Brothers of Chaos (The Unstoppable Titans Book 1)

by Jerry Hart

  He would have slaves cook and clean for him and Michael. He would have to make sure to get his minions to continue to take care of themselves (eat, sleep, bathe) or else they would die off, but he would make sure they were always ready to do his bidding.

  After the world was his, there would be no more war … but things would surely get boring after a while. Jason decided he would have arena-style battles every now and then, just to keep things interesting. He would have his slaves fight to the death for his and Michael’s amusement.

  Jason grinned when he thought of all the women he would have to himself. He would do whatever he wanted with them and they wouldn’t stop him.

  Suddenly he thought of population control. Surely a lot of people would die of natural causes over the course of his reign. Should he have his minions continue to mate, or let the world’s population dwindle down to a more manageable number?

  Decisions, decisions.

  And how would he take the entire planet under the hood of his influence? He didn’t know the range of the orb’s power, so he decided he would have to do multiple points of activation. How long would it take to do the entire world? Months? Years?

  That question exhausted him. He lay down on the bed, the covers still tucked in. He hadn’t slept much since purchasing the room with the stolen cash from the man whose car he and Michael stole. Michael had snapped that poor man’s neck quickly and mercifully out in the small town of Birch. The brothers had needed some way to get to San Sebastian.

  Jason didn’t regret committing murder to accomplish what he needed, and had instilled in Michael the knowledge that if people stood in their way, they had to be taken out of the way. Simple as that.

  The younger brother hadn’t taken too well to hearing that, but committed the necessary murders anyway, to please Jason. Jason, in return, had promised Michael everything would be peaceful once they gained control of this world.

  But what about the other world, the one that shunned the brothers—that tried to kill them—simply because of who they were? Oh, Jason had plans for the home world, the world that was so much like this one, except in this world everyone had a last name. This world was just a testing ground. The home world wouldn’t be as lucky when Jason returned to it with his powerful, unstoppable weapon.

  He would watch the home world burn to ash. There was nothing there he would miss; his and Michael’s foster parents had been the only things that mattered, and now they were gone.

  Nothing in that world would survive Jason’s wrath. Nothing.

  * * *

  Les ran into the room and dropped down onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. He could hear Michael’s soft footsteps as he, too, entered the room. Les didn’t want to open his eyes and look at him, at the man who had just brutally murdered an innocent girl.

  He’d watched the entire event from the opposite side of the alley the monster hunters had entered. He’d seen the fight, the death of Alyssa, and the explosion. And what was worse, he’d been forced to help Michael put Alyssa’s body in the trunk of his grandmother’s car, the car Michael had convinced Les to steal, where he was horrified to find Marco’s body had been stuffed as well. Up until tonight, the boys had taken cabs or walked to their locations.

  This had gone on far enough. Whatever Michael’s plans were, Les refused to take any more part in them. He was going to put an end to them, right here, right now.

  He slowly lifted his head and stared at Michael, who was standing in the doorway, glancing at Les with curiosity.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asked Les.

  “What’s wrong? Are you kidding me? You just killed someone.”

  They had returned here earlier to drop off the orb before confronting the monster slayers downtown. Michael went to Les’s closet and pulled out the backpack, smiling at the Norrack and Aslain replicas. “So? I killed before and you didn’t have a problem with it,” Michael said with a laugh that was not quite real.

  “I did have a problem. I had a huge problem. Why do you have to kill?” Les asked, desperation in his voice. He truly needed to know why Michael was like this.

  But Michael did not respond. This made Les angry. He grabbed his alarm clock off of his bedside table and threw it across the room, where it struck the wall next to Michael.

  “I would calm down if I were you,” Michael warned.

  “I can’t calm down. You just can’t go around killing whoever you want. It’s not right!”

  “My brother told me to do whatever it takes to get the job done. That was my dad’s philosophy, too.”

  “I don’t give a crap! You should have taken that to mean putting extra effort into doing things right, not going the easiest route possible. You can do whatever it is you need to do without killing people.”

  “I don’t like being told what to do,” Michael said with a defiant tone.

  “You let your brother and dad tell you what to do,” Les responded angrily.

  “They’re family; you’re not.”

  Michael almost seemed sad now, but Les didn’t care. He was growing angrier by the second. A long silence filled the room. Finally Les said, “I don’t want to help you anymore.”

  Michael snapped to attention. “What did you say?”

  “I said,” Les began nervously, “I don’t want to help with your little mission anymore. I can’t hurt people like you do; I refuse to be involved any longer.”

  Michael said nothing to this. He continued to gaze at Les as if he had gone crazy. “Is that your final decision?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Les answered.

  “Are you sure?”

  Les was suddenly afraid to answer. There was something about the way Michael asked his last question, the tone in his voice. It was the most sinister he’d ever heard him speak. Les had been so full of courage moments earlier, but now his throat seized up and he was rendered mute. He simply nodded.

  Michael nodded, too, and took the orb out of the backpack, studying it.

  Faster than Les could even register, Michael swung the orb at him, striking him on the side of the head. Les flew off the bed and onto the floor. He lay there for a moment, and then pushed himself up and felt the side of his head. It was bleeding.

