Times of Peace: Volume 1 of the side adventures to The Mercenary's Salvation

by Anthony M. Johnson

  Turn 8

  October 27, 2009

  6:08 P. M.

  Fantasmos Sin Maestros Base, Outside Darfur, Sudan

  Have you ever blinked and found that an hour had gone by? Usually that is a hyperbole for most people; they may get distracted for a few minutes, but they know how they spent their bygone time. They’re simply too enamored or bored to recount it with detail.

  I, however, had no idea how I could explain the setting sun. The whole world had seemed to change in an instant, though I had come out the better for it; my head was clear, eyes as open as ever with no visions to distract me, at the cost of a missing period of time I could not regain. Time spent standing in the same spot, if my lack of tracks were to be an evidence of anything.

  Though not everything remained the same, for upon my left hand was a glowing black glove with a sort of projecting lens in the center of it. The foreign clothing was displaying ten cards, lined up in a row and visible only to me, rising from the base of the ground to about my waist, large enough for me to easily see the images and read their text.

  I noticed that Pierre, a good twenty feet away, had the same ten apparitions in the air… though he lacked whatever electronic equipment allowed me to create my illusion. Instead, his blue eye glowed with the familiarity of a vampire using their powers, the FTV infected blood within pumping an order to create this display. I would have asked if this was a universal ability had I not been distracted by his phone call, the man pacing about in place as I tried to eavesdrop.

  “So, if I don’t inject him and he doesn’t move in two more hours, it’ll kill him… but if I feed him blood plasma, it’ll delay la metamorphose. If I give him straight up blood though, it’ll accelerate it… Winter, why couldn’t it be s-”

  The man froze, turning my way and finding me stirring about as I tried to awaken my numb, sleeping feet. Quickly muttering a goodbye, the man stuffed his cell phone away as he grabbed a cigarette, mere candy at this point to his regenerative lungs. The man skipped the formality and lit the thing with a quick flick of his fingers… some fire magic, magic being the only word I could use for the yet unexplained instant combustion.

  “Well, well… le bébé awakens. Only wasted an hour of my time; I suppose I should be… heureux… that you didn’t slip into a coma. I might have had to kill you myself if you had, Seth.

  “Not that I won’t do it now. Not if you lose this game.”

  The game? What was so important about the game that it would be worth killing me over? Shaking my head, I tried to back away a few paces, only to have the projected cards follow. Annoyed, I tried to remove my glove, being shocked painfully as a result after a warning beep.

  Angered, I held the black glove high as I asked “What the hell did you do to me?”

  “More about what you did to yourself, Kaiba Boy.” Pierre announced, my head thankfully avoiding any reaction to the title. “Although I do share some culpabilité. By talking of your idol, your inspiration and your persona, I began to activate some inactive part of your genetic code that put your blood into overdrive… I made your vampiric cells activate, though it was your will that decided what they should do.”

  “My will? I wasn’t even conscious-”

  “The mind wasn’t, but the spirit was. I have met with various religious leaders over the years, many with conflicting ideas over the soul… but it was a flower who taught me the truth. Our spirits are our will; our determination… and through our determination, our agency and our desires, we shape and change our worlds and timelines. Our fates are partially decided simply by what we wish it to be.

  “Your determination to die, to be human and move on to the other world has managed to delay the change… at the cost that your condition may have been accelerated as well.

  “Feel your chest, boy… your heart is slowing, unable to pump through muscle walls that are so content to let your soul be free. It’s no longer a condition that’s killing you; it’s your own mind, ready to let go.

  “One hour. We have one hour to play our duel.”

  I was too busy putting my hand to my chest, surprised and alarmed to find that it was, in fact, slower than ever. Even if it was relaxing, I knew no normal man should be able to hear only one beat ever three or four seconds; that I was alive at all without any pain must have been a gift of the FTV, my dark legacy keeping me kicking somehow.

