The Immortal Trinity: Inheritance

by Momchil Yoskov

  - "How did all of this happen? One day everything was dull, but fine and neat... mostly, and before you know it - BOOM! Everything turns upside down, I fight aliens, have to listen to some obnoxious military and secretly do dirty work for a police officer while hiding all of this from every single person in the streets. How did I fuck up so badly? Is life challenging me? Is this my cause in life?"

  He was the sort of person who took life a bit too seriously at times. Also he had a philosophical approach to topics like life, destiny, fate, the Universe. Sadly he could not continue cogitating upon those topics, because his father walked in the room and told him it was time for dinner. He had the entire night to assess the situation, to consider the possibilities and the theoretical outcomes.

  He told his parents about the fight today. Naturally his mother worried... until once again Ronnie's father gave him a helping hand:

  - Hey, it's alright - the fact that he's still alive and breathing is all that matters. What did your superiors tell you?

  - They wanted us to go to HQ. Nothing else. I suppose they'll want us to say what we think of the whole situation and how it was fighting an intergalactic emperor. I'd wager that tomorrow our training begins. I don't know... what to think, what to do or say.

  His father had been put in a similar situation in his days in the army, so he had the right words of wisdom for the occasion:

  - Just do as you are told, kid. You're on their side. Plus, you're a smart young man - you'll know exactly what to do.

  It was strange how Raymond had so much confidence in his son's abilities, while Ronnie often had no idea how to do something as simple as talk to people without coming out as primitive or saucy. Martial arts was something that Ronnie only saw in films and television series, though he had never applied violence in real life for the purposes of self-defence. Now he and his friends not only had to defend themselves, but also another 7 billion souls. "7 billion souls", he said to himself, "and they all depend on me to keep them alive."

  Reality broke his line of thoughts; his mother said:

  - Don't forget that you have to see the dean first thing in the morning.

  Like someone who has almost never got himself into trouble, Ronnie shuddered.

  - Don't worry, son. - his father assured him. - You're just going to talk; it's not an exam, right, Macy?

  She agreed.

  - Does anyone want some dessert? - Macy asked.

  Ronnie stood up and went upstairs. He said that he had to contact the boys and arrange a rendezvous point, from which they could go to HQ. "It is going to be a long and excruciating day", Ronnie said to himself. Once he closed the door to his room, he contacted Garret:

  - Hey drunkard, you there?

  A belly laughter was the answer:

  - Yes, I'm here. Hey, Tyler, Ronnie's on the intercom.

  Tyler joined in the conversation:

  - What is it, boss? - he continued the humorous nature of the conversation.

  - I'll have to go talk to the dean tomorrow, so we won't be able to go to HQ immediately. What do you say we go immediately after I'm done?

  - OK, works for me. - Tyler agreed.

  - Same here. - Garret added.

  - Alright then. You guys get some sleep.

  - Same goes for you. Oh, and Ronnie... put some sharp clothes on for tomorrow. You're going to talk to the dean; gotta dress appropriately. - Garret suggested.

  - Alright, mum, I will. - Ronnie sighed and rolled his eyes, as the brothers burst into laughter.

  ***

  Furot was furious. Once again he had Immortals in his sights, all alone this time, without any support. Although they still behaved like normal, there was something odd about their approach to the fight. Confidence was not abundant, their powers were seemingly not used to their fullest and he could read some fear and confusion in the eyes of Ronnie... or rather Ankonian. He couldn't assemble the puzzle and was mad at the assassins, but they already knew it. Still, that did not stop him from lashing out on them as he usually did:

  - Have I trained you to become incompetent warriors under MY banner?

  Helaka was still upset after the fight and had no excuse. Mintelk and Kunala, however, tried their best to defend themselves:

  - What else do you expect? They're Immortals! - said Mintelk.

  - So? That means you should not use all of your abilities for attempts at killing them?

  In his rage he grabbed Mintelk's hair, dragged her across the command hall's floor and threw her against the wall. Kunala rushed to help her sister.

