The Legend of Ivan

by Justin Kemppainen

  "It's about time!" Veger Montgomery shouted when the door opened and Wilhelm entered. "I've been waiting to see you for over an hour! Is this the kind of establishment you run, Mr. Wilhelm? Because I am not impressed, not impressed in the slightest! And where is my assistant? I was assured she would not be taken away from me!"

  Gregor rolled his eyes during the rant, uninterested by the captive man. Irritation at the interruption of his leisure time faded, and he slid into the cool, calm, and ruthless nature, which in early years had granted him success and strain in equal measures. In his prime, he had handled near everything. That time was long past, but he still knew how to manage his business. He turned to Bertram and said, "You said he was somehow important?"

  With a nod, Bertram said, "Minor influence to investors; it's best to hear him out."

  "All right, Mr. Montgomery." Gregor pulled up a chair. "You have been accused of fraud in this establishment. There is no criminal penalty, but it is against our policy to allow any manner of progressive odds calculation."

  "This is outrageous! My assistant and I were keeping in communication for completely legitimate purposes!" the other man shouted. "I cannot believe I would receive such shoddy treatment in such a highly esteemed-"

  "Yes, yes." Gregor cut him off with a wave of his hand. He snapped his fingers, and Bertram handed him the datapad. He glanced up and down the information. "Your transmitter signals were intercepted, decoded and recorded, as was your method of counting cards in the twenty-one game. It is a clear-cut violation of our terms of use."

  Red-faced, Montgomery's expression of the shock at being caught recovered and returned to vindictive anger. "You violated my privacy and spied upon my personal transmissions? I'll have this establishment torn down, I will! You better believe-"

  Gregor sighed. "Again all monitoring is conducted as per the agreement terms to using the casino. When winnings increase above the norm, established in your first thirty hours of play," he leveled a gaze at the angry man, "investigation is allowed to discover illicit use."

  Flustered, Montgomery stammered. "I... I don't recall any sort of agreement."

  "This is your signature, correct?" Gregor punched a key, bringing up the all-purpose liability contract resort-goers were required to sign. It covered everything from ground excursions to tripping and falling in the hotel rooms. It also included casino use. He slid the pad over.

  "Preposterous! My legal counsel will tear this contract to pieces! You'll be facing lawsuits from every person who's ever passed through this place!" He jabbed a finger at the pad as he shouted the threats.

  Gregor folded his arms, prepared to humor the man for the time being. "Very well, tell me what it is you want." He was not concerned about the legal threats, but he thought it might save some time if the man's request was able to be handled without fuss.

  With a smug air, Montgomery straightened in his seat. "I require my assistant and my winnings returned to me immediately. I also will receive compensatory accommodations for my personal distress in this matter as well as immunity from further harassment."

  The casino owner had a thought the very moment Montgomery lumped the assistant in with the winnings. He made a hand motion to Bertram, who crouched next to him. Montgomery leaned forward, trying in vain to hear what Gregor whispered.

  "He referred to the assistant in the same manner as his profits; I believe he considers them both property. Look into it."

  Bertram's eyes widened, and he nodded before stepping out of the room.

  "I'm waiting..." Montgomery said in a haughty tone.

  "Yes," Gregor gave a nod, "and you will continue to do so." The captive opened his mouth to object, but the proprietor held up a hand. "I am no longer thoroughly convinced you are operating within the full boundaries of the law. It is my duty as a citizen of the Galactic Central Government to pursue illegal matters conducted upon my property."

  Montgomery reacted as though slapped. His face paled slightly, and his mouth churned up and down. "I... I can assure you-"

  "I'm very certain you can, and I cannot express how glad I am of it." Gregor smiled, smug satisfaction at pegging the man flooding through him. I'd forgotten how excellent it felt to knock these idiots down, he thought.

  The captive raised his chin. "If I am thought to be the perpetrator in some illegal activity, I am entitled to know the charges against me."

