by Blade, CG
“Gimme that back!” he said as he grabbed the microphone from her continuing the song giving her the evil eye. The band continued playing never stopping despite being sans main speakers.
Petra walked towards the doors of the casino ballroom pushing and shoving drunken people out of her way. A panel the size of a thermostat hanging on the wall labeled FIRE was blinking brightly lit up with a cool blue light. She blew the panel apart with a shotgun blast from the crossbow in her right hand. Alarms rang out and the emergency lights came on. Water began pouring out of the celling from the sprinkler system. This only made people cheer louder as wet T-shirt contests began to spring up across the giant room. Women jumped up on tables removing their tops as men egged them on.
“Ter contact LVPD.”
“Yes Petra.”
Holding up all four shotguns into the air Petra pulled the triggers and blew holes into the arched white ceiling. Plaster, insulation, and wood sprayed in all directions hitting patrons in the face and head. Several people stopped moving, brushed themselves off, and turned towards Petra glaring at her with contempt. “You Bitch!” one of them yelled. “Get her!” they started to run towards her like a lynch mob running after the abomination in a Universal Monster Movie.
CRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKK!
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSHHHHHH!
The massive smoky colored windows surrounding the ballroom’s exterior all cracked and collapsed in at once. Several women dressed in red, white, and blue flaming outfits crashed the party and began shooting concertgoers—with Peacemakers. People were dying.
“Ter—those look like…”
“You Petra, they look like you.”
Petra began unloading shotgun shells as arrows left both Raptors as fast as they could be loaded into the mechanisms that held them. She blew the heads and limbs off the Pseudo-Cobalt women coming through the ballroom in waves. It was pandemonium as bullets struck Petra and bounced off her black armor in all directions. People screamed as others lay dead, murdered on the spot, defenseless. The band was fighting off the women with their ‘axes’ and instruments. The lights in the ballroom flashed rapidly as the sprinklers continued to soak the entire room filling it up with an inch of water.
“Hello?” a husky male voice asked coming from inside Petra’s head.
“Hello who is this?” She asked.
“This is Sargent Sweval of the Las Vegas Police Department. Who is this?”
“This is Captain Dace of the United States Army sir and we’ve got a little problem over at the Aliante.”
“—we’ve got a little problem everywhere ma’am!” gunshots and screaming could be heard in the background. The call ended abruptly.
Petra continued to unload shells and arrows into her replicas sliding over to the stage in front of the band who was aggressively using anything they could get their hands on to ward off the attackers.
“Richie here—try this!” The lead singer threw the lead guitarist a steel microphone stand across the stage. He began swatting at the Pseudo-Petra’s coming at them like a home-run hitter at the All-Star Baseball Game.
Hundreds of waterlogged dead party guests lay in their own blood as the bedlam seemed to taper off a bit. Loud whining and thunderous earth-rattling explosions ensued outside. Something crashed into the building as its foundation began to shake.
“Leave now!” Petra yelled to the few people left alive pointing to the exit doors behind her.
“We’re outta here!” the band members yelled loudly scooping up and carrying their two scantily clad back-up singers Nikki Jane and Nikki Rae. They quickly followed Petra out of the ballroom. Huddled together they pushed their way into a hallway leaving by an exit door in the back of the hotel. Patriotic pseudo-Petra imitations were running down the dimly lit hallway shooting and killing hotel guests as Petra took them out one-by-one. Their eyes glowed as they shot anything that seemed to have movement. They were autonomous and less than sleek in their qualities. Unlike Pseudosynths, these ‘things’ continued to move even after blowing parts of them to pieces. Hands, torsos, and legs dragging smoking wiring behind them struggled to kill, crawling across the floors long after they were detached from their blonde heads. Making her way down the long dim hallway Petra came to the end, cracking open a door marked ‘LOBBY’ lit by the emergency lighting. The large grand room with a huge chandelier hanging in the center of it looked more like a scene in a Luc Besson movie than a hotel lobby. Broken and sparking slot machines and games of chance had spewed money all over the room. Several ‘Petra’s’ were busy shooting screaming innocent people who had taken cover under and behind furniture and counters. The elevators leading up to the twenty floors were on fire and grey smoke seeped from the cracks between the doors.
