Final Empire

by Blake Northcott

  Gavin and I walked side by side across the valley floor, tracing along the side of the fissure. Motes of dust still hung in the air.

  Once they were within earshot, Kenneth spread his hands wide, and shouted, “Hey buddy, you made it!” The grin stretched across his face was eerily similar to the one he used to flash me in his previous life; as if we were best friends, and he’d just invited me over for pizza and beer.

  He breezed past the V2 dampening unit without even giving it a sidelong glance. Kenneth’s feigned confidence was like a tick buried under my skin. It was a sliver that I wanted to extract so badly I’d be willing to sever my pinky finger just to rid myself of it.

  We marched towards each other until my fist collided squarely with his jaw line, rocking his head back. Then a left hook spun him, sending him to the ground.

  Valeriya shrieked and Gavin grabbed my arms, yanking me back.

  “How could you?” I screamed, struggling to free myself from Gavin’s grip. “How could you kill him? He had a family!”

  Kenneth chuckled and staggered to his feet, running a gloved hand along his jaw. His tongue snaked across his top lip, tasting the coppery tang of his own blood. He raised his brow at the sensation. “Interesting...I can’t remember the last time I bled. Didn’t know I could anymore.” His eyes flicked to the massive steel cylinder. “I assume this giant tin can you dropped on my island is a CDU?”

  “That’s right, asshole. Before long I’ll mass produce these new models, and have them everywhere, in every city around the world. They have a one-hundred mile radius and an independent power source that can last generations. Soon, everyone like you will be history.”

  “Ambitious,” he said, looking the device up and down. “Naïve and short-sighted, but ambitious. Ultimately this will fail, just like every other security measure does.” He strode towards me with his hands clasped behind his back, seemingly unconcerned that I might strike again. Was he taunting me? Daring me? The tiny horizontal split on his lip was still bleeding, and a droplet rolled down his chin. “No deterrent in human history has ever been able to stop determined people,” he continued. “If they’re angry and motivated enough, nothing will get in their way. Prisons, war, the looming possibility of nuclear annihilation – they’re half-measures, at best. There is only one way to eradicate a group of radicals and ensure they never again pose a threat.”

  I struggled to free myself but Gavin held firm, gauntlets clasped tight around my arms at the bicep, keeping me from reaching my weapons. “Are you out of your mind?! You really think you’re going to kill every single superhuman on the planet?”

  He motioned back towards his followers who were gathered at the foot of the pyramid – a mob that had swollen to more than two thousand, with more pouring from the entrance. They stood at bay as if an invisible length of police tape were blocking them from a crime scene. “Not just me. I’m powerful, but I’m just a single person. I have a flock willing to give their lives for the cause. This is going to be a long, arduous task, but...”

  “But at the end of the day you’re the last one standing,” I said, breathing heavy. “You want to be the only one left with powers.”

  “It’s the safest way,” he said, mustering as much sincerity as he could.

  I shook my head. “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

  He smiled again. The insincere flash of teeth that made me want to smash them down his throat. “The American government seems to think it’s the right thing to do. And so do my followers. Do you, Matthew Moxon, think you know better than everyone else?”

  While listening to The Living Eye’s rhetoric I couldn’t help but feel as if I was no longer conversing with Kenneth Livitski at all. It had been like this ever since I’d first stepped into his throne room at the apex of his pyramid; the cape, the cowl, the impossibly muscular physique he’d crafted for himself – it was convincing, and at times evening intimidating, but it was all cosmetic. Window dressing. He was too lucid and calculated to have completely lost his mind, and somewhere, beneath the shiny new exterior he’d created using his considerable powers, he was the same person he’d always been. But there was something else at play. Whenever Valeriya was at his shoulder he was putting on a performance. Kenneth was now a walking, talking puppet that vaguely resembled the man I once knew, and was espousing propaganda-laced talking points that I’d come to expect from his pint-sized sidekick, not himself.