  "Hmmm, not so." Gregor tilted his head. "At the moment you're being held due to violation of casino policy, pending the decision. However, while we work on that, we can at least wait until proper authorities can be summoned to take you into their custody, if necessary. It's their job to inform you of any charges, not ours."

  "This is an outrage!" Montgomery spoke through clenched teeth, but the fear in his eyes was very obvious. "You cannot treat me in such a fashion!"

  Gregor rolled his eyes. "Mr. Montgomery. You've now far overplayed your hand, and I have no interest in your continued business. In fact, I believe I'll take great pleasure in watching your impending incarceration. Goodbye."

  As the captive continued to shout about the indecency he was facing, Gregor stepped out of the room. He turned a corner and was knocked sprawling by someone moving very quickly.

  "Sir, sir, I'm so sorry!" Bertram hauled the older man to his feet and dusted off his employer's suit.

  "For God's sake, Bertram, what's the big hurry about?" Gregor scowled, shoving him away. "Did you find out about the woman? Is she his illegal property?"

  Bertram shook his head. "No, but-"

  Gregor folded his arms. "No? Damn. I could have sworn Montgomery was sweating about just that." He sighed. "Now I'm going to have to go back in there and actually try to compromise with that oaf."

  "No, sir, I didn't find out, but you don't understand! You have to come with me immediately!" The servant grabbed his master's arm and started running and half-dragging him toward the main security room.

  Gregor shook himself free. "Have you lost your mind, Bertram? You had better give me a damn good reason why you're manhandling me here!"

  With frightened eyes, Bertram looked at his employer. "Sir, it's the main casino floor. We're under attack!"

  ******

  "Dear sweet mother of God," Gregor said as he viewed the security monitors. Arms folded, he watched the chaos of his casino floor. Turning to Bertram, he said, "This room is secure, correct?" His servant, pale as a sheet, nodded without actually listening to the question.

  People were running and screaming. Panic ensued as machines and tables flew everywhere. Cameras went black one by one as a man, a very large one, ripped them from the walls and flung the shattered remains at the security people. The huge man tore through the casino floor, shouting something indeterminate, masked by the screams of the people. A few security guards charged with stun batons, but they were knocked aside by the brute who appeared unstoppable.

  "I'm getting requests for weapons free," one of the operators at the console said as the intruder pried one of the slot machines loose and hurled it, scattering a group of security people. "Can they open fire?" He directed the question at Bertram.

  "Of course not, you idiot!" Gregor slapped the man on the back of the head. "There are civilians in that room!" He jabbed a finger toward one of the camera displays. "Under no circumstances are they allowed to use their side arms!"

  One of the guards, terrified, determined, or simply having lost his earpiece, did not obey the order. He pulled a pistol and started firing on the intruder.

  With a terrifying speed which belied his massive size, the man dodged behind cover. He darted back and forth behind columns and gaming equipment before charging the guard. The large man pounded a shoulder into his attacker, sending the guard flying halfway across the room. Other guards followed suit and aimed their side arms. More screams from civilians ensued as weapons fire flashed about the room, but no one seemed to be able to hit the intruder.

  "Who in the hell is this guy?" Gregor stared at the monitors,
unable to look away from the chaos. No one had an answer.

  Rearing back, the intruder placed a savage kick to the doors leading into the security back area. He disappeared from the cameras, and the sounds of chaos and fighting came not from the intercom but from the hallways nearby. The cameras, which quickly were disabled, detailed the continuing fight and systematic pummeling of Luna Casino's well-trained security team.

  "This place is protected, right?" Gregor asked Bertram again. When no response was given, as his manager/assistant was too busy staring in horror at the wrecked main floor, Gregor shook Bertram. "Are we safe?"

  The assistant gave a dazed expression before blinking. "Oh! Ah, yes, we should be fine in here."

  A heavy pound resounded as something collided with the door. Four security people snapped their weapons to bear, terrified and aiming at the entrance. The camera in the hallway outside was out, and no one knew if the man would be coming in.