“I am getting real tired of this already Ter.”
“Yes Petra. May I suggest this…?”
Petra felt a new weapon in her hands. “Nice, very nice Ter.” she commented as she looked it over. A cobalt colored .45-caliber Thompson Sub-Machine gun, nicknamed the ‘Chicago Typewriter’ because of its unique sound during use, was now at her disposal. The cylindrical canisters attached to the underside of the gun held one-hundred rounds of ammunition and could fire an amazing 750 rounds per minute.
Petra burst open the door to the enormous red and gold colored lobby interior. “Hey, you goils wanna play?” she asked them with a sneer on her lips in her best gangster accent. Water gushed from the sprinkler systems, soaking her head and shoulders. Holding the gun out in front of her, she stuck a toothpick in her mouth. It hung stuck to her bottom lip.
“Great impersonation Bonnie,” Ter remarked snidely.
All twenty-three faux Petra’s in the room suddenly stopped moving, smoke rising from the Peacemakers clutched in their hands. Turning their heads, they tilted them towards the Tommy gun pointed at them as their eyes began to ignite into a deep shade of burning crimson. Simultaneously the Pseudo-Petras all blew the smoke off the ends of the barrels of their guns as they gave her an evil grin.
“It looks as if these ‘pseudo-yous’ possess your same idiosyncrasies Petra.”
“Oh—HELL no!” Petra yelled as she pulled the trigger sweeping the gun from side to side holding it with both hands. HUD up and running, the distances to each target were precise and deadly as each of them fired back at her while leaping in the air. Bullets bounced off Petra while all of the crimson-eyed attackers came at her at once. Petra unloaded the canisters of ammo sending pieces of pseudo-Petras flying in the air. Heads, legs, arms and feet all bounced as the thick blue smoke rose from the Thompson. Shells were piling up all around her as she wiped out all of the replicas that came at her. After the last cobalt shell clinked to the ground landing in a pile below Petra’s feet, the hotel guests and employees popped their heads up cautiously checking out the situation. Several people started clapping and soon the entire room was cheering. The people were beating the body pieces and parts slithering around the room trying to complete their mission. Using the legs of furniture and slot machine handles to whack the slow moving appendages, they also took advantage of this opportunity to fill their pockets and purses with money covered in the blood of the dead. Petra held up the end of the Tommy gun to her mouth and blew the thick hot cobalt smoke emanating from the barrel.
“That will teach them.”
“Okay Rocco, let’s see what’s going on outside.”
“Funny, that’s very funny Petra.”
Pushing open the cracked front doors of the Aliante Hotel and Casino, a brand new nightmare awaited.
Chapter 25
SUSTAINABLE
Monday October 22th 1:35 PM EST
For two days, the fighting continued after Petra stepped outside of the casino, stood in front of the fountain pumping human blood through its nozzles, and looked to the sky. Hidden under the cover of night, waves of drone-like Carriers jettisoned Petra’s carbon copies onto American soil and began the bloodiest battle in human history. The Carriers, which blanketed the skies fro
m over the Pacific, were ‘C’ shaped, chromatic red in color, and held hundreds of reproductions of Captain Petra Kayden Dace within their cargo bays. Although the Carriers defensive stances were to ‘tip upright’ and shoot large missiles out of the points of their structure, this is also when they were most vulnerable and most of the 200-foot wide ‘Sees’ as they were nicknamed were knocked out of the skies by the American forces on the ground. Petra stood alongside civilians, farmers, and military members who courageously fought the good fight for two days straight vowing revenge. Gun stores and ammo shops passed out all of their weapons to anyone who could hold onto one and gave on the spot training. It was ironic that the last shot fired in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, where the Civil War Battle of the Burg erupted less than 200 years earlier, ended with a robotic Petra head exploding at the feet of a crowd of wary and bloody soldiers. The damage done to the United States and her people’s psyche was extensive. The estimated dead and wounded was approaching 250 million people in less than six days. Cut off and isolated, some Americans blamed Petra for the ongoing conflicts and their loved one’s deaths since there was an obvious message in the attacks.
