sakai wasn’t a man given to taking unnecessary risks.
That was why the last five years of his life had been spent in his cabin. It was out in the middle of the forest that bordered the town of Pine Lake, where no one would find him. Besides, he was supremely confident Dorigan and the others had given up the search for him years ago.
The fire that burned in the fireplace in front of him was the living room’s sole source of light, and the dancing flames cast an eerie, flickering glow over every surface. There was an elk head mounted over the fireplace; its long antlers almost scraping the ceiling. There was also a grizzly bear hide on the floor under the elk head.
If someone were to get close enough, they would be able to see the slight quivering of Jin’s closed eyes. Then, his eyebrows twitched, first only slightly, but then again more violently until his eyes snapped open. Jin looked around his cabin frantically for a second before taking a deep breath. He placed his face in his hands and then released it. He was home, and he was alone.
He was safe.
Five years, he thought. Five years and still the nightmares refuse to go away.
Jin shook his head and then ran his hands through his hair. He lifted his arms into the air, tightened his muscles and then relaxed them, restoring full blood flow. He then did the same to his legs and stood up, walking aimlessly past the fireplace and up the staircase that led to his bedroom. Reaching the top of the stairs, Jin caught a flash of himself in a mirror. He paused momentarily to gaze at his reflection. His cheekbones were fairly high, but unpronounced. His dark, solid black hair framed the fair skin of his face and made his gem-like green eyes stand out even more. It was these eyes that showed him what the last five years had truly done to him. They were dull, hollow, and lifeless.
A lifetime ago, those eyes had been bright and full of life; a lifetime ago, he had a wife and two kids who loved him. But a lifetime ago, Jin had been living two lives. In one, he was the energetic, fun-loving family man who played with his kids and cherished his wife. This life had never brought Jin any sort of misfortune, but, unfortunately, the same could not be said of his second life. That second life was the reason Jin had spent the last five years inside his lonely cabin. That second life was the reason why his eyes no longer shone with the vibrancy and boyish joy that they once did. That second life was the reason that Jin was emotionally and spiritually half-dead.
That second life was also the reason that his wife and children had been murdered.
That second life was this: For the last eighteen years, Jin Sakai had been an assassin, and for the last twelve years, he had been widely recognized as the deadliest assassin in the world.
After the murder of his family, Jin bought the cabin under a false name and spent the last five years cooped up inside it. He never left except to buy food, water, and the occasional movie. The only other distractions he had were the nights he was haunted by the nightmares. As the shadows of these memories began to seep into Jin’s mind, he turned away from the mirror, unable to face his reflection any longer. Instead, he took a few more steps down the hall and walked into his bedroom.
Once inside his room, he flopped down on the bed and glanced at the small coffee table to his right. There was a picture on it; one of him and his two kids. In the picture, his kids were smiling and he had his arms slung over their shoulders. His trademark joyful grin was upon his face. When he looked at the photo, Jin couldn’t help but smile. Then a horde of painful memories came flooding back, and Jin had to shake his head to get rid of them. Still, the traces lingered, and Jin walked back downstairs, this time to the kitchen. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, there was the slight creak of a floorboard, and then the blade of a sword came swinging around the corner. In the space of a handful of milliseconds, a jolt of surprise sparked through Jin’s body and re-awakened the long-dormant reflexes of the assassin he had once been.
He ducked under the blade, which sank into the wall, and then as he rounded the corner, he found himself facing his attacker. The man was of average size and build, dressed completely in black and wearing a matching mask that covered his entire face. Jin recognized the outfit immediately. Black Dragon Clan Grunts, the lowest level of field assassin the B.D.C. had to offer. Snarling, Jin curled the fingers of his left hand into a fist and smashed it across the Grunt’s face. Jin then plowed his right fist into the Grunt’s gut before he used his right leg to sweep the assassin’s legs out from under him. The Grunt let out a sharp cry of pain, but could do no more as Jin dropped the heel of his right foot on to his spine with all the strength he could muster, splintering the Grunt’s spine like cheap wood.
The Grunt cried out in pain, and an instant later a thunderous boom echoed throughout the cabin as four more Grunts kicked in the front door. Jin snapped his attention to the direction of the noise, and not pausing for a second he tore the first assassin’s sword out of the wall and ran back into his living room to meet the attackers.
Seamlessly, Jin ran up along the wall and kicked off of it. The nearest Grunt had only enough time to turn and face him before Jin lashed out with his leg and snapped the Grunt’s neck with a single powerful kick. It was then that the other three Grunts noticed Jin. They all began to move in his direction, and Jin hurled his stolen sword at the farthest one. The cold steel blade pierced its target’s throat.