  - Do you believe you would have done any better against them?

  That verbal retaliation on behalf of Kunala did not help. Ren'ul slammed the side of her head with the back of his fist; then, he turned his attention to Helaka:

  - Anything in defence on your mind?

  Her response was silence.

  - Then drag yourselves out of here and rid me of your presence!

  And so they did - promptly and quietly. Once they entered their quarters, Mintelk had to let her rage loose:

  - What else does he want from us? We aren't sorcerers! We can't just make them bleed to death and kill them! It's impossible!

  Helaka noticed the slight lack of competence in the fighting of the "Immortals". It was too strange and good to be true - there was no way that space travel could have affected them in any way. An Immortal could easily survive the vacuum of space without a space suit. The Overlord is the only one who could come close to such a feat, but he was searching for them before he could do anything at all to them. Add that to the fact that no known race could cause such alterations to the most powerful race in the Universe and the confusion was complete. It made no sense. She wanted answers. As a matter of fact, all three of them wanted an answer to this mystery. Were they doing it on purpose? Is it a part of a plan?

  That did not matter that much, because the Overlord had a plan. One of his probes that attached itself to a satellite located an abandoned mansion very close to Frankfort. His idea was to send them there and set up a secret outpost. His son wanted to join them - he once again requested an opportunity to prove himself, but Furot forbid him from going. It was still too dangerous for him.

  ***

  It was morning. The month of April was a great time for a walk, especially in the morning. Ronnie woke up as if someone poked him in the back. He thought it was a nightmare, but he relaxed once he found out it wasn't. He had rested well - last night he went early to bed and it paid off. He was full of energy and went straight to the bathroom to wash his face and teeth. Macy was making pancakes and coffee. It felt wonderful... well, almost too wonderful for Ronnie:

  - Son, I want you to put on some decent clothes.

  While Macy was facing the coffee machine, Ronnie silently imitated her through lip-sync in an ironic fashion. After he drank his cup of coffee and ate 3 pancakes with chocolate, he rushed back to his room and put on a pair of jeans and a white shirt. As a die-hard metal head he rarely wore shirts, but this was an occasion that required an attire that was somewhere between formal and casual. His dad reacted quite positively and cracked a joke:

  - Lookin' sharp, kiddo! Better not be late for your date!

  - Yeah, a date with authority and justice... - said Ronnie.

  On his way out, Ray spewed another gem:

  - Don't forget to cause some mayhem!

  Macy slapped the back of Ray's head. Ever since they met, Ray had built a reputation for being a jester, a man who liked to see other people smile and laugh without offending them. As much as he was a peace-loving man, once someone steps on his neck, he changes in an instant. Ronnie had inherited this trait.

  Usually when Ronnie had to go somewhere, he didn't walk to his destination - he jogged. This time around he walked. He felt uncomfortable and for a very good reason - his face was now black, his eyes were blood red like those of a demon and he wore a cowl he could not take off no matter how hard he tried. Some people noticed him in the streets a
nd whispered. The intimidating look in his eyes did not help him in the past at all. History recalls a case, in which, after a girl described him as "a serial killer", due to the angry spark in his eyes, Ronnie said to himself: "Nah, screw it - let them fear me. At least it will save me from superficial people like her."

  The university was a formidable building. It felt chilling, but not unwelcoming - that quality certainly would not help a social place like that one. Inside it was empty - everyone was attending lectures, which was good for Ronnie, because he would not attract more unnecessary attention and would avoid a ton of questions and unwanted stares. The door to the dean's office opened and a teacher walked out carrying some folders. Once again he received an awkward stare, to which Ronnie responded with a weary sigh. He had never met the dean in person at all - that's how unknown he was to him. From what he'd heard, Thomas Feral was quite a liberal and tolerant person - Ronnie's hopes lay on that reputation.

  - Ah, you must be... Ronnie, if I'm not mistaken.

  Ronnie gave a nod of approval.

