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

by Anthony M. Johnson

  October 28, 2009

  7:03 A. M.

  9 Lives plus 1 Transport, Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean

  “Seth Kaiba Sears. Don’t move a single inch if you want to live.”

  Heck of a wakeup, my eyes fluttering as my cold body kept itself from disobeying the order. Oddly rejuvenated, it didn’t take as long as it usually did for me to awaken, my mind already clear and eyes equally so as I searched the room. I found myself now in the interior of a freezing airship, a massive plane that outclassed even the former air force one that had once been mine, filled to the brim with what looked to be solid cubes of ice.

  More importantly though was Alucard Caesar, red and purple eye shining madly, holding a gun that reeked of poison next to my head. One pull of the trigger and I’d be the same as Seth Kaiba, a corpse left to rot from a missing cranium. Half expecting this from the vampire, all I could say was

  “Oh, what did I do now?”

  “Shut up and keep your mouth shut. One more word and you’re gone. Don’t say anything, just stay still. Got it?”

  More than from anything he said. The gesture was enough to make his threat clear.

  “One question. Ten seconds to answer. If you’re wrong, you’re going straight to the judgement bar.

  “Why haven’t you uploaded your consciousness into a robotic form? Go.”

  “Because I don’t want to wind up like Sylvester or Sylvia. I don’t want to die like them.”

  The tension drained out of the man like helium from a balloon, deflating and nearly collapsing as he threw the gun to the ground and backed away. Alucard couldn’t even bother facing me now, marching off to one of the ice cubes… and punching it with a gauntlet covered fist, shattering the container and revealing what was inside.

  A corpse, preserved from the moment of death thanks to one of the vampire’s spells. Without any generators, I was beginning to wonder if the whole belly of this plane wasn’t half frozen because of technology, but rather the gray trench coat wearing albino in front of me. At least, that’s the theory… especially as the man slit the corpse’s throat with one of his sharp fingers and, instead of a geyser of blood flowing out, only red steam emerged that floated into nothing, the room growing colder as it did.

  “So. What the hell, Alucard?”

  “You haven’t guessed it? These popsicles make great mirrors. Look.”

  So I did, with some measure of trepidation. Stepping forwards, I sensed something was off even before I had a clear view of myself. The hair, the skin, the eyes, all of it looked diluted as my image formed, bits and pieces off before I finally, at last, saw what I had become.

  A vampire, a Forced Transfigured Mutant, myself. At least, half of one anyway; only one of my two eyes had turned crimson red, while my skin only seemed slightly paler than usual. My hair has rejuvenated some, looking fresher, while the rest of my body looked to be a little healthier. A slight improvement, but an appreciated one.

  If it weren’t for the fact that I knew why I had transformed. Throwing a punch, the ice block cracking slightly and hinting at the dead body within, I could only let my anger seethe as Alucard reprimanded me, saying

  “Careful, Seth. Just because I didn’t kill you before doesn’t mean I won’t now.”

  “And again. Why do you want to kill me?”

  “Because you’re risking a terrible transformation. A change, from man into monster.”

  “A vampire?”

  “No. Something fouler.”

  Anything worse than a blood sucker was beyond my purview. Backing away and stuffing my hands into my coat, facing off against the bandaged mercenary as he slowly approached the damaged goods and began to seal it back up with the touch of his hand, I tried to pry more information as best I could. With such a long flight, we’d have more than enough time to discuss things.

  “You seem to be the foul one. What’s up?”

  “Pierre Belmont is a prick.”

  “Thank you. I thought the same.”

  “You’re just as much of a dick as he is, Seth. Don’t flatter yourself.”

  Wow. Alucard was usually the strictest about his family’s religious and moral beliefs. For him to run his mouth meant something really was up. Only a fool would try to prod on.

  A fool like me. “So what did we do to set you off?”

  “Unsanctioned FTM transformation, especially through the TARNOS method. We kill lesser agents for doing that even once; just because Pierre’s part of Hierarchy of the Instrumentality Project though, he gets nothing more than a glare. Abuse of authority never sits well with me.”

