Whereas before his internal monologue had voiced competing opinions on whether to stay or flee, now it was silent inside his mind. There were no more choices here and only one path to take.
With a sniff of the air like a bloodhound, he picked up on a distinct aroma of a particular chewing gum and he started to follow it.
----------
“All clear,” Link said as he reappeared back in the hallway and motioned for Jamie-Lyn to follow him inside the small office that he’d found.
“Where is everyone?” she whispered as she ducked inside.
“Getting ready for the big show, I’m guessing.”
“Which is?
“Based on what I know about your friend Cynthia Arrow, something batshit crazy,” he replied as he slipped the drive into a USB port of the computer sitting on a nearby desk.
“Shouldn’t we try and raise the alarm? Call for backup?”
“Call who?” he replied absently as his fingers started to fly. “We’re the wanted criminals, remember. Cynthia Arrow is the poor victim with all the friends in high places.”
“Where do you think he is? This Gustafson guy.”
“Beats me,” Link replied as he typed.
“Where do you think she found him?”
“I don’t know.”
“You think he’s working with her? For her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well what’s that thing telling you?”
“That I need time.”
“Maybe we should be helping Crimson find CJ?”
“What we need is information. Forewarned is forearmed, my old C.O. always used to say. Look, whatever Gustafson has been doing to people, it’s made them more dangerous. Hell, he made the beast. God knows what else he’s done. If Cynthia’s got him working for her, then maybe she’s got something quite literally up her sleeve. Think about that.”
“You think he did? That he could?”
“I have no idea, and I don’t like that feeling. Look at what CJ did with his team, how he enhanced them, gave them abilities. If Gustafson was on the same track, then we need to know before we walk up to Cynthia and shoot her in the face, only to have her spit the bloody bullet back out.”
“Then work faster,” she said as she went back to her post at the door.
She kept a watch as Link worked, praying that whatever was keeping Cynthia’s goons away would continue for a while. Link was right. They needed time to go through Gustafson’s drive, and she prayed that what was on it would both exonerate them all and bury Cynthia Arrow, maybe once and for all.
----------
William Gossett shifted from foot to foot and wished that he had remembered to put on thermal socks that morning as the cold from the early morning dew crept up in through the soles of his boots.
Guard duty was boring, cold work, but he was happy to be off the front line, far away from their prisoners.
He could never understand the idea of keeping them alive; as far as he was concerned, if you caught the enemy, then you put a bullet in their head. You didn’t toy with them, especially when you were dealing with the Queen’s Guard.
The other disciples were already celebrating. As far as they seemed to be concerned, the battle was already won, but he wasn’t so sure.
He had been with the disciples for a few years now. He had turned to the group for leadership and a home after he had washed out of the army when a PTSD incident had left him unable to do his job.
The army had cared little for him then, casting him aside when he could no longer function on the battlefield, his sense of injustice not altered by the fact that he’d been faking it.
The disciples had appealed to his need for power without necessarily the need for bravery. He was a bully by nature and perfectly happy to ride the coattails of any organisation that promised rich rewards, and the disciples had recruited him from a homeless shelter, rescuing him from a life on the streets.
“Who do you think she’ll pick?” his partner Number Five asked.
He didn’t know the other man’s name, only his number; it was one of the rules of the disciples. It seemed that there were a lot of rules.
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly.
“Well I hope it’s me. I think I’ve proven myself worthy to ascend to Number Two, maybe even Number One,” Number Five said, nodding firmly to himself.
“That’s dangerous talk,” William said, looking around to make sure that they weren’t being overheard by anyone.
“I can serve the cause better than Number Two ever did.”
“She really killed him? I mean, right there in the open?”
“Number Two deserved it. He failed in his duties and he paid the price.”
“And you’re really so keen to take his place?”
“The power and the glory, my friend, the power and the glory.”
William nodded and smiled, all the while thinking his partner must be nuts. They were henchmen: the nameless, faceless goons that served their masters. The second that they ascended to the front row, their lifespan shortened.
“Don’t you want to serve at the high table?” Number Five asked him.
“No, not me.”
“But think of the wonder, think of the majesty,” Number Five cooed as he paced back and forth behind.
“Yeah well, I think of Number Two ending up dead. That guy had it all together, you know? Someone told me that he was an ex-cop or something, and not just a street guy either, a real highflier. If he couldn’t cut it, then what chance would the likes of us stand?”
“Don’t you have any ambition? Think of having a seat at the table, helping the cause make decisions, being her right hand… now that is the real power.”
“That, my friend, is a recipe for death. No. Me? I’m happy just being a guy in the background. No one bothers us back there. Trust me, the shadows are always a hell of a lot safer than the spotlight, don’t you think?”
Number Five didn’t answer for several moments, and when William turned around to face his companion, there was no one there.
