Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2)

by L. M. Vila

1286 4th St SE

  Washington, D.C.

  Dozens of hungry beasts continued to snap their jaws at the Paladin. He kept them a good distance away but with the army of them encircling him and swinging at him all at the same time it proved to be quite challenging.

  Two wily monsters had seen through their prey’s defenses and jumped him into the air. Despite the several minutes he had spent combating them, even Davis kept a few tricks left up his sleeve for a rainy day. The Paladin slammed his staff down and with it the entire building rocked. A wave of force emanated from the center of the strike and pushed back all adversaries in every direction. The creatures flew and crashed nearly fifty feet away and landed with appropriately damaging thuds against the hard concrete floor.

  Davis allowed himself a few moments to breath and formulate a plan. Though he had not taken any physical damage as of yet, the process of keeping these beasts at bay proved taxing to his body. Drawing runes on the ground was easy enough with only two in melee combat but all twenty-five creatures at the same time proved to be relentless.

  In all of the Paladin’s extended years of experience, battles never quite went the way you planned. The beasts had recovered quicker than he had anticipated and began to charge in once more hoping to devour their defiant meal. Davis spun his staff in the air and prepared to defend himself as long as his skill would hold out. He slammed the metal rod through three of their gaping jaws, severing the muscles and connecting tissues, and watched them fall to the ground in heaping slumps of scarred meat.

  Two more attempt to jump the young Paladin from behind. He tapped his staff on the ground much lighter than before and pushed them back only a few feet as he wildly swung his staff and slapped them both across the chest. The force knocked them back into another set of creatures attempting to move in position for a better chance at their supper but caught nothing but their own brothers in their hungry mouths.

  The battle could not continue like this. Davis knew he had to do something to put these monsters down for good. He didn’t have enough time to draw his runes on the ground to trap half of them let alone the whole lot. His staff was constantly being used in defense. There wasn’t a moment where it wasn’t either striking down a potential assailant or spinning in his hands preventing others from drawing close.

  Another set of creatures lunged at him this time. Four of them had jumped from opposing sides with their mouths wide open and their claws drawn forth. The Paladin held his staff close and when the timing was just right, he spun it over his head. The beasts locked their jaws and slammed their fangs into the staff. All of them kept their bites sealed on the Paladin’s weapon. There was no way he was going to be able to fend them off now with all of that excess baggage on his primary weapon. It was time to teach these creatures and the doctor upstairs the meaning of Davis’ first title.

  Soft clouds of light began to flow out of the Paladin’s eyes. His hands burned and channeled the unbridled fury of nature’s most dangerous element. The entire staff became engulfed in roaring flames. Fire exploded, completely consuming their hulking frames and roasting the beasts as they howled in agony. With their grip released, Davis slammed his staff into the ground once more and drove the monsters back with a violent wave of air. He extended his arm out and began drawing a circle around him. Flames began to trail and soon grew to heights of nearly five feet in length.

  The beasts began to snap at the flames but none dared to cross. Davis knew he couldn’t beat them like this. It was a power play. This was a good method of intimidation for regular soldiers but on the mindless, it worked even better. Their only method of attack was melee and with this move Davis bought himself the precious moments he needed to wait for the answers to his prayer.

  This was not supposed to happen. Nothing in the doctor’s collective data could have ever prepared him for the sight that is unfolding in his warehouse. He had spent months calculating, testing, and executing his research in order to create an unbeatable army. Never in his life could he have dreamed that there existed someone that could manipulate science as if it were mere sorcery.

  Shin cursed the mere thought out of his mind. That couldn’t be true. There was always a scientific explanation for everything that exists in this universe. Every cell, every atom, every piece of matter has a history that can always be explained through logic and reason. And yet, here stood a man that could swat away the deadliest creatures ever created as if they were flies. They attacked him from all fronts and he pushed them back with an invisible force. They tried to swarm him and he bathed them in flames then commanded the fire to do his bidding. The doctor had never seen anything like it and every ounce of his intellect couldn’t even begin to process a rational explanation. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong and he was possessed to find out exactly what was causing him such undue stress.

