Todd sputtered. Travis could tell he was around a corner, where no one could hear him. Travis could see escape ladders above him as he looked at his face. "I'm sending you two targets, both of which say they have taken their meds. I'm here at The Haze, though I sighted Agent Huxley, the man The Monk warned us about going undercover here. If you come to my watchpoint, you will need to be careful."
Travis grinned. "Dude, you know I love a challenge. Hit me with the upload."
Todd's face vanished. In place of it, he saw two profiles. A man named Xairin Dean Thunder, and a man named Alex Morgana. Both were twenty-eight years old, both natural auburn headed sensitives. Travis pinched the air. The mask could detect his movements, and it blew up the screen in the left contact lens. "One is a nurse practitioner and a medical massage therapist, easy for him to help other sensitives. The other, a college student at Bastion City University, with no selected majors or minors yet. Looks like we are going with witch number one." He sent a message out to Todd. "Keep an eye on Xairin Thunder, he's the target for tonight. I will be in the car and on my way as soon as possible."
Travis spoke so that the mask picked up on the commlink. "Dan Smith, are you listening?"
Dan Smith was putting on his black robes. He was a stout chested man, with no definition to his abs, but his shoulders were rocking. He was flexing when Travis spoke. "Dude, what's up?" He said.
"Dan, before you meet at the slay site, I need you to pay Atlas a visit and tell him to make sure his recruits he is sending are more hardened. His latest pick, Kellen Pennywise, seems a bit soft."
Dan kept flexing in the mirror. He was wearing green boxers, his black hooded robe, and his brown hair was hidden by the hood. He smiled and spoke into the robe's intercom link built into the lining. "I will stop by, see you at the slay site in, what, two hours?"
Travis replied back. "Maybe less, Paul increased the dose."
Dan replied back. "Excellent, but hurry it up man, I promised my girlfriend I would meet her to watch the fallout."
Travis was annoyed. "Stop thinking about your dick, Dan. Galatians, 5-16, brother, But I say, walk by the spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh!"
Dan got quiet and stopped flexing. "You're right. I wouldn't want to get flogged again by The Monk."
Travis agreed. "The Monk is wise, sometimes we all need a reminder that the flesh is weak."
Travis called out to Bronson Applebee. A chubby newcomer that had killed his first mind-witch just last week. He was getting a black van ready, testing it to make sure that all the new gadgets to help hide it, in case they needed stealth-mode were working. The man pressed a button on his watch, and the hovering van vibrated, bending light till it became invisible, mostly invisible. Certain angles revealed the shape. It would do well in the dark, though. His hooded cloak, he heard a buzzing coming from the hood and pulled it up over his blond hair. "Yes?"
"Is the van ready?" Travis asked.
Bronson, being a mechanic and a cyber electrical engineer, rolled his eyes. "Of course, it is, and the new stealth mode is working."
"Great, I'm on my way to the garage."
Bronson's half-brother, Benson Steele, was sulking. He was fixing one of the cars and couldn't get the laser propulsion working right. He looked like Bronson to a degree, they did have the same mothers. Benson was younger, bald-headed, not naturally bald but shaven, and thinner than Bronson was. Bronson came over, smirking. "Ben, get your cloak on, you're going with us tonight, remember? Travis wants each team to have six, and you are number six, now get with it. The Soldiers of His Holy Light go hunting, TONIGHT!"
Benson stood up and took his gloves off. "What is our target?"
Bronson blinked his eyes twice, holding the blink for five seconds, activating the computerized contact lenses. "A redhead tonight. Travis wants us ready to roll out in ten minutes in case the target leaves the club early."
Benson scoffed. "We always have two or three lined up."
Bronson shrugged. "I guess he really wants this one."
Benson shrugged. "I hope this one doesn't take too long, they're really cracking down at Mullens University right now on people being late for class. My Criminal Law Professor has already warned me once for being late."
Bronson sighed. "Coffee, get a caffeine license bro, it is worth it!"
Benson rolled his blue eyes. "Man, I'm tired of getting licenses for everything the government deems bad for your health."
Bronson shrugged. "Have to fund universal healthcare somehow man, get used to it. Just don't ever mention licensing everything bad, around Travis, he gets really bent out of shape over that subject."
Benson nodded. "Yeah, someone else was talking about that the other day."
_____
Two hours later.
Travis was dressed in all black, wearing his disguise. He was walking up to Todd, who was working the door at The Haze. Todd had gotten the job as some of their other watchers did. Travis killed a man named Burt Townsend, an old army vet that used to work the door for The Haze so that there would be an opening. When the ad went live for the job, The Soldiers of His Holy Light had six of their people interview to ensure that one of their people, got the job. Todd landed it. When Travis went up to Todd. They acted as if they never knew each other. Todd scanned his I.D., it flashed Travis's alter ego's face on his tablet, along with a clean history, but due to the program embedded in the I.D. chip, when the currency downloaded, it didn't register a Greg Davenport or record his face in the central system, only a reintroduction of their facial software downloaded, embedded in the currency transaction.