  He looked up at Michael, who was just staring at him. His face was unreadable. Les tried to stand, but he was too dizzy from the blow. Tears started flowing down his face.

  “Stop your crying. I didn’t even hit you that hard because I didn’t want to break this,” Michael said, indicating the orb. It appeared to be undamaged.

  “Just go!” Les screamed. “Do whatever you were planning to do. I’m not helping you anymore.”

  “I don’t need your help,” Michael said coldly. “I know you tried to warn David about me at the party. That’s why I sarcastically thanked you.”

  He started walking toward Les. Les reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a red crystal and held it up to Michael.

  Michael froze in place.

  It worked! Les thought. It actually worked! The pagu power crystal worked!

  His joy didn’t last long. Michael was still moving, though very slowly.

  Les reached into his desk drawer again and withdrew the bag of purple burgani crystals. He dumped them out onto the floor and began placing them around himself in a circle, which was all he could do considering he was trapped in a corner, separated from the door by Michael.

  “What are you doing?” Michael asked.

  “I’m putting up a protection spell.”

  Michael had an amused grin on his face. Then, he started looking around the room.

  He must be looking for a way around the circle, Les thought.

  Michael made no attempt to even try to get to Les. He kept looking around, and then his eyes settled on something in a corner of the room. Les followed his gaze and saw the life-sized Aslain and Norrack replicas.

  Les’s heart quickened as Michael slowly made his way over to them. His movements were strained, almost exaggerati
ngly so.

  “Oh, man, that spell you put on me is making it hard to walk,” Michael said. He winked at Les, and then placed his hand on Norrack’s beastly shoulder. A white mist flowed from Michael to Norrack. For a few seconds, all was quiet, and nothing happened. Nothing at all—

  Did it just move? Les wondered suddenly. He could’ve sworn he had just seen the replica, made of nothing but plastic, move its head slightly. Not possible.

  Then it became unmistakable; Norrack had indeed moved because he was moving even more now. He turned his head toward Les, and then began stepping toward him, his movements slow and unsteady, like he was just learning how to walk for the first time.

  Les couldn’t believe his eyes. Norrack held his axe about him, ready to strike. Les got to his feet, making sure to stay within the protective circle. He wasn’t sure if the spell would protect him from that, though. Michael, who was now standing by Aslain in the corner, grinning, hadn’t tried to approach once the circle was activated, so maybe it did work. The freezing spell had worked on him, albeit temporarily.

  Norrack continued his slow approach toward Les. Under better circumstances, Les would’ve been excited beyond belief to see his favorite villain, in the most accurate depiction he could imagine, actually moving around of his own free will. He was like a living action figure. But seeing as the circumstances were grave, Les wanted nothing more than the beast to just die.

  Suddenly he had an idea, but it involved getting past Norrack. He didn’t trust this protective circle would hold. If he timed his actions just right, he could dive past Norrack and—

  Norrack swung his axe right at Les’s head. He ducked quickly. Now was the time. He dove for the bed, bouncing off it and landing on the other side, right in front of Aslain and Michael.

  Les noticed Michael appeared paler and weaker than usual, but he pushed this observation aside and placed the red crystal on Aslain’s forehead. He muttered an incantation.

  Now Aslain the warrior was moving. He raised his sword up high just as Norrack, who was now upon them both, struck down with his axe. The sword blocked the blow. Les stood behind Aslain, whimpering like a child.

  Aslain kicked Norrack across the room. Norrack landed on Les’s desk, crushing it instantly. Aslain charged. Les looked over to Michael, who was now leaning against a wall, looking nauseated. He was still smiling, though, like he knew something Les didn’t. Les didn’t care. As soon as Aslain defeated Norrack—and Les had no doubt he would—he would set him upon Michael, and have him rip the boy limb from limb.

  Les’s attention was brought back to the fight between warrior and beast. Aslain had driven Norrack through the wall and into the living room. They were completely trashing the place.

  “What the hell is going on out here?” Les heard his grandmother ask.

  “Oh crap!” he screamed.

  He ran out of his door and intercepted his grandmother, who was standing in the hall in her nightgown.

  “Grandma,” he said to her, “go back to your room. It’s not safe out here.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, you little bastard!” she screamed.

  A loud crash from the living room turned Les around quickly. Aslain had been thrown into the fireplace, knocking over a few china plates set on the mantelpiece above. Now Norrack lumbered toward Les again. Les turned back to his grandma, whose jaw had dropped. She pointed with a shivering hand at the monstrosity heading their way. Les darted around her and headed toward the end of the hall.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he yelled at her. “Run, you stupid old hag!”

  But it was too late. Norrack, with lightning speed, swung the axe and cut the old lady in half, from the tip of her head on down. Les screamed as both sides of her body fell to each side of the hallway. Without losing stride, Norrack continued to approach Les. He raised his axe, preparing to strike, when suddenly, a sword poked through his chest. It was Aslain. He had struck Norrack straight through. Norrack dropped the axe and fell to the floor, dead.

  A moment passed, and then Les jumped into the air (as high as he could manage) and cheered. His warrior had defeated Michael’s.