There was a rustle of wind behind him, but before he could move, a blade pierced the base of his skull, paralysing him instantly and rendering him mute as his body went into shock and started to convulse on the spot before he sank to the ground.
“The shadows are not safer, my friend. Trust me, that’s where I live,” Crimson said as he wiped his blade.
----------
The crewmen had the cameras set up in the hangar bay now as Summer Sloan walked around at the back nervously.
The two men looked scared, and she didn’t blame them as she observed a couple of Cynthia Arrow’s soldiers scrubbing away furiously at the blood on the concrete.
“I thought you would be used to the sight by now?”
She turned around to find Mrs Fontaine standing there watching her watching them.
“So do I still call you Mrs Fontaine?” she asked, striving for a commanding tone and not wanting to show any weakness now in front of the other woman.
“You may call me Savannah.”
“Pretty name.”
“Thank you, I chose it myself.”
“So you really are… her daughter?”
“The great and wicked Cynthia Arrow? Oh yes, I’m afraid so.”
“Then I’ve been working for her all along,” Summer trailed off, speaking mainly to herself.
“Well that’s not quite the same thing. Just because she’s my mother does not mean that you are working for her.”
“It doesn’t?”
“Was she in your dressing room that night? Did she swoop to your aid? Was it Cynthia Arrow who disposed of the poor Bruce Manners?”
“No.”
“Then your allegiance is to me, not to her.”
“Are you… I mean, will… what I mean to say is, are you…?”
“You’re wondering if I’m as crazy as she is. The simple answer is no. My mother had her own motivations for all of this…,”
Savannah said, sweeping a hand about to indicate the TV set-up that was taking place and the lunacy beyond.
“But you don’t share her… beliefs?” Summer said, choosing her words carefully.
“No, you should have no fear on that account. I’m afraid that my ambitions are far more boring and earthly bound. My mother wields a great deal of influence, far more than you could possibly imagine.”
“Really?” Summer said, perking up and wondering how much of the puzzle she didn’t know.
“Oh yes, but that is not important right now.”
“Then what is? I mean, what exactly is she planning on doing here?”
“I rather suspect that we are about to witness a great spectacle. Yes, my mother has her plans as I have mine, and I’m rather sure that you will have your own, and good for you. Plans upon schemes upon tactics upon strategy and so on and so on, but rest assured, at some point, the music will stop playing, and I do not intend to be the last one standing without a chair.”
“I can believe that,” Summer offered with feigned admiration mixed in with not a small amount of the genuine stuff.
“Yes, my mother will have her grand finale, televised to the nation, on a considerable delay, of course. I mean, she’s not an idiot… she’s not about to go live.”
“And me?”
“You are here for the authentication, of course. You are the voice and the face of the people. They trust you, and when you stand next to my mother, she will bask in that trust and use it.”
“She’s going to kill him, isn’t she?”
“Our great visitor from the skies? Oh yes. She will expose him as the devil brought to bring ruination to the earth, to poison the rivers and boil the seas, to flood the plains and bring pestilence and plague to our fair lands… you know, all that bullshit.”
“You’re not going to stop her?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary. I mean, you did notice the activity on the security screens in her office, right? Actually, don’t bother answering that. I rather suppose that you would only lie. Unfortunately, in your profession it seems to come as second nature.”
Summer thought about watching the breakout attempt by the remaining Queen’s Guard members and what it might mean for her and her chances of getting out of this in one piece.
“Can they stop her?” she ventured. “I mean, she is just a normal woman, right?”
Savannah didn’t answer right away and seemed to consider the question.
“I don’t think that she would agree with that,” she finally replied. “No, I don’t think that she would agree with that at all.”
----------
Cynthia felt the moment approaching fast. As if on cue, she spotted the great demon himself being dragged out into the light from the lower cells.
There was a single chair placed in the centre of the hangar with a camera on a tripod pointing directly at it. One of the TV crewmen was standing next to the camera with an ashen face while his partner was sitting in the van ready to receive and then transmit the broadcast on a ten-minute delay.
It was a bare setting, and that was how she knew it had to be: no flashy distractions, no bells and whistles, just the absolute truth of her faith versus his black heart.
“Sit him there.” She pointed and ordered, and the two disciples holding the tall reptile dragged him into place where he slumped down onto the chair.
“Leave us!” she ordered, and the men hesitated.
“Ma’am?” one of them said nervously.
“I said leave us.”
“Is that wise? I mean, he appears to be a weakened state, but…”
“This is holy land. This is God’s house now, child. This foul creature’s power is but the flapping of a butterfly in the face of a hurricane before our Lord. Now leave.”
The two men backed away, retreating out of view, but they kept their automatic weapons trained on the seated CJ.
“So here we are,” she said as she stepped in close, relishing the broken thing before her.
“Here we are,” CJ croaked back.
