Angelos Odyssey

by J. B. M. Patrick

  “You're finished.” Tavon spoke in a more serious tone. “It's time you paid for your actions in full, Ekwueme! By demanding your own contract, you've exposed yourself as prey… you showed me where the real evil exists.”

  Tavon approached and glared contemptuously at his wounded target, his fists clenched. He despised Ekwueme's character; someone who'd gazed into the darkness for far too long…

  Just as Tavon took another step, Ekwueme hefted his arm to reveal a half-severed hand that exploded outward with energy that had been concentrated and localized within his synthetic makeup! Tavon focused his residual power into a defensive posture and was struck square in the chest, gasping desperately as he fell over to succumb to wounds far graver than he’d anticipated…

  His target brought himself to stand on his one functioning leg and began laughing hysterically. A man whose very soul had rotted away in the flames of constant conflict.

  “As mentioned before, Tavon, it was wrong to rely on an amateur to finish a job meant for me. Some men were born into this world with the objective to conquer, to let people know their names.” Ekwueme stood over the assassin. “I wanted a challenge, my friend, and I'll admit that you had me going for a second; I haven't had to focus so hard in ages!” He grinned. “But I'm afraid you weren’t ready. On this day, the strong has overcome the—”

  Tavon grabbed the pistol he'd previously discarded and shot Ekwueme through his jugular.

  The crime lord clutched at his throat in fear, and the sound of scraping metal emanated as Ekwueme’s complex circuitry began to fail him. He could no longer speak and choked as a profuse amount of blood spurted from his hand while he applied as much pressure as he could to the lethal injury. Pain flooded his body, and arcs of electricity protruded and flickered out as whip-like appendages escaping his twitching, estranged form.

  Ekwueme came to his senses, feeling keenly that his blood had become acidic and noticed far too late that Tavon had placed his palm against the flat plane of his chest. Surrounding Tavon was a faint, dark outline. It glowed over an embered radiance somewhat diminished by eyes which shone as two blackened spheres piercing Ekwueme, rendering Judgment.

  The ground around them shook violently, and an unstoppable projection sprung from Tavon's extremity that abruptly sheared its way through most of the skin on the right side of Ekwueme's torso, blasting him back as he soared toward the flooring.

  Enveloped in the darkness, Tavon smiled at his target.

  “You shouldn't have stopped so soon. You might've won.”

  Ekwueme's began retching. When he reached for his chest, the realization dawned on him that a wide fissure had been blasted through his upper abdomen…

  Tavon's smile disappeared, and a dark fog, summoned anew, obscured his eyes; he grabbed Ekwueme by the neck and, with impressive strength, held him aloft over the edge of the Projects.

  “Ask me—ASK ME FOR FORGIVENESS! Ask me, you stupid motherfucker!” Tavon trembled as black flames erupted in his wake, enraged at the demise of Isaac and his son.

  Ekwueme couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t speak.

  It had been such a long time since he’d felt… Weak.

  “What's wrong, huh?! You can't man up to what you did!?” Tavon refused to accept his silence. “You killed a kid! You shot someone just because you could—not because you had to! This shit… you deserve this.”

  -

  Ekwueme remembered the Komutkan Section Leader strangling him; he could still see his mother's body burning behind the older man’s wicked grin with rotted teeth shamelessly bared…

  He remembered his ascension, tying the Section Leader upside down alongside his own family and making him watch as he decapitated his daughter and fed her along with his lover to a group of ravenous boars. Ekwueme made sure they’d been sufficiently starved.

  He remembered capturing the commander who'd taken him in and removing his eyes, ears, teeth, tongue, and limbs individually and on select occasions. Ekwueme then left the man to bleed out in his own bed.

  He remembered that his wrath was all-consuming…

  -

  Ekwueme calmly gazed back at Tavon. In the crime lord's eyes, he could see a grimy, dreadful ocean; he could make out struggles familiar to his own.

  But Ekwueme hadn't survived the trials of time as a hero.