As the assassin dropped to the floor clutching his neck, Jin turned his attention to the two remaining Grunts. They were coming at him from two different directions. The one on the left was a little farther ahead, so Jin went for him first. As the assassin delivered an overhead chop with his sword, Jin reached up and grabbed the assassin’s wrists, stopping his attack cold. Jin then took a step to the side and swung the assassin’s sword to block the slash from his teammate. Jin jerked his hands backward and broke the first assassin’s nose with the grip of hi
s own sword, causing him to release it. Jin immediately ducked under a slash meant for his neck and shoved the blade of the sword right into the assassin’s stomach. The assassin screamed in pain, and Jin stood back up to his full height of six feet two inches and whipped himself around, tearing the sword out of the second assassin and slicing off the head of the first.
Breathing deeply and heavily to calm himself down, Jin cast his mind around to figure out who sent these Grunts, and more importantly, why. The name came to Jin almost at once. Slowly but steadily, a rage and hatred spread throughout his body and swelled up to such a huge size that an explosion seemed imminent. Jin heard a soft groaning and saw the assassin he had stabbed crawling toward him. The sight of this was so hugely offensive to Jin that, with a mighty roar of rage, he drove his stolen sword through the assassin’s back and deep into the floor. Still seething with rage, Jin turned around and marched back up to his room.
Five years, he thought, his voice soft but furious inside his head. It’s been five years since they took my life from me and they still want more?
Jin entered his bedroom again and wrenched open the closet, where he pulled out a large black leather coat, sliding it on over his black T-shirt and matching pants and shoes. Next, he rummaged through the back of his closet, and after a moment’s searching he withdrew an exquisite sword.
It was a katana, a samurai sword, and it had been given to him by his former master, Kal Kowloon, upon the completion of his training. The black lacquered scabbard had two gold dragon medallions in the middle of both sides, and a gold cap in the shape of flames covered the tip of the scabbard. The guard of the sword was shaped like a small pair of dragon wings, and the bottom of the hilt had a pommel that was shaped like a dragon’s head. Both the guard and pommel were gold with orange highlights. The blade itself was spotless, as reflective as a mirror, and the edge of the blade was sharper than any razor.
Jin drew the sword, and the blade sang as it left its scabbard. Its almost feather-light weight was as comfortable as it had ever been. Indeed, holding it once again felt as though he were shaking hands with a long lost friend. As he looked at his reflection in the blade, he lost himself in the countless memories of how hard he had trained under Kowloon. It was this training, Jin knew, that he would need to draw upon heavily if he were to survive what now lay ahead of him. It was this training that had already saved his life at least a hundred times, and his sword symbolized the culmination of that training. In many ways, it was just as much a part of Jin as his own arms and legs.
As his grip tightened on his sword, he felt all of his rage and hatred flow through him and into his sword. He could practically taste its venom on the blade.
He sheathed his sword again and stormed out of his cabin, kicking his front door open and walking into the forest. There was a path in this forest that led straight to the town of Pine Lake. As he marched down this path, he remembered the names and faces of the people responsible for what had happened to him. He remembered the dark skin and hulking form of Victor Malakai, the arrogant swagger of Hoxie Johns, the calculating coldness of Mordechai Krueger, the teamwork of brothers Abbot and Levy James, and the deceptively deadly beauty of Jessie Wise. More than anything, however, Jin Sakai remembered the charisma and blade-skill of their leader, Martin James Dorigan. Together, they formed the leadership of the Black Dragon Clan; the infamous organization of assassins of which Jin had been second-in-command, next to Dorigan.
They wanted Jin dead, but what they would get would be the bloody hurricane of Jin’s revenge.
The trees parted and Jin stepped out onto a low stone cliff overlooking the town of Pine Lake. Jin Sakai had returned to the world and life of an assassin, and he would make sure that the Black Dragon Clan knew it.
Chronicles of the Apocalypse
--<(0)>--
Part 1: Revenge, Everything is Nothing
Chapter 2: The Message
The cool, crisp night air washed over Jin’s face as a light breeze whispered through the trees. Jin took the air in with a deep breath and pulled the left half of his coat open. Inside the coat was a long thin pocket that served the sole purpose of concealing Jin’s sword. He slid the weapon in easily and closed his coat. Jin gazed at the lights of Pine Lake for a moment before climbing down the cliff. When he reached the bottom, he scanned each and every single tree for potential threats with a cold and meticulous eye. When he found nothing, he continued on with his walk.
