Not Against Flesh and Blood (The DX Chronicles Book 1)

by Brian Cody

“In my failure, Arthur, I succeeded.” The man paused. “Or more, in your failure, I met the desired outcomes for which I had pooled my resources.”

  “That’s it? You came to laugh at me?” Arthur huffed. “You slithered into one of this country’s most secure prisons, and all for the purpose of mocking me? How, I wonder, did you maneuver into these corridors; but I put that aside; now, I question your memory. You know the information I carry. With a simple raising of my voice, I could have the heads of every intelligence agency in NATO standing before me and begging for the wisdom in my possession; wisdom that would guide their paths, inevitably, to you.”

  “And wisdom I was so gracious as to bequeath to you, Arthur”, the man replied, “along with that suit. There is a time for speaking, and a time for mockery, but I, Arthur, come here on the most official of business.” The man pulled his chair in, glanced to his right, and towards the security camera along the ceiling. Then, he looked to Arthur. “You controlled that suit with such ease; you put your physical and mental experiences to good use by donning it, and you used it to its potential. I commend you for that, but I also have a request, because, while your own aptitude equated to part of your successes, the remaining half was due to my machinations. The nanochip cluster I embedded along the nerve-endings in the center of your right arm—that’s what made your control so precise. For reasons I will not explain, I am going to need those tiny parts back.”

  Arthur’s head twitched to the right, and a grin formed as another gasp strengthened into a chuckle. He cackled; then, he inhaled. His laughs sharpened into guffaws as he flung his head and faced the ceiling. Across from him, the man was still, his arms crossed and his gaze withstanding. “Right, right; I see”, Arthur gasped as he looked down. “I suppose that would be a good reason to come here—to recover the one tangible piece of evidence linking me to you. However, I’m afraid that I’m going to turn you down, for that same piece of evidence—that cluster you so graciously injected into my arm many months ago—is my validation. It is and will continue to be the one thing keeping me from a state-sanctioned execution. Once I prove my assertions of you, and once I inform them of this concocted competition, I’ll be a hero greater than any of those six greenhorns, and I’ll be more revered than Sterling Blue. After my physical passing, more than any of their kind living on this earth, I will be elevated as the savior of man.”

  The man hummed, pushed out his chair, stood, and unfolded his hands. “Well, I’m asking you politely not out of any sympathies that could possibly come to mind. If anything, Arthur, I’m asking politely because you’ve proven to be a decent pawn for a helpless man.”

  “And once more, you mock me”, Arthur began, his grin sharpened, “you call me names; you taunt me with that rage which has already consumed me; and then you stand, as if to frighten me. You, of a build of (what?) one hundred and sixty, maybe one hundred and seventy pounds? Forget your supposed intellect just this once; throw it to the wayside because it, like your scrawny presentation, does nothing to_”

  A clap sounded at the end of Arthur’s words and directed him to his right arm as it dropped onto its armrest. He looked to it as a jolt from the cuff travelled up his limb. He then started to cradle his fist, but the action was stopped as his arm convulsed. “What_?”—his arm convulsed with greater force, and a crimson bruise formed on his wrist from the press of the metal cuff. Before his muscles could relax, the convulsions were reinstated, tugging at his shoulder as they jerked his arm. “No!” Arthur growled as he reared forward and tensed.

  His arm, under the force of his myoclonus, froze, but, in its place, a tingling appeared under his skin. Arthur glared at his forearm as that tingling sharpened into the sensation of goring matter. He watched as a path dredged below his skin, away from his elbow, and towards his wrist.

  Arthur dragged his fingers towards a hard close as that line inched to his hand, but his flesh was breached as a shape exploded from his wrist, sped over that table, and came to an instantaneous halt alongside of the visitor. Arthur’s arm was released as the hairs lining his forearm collected the blood spurting from his wound, but he gave no notice to the scarlet dotting the tabletop. Instead, with head shivering, he looked to that quarter-inch ring floating and gyrating above the floor.

  “Phew!” the man replied as he stepped from that circling item and bowed to rest on his knees. He gasped and then reared backwards. He then looked to Arthur and to Arthur’s bloodied limb. “How about progress, eh, Arthur?” he called with a grin. “Five or so years ago, and I would’ve accidentally taken your whole arm.” He reached to his side, wrapped his left hand around that ring, inhaled, and squeezed. Arthur seized at the crackling of that item. “Suddenly”, the man began as he opened his palm, the dozens of crimson-stained remnants still floating, “your personal savior is invalid.” As he finished, he overturned his hand and dropped those broken fragments.