  I was getting nowhere. I had to throw him a curveball and see if it would yield some different results. My eyes flicked towards Valeriya and back to him.

  “Can we have a moment alone?” I asked.

  His gaze never left mine while he took a moment to contemplate my request. “Go tend to our flock,” he said flatly.

  Valeriya’s crystal blue eyes widened, craning her neck upwards. “What?”

  He didn’t look down. “Please don’t make me repeat myself.”

  She spun and trudged back towards the army of gawking followers with all the enthusiasm of a teenager being forced to mow the lawn during a heat wave. I asked Gavin for some privacy as well and he reluctantly agreed, backing up to a distance of about a hundred paces before The Living Eye and I could continue our conversation.

  And then something amazing happened: our first one-on-one conversation began, and I was suddenly speaking to Kenneth again – or at least a reasonable facsimile.

  “Wake up, Mox!” he said, careful to keep his voice calibrated to a sensible level (the acoustics were surprisingly sharp between the craggy mountains that flanked us, amplifying each decibel). His tone had changed as well: he’d ditched the modulated, almost monotonous speech patterns and had adopted a more buoyant cadence, reminiscent of our time together before his coma. “Why do you think Darmaki stole Sergei Taktarov’s body? Just for shits and giggles? He knew that Russia’s Son was still being worshipped, even after his death. He wanted to be the only game in town.”

  “Same as you.”

  “Right!” he said excitedly, taking a step towards me. “Who would you rather have as the last man standing: me, or some deranged lunatic out in the desert who wants to control the world’s water supply? There are some dangerous powers out there and they’re all gunning for the top spot.”

  I had to resist the urge to tear at my hair and scream myself hoarse. “So this is your idea of a better world: a fucking genocide?”

  “Oh come on man,” he scoffed. “Don’t be such a goddamned drama queen. Valeriya lays it on thick for her simulcasts on the Darknet, but it’s not like we’re planning to wipe out every superhuman; just the ones who pose a threat.”

  “And who decides who is and isn’t a threat, Kenneth? You? The US government?”

  “Things are going to be better this way, Mox, can’t you see that? After that shit Darmaki pulled we’re all on the chopping block: me, Brynja, your pal Steve McGarrity – everybody. America isn’t going to let a bunch of powers just run rampant over cities whenever they want. After I thin out the herd, things will start going back to normal.”

  “Superhumans are real, Kenneth. There is no more ‘normal’. There’s no going back.”

  “But we can co-exist like this,” he said, sounding disconcertingly sincere. “I take out the main players and everyone can feel safe again. I’m the hero here, can’t you see that?”

  “’Take them out?’ You sound like a crazy person! These are human beings you’re killing.”

  “When I was in a coma things became so much clearer: life, death, that place I slipped into between both realms— it’s all the same. They’re just different universes, realities we bounce back and forth in between.” He turned to his flock of gawking followers at the base of the pyramid. “Some people are better off here, and some need to be sent to the next life. I’m just speeding up the natural order of things. I’m creating a balance.”

  “You can’t play God, Kenneth.”

  He turned towards me. “I’m just doing what you’ve been doing all along, buddy
: making choices. You shot and killed Frost because he needed to die. Now you’re giving water to villages so people can live. You’ve taken life and now you’re giving it – you’re just using different tools to get the job done.”

  My head was beginning to throb, and my words were coming out hollow, echoing inside my skull as if someone else were saying them. “That’s….that’s different…”

  “Is it?”

  I snatched the gun from my holster and jammed it out in his direction. My hand trembled. My vision blurred from the floating dust motes that stung my eyes (or maybe it was my lack of medication, or maybe it was both, I couldn’t be sure).

  The sight of me with a gun in-hand was apparently hilarious. “You are I are so much alike,” Kenneth laughed. “It’s a shame you can’t see it.”

