章 66: Qui mundum odit?-LXVI
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DATE:21th of July, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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That night, I booked a room in another hotel, far from the chaos I had left behind. It wasn't much—a nondescript place with beige walls and thin curtains—but it would do for now. Emily had been analyzing the watch since we arrived, her focus entirely on the strange device.
"It has something to do with my creator," she said finally, her voice sharp and certain. "The technology isn't just advanced—it's his style. Efficient. Minimalistic."
I leaned back in the creaky chair, rubbing my temples. "Efficient enough to teleport agents around the battlefield without turning them into mincemeat?"
Emily hesitated, her pixels flickering slightly. "Mostly. The particles around the watch are behaving abnormally—shifting, almost teleporting in microbursts. But the effect is harmless to the wearer. Too few cells are displaced to cause damage."
"Harmless," I muttered, scoffing. "That's what you call perfect? Sounds like a deathtrap waiting to malfunction."
Her tone shifted, defensive. "My creator's inventions are... mostly perfect."
I smirked at the faint hesitation in her voice. "Mostly perfect. Right."
She ignored me, returning to her analysis. I watched her holographic form shimmer on the table, thinking about what she had said earlier. "So, this watch—it's definitely connected to your creator. But what about the woman? That chalk-white skin of hers. Could he have had a hand in that too? Maybe the tech that makes her bulletproof?"
Emily's image paused, pixelated slightly, then stabilized. "I don't know. My memories of him are fragmented—mostly incomplete. It's possible, but I can't say for certain."
I sighed and leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. "Did you find anything useful when you connected to the control panel back there? Something about the organization, their operations?"
She shook her head. "No. My access was limited to the door mechanisms. Whoever set up the system knew what they were doing. There were layers of encryption even I couldn't bypass."
"Convenient," I muttered, standing and pacing the room. I felt trapped—adrift in a sea of half-answers and loose ends.
Emily's voice cut through my thoughts. "What's the plan now?"
I glanced out the window at the neon-lit street below. "Lay low for a few days. If they've sent more agents, they'll be looking for us. Let them waste their time."
"And then?"
"And then," I said, turning back to her, "we figure out who's pulling the strings—and cut them loose."
The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of Emily's systems. I didn't know what was waiting for me on the other side of this tangled mess, but I'd bought myself some time. For now, that was enough.
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DATE:26th of July, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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A few days passed, and Emily had mostly unraveled the secrets of the teleportation device. It was, in her words, "a technological marvel," but to me, it was just another headache waiting to explode in my face.
"This device," she explained, her tone almost reverent, "can shift anything connected to it to coordinates unobserved by any being."
"Unobserved?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes.
"Yes. It scans for areas where no conscious entity is watching—no humans, animals, or even cameras. In its automatic mode, it will teleport the wearer to the nearest unobserved area. That's likely how the agents vanished during the ambush with Alice."
I remembered that moment vividly. The way they disappeared, leaving nothing behind but the chill of their precision. It had been unsettling then, and it was even more so now.
"Then there's the active mode," Emily continued, "where users can manually input coordinates. This mode is usually limited to preset locations, like moving between their bases or deploying to missions. They use special beacons as anchor points, forming a network for navigation."
I frowned, gripping the device tightly. "So if I have this, I have access to their entire network?"
"Yes," Emily confirmed. "But this also explains their desperation to recover corpses. Losing even one of these devices is a catastrophic security breach. The potential for infiltration is immense."
I let out a low whistle, weighing the implications. "Can they track this one? Or know that I have it?"
Emily hesitated, her holographic form flickering faintly. "Unlikely. The devices aren't interconnected—each functions independently to prevent tampering. However..."
"There's always a 'however,'" I muttered.
"However," she continued, unfazed, "they might possess a separate device that can trace teleportation events in specific areas. I vaguely remember my creator designing such a tool, but I'm not certain if they have it or how advanced it might be."
I clenched my fists. "So, using this watch is a gamble."
"Not entirely," Emily said. "If you're cautious—avoid using it in obvious locations or near their known operations—you can minimize the risk. But it's a tool of power, and power always draws attention."
I stared at the watch in my palm, its sleek design betraying the danger it carried. For now, it was my edge—a stolen weapon in a game where I was vastly outnumbered.
"Fine," I said. "We'll play it smart. But the moment this thing puts us in their sights, I'm tossing it."
Emily's voice softened, almost amused. "Understood. But I doubt you'll give it up so easily."
I didn't respond, but deep down, I knew she was right. This watch was a key to their network, their secrets. And I wasn't about to let it go without a fight.
I switched on the TV, letting the flickering screen illuminate the dim room. The news from yesterday replayed, gripping the air with grim authority.