  “No”, Arthur moaned.

  “Unfortunately for you, yes”, the man replied, “that one wasn’t an illusion either.”

  “No, I_” Arthur inspired with a hoarse gasp, “I helped you; I aided you. I—I did everything you told me to do, and yet I failed, I failed gloriously! And then you, for recompense, you sign off on my death warrant! What were those months I dedicated to you? What was I to you then?”

  “A pawn”, the man replied. “Were you not paying attention before, or is your memory truly diminished?” he asked as he stepped around the table. “I wonder, Arthur, if you ever suspected during these months of your imprisonment; if an inkling ever formed during those months which preceded your ousting, or if you ever considered that the coincidences leading to your downfall were more than coincidences?” He stepped to Arthur while crossing his arms behind his back. “Did you ever ask yourself why I didn’t delete Sterling Blue’s address from CORGI? I have the resources and the ability to do so. Did you ever ask yourself why I didn’t erase everything from Sterling Blue’s computer, his voicemails included? Did you wonder why I didn’t direct my machine to annihilate Bryen’s phone during their bout? Did it really never cross your mind to ask the obvious, Arthur Grant?” The man stopped a foot in front of Arthur, bowed, and connected his forehead with Arthur, while his pale eyes peered into Arthur’s widened gaze. “It never occurred to you?” He stared, but Arthur looked ahead with a contorted grimace.

  “Oh, it seems that it never did. Arthur Grant, for the last year, you have been my pawn—no!” He reared up and looked to the ceiling before looking down. “Not my pawn; you have been the pawn for my pawns. You were a means to completing my experiment, and you acted exactly as I had predicted. I knew Erik would survive your first assassination attempt, I knew Nathanael’s body and abilities would allow him the time to keep any of his teammates from dying, and I knew Erik and David Turrisi would prove successful against your own, personal attempt. I knew they’d survive your house, and, surprise, I changed your desktop’s password into something I knew Bryen would figure out in order to hint them to my bigger attack. All of your movements, actions, and machinations were nothing but control features. The true variables did not appear until today; they did not involve you, and, surprise, those six met my expectations and bested my small army. Well done, Arthur Grant, you’ve made an admirable pawn’s pawn, and nothing more.”

  The man started for the doorway with his arms still behind his back. “For all of your efforts, you get hundreds of lives and one that mattered to you, and then, to replace that elderly life which you removed, you get six in their primes.”

  “No”, Arthur replied as he turned to watch the man stop at the entrance.

  “And, to propitiate for those lost lives, here comes your own”, the man continued as he unlatched his left and grabbed the door handle.

  “No”, Arthur grunted as he shook his head.

  “Sounds like it was worth your soul”, the man replied as he turned the handle. “Pleasure doing business with you, Arthur_”

  “No!” Arthur bellowed as he swatted the table
. “If you leave me here, I’ll talk! I don’t care if they believe me or not! I’ll shout it to every living creature I come into contact with! You look at me, and you tell me I’m worthless! Look me in the eyes again! This garbage you’re so ready to leave by the wayside will be your undoing! James, look at me! You can’t leave me here!”

  “Leave you here?” the man replied as he released the handle and spun back while reaching into his white coat. He grinned and then stepped back towards the table. “Would you think me so foolish?” he began as he tilted his head. “Oh, Arthur, I was never going to simply leave you here. Like you said, if you were to try enough, you could ruin our little game as you called it, and, sadly, I can’t allow that. My intentions were never to let you leave. The preceding moments of my visit were just another experiment; and you reacted as I had predicted. There is no visit scheduled for you during this hour; there is no name signed on the visitors’ sheet; and anything being recorded on that camera will suddenly go missing. Instead, the man who arranged to meet you was someone you had wronged; perhaps an officer from Harrisburg who caught wind of your violent dealings during the past year—perhaps he came back to seek his own justice; perhaps it was an illegitimate child of Richie the Worm, come to avenge and simultaneously gain approval of the mobster by killing the man who has locked him away—either way, by some strange manner of wit and preparation, he-or-she proved able to smuggle”, the man lifted his right, revealing a brick of bright yellow clay just under a foot in length. “A block of Semtex”, he spoke as he lowered the block onto the table, “and a portable timed charge”, he continued as he hoisted a metallic, square box with a crimson face, and three, inch-length needles hanging from its bottom.