  The crime lord forced himself to speak through an outpouring of blood. “I-I do…n't ap…ologize…” His eyes became hardened, fierce. With the last of his available effort, Ekwueme choked out: “BITCH!”

  Tavon sighed and simply let go.

  He didn't bother watching him fall, and Ekwueme's body consequently crashed into a parked cruiser before emitting what could've been considered something close to a death knell made from the destruction of his embedded technology.

  “Forgive me, Isaac…” Tavon spoke.

  -

  Sky-bound vehicles cruise by on a web of several interconnected highways; the sun hangs suspended above the world, and the winds build into an intensified, rhythmic breeze. On a nearby street, a group of Blood Disciples lounge on a wooden bench while staring sullenly at the ground and focusing on the amount… how much the next re-up would leave them short…

  A stranger sauntered up to the group and asked an unheard question; one of the men extended his palm before offering him nothing but an expectant glance. The stranger handed him a wad of cash, and the man on the bench pointed to a distant spot around the corner of the street where the newcomer could pick up the product—where he could satisfy his need for a fix…

  The cycle perpetuated itself, and an outside influence decided to change things. Forever.

  In the distance, the group watched as a severely battered figure steadily made its way over to them. Magellan scrambled to get to his feet; the rest of his crew became just as alert and stared at the stranger in bewilderment.

  “Is that…?”

  Tavon approached, covered in a multitude of wounds he’d poorly hid from the prior bout. His clothes were stained with both blood as well as faint gunpowder residue, and he moved carefully—as if walking caused him a tremendous amount of effort, effort that resulted in obvious discomfort shown by his disgruntled expression.

  He offered Magellan an unblinking, thousand-yard stare as he drew ever closer…

  Magellan felt a sense of uncertainty overwhelm him, and so he hurried to retrieve his bat while signaling for the rest of the Blood Disciples to prepare for the perceived threat. And from where he stood, he felt an abnormal increase in the surrounding temperature.

  I can’t be nervous right now, can I? We outnumber this fool.

  “Well… he's got some nerve. I’mma give him that.” L exclaimed, “Notice how he’s looking at you? —I say we put him down for good, eh?”

  Magellan brushed him off. “Not yet.” He turned to address Tavon:

  “The fuck you want this time, dumbass? Come back to start stalkin' other fiends now?!”

  In a brief moment, Tavon extended his arm and slapped the man with enough power that the gang’s Lieutenant collapsed against the bench. It caved in under the pressure of his weight.

  “Get him!” L exclaimed and rushed the assassin. He awkwardly thrusted his bowie knife at Tavon’s gut.

  They fight like amateurs. No wonder Ekwueme had the upper hand.

  Tavon calmly but swiftly forced the knife away from L’s grasp by twisting the gang member’s wrist. Once he had the knife, Tavon pushed off from his left foot and knocked L unconscious with his right fist. Tavon, resisting the severity of his wounds as they started to heal, tucked in the fingertips of his hand to rest against their lowest corresponding knuckles and extended his palm to replicate a long-fist style.

  Before Kay could obtain a clear shot that wouldn’t wound L, Tavon quickly struck her in the temple. Kay hadn’t hit the ground yet, and he was already lunging toward Nathan. With two hands, Tavon pivoted the handgun in the exact moment in which the older man had fired it—which accidentally led to Nathan grazi
ng his own shoulder.

  As the older man cursed from the pain, Tavon retrieved the glock and quickly struck him with the butt of the firearm, shattering his septum and muffling his groans as blood welled from fractured bone barely exposed through gashed skin.

  “Get down!” Tavon ordered and cycled his aim between each Blood Disciple.

  Nathan surrendered and began to rest on his knees, shielding his face from further injury and appearing frightened.

  Tavon was aware of the numerous eyes fixed on him; more guns prepared to end his life if he tried to go through with actually killing any of the members. Small squabbles were normal but murder was considered an act of war.

  Regardless, he decided that he didn’t care.