  - Your mother told me about your... how should I call it... Predicament would be the most accurate description, I suppose. Please, have a seat.

  Ronnie's bashfulness surfaced once again, but the dean assured him that there was nothing to worry about and that the conversation would remain a secret. He got straight to the point of the meeting - figuring out a secret premature graduation procedure for Ronnie.

  - Now, I don't know much about you, kid. I've barely seen you around these halls. Do you skip classes?

  - No, sir, absolutely not.

  - Good to know that there are still relatively diligent students on this planet. What was it that you study?

  - Applied linguistics - French and Italian. "Ugh, yet another quiz, I suppose."

  - I must confess: I've never really been a good student - not in school, nor in university. Also I was far from popular. Do you have many friends, Ronnie?

  - Just a few, sir. Most people steer away from me. They see that I walk around in a hoodie and paint me as a psychopath. That's the simple truth - I'm an outsider, a shadow. I feel... like a lone warrior against this horrible society that we live in.

  The dean's face turned cold.

  - "This doesn't look good..."

  Mr. Feral took off his glasses and smirked.

  - Very few of your peers talk this way.

  - I don't feel significant or unique, Mr. Feral. My father once told me: "Do what you must, son. What happens afterwards doesn't matter.". It is a well known fact that I take life a little too seriously at times - it's a curse. I fear that... the day I leave this university, my life will spiral down into an abyss. You see, sir...

  - Call me Tom.

  - Um... alright... if it will help you sleep easier at night.

  The dean smirked once again.

  - You see, sir, I'm no longer the same kid who walked these halls not long ago. A lot of changes have spun me around and a lot more will do so in the near future.

  The dean analysed Ronnie's words and concluded:

  - Alright, I believe you. It must be hard for you, now that you've changed. You won't be able to keep this a secret forever, I'm sure.

  - Yes, I already figured that out.

  - Here's what we're going to do, Ronnie. It's very simple. I want you to prove that you have not forgotten all of the knowledge that you've accumulated in university by taking the exams at the end of the semester. Pass the exams and you're free as a bird - you won't have to attend lectures for the rest of your studies. Fail and you'll be stuck here to the very end - no excuses. Just like your father told you: "Do what you must.".

  Ronnie had not studied anything at all that semester. But then something happened in his head: translated texts, grammar exercises, conjugated verbs flew before his eyes. He had the necessary knowledge for the exams in an instant. Then he saw photos from the dean's phone. It was all very, very strange, because the dean's phone was not in his hands and those verbs and exercises were not on a sheet of paper, from which he could read them. Ronnie had somehow hacked into the dean's phone and computer. All of the databases were in his head. He shuddered.

  - Are you feeling cold? - Mr. Feral asked.

  - Eh? Oh, no, not at all. One... um... one could say that sometimes I do. It's, like, in a fraction of a second. What was the word? I think goose bumps. No idea why that happens, but it does.

  His lie worked. It was convincing enough, so that the dean does not become too suspicious. Thomas walked with Ronnie to the door:

  - So it's settled - prepare for the exams and if you succeed, you're free from university.

  - Yes, exactly.

  Feral paused.

  - Is there something else you need to tell me, sir?

  - Kid, I have no idea what you're doing out there, but whatever it is... it better be for a good cause.

  - It sure will be.

  - You can drop by your classmates, if you want.

  - Thank you, sir.

  Ronnie could not exactly remember what lectures he had on Wednesday. His program for the week popped up on his HUD, as if he had summoned a creature.

  "Specialized Italian translation. Oh yeah, second floor, room 314 - I remember now."

  Upon reaching the room, he took a deep breath, looked both ways, knocked on the door and walked inside. Most of his classmates were there. His teacher was Azzurra Abbatucci - a stunningly beautiful teacher from the Sant'Agata Bolognese commune in Emilia-Romagna. Her first name meant "sky blue" and it was not a major surprise, because she had blue eyes. They were so blue that some of her students "sank" into them, like a boat out in the ocean. Her voice was not too alien, compared to her looks:

  - And who are you, young man? - she said.