  And offering another way forward. Pierre Belmont, reaching into the same pouch he kept his cigarettes, withdrew two clear vials of what I knew to be a special synthetic blood plasma brew invented by a Mister Ishida, a tea that Sylvester sometimes had me prepare for her. Just looking upon them made me thirsty, my hunger concentrated only upon those elixirs, as I tried to keep myself from going after them.

  My biological father could see right through my restraint however. “Aw, so the young vampire knows the ticket to his salut… well, then you’re ready to take the bet.

  “I can care less whether you live or die. The instrumentality project no longer needs you, and at this point would be better off without you around. One less loose end to deal with… but like your wife, we never simply execute our allies. We give tests, opportunities to prove that you should be kept around.

  “So this is your chance to extend your life. Win at our little game injection, you can take this drink and kick start your FTV cells. Without another transfusion or a full awakening of your abilities, the virus will be forced to continue feasting upon your heart, killing you around the year’s end. Enough time to have your tournament and move on.

  “If you lose or take more than an hour though, than the opposite will prove true; the FTV in you has been rendered immotile, so inactive that the rest of your blood flow is slowing down with it. Take more than an hour without a dose of plasma, and you will simply pass on like a vieil homme in his sleep. The choice is yours, Seth.”

  “I’m ready to die. I don’t have to play your stupid game to accept that.” I replied, sitting down and crossing my legs as I tried to really believe that. Unfortunately, the choice was already made; the second vial jingled as Pierre laughed, tilting his hat my way before he explained

  “Mon ami, then Molly dies with you. She may have survived this long because of the FTV, but she doesn’t have enough to let her live much longer. By years’ end the HIV will crush whatever remnants of the FTV flowers within her veins, and before the Easter morning comes she’ll be in her own grave as well.

  “You have a chance to avert that. With Ishida’s booster tea, Molly can restore her concentrations of the FTV to a point that she’ll not only cure the HIV in her veins but become immune to it. If you love her, and are okay with her choice of partners, then this is her ticket to living her life free from the judgements of man and god. This is her way to live a full life without paying a price for her promiscuity… if you’re able to accept that and beat me at a game.”

  It was just a question of if I could. Being one of the best in the world at Chess did make me a pseudo-master of stratagem, and I found most card games to be easy. In fact, I rarely lost at games of chance and skill… if I knew how to play.

  Yet even as I starred at the back of Pierre’s floating cards, I somehow knew that I was a prodigy at Mercenary/Monsters… wait, how did I know that name?

  “Ever played a game of Duel Monsters, the fictional name for that Yu-gi-oh card game you find yourself a persona of? The rules are similar, although that’s to be expected since Seto Kaiba and Seto Sears are both masters of the games in their timelines. Perhaps if Mercenary/Monsters had only been introduced here ten years earlier, it would have extended your own life and given you something worth living for…

  “But enough of the what ifs. Let’s get down to the nit and grit of a true soldier’s game.”

  Tapping his eyepatch, the empty field came alive as the game truly began. A counter, nonexistent before, now floated just to the side of my row of cards with the mark of 100 Million, my funds for the round if I were
to make a guess. That wasn’t the only new feature to be generated though; the dirty field, tarnished with all the projectiles that were thrown into it in the past, now became that of an oil rig platform, sectioned off at the center as to make clear the split field between me and Pierre.

  As to what this meant… I’d leave it Pierre to explain, so happy to talk now that he didn’t even bother lighting up another smoke as his own burnt out.

  “Like I said, parieur, Mercenaries/Monsters is a game easy to learn but hard to master. The goal is singular; each of us begins the round with 100 million, or simply 100 if it makes it easier for you to remember. The goal is to drain your opponent to 0; bankrupt the rival PMC, and you’ll win the game.

  “To do that, you’ll need to use a mixture of infantry, land vehicles and WMDs comprised of the best and bravest across all the timelines. Jack Wallace, my sweet Jeanne d'Arc, Vlad Dracula, Metal Tanks… you’ll find them all here, Seth.