  “Shut up,” I growled, wiping the dust from my eyes with the back of my free hand, keeping the gun aimed squarely at my target.

  He jutted his thumb back over his shoulder at the CDU. “You dropped this thing from a jet in the hopes of flattening me, and you didn’t give a crap who got steamrolled in the process.”

  “It was an accident!” I shouted. I gripped the pistol with both hands to steady it, but the barrel continued to vibrate.

  “And accidents happen,” he shrugged. “I get it, buddy. Shit goes down and you can’t always control it. And sometimes, cool people die. Look at your friend Todd Dzobiak, for example. Yes, I admit, I took a little pleasure in stabbing every single one if his vital organs, mainly because I knew it would piss you off...but either way, he had to go. He was going to expose me. Now that he’s out of the way we can move on and be a real team. You, me, Brynja…”

  What. The. Crazy. Fuck. Was I hallucinating? Hearing voices again? There was no possible way that the words I just heard actually came from Kenneth’s mouth.

  “Think about it!” Kenneth said, beaming with excitement. “Now that you and I are even, we can put all this crap behind us.”

  “We’re ‘even’ now?” I flamed. “Are you fucking kidding me? You murder my friend and frame an innocent man for it, and then tell me we’re even?”

  “Yes,” he persisted, not at all rattled by the fact that I was still holding him at gunpoint. “We’re completely square. It’s one life – get over it already. Just join my team and be on the right side of history for a change. I need smart generals like you out in the field, not bureaucrats sitting in board rooms, and Brynja belongs with me, anyway.”

  This was it. I was going to do what I came here for. I couldn’t hear one more second of this complete and utter madness. Every word that floated from his stupid mouth was like a toxic cloud that permeated my skin, infecting me as they coursed through my veins.

  I lunged forward and jammed the barrel of my gun into Kenneth’s forehead, hard enough to leave a welt on his pale skin.

  He grinned and leaned into it, pressing back. “This has been really exciting,” he laughed, “but Mox, c’mon, buddy. I know you’re not going to kill me.”

  I flicked the safety off with my thumb. It took three attempts but I eventually caught it.

  He never flinched.

  “You know what ‘buddy’,” I said through gritted teeth, “I don’t think you know what I’m capable of. You’re not a savior, or a messiah, or the next Sergei Taktarov – you’re a fucking cancer. If I don’t end you right now while I have the chance, you’re going to continue to spread.”

  My finger was about to squeeze the trigger when Kenneth said, “You’re not going to kill me because of Brynja.”

  I blinked hard. “She’ll get over it.”

  “You’re not listening,” he said sharply, the buoyancy slipping from his tone. His words grew bolder and he adopted a deep baritone. “I’m not a cancer, Mox: I’m a nervous system. Some of my creations may act independently, but they’re still part of a larger whole. Part of me. You shoot me, and my extended body dies along with me.”

  I pulled my gun away from his forehead. “You mean...I kill you, and Brynja...”

  He nodded.

  “You didn’t ‘create’ Brynja,” I said, rubbing a sheen of perspiration from my brow. “She existed before.”

  “Correct. Her consciousness existed before I brought her back: her thoughts and desires and memories – everything that makes up who she is. But those are nothing more than non-local electrical impulses that can transfer from one carbon-based life form to another.”

  I reeled, head spinning. “I-it’s her mind, but you gave her a new body…” I stammered. “You made one for her, manifested it. The same one she had in Arena Mode.” That’s why Brynja was no longer a perception, taking on the appearance of whoever observed her, and it was also why she couldn’t ghost anymore, becoming incorporeal. She’d been given a new physical form, and was walking around inside of Kenneth’s construct.

  “You catch on quick.” He pointed towards the gun that I was now dangling loosely at my side. “You pull that trigger, Mox, and Brynja blinks out of existence.”

  Even sleep deprived and desperately in need of medication, I could see clearly enough to notice his conviction. My failsafe fib detector was still functional. “You’re not lying.”