  Upholding his own pride, Tavon moved to Magellan's position and lifted the man by the collar of his shirt, as he had done their former boss, and shoved the barrel of the glock into his cheekbone.

  “Listen,” Tavon spoke nonchalantly, his mind taking a backseat to an unstoppable surge of adrenaline. “I'm only gonna tell you this once: High Rise didn't betray you.” He sneered and shook his head. “No—that's just not how it is. There was a third party, Ekwueme, manipulating your lives. But in the end, you abandoned High Rise—”

  “I didn’t aba—”

  “Shut up!” Tavon exclaimed and whipped the firearm across Magellan’s face, bringing the man to his knees.

  “When that idiot needed you—no… —When your leader needed you, you failed him! He made you, and you failed him… Tch…” Tavon scoffed.

  Magellan slouched over in resignation. “Yeah, man… I got it.”

  “I really don't think you do,” Tavon glared at him. “And maybe I'll need to hit you again to make you understand—”

  “No!” The man pleaded. “Not again, I'm good—I'm good! We know you ain't fuckin' around now!” Magellan quickly perked up while nodding.

  “Your brothers and sisters are all you've got now, Magellan. The way you treated someone who'd lost everything was… dishonorable; he could've been saved with your help.” A vindictive rage burned inside of the assassin. “You could've stopped it…”

  I'm blaming them. It’s my fault, but I’m blaming them.

  “You were too busy dreaming about the next big deal, the next person you gotta suck up to. You're punishing others who weren't as strong to make it as far as you in the game, and the tragedy is that you'll become just like Rise if you keep going this way…”

  “What do you mean?”

  I'm wasting my time…

  “Ekwueme.” Tavon patiently explained: “He exploited your weakness! He made you his bitch! Get it now?”

  “I do…” Magellan's eyes peered off into the distance, “… I—”

  L stalked Tavon from behind, knife in hand!

  “L!” Magellan halted the other gang member with a desperate gaze. “Enough! He’s not lookin’ to kill…”

  Tavon glanced at the younger gang member for a moment before turning back to their leader. “Ekwueme's dead, by the way…”

  Magellan looked to him in astonishment. “That's impossible; he was built to be a motherfuckin' war machine!”

  “Magellan,” L sneered, “this dude is bullshittin', yo! Bet he won't get so lucky in a second round!”

  “No!” Magellan barked at him in an irritated tone. “Don't even think about that shit right now; brother,” his eyes widened significantly, “this ‘dude’ isn’t playin’ with us!”

  Tavon retrieved Ekwueme's folded up beret from his pocket and threw it on the ground next to Magellan. “He's not coming back. And now, I nominate you as the de facto leader of the Blood Disciples… someone has to carry on Isaac's legacy—you understand?”

  Tavon backed away from Magellan, who responded: “I hear what you're saying, man… —but really? Ekwueme!? That's…”

  “Forget my face. I did you a favor today, Blood Disciples. Remember what I told you,” Tavon said firmly. “Or I'll change your leadership again.”

  Tavon turned his back to the crew and proceeded on his way without another word.

  Kay and Nathan had recovered slightly and stood to aim their weapons at his back, but Magellan stepped in to calm them. “He killed Ekwueme. For us.”

  I’m in a bad way, but Brock can help. I’m not sure I can make this date—but…

  Aaliyah.

  7

  Distant Land

  AFTER THE FIRST RIFT, coroners as well as those tending to mass grave sites found themselves struggling against the overflow of fatalities, fatalities that resulted from chaos persisting for centuries. Nuclear war and the ensuing struggle for survival against the invasion produced quantities of corpses outnumbering death tolls from any prior conflict or major epidemic in history. There remained little in the way of resources for properly housing multitudes of human carcasses—the ones which hadn’t been eaten, of course.