  “Infantry are level 1-7, vehicles are level 8-14, WMDs are level 15. To deploy a soldier, you must spend money equal to their level; a million for level 1, five million for level 5, and so forth.

  “To deploy a vehicle, such as a Metal Tank or a T.U.R.T.L.E, you need to select one soldier to pilot it and money equal to the deficit of the difference of the level. Certain soldiers are better pilots than fighters though, so careful who you use.

  “Last of all are WMDs, such as nuclear bombs or Saushiv’s Time Hole. Not only do they cost 15 million to use, but you must throw away cards from your hand that equal up to fifteen levels. Devastating, but costly to the both of us. Understood?”

  “Yes, but you’re saying that it costs my own money to spawn troops? Isn’t that counterproductive to the goal of the game? I’m accelerating my defeat with the bigger level mercenaries that I spawn.”

  Pierre laughed, acknowledging at least some brilliance in me his son. “True enough, but in the mercenary business you spend money so you can make money. On any given turn, you have two options available to you; you can target me, decreasing my bank funds equal to the attack of your mercenary, or you can destroy one of my own units to receive money equal to their level upon destruction. Every card has a different ability, attack, defense and health bar though so take heed in how you play. Simply having a bunch of strong bêtes won’t do well against a master like me. It’ll take more than that to win.

  “Those are the rules though, and not a moment too soon. Fifty minutes remain for your life, Seth. Any questions before you go?”

  “How many units can I deploy in one turn?”

  “Every ten turns you’re allowed to spawn in one more unit than the last. For instance, turn five you can spawn one infantry, while turn twenty-five you can spawn three. You cannot spawn infantry and vehicles the same turn though; if by chance you can spawn four units in one turn, it has to be four troops or four vehicles. It can’t be two and two.”

  “What if I run out of cards?”

  “You have two hundred cards. It’s highly doubtful you will, especially because I didn’t make a deck with that purpose in mind. If you were to run out, the player who has cards remaining wins.

  “Drawing is a bit different though now that you mention it. A player always has to have five cards in his hand, though you start out with ten. If you have less by the turn’s end, you draw until you have five. There’s no limit on how many cards you can have during any given turn though, so you can use your troops abilities to get up to fifty or even a hundred if you want.

  “Just be careful. WMDS sacrifice everything, as do some troop abilities. Have too many cards and you’ll find yourself without option after one bad play. Anything else?”

  I knew it was wasting my precious lifeline, but I needed to know everything I could. Even the smallest hint might win my extension and thus, in turn, Molly’s. “Attack, defense… what do the stats mean?”

  “Attack is how much damage your unit can do. Every unit can attack once per turn, unless they have an ability that says otherwise. Defense is a damage reduction that negates some of the damage dealt to the unit; no matter what though, it will always take at least one million damage even if it’s defense is larger than the attacker’s attack. Health is connected directly to level, and will always equal unless modified by an ability. For instance, class seven mercenaries have seven million health, class ten vehicles have ten million health, and so forth.

  “Please tell me that was your last question. Even if this can be a quick game, you’re really going to have to act fast now. Can we just start?”

  “How do we start?”

  “We start whenever you deploy your first unit, Seth. You may not attack, but you can do whatever else you like.”

  So that’s how it would be. Well, if nothing else, I had forty-five minutes to play a game to save my life, even if Death himself wasn’t a player. Although, looking at my hand…

  “I play Richard Strife to start our game!”

  Which must have meant I done something wrong, since my bank decreased by 15 million instead of the eight that I was expecting. In fact, that he was level 8 was wrong in itself according to the rules, until my father was heard to say

  “That’s… interesting. Most players wait until the end to deploy special units. Still, your choice, not mine. Let’s see what you can do with it!”

  It being the aspiration of a fifteen-year-old goth, materializing from the ground as one of my cards disappeared. He was standing on a skateboard, his usual smug self, and an exact replica of the specter I had once met shortly before the departure of my beloved wife… had he come once more to announce my own exit, or was technology simply that good now at emulating reality?