  “So tell me, Arthur”, the man began as he pressed the needles into the explosive brick. “How long”, he spoke as he reached into his right pocket and pulled out a creamy white, metal watch, “will it take you to recite the Lord’s prayer?” he continued as he pressed the watch’s crown and turned it clockwise. As he turned the crown, three numbers flashed on the screen and then ascended. “Thirty seconds?” he asked as the numbers stopped at half of a minute, “oh, right, you were raised Catholic”, he began, “I’ll give you one minute so you can say it twice”, he continued as he turned it to sixty seconds. “I suppose you could call this your parting gift”, he said as he wrapped the watch around his right arm, “goodbye, Arthur Simpson Grant.” He grabbed the handle, flung the door ajar, and let it slam behind him.

  After glaring at the door, Arthur turned to the charge. “No!” he roared as he watched the fortieth second pass. “No!” he roared, “get me out of here!” he exclaimed. “No!” he cried as he spun to the timer and watched the twentieth second vanish before him, “no!” he bawled as tears poured from his eyes. With the tenth second passing, Arthur let his head drop, and, as the third second passed, he looked to his empty sleeve, unblinking as he concentrated upon each shuddering undulation it would produce from his quakes.

  The penultimate second passed as Arthur turned from his limbless side, and the final second came and passed as he closed his eyes and held his breath. He tightened and bit his tongue, and, with his hardest thrust, he opened his eyes, and, as he did, while expecting a wall of flames, he locked eyes with the brick of explosive, and he looked to the timer facing him and the three zeroes glaring back. Arthur blinked and swung his head, and he exhaled as he stared at that timer. He stared, waited, and, as a minute crept past, he remained tightened. “Arthur.” Arthur let his arm slouch and looked up and around, scanning the room, its walls, its floors, the table, the doorway, and then back to that timer. “Well done, Arthur”, the man proclaimed through that device. “You live to see another day. Confused? I suppose you would be, but worry not, it was but another test.”

  Arthur cocked his head to the left and then inhaled in an attempt to speak; yet he produced only a shallow and raspy moan. He inhaled again, that time heaving forward. He inhaled a third time, and his teeth slammed together. His face brightened into a luminous red, and the muscles lining his jaws and neck tightened with an almost choking vigor. He then reared his gasping form as his eyes widened and glowed. “You!” he snarled, his body flailing. “You think this is over!? You think you’ve gotten away? You think you’ve gained the last laugh? You’re not even close to the end! This has just begun, and I assure you, I swear…”

  ***

  “…I’ll have your head; I’ll have everything you have, everything you possess, and I will laugh as it is all burned before your propped corpse…!” sounded from the man’s watch as he held it beside his chest. He opened a glass doorway and descended a short stairway under an arching lobby and leading to the outside of that two-story building. He looked ahead as the guard at the circular booth to his left paid him no heed, and he continued over the line of pavement which moved between two fenced courtyards of grass and blacktops. To his far right, at the end of one courtyard sat a circular building ten stories high, to his far left, beyond the second courtyard was a perfect, eight-story square, and, just in front of him, at the end of that pathway, was a guard’s booth, a rectangular, glass-covered vesicle large enough to hold one individual and adjacent to the twenty-foot iron gate along the thirty foot wall surrounding the compound.

  “I take it you enjoyed your visit, sir?” the guard, a slender individual with short, bright blonde hair, and a triangular goatee, inquired as he leaned over his console.

  “Yes, but it’s a shame that I wasn’t given authorization to see the inmate”, the man replied as he lowered his watch, while Arthur’s muffled exclamations continued.

  “It’s a shame that you weren’t given authorization to see the inmate”, the guard repeated with a steady and unblinking nod.

  “Too many errors on my forms, I suppose”, the man replied as the door was opened to lead to a second walkway.

  “Too many errors on your form, I suppose”, the guard repeated with a wide-eyed nod.

  “That will do”, the man muttered as he reached into his left pocket, pulled out a rectangular cellphone, and dropped it alongside of the guard booth. As he stepped past the wall, he wrapped his fingers around the watch’s crown, with Arthur’s bellows sounding in his ears. “Check”, he spoke as he clicked the crown twice. An earsplitting peal sounded behind him and a surge of flames rushed from the building from which he had exited, the doorway being shattered, and plumes of smoke bleeding from the structure’s sides. The man continued down the pathway as the entrance to that compound closed behind him, and, as the alarms filled the air, he clicked his watch twice, detonating the cellphone, and incinerating the guard booth. The man then crossed his arms behind his back, and, as clods of blackened debris rained around him and as another cloud of smoke ascended along that wall, he grinned.

  ***

  End of Book One