Greg waltzed inside as his computerized contact lens in his left eye, scanned the room for the target Todd had helped select. Multiple circles formed in his vision until one blinked blue and zeroed in. He turned his head as it naturally zoomed in to see the man he wanted, talking to a gaunt younger man dancing. It was clear that the conversation didn't go as well as the redhead wanted.
Travis watched the target for a good thirty minutes. He could tell he was pretty much alone, aside from talking to a thickly built blond guy. Clearly, the two were just friends. Travis waited patiently. He wanted to make sure he came across single and wanted to wait till he had a few more drinks to make this easier.
Before Travis knew it, he watched his prey cross the dance floor. His movements were a little slow, not plastered slow, but slow enough to indicate that it was time to start making his move before the prey left the club. He started walking towards him and stopped. He watched as he bumped into a handsome man wearing a blue and white plaid shirt. His camera lens in his contact blew up the face of the man with a red alert showing at the bottom of the screen he was seeing. "CAUTION UNDERCOVER AGENT." Followed by. "AGENT EZRA HUXLEY DETECTED."
Travis had two choices, wait and see, or go with target two if he was still here. Part of him wanted the challenge. The Monk's intel paid off. His eye lenses picked up a second alert, Marine Evans, posing as an overprotective friend. He saw her watching the two. Travis waited.
Once it was clear that the Interpol agent had no interest in the target, Travis resumed course but kept a close eye on the Interpol agents that were undercover. He went up to the bar and paid closer attention to the redhead's sulking expression. It was clear this guy had low self-esteem, was a little tipsy already and was on the prowl, which resulted in being rejected twice. That would make picking him up, even easier. Travis couldn't help but smile at that. Meanwhile, Travis noticed Ezra Huxley and Marine Evans looking in his direction. That typically would have deterred him some, but not tonight, that made this all the sweeter.
He was about to approach the target, when the one man that Travis had never thought he would see again, popped up, a face that filled Travis with both fits of rage, and fear, the sight took his breath away. He saw the mortal face of the man who had wronged him almost seven years ago now. The face of the very man that fueled his hatred for sensitives. He watched as his heart pounded in his chest, the
very demon who tortured his spirit, his body, and his mind, approach the target.
Travis, despite all his training, felt his heart race, and the feeling of panic set in faster than a valley could flood after a dam broke. After seven years, he was seeing the face that haunted him and spurred him to do what he was doing now. Instead of approaching him, he fled to the bathroom instead.
Travis entered the bathroom. He moved so quickly, and without any consideration, he pushed through two men talking and went into a stall. The two men hooking up just looked with annoyance and continued their lustful chatter. As for Travis, he closed the door to the stall and locked it. He then pressed his hands against the metal walls and tried to control his breathing. He couldn't believe that he saw him.
Travis's mask did it's best to anticipate his muscular movements as his jaw quivered, and his nose snarled up with rage. He wanted to go right out there and choke the devil himself to the point he stopped breathing and do to him, what he planned on doing tonight.
That bottle Cale sodomized him with, gave Travis the idea of how to torture these witches, these abominations, created by the devil's alchemy that he had bestowed on the medical world. It was that last night, being left, tied up, having been degraded and robbed of his dignity in the eyes of his parents, his school, his friends, and a woman he hadn't seen in almost six years now. He wanted to make every single sensitive pay for what happened to him. Now the devil was here. Travis balled his fists, grit his teeth to the point of cracking, and looked as if he was possessed, possessed with hatred.
It took Travis ten minutes to get his act together and cool his mind. If the devil was out there, he was taking him down, and if not, the man he was talking to, clearly had to die now, they knew each other. He was going to make either the devil or the man he was talking to pay dearly for taking everything from him. Travis came out of the stall, washed his hands, looked in the mirror, and smiled. "Showtime."
Chapter 1
Friday, July 1st, 2118, Present Day.
Xairin stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom that he shared with Griffin. He had a towel around his waist, a red one. He was looking at himself, taking deep breaths, and trying to collect his thoughts. He wasn’t ready for today at all.
Xairin walked over to the long cabinet that ran the side of his part of the room and opened one of the drawers. He started picking out clothing to wear. He was looking for a black suit, the only one he had.
His suit fit loosely. It was very baggy. He didn’t have a belt to adjust the waistline. He hadn’t bought a new one after his turning, this one still matched his previous body weight and build. He had no choice but to go and ask Ethan to see if anyone had something he could wear.
Running up the stairs, Xairin quickly reached Ethan’s bedroom door and tapped gently. A moment later, Ethan opened it. He was standing there in a grey bathrobe. “Yes?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a suit I could borrow, would you? This thing is not going to work, and I’m stressed out enough as it is. I won't have time to go pick something out before the funeral.”
Ethan looked at how baggy the black suit was. “Yeah, that’s not going to work. Let me see what I have. Come on in.”
Ethan went into his long closet, looking for suits that might fit Xairin. Ethan was about the same height as Xairin, so height wasn’t an issue, Xairin’s chest and shoulders were broader than Ethan’s. That would be the issue.