  The beasts though rabid and wild, were still under Shin's control. They were unable to respond to any direct orders and their programming was limited to attack targets only Shin deemed worthy; mainly anyone but himself and a few select others. They had no functioning brains. Instinct was their only recourse. However, nothing is a greater deterrent to their biologically programmed habits than the element of fire. If they couldn't take down the target now, there would be no hope for further conquest. Their mission would end right here and now. It was time to end this charade.

  Shin slammed the control panel and began typing away. It was time to release their limiters and let these monsters do what only they can. Their eyes started to glow red and their posture changed. With their instincts completely wiped out, they only thing they had left to do was kill. They wouldn't stop for breaks. They wouldn't stop to show mercy. They would just keep on killing until there was nothing left to kill.

  March 27th, 2013 4:23PM

  The Oval Office

  Washington, D.C.

  Trinkets were thrown from their nestled spots as the undercover FBI agent slammed into the fireplace. She dropped to the ground, coughing and wheezing with every breath. The pain she was feeling paled into comparison to Bahn's unbridled rage.

  “Insolent pest,” he cursed.

  The words were soaked in venom. He continued to drag his sharp blade across the room, scarring the carpet and taunting the woman as he scratched his presence closer and closer.

  “You think they are going to save you now?” He mocked while pointed towards the window with two fresh bullet holes in them.

  The woman continued to heave and convulse. Perhaps he had broken a rib or two. It wasn't his intention but Bahn wasn't about to complain with the results. She wasn't about to leave this room alive. Not after sullying his pride and especially after striking him in such a cowardly fashion. He was going to make the last moments of her life a living hell until she begged him for the sweet mercy of death.

  He slowly dragged the blade until it was pressed right on her throat. Just one little flick from his wrist would split her neck in two. He could dance her head around the office like a soccer ball but it still wouldn't be enough punishment for her insolence. That would be too easy. This one had a long road of suffering.

  “You need to learn your place,” he gravely stated. Bahn slowly fell to one knee keeping the blade tickling her neck. “There is nothing you can do to stop what is coming. And because of your continued resistance, you're suffering is far from over.”

  Bahn paused and looked deep at the FBI agent that refused to even acknowledge he was there.

  “What can you possibly do to stop me now?”

  More coughs exited the woman's throat but he swore he could have heard ear say something. His heightened hearing might have just missed it but if she had the brass to say something under her breath, he'd make her pay for it one way or another.

  “What did you say?”

  Spit painted his face. The warm saliva flavored from the sour woman's tongue dripped on the furious brow of the South Korean soldier.

  “I said,” she coughed. “Fuck you.”

&
nbsp; Pain lit up on all of the soldier's nerves. A sharp metal object pierced his most private and sensitive area. Not once, but twice has he faced this humiliation at the hands of that woman. She twisted the poker and slammed it upwards jamming the handle square against Bahn's forehead. The woman stood up and attempted to make a break towards freedom. She severely underestimated her chances against his resilience.

  Bahn snapped and caught the fleeing FBI agent by the collar. He jerked her in the opposite direction and launched her towards the damaged desk of the beaten President. Her body crashed against the wood and severed the piece of historical furniture in half.

  “Bitch!” He cried.

  Blood was soaking through his pants revealing more his embarrassing wound.

  “I'll destroy you!” Bahn declared.

  He tossed aside the couches and chairs that dared to block him from his desired target. The collided with the walls of the office and bounced around for several seconds more due to the exuberant force.

  The FBI agent was lying face down over a piece of the broken desk. He picked her up by the hair. With one tug he ripped the blonde wig clean off revealing the true auburn locks of the fallen government employee.

  “They sent you?” He taunted, almost laughing.

  His anger had nearly subsided upon the realization.