  He folded his arms across his broad chest. “No, I’m not. And I’m disappointed in you...I can’t believe that after my generous invitation to be part of The Order, you were actually going to kill me.”

  My knees buckled. Gavin must have seen me crumbling because he had raced to my side, propping me upright. “You...you’re a...” I trailed off, slurring my words. I was planning to say something like, ‘you’re never going to get away with this!’, or ‘I’ll be back!’, or something else I’d seen in an action movie, but my mouth wasn’t cooperating. My brain was grinding to a stop, and by body was quickly following suit.

  “Look at you,” he said with a derisive laugh. “You’re pathetic. You’re falling to pieces, and before long you’ll be dead. I won’t have to listen to your sanctimonious bullshit ever again, and Brynja will come back to me – come home, where she belongs.” He waited a moment and sighed, shaking his head. “But you know what, who has the patience for all that? Why don’t I just kill you right now and speed up the process?”

  Kenneth lunged for my gun and Gavin cut him off with a sharp right cross, followed by a knee to the gut. The hydraulic boosters in his armor’s legs helped Gavin push off with a thunderous kick that struck Kenneth’s chest, blasting him backwards as if he’d been thrown from a moving car on the interstate.

  Gavin put his finger to his ear and scanned the sky above. “Karin, we need a lift!” he shouted, his voice thin and panicked.

  Valeriya had already signalled Kenneth’s followers, and they were stampeding across the valley floor. They were unarmed from the looks of them, but with that many people they didn’t need to be; with a horde that size we’d be swarmed, overwhelmed like victims in a zombie film and torn limb from limb.

  The herd rumbled closer and Gavin drew his machine gun from his spine, pressing the stock to his shoulder, but before he had the chance to shoot we levitated, sailing towards the TT-100. The underbelly opened and we were magnetically pulled aboard, being dumped unceremoniously into the passenger bay.

  My eyes fluttered, lids filled with lead. The next thing I knew I was face down, cheek pressed into the cold metallic floor, drowning in silence. The jet blinked away and I surrendered to the darkness, but not before one final thought drifted through my mind: it’s over...and The Living Eye won.

  PART THREE: ALL GREAT THINGS

  “Material wealth. Political influence. A flag surrounded by invisible borders. These are nothing more than constructs, illusions. They are the outdated currency of bankrupt culture that will soon cease to exist. Choose to live in the glory of the New World – the future – or burn in the ashes of the past. Join The Living Eye.”

  - Herald of The Order (Darknet Holoforum)

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I had a nightmare. Kenneth, on his knees, chest pressed
against a wooden block. His hands were bound with a length of rope. He was blindfolded. With his head sagging, the back of his neck was exposed, tender skin visible between his cape and his hairline, where the nape of his neck met the base of his spine.

  I readied my broadsword. The hilt was black as night and the blade forged from fire, the flames lapping at my knuckles as I redoubled my grip. As everyone I knew stood in silence and watched, I raised the weapon overhead. He begged. He pleaded. He explained that he’d been corrupted by power, influenced by the sycophants he’d surrounded himself with. He wanted to change but didn’t know how, and didn’t have anywhere to turn.

  He asked for my help.

  I refused.

  With a streak of flame I sent his head rolling across the checkered tile floor.

  And then I laughed.

  I jolted awake, sitting upright. I thought it was morning…which morning, I wasn’t sure of. Beams of bright yellow light streaked through Fortress 18’s infirmary’s skylights, stinging my eyes. An IV dangled from my forearm and a thin metallic cord tethered a circular blue pad to my chest.

  I disconnected myself, threw my legs over the side of the bed and located my jeans, runners and hoodie. Patting down my pockets I tried to locate my medication, and the events of the last twenty-four hours snapped into focus. The bar in Glasgow. Dropping a giant CDU on Kenneth’s island. And me, with gun drawn, a heartbeat away from executing someone at point blank range.