  Speaking of Michael, it was time to settle things with him once and for all.

  “Follow me,” he said to Aslain as he strode past, wearing a confident smile. He walked into his bedroom where he saw Michael lying on the bed. He looked extremely weak now.

  “Michael,” said Les, pointing a judgmental finger at him, “I, at this very moment, order you to cease and desist whatever your plans are with this orb.”

  He pointed at the orb on the floor. Michael shivered and panted as he put his hands up. “Please, have mercy on me. I was only doing what my brother told me to do.”

  He sounded pathetic. Les almost felt sorry for him, but suddenly his thoughts fell on all the innocent people Michael murdered in cold blood, including his own grandmother just moments ago. Les smiled ruthlessly.

  “Mercy doesn’t live here anymore. Aslain”—he addressed the warrior now standing next to him, sword drawn—“kill this monster.”

  He pointed his judgmental finger toward Michael, who was still shaking with what Les assumed was fear. Aslain raised his sword.

  Why is Michael smiling? Les suddenly wondered as he caught a quick glimpse of Michael’s face just before the sword came down, severing Les’s arm at the elbow. He didn’t even register this at first. He continued staring at Michael, then suddenly at his arm. And now at Aslain.

  The pain hit him. He screamed, grabbing the bloody stump. Aslain backhanded Les, causing him to fall on the rubble that used to be his desk. Les, too scared to stand, crawled toward the protective circle he’d made earlier. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He looked back and saw that Aslain had cut off his right leg at the knee. Les screamed again but continued crawling, slower this time.

  He was in. Les made sure nothing was poking out of the circle, and replaced all the purple crystals he had knocked out of the way when he crawled in. He looked up at Aslain as he towered over him, sword raised. Les looked over to Michael, who was still smiling.

  “But he’s under my control,” Les whined.

  Michael crawled to the end of the bed so that he was face to face with Les.

  “He was never under your control. When you were busy with Norrack, I tapped him”—he indicated Aslain—“on the shoulder. I told you I had a few tricks up my sleeve. Also”—he reached out and touched Les’s shoulder—“there’s no such thing as magic.”

  Les shuddered with fear. Michael had penetrated the protective circle; it didn’t protect Les from him. And it wasn’t going to protect him from Aslain, who was now bringing his sword, with all his might, down on Les’s pitiful, whining body.

  * * *

  Michael was filled with an unexpected sorrow as he watched Les die before his eyes. He’d had too much fun bringing Les’s beloved replicas to life, something Les had always wished would happen. Michael wondered if he was actually enjoying killing now. With a wave from his hand, Aslain shut down. The mist poured out of the replica and back into Michael, and he instantly felt better. He had been powering the hero like a radio-controlled car with a small portion of his own consciousness. He walked over to Les and pulled the sword out of his head.

  He grabbed the orb and put it in the backpack, but as he turned to leave, he froze in place. An unexpected tingling washed over him and his whole body became rigid and numb.

  Michael fought with all his might to push his limbs to work again. Slowly, but surely, his legs moved, and he was able to walk into the hallway.

  He turned back to Les, who was still on his knees, staring up at the ceiling, mouth open wide in anguish.

  What did he do to me? he thought. He’d only been faking earlier to humor Les before he was killed. But now…

  Now he actually was having trouble moving. Had there been more to Les than met the eye? Was magic real? Michael had been using the energy inside of him to bring the replicas to life, the energy he now knew
was also inside of Owen. The energy from beyond. Science, not magic. Maybe his little trick was causing this unexpected feeling and not whatever Les had done…

  Oh, well, it didn’t matter. Owen had a job to do, and Michael would make sure it was done, whether Owen was willing to help or not.

  After retrieving his “supplement” from Norrack in the hallway, Michael grabbed the axe and added it to the sword from Aslain. He then walked outside and, just as expected, saw Jason parked in front of the house with a huge smile on his face. Michael wished he could share in his brother’s enthusiasm, but he just wasn’t feeling it. He couldn’t admit to Jason he didn’t want the same things. Michael only wanted a place to call home, where he wouldn’t have to worry about being hunted and killed by angry, superstitious people.

  Of course, Jason had said the orb would provide such a home for them. They could make any world their home with the orb, and on and on. Jason had given the same speech over and over until Michael finally relented. Truth be told, he knew he was turning into a monster, just like his older brother. Only, Michael tried to be different. He’d given his victims a choice: Do this or do that. Doing this will save your life; doing that will end it.

  All of Michael’s victims had chosen that. But just because Michael had given them a choice didn’t make him any less of a monster, not after all was said and done.

  He was turning into his brother, and he was shocked to find he liked it. Michael had no choice—he had to like it. Jason would soon be in control, and there was nothing Michael could do about it. Sure, he had the strength to oppose his older brother, but he could never actively go against Jason’s wishes. Jason had taken care of him when their foster parents were killed; Michael owed him everything.

  Though, Michael couldn’t help but wonder: If Jason had been the one to take on the supplement instead, would he have needed his little brother at all? As Michael walked up to the car, to his destiny, he hoped the answer was yes. He hoped his brother wouldn’t just abandon him if he ever got the chance.