President Harrison was meeting with Congress at the Capitol building to discuss the horrific events at length and to formulate a plan of action. The debates were messy and fueled with the spilled blood of unprepared, innocent victims. “Don’t lecture me on ethics! Do I look like someone who has any compassion left?” President Harrison yelled angrily standing up at the podium in front of Congress. A large Vidscreen mounted behind the newly appointed Speaker of the House, David Jackson, was showing a running total of the presumed wounded and dead. The altered topography of the northern hemisphere and the west coast of the United States on the display was a startling and shocking contrast to the one known for the past couple of centuries. Congress was an open forum with some of its members missing or worse. The Vice President’s seat sat vacant as Harrison continued. “We have just witnessed the brutal premeditated murder of several million Americans!” he pounded his fist hard on the podium shaking it, “I will not stand by…”
The lights suddenly dimmed in Congress as the Vidscreen behind Harrison went black. A capital letter ‘C’ in a fiery flaming font appeared spinning slowly on the screen. Everyone in the room hushed as audio started:
“Hello,” the baritone masked digitized voice said calmly, “we have crippled your economy, we have destroyed your way of life, and when we are finished there will be no trace of your existence. You shall cease to exist. The ‘great’ United States will be no more. You have until this Saturday, October the 27th to clear out of your failed nation. When I say clear out”— the Vidscreen went blank. People started talking, arguing in the background of the transmission.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the other button idiot!”
“Why do you constantly have to use that language with me?”
President Harrison shook his head staring at the Vidscreen rubbing his temple.
“—because you’re an idiot that’s why!”
“You have issues. You should see someone.”
“I have issues? I have issues?” A gunshot with a loud ‘bang’ then the sound of something falling over onto a floor followed it quickly. “As I was saying gentleman, you have until this Saturday or you will be forcefully evicted. Anything you choose to leave behind will become the property of the Crimson Alliance. The regime of the exceptional and magnificent United States has ended. Have a nice day.” The Vidscreen went black.
***
An army of heavily armed Secret Service agents surrounded President Roger Harrison as he entered the lobby of Rayson Industries headquarters in Washington D.C. His wife Stacey was shuttled to an undisclosed location immediately after the demands of the Crimson Alliance audio played in Congress. All federal employees left Washington D.C. to gather their families and friends and take refuge wherever they could. Once again, the Capitol was a ghost town. Harrison shook several hands along the way receiving heartfelt condolences for the nations dead while making his way to the fourth floor research lab. Petra watched as he hugged employees and compassionately gave a warm smile to each of them. Jackie, wearing a floral print dress with a sweater was standing with legs crossed next to Petra, seemed distant and forlorn. Jerry was his usual self, attached to Ray’s hip eager to get to work. Harrison shook their hands and then turned to Ray.
“Ray I am truly sorry to hear about your daughter. If you need anything…”
“Thank you sir, we never had the chance to really get to know one another. I just hope she didn’t suffer.” Ray said looking down biting his bottom lip hard.
“Jackie, Petra I know I don’t say it enough but thank you for your service and I am so sorry for your losses at the Med Lab. This was a tragedy and they will not be forgotten.”
“Thank you sir.” Jackie said softly. The corner of a balled up wet tissue made its way to the corner of her eyes.
“Well Ray, what do we know?” Harrison asked unbuttoning his black suit jacket.
“Sir I believe we may have found an identifier. Now it’s only one of many but it gets us a little closer to the source and it confirms our earlier suspicions.” Ray Nelson spoke softly to President Harrison standing in the middle of the fourth floor of Rayson Industries next to a heap of shot up and dismembered Petras lying on a plastic pallet. One particular pseudo-Petra sprawled out on a stainless steel examination table was buns side up, pants-like synthetic outer covering peeled down to its knees.
“Ray are you telling me that this—this—thing has an ID on it?” Harrison said roughly, staring at the buttocks of a curvy yet quite dead autonomous Petra look-alike.