A stern-faced reporter stood before the wreckage of the Hero Association's prison. Her voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of alarm.
"Breaking news: the infamous villain Secundo Manus has personally led an assault on the Hero Association's prison. The facility was utterly destroyed, and multiple high-profile inmates have escaped. Among them are the Mad Doctor Biz and the villain known as Immolater, the former sidekick of The Terrorizer."
I sighed heavily, my hand dragging across my face. The gall of the Hero Association never failed to astound me.
"Greedy idiots," I muttered, shaking my head. "They should've kept targets like Biz locked up in the military fortress where they took Barryvard, not some flimsy association compound. But no—of course, they wanted Biz's technology for themselves. Now look where that got them."
Turning to my phone, I asked Emily, "Who's Immolater?"
Emily's avatar blinked into view, her digital expression calm. "He has the ability to set his entire body on fire. Five years ago, he unleashed a firestorm in the middle of a city, causing widespread devastation. UltraMan intervened before the firestorm could consume the entire area, subduing Immolater and ensuring his capture. It was one of UltraMan's most publicized victories."
"Sounds like a real psychopath," I commented. "And what about his mentor, The Terrorizer?"
Emily hesitated for a moment before responding, as if carefully selecting her words. "The Terrorizer is a figure of mystery. His origins and identity are largely obscured, but he is notorious for training several high-profile villains. Some believe he was once a teacher at Zenik Academy"
I let out a bitter laugh. "Zenik. Of course. Only that damned school could spawn someone like him."
Emily's voice softened, but there was a distinct edge to her tone. "The Terrorizer is infamous for a leaked document from his teaching days. In it, he referred to superhumans as a separate, superior race, which he termed Homo Deus. He claimed they were fundamentally different from Homo Sapiens and destined to replace them."
My eyes narrowed. "And people didn't like that, I assume."
"The backlash was immense," Emily confirmed. "The scientific community condemned him, labeling his theories as dangerous pseudo-science. The Hero Association worked quickly to cover up his identity, but the damage was done. He was dismissed from Zenik Academy, and that was when he vanished from public view. The leaked document only cemented his reputation as a radical."
I leaned back in my chair, processing the information. The more I heard about The Terrorizer, the more I saw echoes of his ideology in the villains tearing the world apart. Secundo Manus, Biz, Immolater—they were all playing parts in a script he had likely written long ago. Except the first two do not have superpowers and from what we talked would be on totally opposite notions or about "evolution". Actually, perhaps Secundo Manos agrees.
"Homo Deus," I murmured, almost to myself. "He really believed that, didn't he? That they were better than us."
Emily didn't respond immediately, her avatar flickering. "He did. And many villains he trained seem to share his ideology, to some extent. It's unclear if he truly believed in it, or if it was just a tool to manipulate others into following him."
I clenched my fists, the name The Terrorizer settling heavily in my mind. Whatever his beliefs, his legacy had become a poison in the veins of society, one that no amount of heroism seemed able to purge.
The sad thing is that the Terrorizer was correct. Superheroes are Superior to us. They are naturally stronger, faster and more resistant. Many of them are much smarter, even without abilities that give them that power. Take Alice for example. Her small body has no muscles and yet she is much stronger than me.
Whatever. I'm getting bored of sitting around. I should do something.
I call Mike to ask if he wants to go to the mall. He surprisingly agreed.
This wasn't really at random
It was also time to change my location.
I picked up my things and found the box with the blooded sword pendantive That I've used to kill the vampire 2 months ago. I wonder if Alice still kept mine. I've never seen her wear jewelry.
He picked me up in his truck
And he drove to the nearest mega Mall.
It was owned by Matthew, that much I can tell. His face was plastered all around. He made a lot of ads with his iconic smile.
We left the car in the parking lot, but I decided to keep the duffel bag on me, mostly to keep an eye on the watch which I strapped on my arm.
It was a very sprawling complex full of stores.
Mike was wearing a leather jacket despite how hot it was outside. I wasn't really want to talk, being in a long sleeved shirt, but I at least had the defense of being the only type of clothes I own. I had forgotten my t-shirts at Alice's place.
As we were walking around the open area between stores I feel Emily injecting the drug in me. She screamed about an ambush. Just then agents from a floor above placed on the railings full-on machine guns and started firing.
I use my ability and push Mike out of the way, before scrambling for my Beretta from the bag.
I asked Emily if she could use the watch to teleport me behind them and she apparently can. the agents have to insert the location manually if they want it to be precise, something hard to do on such a small device when you have to place very precise coordinates. But Emily is a computer. She can more than manage it.