  “I can’t really do anything else, right? It’s my first turn.”

  “True enough… making it my turn. Well, this man was a menace to your wife… behold, the child soldier Kyle Snot!”

  A roughed up Ginger now stood about ten feet away from Richard, wearing a khaki uniform and looking like he was about to cry. Little sympathy came to me, especially considering the atrocities he had committed against not only Sylvester but my company, killing several men just as part of a ploy to steal my stock, before he was finally taken down for good.

  “I end my turn with that. 99 million to 85, Seth. Better start acting quickly here.”

  I intended too, looking to my next highest attacking card. My father may have advised otherwise, but I never was good listening to my parents. Time for a bit more brute force.

  “For five million I deploy Vlad the Impaler, with an attack reaching up to 12 million! Even if it reduces my cash flow to 80, I can attack yours directly with the Prince of Darkness! Eat this Pierre!”

  Vlad, dressed in a knight’s armor and a spear in hand, wasted no time as he shoved the young ginger boy he himself had killed in a history gone by as he rushed as Pierre’s floating money counter. Piercing it right in the middle, cracks began to form as bills and coins rained out, a sort of Ichor of the gods bleeding out as Pierre was reduced to a much closer 87 million.

  “I’m not done yet though! With Richard, I can one hit kill any unit of my choice… allowing me to destroy Kyle Snot! Go back to hell, Kyle!”

  So the ginger did, the goth needing only to draw a 9mm handgun and fire a single corroding round. All of the young boy’s body burst into black flame upon the impact, swallowed away and disappearing into thin air as my own cash reserve increased back to 81 million…

  Only for Pierre to laugh like a maniac, his eyes and hands glowing as he held them into the air. Instead of using one of his own cards that made up his hand, his entire deck manifested above us as cards swirled around…

  Only for Sylvester Jayden to drop out of the sky, wearing a tactical pilot’s suit and looking exactly as she did when she left me last. Shocked, I nearly found my heart burst at the sight of my dead wife, my beloved returned to me…

  Until the cruel smile on her face made me remember the one man who had once masqueraded as h
er. It wasn’t Sylvester Jayden but-

  “You activated Kyle’s ability; sacrificial lamb! Just as he was executed as a child and transformed into something superior, a young Kyle Snot’s death allowed me to deploy any of his transformations for free! As such, I used it to revive your beloved, Seth… and now I’ll use it for something even more fierce!

  “Behold! By killing two of my other mercenaries in my hand and paying four million, I reduce my bank account to 83 million and deploy… Metal Tank Capricorn!”

  While it was much smaller than the one that had been used against my wife years ago, the Metal Tank was still the behemoth from hell that sent shivers down my spine. Dropping out of the sky, it looked to be a good twenty feet tall and ten feet wide, four rectangular legs supporting a massive payload hidden in its belly besides a huge head, two ram horns sticking out and glowing green with the ability to fire concentrated beams of plasma should the pilot so choose.

  The pilot now being the doppelganger Sylvester Jayden, this time facing two instead of one. Still, given the circumstance of the scenario, it seemed it had the advantage now that it’s opponents couldn’t dodge as Pierre, retrieving a cigarette in early victory, put it into his mouth and announced.

  “The Metal Tank has base stats of 20 attack and defense with 11 health… but by using Kyle Snot to pilot it, it’s stats increase by an additional five! Even with a defense of 15, your 8 health is nothing with a single burst of a concentrated beam cannon! Death, meet the Grim Reaper!”

  I could barely keep myself from falling over as the mechanical goat bleated, it’s horns firing as only the Impaler was allowed to escape. With a cocky, knowing grin as if it’d be the last we’d see of him, the digital copy of Richard Strife was swallowed up in a bright green beam that reduced him to utter ash, nothing remaining of the man but a burn mark in the oil platform that would have been burnt to slag in a real fight.

  In a real fight, we’d all be dead. Even now I was stuck considering my options, not sure what to do, when I saw matters take the turn for the worst. Pierre’s bank account went up by 15 million thanks to his assassination of Richard, putting him nearly back where he started with 98 million in the bank.