  “TARNOS? Instrumentality Project?”

  “None of your concern since you’ll be dead within the year. Your only focus should be on keeping the beast in control.”

  Alucard was on the move again, kneeling down and reaching into a duffle bag that had apparently served as my pillow, taking out a needle and tossing it my way with a strong, overhead pass. Such a thing should have normally flown past my head with my subpar reflexes… but instead I caught it, fingers carefully holding the base like the end of a cigarette my dad had so conspicuously favored as I brought it down to my chest.

  “This?”

  “A sample of Adrian’s blood. The prime anti-FTV venom in the multiverse. You’re going to inject it right now.”

  “Really? Shouldn’t that hurt since most of my cells are FTM based now?”

  Alucard, hat missing and gray hair exposed, laughed with a sort of fake and harsh sound as his dirty strands bounced up and down. Far too much effort in trying to make me feel better.

  “Oh, Seth. It’s going to feel like someone’s burning you alive. Too bad fire’s a better feeling than pure Ricin filled lead to the brain.”

  Point taken, flipping the syringe several times in my free hand, finding it to be much more flexible than before, I don’t think I even consciously thought about it as I slammed it into my neck. True to Alucard’s word, it immediately felt like I was set aflame, my four-year-old self having burnt his hand in an oven serving as the main description of this terrible torture. I did my best to sustain it though and, after the black fluid had emptied, found the pain leave just as soon as it came. Not too bad, though not enjoyable either.

  “Happy?”

  “No, but it’ll do. Take one of every day for the rest of your short life; or like I said-”

  “You’ll kill me. I get it… even if you haven’t told me why.”

  The throaty noise was more akin to humor than whatever plastic sound that had risen from him before. Maybe he was starting to warm up, even if the airplane bay grew colder and colder. Surprised we hadn’t turned into cubes of ice yet.

  “Because not only did Pierre let the Schrodinger’s Cat out of the bag, but he gave you too high a dose of Mitsunari’s elixir. You’ve officially begun the transformation into a FTM; drink a person’s blood or skip Adrian’s booster shot, and you’ll be a full class 1 vampire in no time at all.

  “Which is the last thing I need to deal with.”

  So I was really marked for death. If the heart condition wouldn’t get me, Alucard would. Nice to know that Richard was so intent on taking my soul.

  “I wouldn’t be that bad of a vampire, right? Even if I prefer death to unlife, would I be so terrible?”

  “Do you know why vampires have such a bad legacy?” Alucard asked, reaching into his duffle bag and taking out a cross. Such a holy object was supposed to be lethal to my kind; I myself felt no avarice, though sometimes I saw Sylvester shudder when we approached holy objects. At least this certified priest hadn’t lost his sense of duty to god yet. “It’s because the FTV enhances everything. Not just physical abilities but emotional states, mental faculties, obsessions and hate.

  “The FTV turns good men into saints and bad men into monsters. In the words of Yoda aka Spencer W. Kimball, Fear leads to Anger, Anger leads to Hate, Hate leads to the dark side.

  “As a boy, yo
ur fear of rejection and failure lead you to be angry. Now, as a man, you are a nothing more than a raging beast wandering from one edge of the world to another, looking for things and people to look down at. As a vampire, this anger would boil over until it manifested in a personal disgust of all life, turning you into just another dumb killer I have to put down.

  “Even now, I see it. What the hell did that ice block do to you Seth to put such a large hole in it? Beating inanimate objects is a sign of a bad temper, not a respectable man. You’re far more lost than you anticipate, Seth.

  “I doubt you’ll be normal by the time your tournament ends. That’s why we’re here, now, far away from Sherry. She doesn’t want to see me put you down when the time comes, rabid dog.”

  There was a certain degree of truth to this, as I reflect. A part of me wanted to strangle man, to shout at him and tell him off for making such accusations. I actually wondered how hard it would be to grab his gun, considering its poison was strong enough to take him down as well as me. It’d only be fair, right, especially since he dumped his daughter on me to take care of?