  Civilization had fallen—or, should I say, the Old World. Those tending to the dead experienced a more significant level of dread, an intangible sorrow permeating fields that had been tilled to form immense cemeteries standing as a testament to the apocalypse. It is said that the smell of the deceased kept those who tended to the dead from being detected by malicious, otherworldly beings, and, in a sense, their duties protected them from the madness of the New World. Despite this, the chagrin they endured from working with lifeless forms day and night attracted an unknown God.

  Perhaps it was a strange Entity who traveled wherever it desired to observe; a God whose attention was suddenly drawn to these particular individuals. Its nature was kept elusive while It orchestrated a system to transport the souls of the dead, who emerged as lost spirits scattered throughout the universe and crying for an ethereal guide to bring them peace.

  Not long after the First Rift, those who tended mass grave sites shifted into strange beings not unlike the invading demons, beings never intended for our reality. The God transfigured a large majority of them into a sentient species known as the Solace: sentinels drifting through this world to embrace the dead…

  Considered a legend by some and truth by others, the Solace are the closest in resemblance to classic depictions of angels. They fulfill two roles: patrolling the flow of time as well as carrying the lost souls through its dimensions. In their latter position, they manifest as reapers in popular imagination.

  Despite the above description, the Solace—sharing a singular mind—do not reveal themselves as one would think; rather, they take on the guise of humble humans often garbed in conventional clothing relevant to the chosen time period. They walk among us with next to no one seeing what they truly are simply because very few humans possess the knowledge necessary to comprehend their Form. Many believed that in order to view a Solace for what it was, a deeper secret was required—and obtaining this treasure was an arduous and often suicidal task.

  If anyone were to witness the genuine appearance of a Solace, the sight of such a thing could harm them permanently…

  -

  When I approached the truck driven by my husband, I witnessed something of similar nature to the harvesters of the lost.

  The top half of the window on his side had been shattered, and glass shards had impaled my husband's thigh. What I witnessed altered me forever in a way that couldn't be reverted… it blackened my vision of the universe.

  Something was eating him.

  He kept screaming for help, struggling for his life—but I couldn't move my body; I couldn’t do anything!

  “Janelle!” His eyes bore into me with desperation.

  We were both trapped inside our own terror. How could this be real?

  “Please! Help me, Janelle! —DO SOMETHING!”

  I remained there, shaking and watching helplessly. I heard a raspy growl; something actively tore through the driver’s seat. I was so afraid, and the worst part of it all…

  … Was that I couldn't see what It was.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away, and I believed I’d submitted to the
Insanity. Then I saw a pair of smaller legs laying lifeless against a backseat drenched in bright blood, surrounded by pieces of… organs.

  Those legs connected to a maimed, headless body that had attempted to bury itself underneath the front passenger seat in defense. Next to them, I saw my son's face, emptied sockets directed toward the ceiling with a horrified expression etched across his features.

  A creature unseeable was devouring my family, and I could only watch as bits of flesh disappeared into its invisible maul. It suddenly stopped and was silent for a moment; my body tensed… then I heard it utter a piercing scream.

  I quickly ran back to my vehicle and revved the engine. Almost just as rapidly, the thing leapt onto the front windshield and shrieked loudly enough to narrowly stun me in place! Panicking, I reacted by driving into the truck in hopes of possibly smashing the abomination against the rear of the vehicle.

  My body lurched forward following the impact, and the unknown creature responded by traveling to the roof of my car and beating on it with a series of ferocious and destructive blows. Above me, a series of deep dents created by its strikes formed in a halo around my head! It screeched one more time before loudly climbing its way down the rear windshield and stepping off the vehicle altogether.

  I waited there for what felt like ages…

  The tears hit me, and then I just kept sobbing. Dr. Keung had destroyed my whole life, but I wasn't aware of this yet. All I could understand was that either I'd been hallucinating or God had decided to purge the Earth completely with me included.

  I remembered reading in an old Tome about a great Flood that destroyed everything, and all I could think was that we were experiencing a much more vicious repeat. I truly believed that witnessing my family's death was the worst event that could've happened this day, but the apocalypse of everything I'd known wasn't over…