  “You were the country's best hope to defeat me?!”

  He grabbed a chunk of the silk auburn locks and wrenched her up to her feet. The pleas and winces were the only good thing he's heard come out of her mouth all day. He raised his blade to her throat fully intending to sever each and every delicate cell and membrane that made up her weak flesh.

  “Let this be a lesson to you,” he stated while gawking at the President. “For this is how powerless you all are to stop me!”

  Bullet began flying by the dozens. Bahn steeled himself until he traced the location of the sound's origin. They were close by not in any threatening range. They must have been coming from outside. Suddenly, a sense of euphoria touched the soldier right in the soul. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

  “Do you hear that?!” He snapped.

  Bahn drew her in close when he spoke and then pushed her forward. His hands were still firmly clasping a big chunk of her scalp.

  “That is the sound of America falling to its knees.”

  Sirens began blaring outside. This only confirmed Bahn's initial analysis and he grew more excited with each passing second.

  “Your military is powerless to stop it. They're already at your gates.”

  Bahn pointed at the door they had sealed with all of the excess furniture.

  “Not even your country's most powerful organization can save you now. As soon as they come crashing through those doors, nothing will stop us.”

  Bahn kicked the back of the woman's legs and forced her to her knees.

  “And after they're done destroying every living thing in this room. I'm going to watch them ravage your body. Tear your skin off. Break every defiant bone you have. And with your final breath, when you beg me to make the pain go away, I will look down upon you and watch as the last thing you do in this world is beg me to end yours.”

  March 27th, 2013 4:24PM

  The White House

  Washington, D.C.

  Michael had severely underestimated the Secret Service's determination and training. Either he was too slow in his initial movement or they had decided to shoot him outright. He felt eight direct hits before he reached the first agent but couldn't determine if they had been absorbed by or penetrated through his thick layers of armor.

  The former FBI agent jammed his elbow into the sternum of the first enemy. He pulled back as much as he could be sense the bone was unable to stand up to the pressure. Possibly a hairline fracture at best but enough to incapacitate him from this fight for the time being. That's just what he needed to turn the tide in his favor while the others still peppered his body with bullets.

  Thankfully, the firing had ceased when Michael got into melee range of one of his intended prey. Before the Secret Service agent could hit the ground, he was spun around with his back pressed against the former FBI agent's chest. Using a human shield wasn't something he had done since the hunt many years back but desperate times turned even the most calculating of men into brutal savages.

  This move proved quick and positive results as the remaining agents began to holster their weapons. Michael had anticipated this move but the fact that they were putting down the only advantage they had meant they were switching tactics. These men had been trained to take a bullet for the President if the situation demanded it. They were going to dive in head first and try to pile on the former FBI agent all at once and force him to surrender. That was not how Michael saw this ending. Colleagues or not, there was nothing stopping Michael from getting to that office. Even if he had to bust some government heads to do it.

  Michael twirled his captive in a tight spin and forced him to do two revolutions before rocking his ribs with a standing side kick. The blow sent him flying into one of the white decorative columns, cracking it upon impact and sending him into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.

  One target was down but the challenge only increased. A few of the agents who hadn't fully holstered their side arms had redrawn and continued to lay down suppressing fire. Michael lifted his coat and caught most of the lethal shots that would have otherwise struck his wounded frame. The ultimate human solider pushed ahead towards the three targets continuing to rain bullets upon him. When they exhausted their magazines, Michael let go of his coat. They saw nothing but a blur as he swung and planted a devastating right roundhouse kick square in the neck. Michael continued the turn as his foot landed and cracked the second with a violent backhand that sent teeth and bodies crashing to the ground. The third hadn't even found his second magazine before Michael came in and finished his wave of attacks. The former FBI agent spun once more, leapt into the air and delivered a destructive back roundhouse kick pummeling the final target square in the jaw and sending him airborne.