  - Is it not obvious? - he replied.

  No response was given.

  - Oh... my bad... - Ronnie added.

  - Ronnie? Is... that you? - one of the students spoke.

  - Yes, Oliver, it's me.

  Some of the students stood up and hugged Ronnie. He could feel their enthusiasm and warmth.

  - We were worried about you. What happened? - Oliver said.

  - I... can't say. I'm still confused. - Ronnie said.

  Azzurra reassumed her role as a teacher and told everyone to go back to their seats. Ronnie agreed - he would have hated to impede the educational process. As Ronnie sat down, he received the opportunity to remind himself how gorgeous his teacher was. He had a temporary crush on her for a short while, until he realised how wrong it was and backed off. It was nothing more than an impulse to Ronnie, a short-lived passion that Ronnie poked fun of in front of his friends. He recalled how Tyler read his mind back at HQ and wanted to find out if he could do the same, so he used Azzurra as a lab rat for this experiment. As she was sharing information, related to a text they had translated previously, he entered her mind and what he found was... fervent. Better yet - it was red hot. Ronnie saw her in a different light - as a woman who kept a dark secret and suppressed an inner desire. She was wearing chains, leather and stockings and all she wanted was to be controlled, to be a slave. Ronnie exited her mind with a shudder. Luckily no one saw it, not even Azzurra. He was stunned, but not exactly surprised. As he furtively waved his index finger at her, he said to himself the following words that resembled a spell:

  - "Hocus pocus, imma shove it up your anus!"

  As soon as he said those words to himself, he read her thoughts once again. This time it was slightly different - he was there, walking towards her. He stopped and examined her from tip to toe, everything that his eyes could see: the long curly hair, the blue eyes, the leather she was wearing, her pale skin. Azzurra was on her knees, panting and staring at Ronnie dead in the eyes, as if she was under mind control. Then Ronnie picked up her leash, pulled her towards himself and spoke in his distorted voice:

  - You... belong... to me.

  Suddenly the visions ended. Azzurra flinched and so did Ronnie. Oliver had never seen their teacher doing a
nything like this:

  - That's weird. - said Oliver.

  Apparently no one had any idea what was going on, not even Ronnie himself. Ms. Abbatucci threshed out the sheets of paper on her desk and asked Ronnie to accompany him.

  - Eh... what for, Ms. Abbatucci?

  - It seems that I forgot the text that you're supposed to translate today in the library. How was it that you Americans say it... two heads are better than one, am I right?

  - True.

  Azzurra walked behind Ronnie in the halls. In his fear he could not read her mind. He feared the worst:

  - "Oh God, I'm so dead. I had the dean's trust and now I've ruined it completely."

  The library was a peaceful and quiet place, as one would normally expect. Ms. Abbatucci overtook Ronnie, grabbed his hand and lead him to a small preservation room that was covered by a curtain. Somehow no one saw them walking at a brisk pace; the librarian was in the opposite side of the library. Azzurra shoved Ronnie inside and pulled the curtain. She began panting, just like in her mind and ran her hands down Ronnie's chest.

  - You... you're in my head... just you... no one else. - she said.

  Ronnie was flabbergasted. Thankfully she wasn't mad, though he had to fix this problem. Normally he would dive head first, once he's blessed with such an opportunity. The fact that he had the dean's trust, that the woman staring into his eyes was his teacher and that he was taken meant that he couldn't do it. It didn't feel right for him. The uproar would be immense and the last thing anyone as asocial as Ronnie needs is publicity, especially when that anyone has the firepower to level an entire building. It took him a while to realise that he was controlling her mind - he inserted his image into her brain and now he had to yank it out.

  - This isn't you, Ms....

  - No, no, use my name. - she said, as she put her index finger on his lips and then put her palms on his cheeks. - Call me Azzurra, please. This formality adds distance. I want you. Don't you see it? I want you to control me, to tell me what to do, so I can please you.