  I didn’t though. You wouldn’t have these words if I did. Instead, I sat down, breathing through my nose as I tried to keep my cool and gritted out these words.

  “So then. You’re my caretaker until I die? My guardian in case I try to bite someone?”

  “If you want to hold your tournament still? Yeah. If you want to live the rest of your days in peace though, I’ll take you to a timeline where you can have your own little Hawaiian condo. Nothing but coconut milk and sunsets for you if you take the better path.”

  “Better path?”

  “Again, yeah. You want to know a secret Seth?”

  I nodded, though I really didn’t. Better to have blackmail when you need it than a perfect impression of a supposed ally.

  “Sherlock, Mycroft, and Moriarty. While the veil of understanding caused Conan Doyle to fub on a few of the details, their legends were inspired by us Piddock triplets. Sherlock Holmes Piddock, too much of a narcissist to change his name. Mycroft Marshall Holmes became George Marshall in order to infiltrate the American government. Then there’s me, Doctor James Caesar Moriarty, who took the name of his mentors and became Alucard Caesar Hedeon after my disfigurement at Volgin’s hands.

  “Funny thing about the name. I was called the Emperor, the Impaler of Crime in the old world… Napoleon was the one dictator I was never really compared too. Appropriate though; a much better ring to it than anything else.”

  I would have been rather delighted by the news, intrigued at the implications and even laughed at the joke if it wasn’t James Moriarty we were talking about. While I admit I have some problems with my ego, all of it evaporated like the red smoke emerging from the draining body a few feet away as I found myself sliding away, backing up a few inches as I repeated the unholy statement.

  “You? You’re Moriarty? That’s not true! That’s impossible!”

  “Search your… ah, not worth making a Star Wars joke when you’re so clearly agitated. It’d be a waste of a good line.”

  Clearly Alucard didn’t think this to be as important as I did, bored now as he tapped his fingers along the barrel of his Walther P38, a gun he must have been awarded through his service to the Germans. Such an old weapon, looking to be one of the first made of its kind, was only further proof of the man’s claim…

  Even if it still didn’t make sense as I again shouted “Bull! All of it!”

  “To think I was actually worried you could prove to be a challenge. I could just tell you something you didn’t know and you’d give yourself a heart attack. To think I had to bring this thing out of storage…”

  “You’re- you’re nothing like him! Where are the sunken eyes, the balding head? You’re too young; you would have had to have been at least seventy by the time the incident in Russia occurred with Jack and-”

  “You don’t like me talking about your wife, Seth. You’d do well to remember to treat me with the same respect.”

  “Then answer the question! How is this possible?”

  Alucard had to actually debate whether he’d waste the breath on a dying man that wouldn’t see the end of the year. Whether it was worth it sharing the truth with me, a witness that was surely bound the next world, a gossiper who could inform the dead of the true life of the albino mercenary. I actually even saw him take the safety off, check the chamber and spin the gun on his index finger as if considering to just shoot me instead, an easy solution to his final problem.

  At last though he didn’t, his gun disappearing into red smoke with a flash of his eyes and an utterance of some English word under his breath. Content, the man folded his arms and leaned backwards as he settled into his tale, head held up by a block of solid ice.

  “The problem with most religions is that they stop asking questions in relation to how much light and knowledge they have been given. An atheist has a hundred questions for a priest, even if only ten of them are good; the sheep will ask only five at Sunday’s service, none of which are beneficial at all.

  “You should know this better than anyone. You know that they’re other gods besides our Heavenly Father. Doesn’t that make you start a whole new field of questions? How many of them existed before Elohim? How many after? How many were created by him, and how many developed from their own free will?”

  “That’s not an answer to a question I’m asking right now though, Mor- Alcuard.”

  “I taught math at one point in my life. If I just gave you an answer, you’d learn nothing. I have to walk you step by step to help you truly understand.

  “My point is that there were other forces at play in my timeline. While the god of this world was the lord of that one, we had other figures to look to as well. Mycroft was the holy man, the obedient steward of the light, and I the champion of the dark, the man who thought might made right and I could receive an exemption of my responsibilities with the aid of a dark master.”