  Another bold Secret Service agent made a daring move to take him from behind. Michael ducked under his flailing snatch attack and spun his leg backwards sweeping the serviceman off his feet and into the air. The ultimate human solider turned and lifted his arm high and with the increased area for velocity, he drilled an elbow into the agent's chest. The attack sent him hurling towards the ground at an even faster rate but just before he could taste the coldhearted floor, Michael caught him over bended knee and bent his spine backwards just before he crashed face first and let the darkness consume him.

  Two more rounds smacked the former FBI agent in the back. The pain was growing more intense by the second. He quickly dashed towards the previously damaged column and took cover behind it as more shots bounced off the thin barricade leaving trails of white dust floating in the air.

  A fist came flying towards Michael's already battered frame. He was growing annoyed with their efforts by the moments. Even now in his thrashed state, fighting a group a mortals was like watching a movie in slow motion. If only they could see themselves through his eyes. Michael caught the punch with his left hand and then snapped his opponent's arm back against the column. He cried and howled hoping for some sort of relief but found none while still clutched in the devil's grip. Michael crashed his knuckles against the agent's arm cracking the column once more. The force of the blow and angle he was pinned in forced his opponent's elbow to snap and bend the other way.

  Vicious cries of agony vibrated against Michael's ear. This did not appease his mood thanks to his genetically enhanced hearing capabilities. He silenced them with one sharp blow to the throat and drove the agent's temple into the column further cracking the ancient structure. Michael watched his body flop to the group and enjoy the cruelness of reality fade.

  More chunks of white powder sprinkled off the column as the other agent s resumed their pistol barrage. Michael didn't have the time or resources to put up with
this for long so he opted for a desperate solution to take them down. As he was pressed against the damaged column and idea struck. The two large cracks that were made were both clean and nearly two feet apart. This would work beautifully.

  Michael stepped out of his cover as the Secret Service agents reloaded. He vaulted a right roundhouse kick dead center between the cracks and launched the large chunk of column at a servicemen. It traveled with a velocity that only rockets could match and then crashed against the agent's head leaving a much larger cloud of white dust that their bullets could never even hope to match. He fell to the ground feeling only the cold black void giving him comfort.

  Bullets continued to roar into the air. Michael had lost a prime piece of real estate in the cover market but his adrenaline was starting to flow once more and he didn't even feel the next array of shots strike his body. The ultimate human soldier rushed in and clasped his attacker by the throat and lifted him up in the air. Two more rounds struck Michael in the chest as the ever defiant serviceman wasn't going down without a fight. He dropped the ground on his back with the Secret Service agent still clasped. Michael pressed his boot against the target's chest and continued to roll backwards. He launched his opponent with a brutal thrust and sent him flying across the room. The body crashed into another set of old and historic furniture destroying it and him in the process. Another one bites the dust.

  Sweat continued to pour off Michael’s brow as followed through on the roll and landed on his feet. Seven down, three to go. Finding the first wasn't difficult as he boldly sprinted towards Michael. After seeing all of the aftermath he had wrought upon his companions, charging in head first reeked of desperation. Disposing of this one would have been child's play if he hadn't also caught the sound of rushing footsteps coming directly behind him. They appeared to be going for the hi-low tactic. A decent strategy on paper, however, not one the ultimate human soldier is likely to succumb to.

  Michael jumped backwards just as the targets approaching were inches away from securing him in their grip. He hovered between their bodies as one passed overhead and the other traveled underneath. Expressions of rage were smeared across their faces. They hadn't even caught wind of what was happening. Michael landed on top of his shoulders and planted hands while tucking his legs into his chest. He sprang up, launching himself towards the target coming in from behind and as he rushed forward grabbed the ankles of the soaring target above. Upon landing on his feet, Michael slammed the two targets together in the most sadistic sandwich ever constructed. Their heads clacked and sent the sickening sound of bone crunching flesh into the White House atmosphere. They would be a threat to this mission no longer.