  Several seconds bled by, and nothing happened.

  A few more shouts resounded from the hallway, and there was a spot of intermittent gunfire, but nothing more seemed to assault the main security room.

  Gregor, realizing he was holding his breath, turned back to the display panels. "Where is he?" he asked the man at the station.

  "I-I don't know, sir." Several angles in different locations flickered, but there was no sign of the large man. Considerable numbers of fleeing individuals and security personnel could be seen, but no intruder.

  "Find him!" Gregor snapped.

  More of the camera shots went by, different security areas, the vault-

  "Wait, there!" The owner jabbed a finger toward the screen.

  The tech moved the shot back in time to see the large man reach up and destroy one of the cameras near the vault.

  "Christ dammit almighty..." Gregor took a deep breath. "The guy's pulling a job. Get everyone we got left down to the vault! Kill the prick if you have to!"

  One of the techs relayed the order, and the casino owner prodded the man controlling the camera displays. Over the course of a few minutes, images flashed by, but more and more of the cameras seemed to be going out. A couple of glimpses of the man resulted from the search, and frantic yelling into communicators directed personnel to intercept.

  Scattered security teams dragged through the hallways, checking and rechecking the vault, but no one knew where the man went. More minutes dripped by, and the few cameras remaining could occasionally catch the group of security men cautiously moving through the halls. Other shots featured cracked walls and strewn, hopefully only unconscious bodies.

  All at once, the main security room was plunged into complete darkness.

  The chaos which ensued was a mess of shouting, flailing, shoving, and people being knocked sprawling. Gregor was one such individual, who was bowled over by a panicking Bertram. His head struck the edge of a desk, and bright stars filled his vision.

  Clinging to consciousness and through muddy senses, he heard the continued panic as individuals in the security office scrambled around. Stepped on and kicked, Gregor tried to shout, voice weak and unheeded in the mayhem.

  Out of breath and warm blood spilling down his face, the proprietor crawled until he found a wall, away from the panicking individuals. He huddled there, dazed until he faded out.

  He woke to find himself alone, the doors to the office wide open and dim, flickering light spilling in from the outside. Clamoring to his feet, Gregor tried to ignore the waves of nausea and head-splitting pain as he stumbled into the hallway.

  Bodies lay strewn about, unconscious or dead he couldn't determine. Gregor wiped the sticky blood out of his eyes and stumbled past his downed security guards.

  Similar scenes greeted him as he progressed through the back areas of his casino. Chips of plaster, ceramic, and paint crumbled off smashed sections of wall and ceiling in every area. Fallen guards adorned near every corridor.

  The dim lighting, provided by the emergency back-up generator, flickered, and exposed wiring sparked where fixtures or cameras had been torn loose. Gregor stumbled through the mostly dark halls, lost and tripping over the numerous bodies. He didn't know where he was going.

  As Gregor came around a corner, he nearly collided with a man coming in the opposite direction. Gawking, the proprietor looked up, dwarfed by the man's massive frame.

  Cold blue eyes narrowed, glaring down at Gregor. The man who assaulted the casino drew his lips back, baring teeth.

  Terror clouded the proprietor's mind, and he pressed himself up against the wall, trembling. The huge man regarded him with a hostile expression for a moment before stalking off in another direction.

  Heart hammering, Gregor slid down to a sitting position. His head, ribs, arms, and everything else throbbed with every beat of his racing heart, and he huddled there, waiting for someone to come help him.

  ******

  "I was lucky you know. The head injury was pretty bad." Gregor said, grinning. He tilted his head and pointed to a long scar near the crown. "But Bertram was luckier I didn't have him flayed alive for hurting me and running off!" He tossed his head and laughed as though this was somehow funny.

  I asked, "What else happened?"

  "Eh," he shrugged, "not very much, really. Two hours later, GSA authorities responded to the scene and found me huddled there. I then spent a week in a hospital, screaming at the orderlies to find out how much money was stolen from me."

  "How much was it?"