  Something I could use to my advantage. This time deploying a card unfamiliar to me, though some feeling, as if my heart, told me it was the right move to do.

  “I deploy Scorch and use his ability, Bank Burner! With it, I ignore the defense of the opposing unit and adjust his attack to be equal to my deficit to you! Since deploying him decreased my bank account to 76 million, that leaves the difference as 22 million…

  “Which not only destroys your Metal Tank, but grants me a 30 million bonus because Kyle Snot is the pilot! Like I said before, BURN IN HELLFIRE!”

  It was like watching something straight out of an anime. Scorch, cackling like a mad man and making his dark affinity plain, leapt a good forty feet into the air as he aimed a hand below, glove and silver centurion face mask concentrated directly on Metal Tank Capricorn before a red, fiery glow began to envelop it. There was nothing for the now frozen goat to do to escape before, suddenly, a fireball that looked larger than the sun in the setting sky burst free from the vampire, sending both me and Pierre backwards with fright.

  It completely incinerated the Metal Tank, enveloping it whole as I found my reserves jumping up to 106 million. Here I was, back in the lead, especially after Vlad struck again and reduced the 98 million to 86…

  Until Pierre took his move. No rest for either of us, it seemed.

  “First off, I deploy Paz Hedeon – Mercenary for 4 million dollars, allowing me to activate her ability Teacher and Student! This allows me to search my deck for two class two mercenaries or below and deploy them for free-”

  Paz herself was a member of the dancers, if memory recalled correctly, and would have fitted that role perfectly were it not for her attire. Clad in a mixture of blacks and whites, stripped slacks with a leather jacket and a waist coat as if she simply grabbed whatever she liked from her enemies, she herself wasn’t that entirely fearsome at 4 health, 5 attack and 2 defense. However, Pierre’s deck was already floating once more in the air as the man searched far and wide, taking several precious seconds of my lifeline before he made his move.

  “The first is Aversa of Woodstock, which allows me to activate another ability called Godmother. This allows me to deploy both Sherry Christel and Adrian Vantel at no cost this turn, bringing my total to 82 million with 4 units on the field…

  So it was as Sylvester’s aunt appeared, a slight resemblance in the hair and skin tone. More important though was the appearance of the first born Christel children, Aversa’s and Cato’s primogenitors appearing side and side wielding fire arms and both with an aim to kill.

  And that wasn’t even the second unit. “With Paz’s ability, I also deploy Alistair of Woodstock, or at least I would if Sherry Christel wasn’t active. Using her Master Medic ability, I’m allowed to replace one active unit with any stronger variation of my choosing. This allows me to bring out Cato Christel for free, reuniting the Christel family!”

  Almost, especially as the purple suited figure of my father in law emerged from the shadows with a broad sword in hand. The only stranger to the bloodline was Paz Hedeon, but even now she looked to Cato with some degree of familiarity, as if the two had been partners for a long while. My mind would have made a few deductions from that alone if the fighting hadn’t already begun.

  “Adrian’s base attack may only be 6, but his tainted blood grants all allies an additional plus 2 while he himself deals double damage to FTMs. By targeting Scorch, his 12 easily bypasses your defense and reduces the unit’s four health to nothing!”

  The execution was brutal, Adrian rushing forward and grabbing the masked centurion by the neck. Lifting him from the ground, the albino’s incendiary rounds pierced the man like a piñata, setting him aflame and giving Scorch taste of his own trade as he collapsed to the ground in a burning heap of ash, increasing Pierre’s bank funds from 83 to 87 million.

  Now it was Vlad’s turn… and unfortunately for him, it was just enough to kill him. Even with four defense, both Sherry and Aversa were allowed to do 1 damage each even with their low attacks, reducing the health of the Impaler to 3. Then came Paz’s shotgun blast, knocking the lord of the night back with a measly 1 health to survive on.