“Yes sir. It has an inception date model number and it also says,” Ray cleared his throat for this one, “Have a Nice Day written in Chinese with a smiley face next to it.” The smiley face was yellow and had that familiar grin on it. “Stamped this way for identification it’s quite similar to the Barbie Dolls sold a long time ago. We also broke the GPS codes on the ‘Sees’ sir, they originated from Asia, particularly, Shenyang China.”
Harrison shook his head looking at Jackie and Petra who were both silent standing next to Ray. “So are they taunting us? Why didn’t they just finish the job when they had the chance? Will somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on and how we put an end to this?” He was pissed off, angry, and obviously on fire. If his brown face could have turned red from anger his most certainly would have at this moment.
“Sir,” Petra spoke up, “if I may?”
“Yes Captain?” Harrison told her sitting on a steel stool next to the examination table crossing his arms over his chest with a sigh.
“Here is what we know so far from the events at the mansion in Hawaii and from the confession of the former Vice President.”
Harrison rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly.
“The Yinbi Yinying or Concealed Shadow as they call themselves are a group of militant Chinese renegades who have tried this very thing in the past, the takeover of the United States for instance. The faction is currently hiding out near the city of Shenyang close to the North Korean border from the information we have gathered. The Chinese government is very aware of them. All of the information we’ve compiled on the Chinese government’s knowledge of this group was sealed up tight until we sliced Eagle 1—sir.”
“So, we knew about them before all of this?” he looked at Petra as if she had loose wiring.
“Yes sir it seems that way. As far back as the eighties, the CIA had knowledge of this group and sent operatives to stop them, all of the group’s attacks thwarted with the exception of one sir—the Mt. Saint Helens explosion.”
“Why—why does no one know about any of this and why now, why strike now?” He asked staring back at all of them.
Ray piped up “Sir, I may have an answer to that question. I believe that they waited for technology to catch up with their plans. My Rayson power tubes were the catalyst that fueled the
hijacking of our nation’s vehicles. We found a virus in the tubes that allowed them to communicate through the Guidestone GPS signal manipulated from the spire in Hawaii. The virus was more than likely put in place while I was—sleeping sir, and not at the helm here at Rayson.”
Harrison stared at Jackie who was silent but certain that the knowledge they were speaking was the truth by the look on her face. She was wearing a floral dress and bags under her beautiful eyes showed her exhaustion. Petra stood there in her dress blues awaiting orders from her Commander-in-Chief. Jerry stood behind Ray who was in his normal patriotic garb. He was silent as well.
“This was evil, pure evil and I won’t hesitate for a moment’s notice to right this wrong. You, America, and I, have all lost good people, great people. However, as I have said before we have to be damn sure whom we are dealing with here before we start World War III. Are you four going to stand here before me and tell me unequivocally and without ambiguity that these are the people responsible for these heinous crimes against humanity? We only have five-days until God knows what is going to happen. I am going to contact the WAS and our allies and see if I can convince them of this story and ask them for help. We need to send a message to the world. Do we have a plan in place to wipe these motherfuckers out once and for all?”
Suddenly taken back by this use of language, they all but understood its context. All four of them silently nodded their heads in agreement, a fire in their eyes and a burning desire—for revenge, retribution, and punishment. “I have an idea sir.” Ray told him crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s going to take some string pulling but I think we can get it done in time.”
Chapter 26
VERIFIABLE
Batter my heart, three person'd God - John Donne
Tuesday October 23rd 3:36 PM MST
“This is it Petra. This is what you wanted to know. Take a good look at it.” Ray told her under the partly cloudy afternoon arid sun. He brushed his hand over the rough black four-sided stone Obelisk that stood fifteen-feet high and came to a curved point on top. He squatted down in its shadow wiping the dust from the black square plaque embedded in the stone and read it aloud. “Trinity Site, where the world’s first nuclear device was exploded on July 16th, 1945,” he paused slightly before reading further, “Erected 1965 White Sands Missile Range J. Fredrick Thorlin Major General U.S. Army Commanding.”