  “Volgin?”

  Alucard shook his head, his eyes a bit nervous at the mere mention of his name. It must have hurt, remembering that dastardly Russian; it was Volgin who had disfigured him in the first place, leaving him looking like this walking scarecrow after setting him on fire and shocking him half to death.

  Bastard deserved it though.

  “Justice, Order, Obedience… the qualities that make man good begin and start with Elohim, the Eternal Father. While I have much to learn of the hierarchy of angels, I know only this; even if he has a father, and a grandfather, and grandfathers thousands of generations back, the God of Heaven is the God of all righteousness. There is no one greater than him, for he is the only one that Jesus Crist, the messiah, answers to. Christ is second in command, and his Heavenly Father is First above everything.

  “Darkness, villainy, evil though… that has no master. No single man or monster can be ascribed to its creation. It is not a figure, but a literal paradox. It does and does not exist; it is in everyone and nothing at all. No Devil, from Satan Volgin to Lucifer Satan, even understands it; they may be fathers of lies, great thieves and manipulators that are responsible for spawning it on any given planet or timeline… but they have no control over it, for it is a thing that has no face or heart.

  “All it is, everything it is… is a shadow, the darkness cast away from a bright light. As long as there is life, it shall come and taint… that is one of the few universal laws of existence, and all I shall say on the subject.”

  Enlightening, but still missing the point. “So what did the darkness do to you?”

  “My story is much the way Doyle described it, save for a few twists and turns. Mycroft, Sherlock, and myself are siblings that aren’t even separated by years; once we popped out of mummies’ cooch, they went straight to business to spawn the next one. Nine months and here came the next genius in the Piddock bloodline.

  “They knew I was rotten from the start though; I tore my mother Violet a new
one as I came out, rendering her unable to have any more children after me. I was wild, active, the opposite of Mycroft but a good friend to Sherlock. It didn’t take long for me to start indulging in some less reputable activities, especially as our father began to study the arcane.

  “Sherlock detested magic, and lived his silly little life as a consulting detective. Mycroft would follow daddy’s footsteps and become not only a saint like him, but the head of the Queen’s secret service after Roger retired. I kept on doing things with the goal of changing how I would feel, ignoring the effect that it would have on others, and built my empire through the strength of my own wit and the powers of the great evil that lies in the hearts of men.

  “Ironic than that it was Sherlock, the slowest in the family, who caught me. The Hound of Baskerville proved to be my undoing; I had been paid to help the convict escape and, upon my discovery that he was chatting with my brother, supplied the hound to Jack Stapleton to hunt down and kill all of those involved. The difference, of course, was that I had cursed the mutt…

  “Shame bullets are so effective as a weapon. Had I been born four hundred years prior, nothing would have stopped me. All it took was a well-aimed shot from Sherlock and all of a sudden, he has very real proof that I’ve been indulging in less than savory activities.

  “I didn’t want the world knowing, of course. I had a reputation to uphold. So, I invited him all the way to Switzerland to resolve our disagreement… which led to the fight that plunged us to our supposed demises.

  “Which the books also got right. Sherlock lived; I didn’t. My neck broke the moment I hit the water; I was dead before I even took in one bubble. Which is about the point that Vlad Dracula comes in…

  “But that’s ancient history, and I mean ancient. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away and all of that kind of thing. Won’t matter to you much.”

  “Oh? And why’s that?”

  The thud of an airplane wheel against the ground was Alucard’s answer, the man stable enough to keep himself from shifting as I was lifted into the air and thrown back down in a single, bungled heap. As I struggled to pick myself up, I heard the familiar tapping of a wooden and metal stick that caused my now conflicting eyes to turn and see Alucard now holding my dragon cane.

  “You’ll want this. I’ve met many a man who pretended weakness for many a reason; some to shield their true strength, others to elicit mercy and pity. I imagine you’ll be wanting a little bit of both for your visit, Alucard.”

  “Oh? I say again, why’s that?”

  “Because we didn’t go back to Oregon. Welcome to California; time to rescue the prince’s sister.”