  Cato made short work of that, rushing forward and slashing with all of his might as his indigo eyes glowed with blood lust. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment… until Vlad’s head rolled off and caused Pierre to make another 5 million, now at 92 and still 5 active units on the field. Not a good way for me to start my turn.

  But by no means a guarantee that I was done for. It was time to take a chance, given I had yet to use a card that allowed me to search my deck.

  “To start I deploy Evan Garrick for 1 million, activating his effect of Master Mechanic. This allows me to search my deck for any vehicle and deploy it this turn at normal cost…

  “Which I use to deploy… Metal Tank Shaska!”

  That wasn’t me. I wasn’t the one who had intended to do that, instead hoping to find a Centurion suit of some sort to synch with Evan’s abilities. Even my father was disturbed, though it might have simply been because of the card that appeared; though I was forced to discard the rest of my hand to simply afford the cost and an additional 14 million in cash, my bank now at 88 million once more, it was more than worth the sacrifice as I found Evan hopping into a massive four treaded tank, three main cannons so long that it seemed to be the length of the oil platform itself. In fact, so massive it was, that the Metal Tank spawned in behind me as the arena generated another platform just for the Shaska to sit on.

  It was already charging as I read its ability… and grinned. Pointing a finger at Pierre’s fearful line of infantry, I explained

  “The Metal Tank Shaska allows me to target every one of your units and attack at half damage and the cost of no reward money… how
ever, it’s still more than enough to eradicate most of your team! Main cannons fire!”

  The barrels the size of a skyscraper ejected boulder size shells that impacted with the enemy’s side… or at least would have if Cato didn’t activate his special ability. Instead of wiping out his entire side, his eyes flashed purple as he used what Sylvester called a reality shift, the entire game blinking out for a few moments as me and Pierre were left in an empty field. Confused, I scratched my head and asked

  “Is… is it over?”

  “Nope. Just begun.”

  The game came back into play, this time, my Metal Tank Shaska fired… and exploded in a fury of parts, completely eradicated and reduced to nothing but burning scrap metal as my savior became nothing more than a waste of money. Even as new cards were drawn, Cato’s ability coming into effect, I felt the game was over as I was left defenseless and Pierre in the lead, able to deploy another unit that could very well end the game.

  “I surrender.”

  Once again, that wasn’t me… though this time it didn’t come from my mouth either. The whole playing field disappeared as I found myself falling to my knees, shocked as Pierre Belmont’s glowing eye returned to normal. No card, no Cato, not mercenary but him to be seen as he walked forward with the two vials in one hand, an outstretched palm in the other.

  Taking it, I was lifted to my feet and, disappointingly, not offered a hug. Instead, Pierre simply shook my hand as he handed me the cure to at least a few of my problems as he let it go, turning a few moments after humming some sort of victory tune in his mind as he smoked what must have been his twentieth or so cigarette in the last hour.

  All without an explanation, forcing me to chase after… only to fall again. Seems I hadn’t fallen from shock; my body was already shutting down, mere minutes away from death as I found myself struggling just to speak.

  “Why… why did you… lose?”

  “I didn’t lose, imbécile. I would have won that very turn given Paz’s automatic promotion and the deployment of Saren Hedeon.”

  “But… you… surrendered.”

  “I ended the game on my terms, not yours. Sometimes, it’s better to take a loss and discard your pride if you have something to gain for it. Richard will expect as much when he sees you in a few months, Seth. Remember my lesson.

  “Remember me. We’ll be seeing each other soon. At the funérailles, probably…”

  My face crashed into the ground, numb as my hand could barely move. Any question I had would have to wait until our next encounter, all dependent on whether his promised elixir would work. Unable to take the cap off, I lifted it free from the ground and smashed it into a rock nearby, a cold tea squirting into my open mouth along with a few shards of glass.

  It would have been painful if it wasn’t the best thing I had ever drunken in my life. I could only wonder how good blood what have tasted as I began to lick the drops free from the dirt around me before I passed into unconsciousness.