With nothing else to occupy his mind, Jin’s memories drifted back five years. Back to the horrifying day when he found his life thrown to ruins at his feet. All of his fellow heads of the Black Dragon Clan had been there, standing over the mutilated corpses of his wife and kids. What happened next, Jin couldn’t remember very well. He had attacked them, he had lost, but he had escaped. They tried to find him, but they hadn’t managed to do so. Now they had, and they had tried to kill him again. But unlike last time, Jin was going to fight back. Unlike last time, he was going to win. A cold determination seized Jin’s entire being, turning his gaze as sharp and cold as his mind, and he clenched his hands into fists.
This time, he would kill them!
--<(0)>--
Several hours later, the first golden rays of early morning sun shone through the trees. Dead or dying leaves and twigs snapped and crunched under the footfalls of Jin’s seemingly endless march. In truth, the end was quite close; but Jin knew better than to let that truth lull him into a false sense of security. Because of this, he was able to pick up an extra rustle of leaves as he took his next step. He froze, searching the trees with his ice-cold eyes, and slowly moved his right hand to the grip of his sword.
Just as his fingers closed around the hilt, Jin heard a loud battle cry from above him as another B.D.C. Grunt leapt from the trees, sword poised for a deadly strike. Jin easily rolled out of the way and quickly drew his own sword. The song of the blade leaving the scabbard mingled with others, and Jin realized he was surrounded by nine other Grunts. As the Grunts positioned themselves for attack, Jin closed his eyes and slowly took in a deep breath. As he released that breath, he also released his conscious mind, just as Master Kowloon had taught him. In doing so, all of his senses broadened, and his innate fighter’s instinct took hold.
This fight was over before it began.
When the Grunt in front of him lunged, Jin popped up from his crouch and delivered two swift and powerful kicks. The first hit Lunging Grunt directly in the diaphragm, emptying the air from his lungs, while the second kick smashed his jaw. As Jin jumped back to his feet, he brought his sword down in a powerful arc and chopped off Lunging Grunt’s head. He then turned to face the remaining Grunts and raised his sword in an open challenge.
The Grunts charged, and Jin brought his sword down hard on the first Grunt to meet him, cleaving him in half from the skull to the groin. Jin then took a step to the right with his left foot, and his body followed in a swift rotation that allowed him to eviscerate the foolish Grunt who had exposed his belly by raising his sword over his head. Another Grunt immediately took his place, thrusting his sword at Jin’s side, but he easily parried the attack and then slashed the offending Grunt’s throat.
Another Grunt literally leapt into the fray, and Jin blocked his attack before a shout from his right alerted him to another threat. Shout Grunt swung his blade toward Jin’s head, paying no mind to his embattled comrade. Both Jin and Leap Grunt ducked under Shout Grunt’s overzealous attack, and Jin thrust his sword through Shout Grunt’s torso before snapping back to the left and chopping off Leap Grunt’s head.
The remaining four Grunts backed away ever so slightly from Jin, frightened by both his raw power and his intense speed. But before they could muster any trace of an offensive, Jin was upon them. His first, thundering overhand was so powerful that it buckled the arms of the Grunt who tried to block it. Two of the other Grunts closed in on Jin’s sides, but he blurred into motion, slashing the left Grunt down across the gut before whirling back and
disemboweling the other two in a single, wide, sweep.
Turning around, Jin found the last Grunt standing well away from him, trembling so much that he couldn’t hold his sword straight. Jin stood up, and the cowardly Grunt jumped back before turning tail and running away as fast as his legs would allow. Jin fired a disapproving look after the Grunt’s retreating back and then flung his sword at him with as much force as he could muster. Cowardly Grunt gave an agonized yell as Jin’s sword pierced his back, and he fell to his knees. Sighing with exasperation, Jin walked forward to the Grunt, who was now futilely trying to pull the sword out from between his vertebrae. Without a word, Jin grabbed his sword, ripped it out of the Grunt’s back and chopped off his head all in one motion.
Breathing slowly, with a steady rhythm to calm himself, Jin bent over to remove the Grunt’s mask and then used it to wipe the blood off of his sword. Satisfied now that his blade was clean, Jin sheathed his sword and resumed his walk.
--<(0)>--
After a couple more minutes, Jin finally emerged on the outskirts of Pine Lake and made sure his sword was safely hidden in his coat before walking down toward the center of the small town. It was still early in the morning, so the streets were effectively deserted. That didn’t bother Jin, however. On the contrary, it pleased him. Less people meant fewer witnesses, and while his friend wouldn’t mind what Jin was about to do, the police more than likely would.
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