Gone completely now was the crackle of electricity that always seemed to surround him. There were no more sparks, no glow, no energy. Now, he looked tired and wounded as he sat slumped in the chair, barely able to keep his head up straight.
“I told you that this day would come, demon. I told you that I would plant God’s flag on this earth and trumpet his victory. You have lost your grip now, you have lost your power, your team. Your veil has slipped, and the people have seen you for what you really are.”
“You need help,” CJ said with what sounded like genuine compassion in his voice.
“Help!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I hold all of the cards, demon. I have won. My victory is absolute. I hardly think that I am in need of help.”
“That is not the kind I meant.”
“YOU WOULD PITY ME!” Cynthia suddenly screamed.
She stepped forwards and slapped CJ across the face, hard enough to rock his head back.
“You can hit me all day, Cynthia. The only damage you will do is to your own hand. I may be weakened, I may not have my powers, but there is nothing on this planet that can harm me… no bullet nor blade.”
“We shall see, demon.”
“But I do pity you,” he said kindly. “I do not know what led you to be this way. Perhaps it is a mental health issue, perhaps a physical issue of some kind… a brain tumour maybe, or perhaps your father loved you in all the wrong ways.”
Cynthia roared in anger as he struck an exposed nerve without even aiming.
“Turn that on,” she growled at the TV crewman who was standing next to the camera.
The man fumbled with the equipment, his hands shaking with fear.
Eventually, he got it up and running while Cynthia stared straight through him, making an accident in his pants highly likely at this point.
He gave her a thumbs-up sign as the little red dot came alive to say that it was recording.
“I don’t know what you've done to me, but it won’t last,” CJ said as he fought to stay upright on the chair.
“Oh, I’ve done nothing to you, foul demon. What you are feeling is the hand of God upon your shoulder, the touch of his judgement and the surge of his power. In the face of his glory, you are nothing; you never were, and now you’ll finally know it.”
“I am not what you see me as, Cynthia. I never was.”
“LIAR!” she roared and hit him again.
“I was never your enemy.”
“Liar,” she snarled and struck him again.
“I came here to help your people.”
“Liar!”
“That is all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“Liar.”
“Help the helpless.”
“Liar.”
“Protect the powerless.”
“Liar.”
Every time he used the word, she hit him again, each time harder and each time only succeeding in damaging her own hand.
“To help those in need. Even you, Cynthia. Let me help you.”
She wanted to hit him again, but her hand was throbbing and the skin had split open dripping a thin line of blood down onto the concrete floor.
“You are a false god, a blasphemous fake sent to trick us.”
“I can assure you that is not true.”
“‘There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.’ Proverbs 6:16-19.”
“I have read your bible, Cynthia, but you have twisted its true purpose for your own ends. You do not speak for Christianity.”
“It is you that has the false face, demon. ‘For false Christs and false prophets will arise and perform great signs and wonders, so as to lead astray, if possible, even the elect.’ Matthew 24:24.”
&n
bsp; “‘Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.’ Ephesians 4:32,” he quoted back.
“‘Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.’ Peter 5:8.”
“‘Whoever is slow to anger has great understanding, but he who has a hasty temper exalts folly.’ I believe Proverbs 14:29.”
“The book gives you nothing but words, demon. Do not think me impressed that you can read. This is your end, your judgement, your banishment. The time has come now for you to meet your end.”
She turned to the camera and addressed it and the people who would be watching her in just a few moments.
“Children of God, I bring you the truth. That is all I’ve ever wanted to show you. God’s truth knows no boundaries, it knows no false gods, it recognises nothing beyond its power, beyond its majesty, beyond its glory. Today I shall bring to end this darkness and set us on a new course. God’s path is waiting for us all to walk together, and like the lowly shepherd, I shall take you there. I do this for all of us. I do this for our land. I do this for the world.”
She turned back to CJ, her face serene and her mission never truer in her heart. It was finally time. She drew out her Angel Blade and held it upwards as it was filled with heaven’s grace.
----------
Crimson was still wearing one of the guards’ uniforms and had slipped through the base until he had made his way to the central hangar just in time to see the show.
CJ was out in the centre of the building on a chair placed in the middle of the bare floor. There was no way to reach him without tipping his hand, no shadows to work with, and two armed men were standing watch nearby while Cynthia Arrow was yelling like a lunatic.
For perhaps the first time in his entire life, he didn’t know what to do and couldn’t see an angle to work with. There was no way to get to the centre of the hangar without alerting everyone to his presence, and the chances were that moving as slowly as he was now, he’d be cut down by the assault rifles before he ever got close enough to do any damage of his own either by the blade or by the pistol he was still carrying.
He stood helpless some 50 feet or so away from CJ who himself looked pretty helpless. The only saving grace at the minute was that all the crazy woman seemed to be armed with was a knife. At least he knew that couldn’t hurt CJ.
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