  "Ten million credits," he said with an air of pride.

  As he said it, I gained a sudden sense of something missing. "Ten million?" I asked. "How is that possible? I was under the impression everything was handled via microtransactions from account to account. Does your vault even contain hard currency?"

  Gregor Wilhelm grinned. "Ah, very perceptive. We found, through years of research, dealing with such behind-the-scenes financial gain and loss does boost our profits in the short term. People don't manage to see their accounts drifting, dwindling away."

  "However," he held up an index finger, "individuals also don't seem to gain the same level of entertainment, and we experience fewer returnees. In the long run, it's better to cultivate the highest possible levels of excitement, and having a physical form of money to be gained and lost is one such method. The currency we hold here for betting is in simple chips. Each one is coded with credits in their proper expressed increment." He laughed. "It might get you a funny look, but you could take one to any proper store and use it as legal tender."

  It wasn't the currency system which caused me to wonder about his story. Most people utilized temporary digital chits to carry small amounts of their money regardless. Having any device linked to full access of an account was risking a lot to theft and fraud. Still, bits of the story and parts not quite fitting clung to my thoughts.

  "You're certain Ivan was the one who stole the money."

  Near-imperceptible, the proprietor's eyes darted to the side before he grinned. "Of course. He disabled the power generator, entered the vault, and made off with my money. It took years to repair the damage he caused. Not to the resort itself, but to my reputation! It's hard to convince people of coming to a facility so far from help. They say, 'Why wouldn't we go to Finzle's Resort? It might be smaller, but it's right there in the core.' Heathen pigs." He puffed on his pipe. "Novelty doesn't win when people think your place is a death trap."

  I nodded.

  "But after the mess at the Garden a few years later, having a location which survived the terror of Ivan was a new level of novelty in itself. And again close to another catastrophe of so long ago." Gregor wagged a finger at me. "Did you know there are some silly theorists who posit that Ivan caused the problems which ruined Old Earth?" He laughed. "Ridiculous nonsense, but the rumor doesn't hurt business, so..."

  "How do you know the man who assaulted the casino was Ivan?" I asked.

  "Hah!" The old man scoffed, folding his arms. "One man against my highly-trained security force?
When the colony at the Garden was destroyed not long after, I knew it had to be the same person."

  There was still something off about his story. It wasn't regarding Ivan himself, if indeed it actually was the man, but the actions he took. Ivan's scattered behavior in not simply hitting the vault but traveling throughout the facility in random fashion appeared unfocused. Perhaps the man relied on brute force and his inhuman strength to manage his tasks rather than strategic planning. However, his systematic dismantling of Voux Hanatar suggested otherwise.

  My assumptions told me Ivan was moderately intelligent and clever. The behavior of the attacker appeared angry and sporadic. Even Hanatar spoke of Ivan taking his revenge with relative calm. Perhaps the man who assaulted Luna Colony was not Ivan after all.

  "Anything else of importance you can think of?" I asked.

  Gregor tilted his head, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Something was scrawled in the hallway outside the security office. Even with the blood dripping in my eyes, I saw it when the GSA authorities brought me out. The writing said OLGA WAS HERE. I thought it might have been a brave civilian vandal coming through in the wake of destruction, but I never knew what it meant."

  I rubbed my chin and didn't respond, swinging my thoughts back to the culprit as being Ivan in light of his statement.

  "Well there's that story." Gregor folded his hands. "Would you like to hear another? My days of dealing with matters in the casino have again fallen away, but I've kept myself busy. As I said, I've done my own research into Ivan's little tales of valor." He grinned, too eager.

  I gauged the mere possibility of him knowing something useful against how irritating I found his enthusiasm. I put forth an arbitrary time limit.

  "One hour?" Gregor said, eyes wide and a pouting expression on his face. "I could talk for a week about what I've discovered!"

  I didn't express how I felt about such an endeavor. Instead, I said, "I have a very busy schedule to attend. I'm sure you understand I can't take such a large amount of time out."