“Here, try on this one?”
Ethan handed Xairin a black suit that had a red tie. Xairin wasn’t as bashful as he used to be. He took off the one he was wearing. Ethan watched the man as he dressed down to his blue boxers and black socks. He put on the suit Ethan picked out. It fit, but just barely. Xairin would have to watch how he moved his shoulders. He went over to Ethan’s large vanity mirror and looked at himself as he adjusted the suit. Ethan walked over to help him with the red tie.
The suit was solid black, the vest that went with it, also solid black. The only contrast was the dark red tie. “Do you have shoes?” Ethan asked.
“Yes, I have two pairs of black dress shoes, it was just that suit didn’t fit.”
Seeing how nervous Xairin was as he looked in the mirror surveying his loaned attire. Ethan had to ask. “Are you going to be okay to go?”
Xairin turned around and looked at him. His voice was cracking a little. “I have to go. He was one of my best friends Ethan.”
“Do you need a protective detail?”
Xairin shook his head. “No, apparently, my great grandfather is going to be there. Who else better to keep me safe then Dracula himself, right?”
Ethan had to nod at that one. “Yes, anyone would be a fool to try and take him on, unless a Grand Alpha tried.”
Xairin shrugged. His voice was still cracking from the emotional turmoil he was feeling. “It took almost a dozen Grand Alphas, and a nightshade gas bomb to take my grandfather down. I think it will be okay.”
“What about your mom, or grandmother? Are they going?”
Xairin shook his head again as he adjusted the tie. “No, they asked about it, but I’m just not ready for that yet, Ethan. Getting through today is already going to be enough to deal with. I can’t handle anything else right now.”
Ethan went over and helped Xairin adjust the tie again. He stood behind him, fixing the collar to the black shirt and the suit. “Now, you look…” Ethan had to admit, Xairin looked damn right tasty in that suit. “You look good, Xairin.”
“Is someone picking you up, or are you driving?”
Xairin made eye contact with Ethan’s reflection. “Damien is getting me in about an hour.”
Ethan looked at Xairin and nodded his head. “If you need anything, please, know that I am here for you?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of sun goggles that would go with this suit, would you? The funeral is at three.”
Ethan put his finger up, “You know, I think I do.”
Ethan walked over to his nightstand and opened the top drawer. Inside were four pairs. He found a dark red one that just so happened to match the tie. He walked over and handed them to Xairin. Like most sun goggles, they fit like sunglasses but had the protective eye shields that conformed to the face to keep the light out. Xairin nodded. “I guess I’m as ready as I’m going to get.”
“Thanks, Ethan. I appreciate it.”
“Hey Xairin, no problem. If you need anything at all, please let me know.”
Reluctant and sad, Xairin nodded slightly.
Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang out.
Xairin was waiting on the sofa facing the door and went over to open it. It could only be one person. Damien.
He pulled the door open, swinging it inward. Standing there was Damien in a black suit, with a white tie and a red vest. He had his shoulder-length hair cut off, sporting a much shorter look. He had enough hair to spike, but just that.
“You cut your hair?” Xairin asked.
“I was overdue for a change.” He looked at Xairin. “Are you ready?”
Xairin shook his head. “No, I’m not, but I have to be, right?”
Damien lowered his head as he escorted Xairin out. “Losing anyone is never easy on any of us.”
Damien has arrived in a black flying Broncho, with the windows tinted. Waiting at the vehicle, were two guards, one of which must be the driver. This made Xairin feel a little nervous. “Expecting issues?”
Damien shook his head. “After being taken, Evette isn’t too keen on letting me go anywhere without a guard or two.”
“Oh, right, Evette. I haven’t met her yet.”
Damien tried to joke. “Oh, you will, you can't miss her. She’s a dark-headed vampire that looks like she’s been stuck in 1920’s fashion over the past several decades...”
Damien rolled his eyes. “From the dress to the hair. She reminds me of a small-headed Betty Boop.”
“Betty Boop?”
Damien looked at Xairin. His facial expressions seeme
d annoyed as they got into the back seat of the black air vehicle. “I will never get used to this.”
Xairin looked at him as he buckled himself in. “Used to what?”
Damien looked over at him, he had a smirk on his face. “I love being an immortal, but the one thing that annoys me about living forever is this… You will always be in situations where either a new immortal, or a human being sitting down with you to have a conversation, and they have no idea what you’re referencing.”
“Betty Boop was a cartoon, a black and white cartoon. It used to make me laugh.”
“Ah, okay,” Xairin said.
Damien was persistent; this was something that annoyed him the most, continually having to remember the decade and things relevant to the times. “One day, a hundred years from now, my young grandson, you will be sitting down with a human, Aeonian, or an Immortium, and you’re going to think, damn… It was so much easier a hundred years ago, just like humans will reference a prior decade is better than the current one. Everything from music to movies, to the flipping iPhone 5. Previous time periods, you’re going to miss them.”
Dark Temptations Page 5