I find myself behind the shooters. I placed a bullet in each of their heads and while their bodies were still in the air check their hands, disconnect their watches and put them in my bag, before Emily teleport me back to Mike.
There were a few civilians dead near him, caught in the crossfire. Others started running away.
Letting go of my breath. I help him stand and give him one of the watches. I also take my mask and put it on. It would be bad if someone recognized me.
Mike looked shaken but kept it together as I helped him to his feet. His leather jacket now had a tear near the shoulder, but he didn't seem to notice.
"What the hell was that?" he asked, dusting himself off while glancing up at the second-floor railing where the shooters had been.
"Ambush," I said tersely, pulling the duffel bag tighter against me. My eyes scanned the area for more threats, hand still gripping my Beretta. "They've been tracking me."
I handed him one of the watches I had taken from the agents.
"Isn't this like the watch I found ?" Mike asked, frowning as he turned it over in his hands.
"Yeah. It's a Teleportation device," I explained quickly, keeping my voice low. "If things go south again, press the button here—" I pointed to the activation node on the side. "It'll take you to the nearest unobserved area. Emily says it's set to automatic mode."
Mike stared at me, disbelief in his eyes. "You're saying this... thing teleports people? Like in the movies?"
"Yes. Now keep it on you, and don't drop it," I said sharply.
Before he could respond, Emily's voice buzzed in my earpiece. Her tone was urgent.
"There are more agents inside the complex," she said. "I accessed the mall's security cameras. They're closing in from multiple directions."
I swore under my breath. "How many?"
"At least five more, spread out across the main corridors. They're armed."
Mike's face paled as he overheard. "We're sitting ducks here," he said.
"Not if we move fast," I replied, already calculating the nearest exits in my head.
Emily spoke again. "I can guide you through the least populated routes. I've also disabled some of the security cameras to avoid drawing their attention to your location."
"Good. Keep an eye on them," I muttered. Turning to Mike, I motioned for him to follow. "Stay close. Don't fall behind."
We moved quickly but cautiously, weaving through the bustling crowd of oblivious shoppers. The mall's sprawling layout was both a blessing and a curse—it gave us cover but also plenty of blind spots for an ambush.
As we turned a corner near a high-end electronics store, I spotted one of the agents. He was dressed casually, blending in with the crowd, but his posture and the bulge of a concealed weapon gave him away.
"Eleven o'clock," I murmured to Mike, nodding subtly in the agent's direction.
Mike tensed, his grip tightening on the watch.
Emily's voice chimed in again. "Two more agents approaching from your left. They've split up to cut off escape routes."
"Great," I muttered, pulling Mike into a nearby clothing store. We ducked behind a rack of oversized jackets, momentarily out of sight.
"What now?" Mike whispered, his voice barely audible.
I pulled out my duffel bag and handed him one of the guns inside—a compact Glock 19. "Now we even the odds."
Mike hesitated, but he took the weapon, his hand trembling slightly. It seems like he was really confused about our current situation.
"Relax," I said, my tone firm but calm. "Stick to cover. Only shoot if you have to. Emily will let us know if anyone's coming."
"Got it," he said, nodding grimly.
Emily's voice cut in. "I can use the watch to teleport you again if needed, but I'll need a moment to calculate safe coordinates. Don't rely on it too heavily."
"Understood," I said, checking the chamber of my Beretta. "Let's move."
We slipped out of the store and headed for the nearest exit, sticking to the edges of the corridors to avoid being seen. My mind raced, planning our next steps. If Emily's intel was right, we were walking straight into a trap.
But if they wanted a fight, I was more than ready to give them one.
The intercom suddenly echoed throughout the mall, a man with a harsh Albo-Saxon accent slicing through the panicked screams of civilians. "Surrender, Zaun. You can't get away with our assets. We have a bomb hidden in the mall. I shall detonate it myself if you do not show yourself in the auditorium. You have 5 minutes."
The message played again, and I felt the weight of it settle in. My instincts told me it wasn't a bluff.
I hear people screaming around me, about how armed men are shooting everyone that approaches the exit doors.
The crowd around me grew louder, and my name—Aionis—was called out repeatedly. Civilians were begging me for help, their fear palpable. When had my name spread this far? Had news of my abilities traveled beyond the association? Or was it the chaos I always seemed to leave in my wake? No. It was the news about Biz. I must have been mentioned to have taken him down. Damn.
Mike quickly took charge, waving his arms and shouting at the mob. "Back off! Give him space! He needs to think!"
It was a small reprieve, but enough for me to focus. My thoughts raced.
Teleporting out was an option, but it wasn't the right one. If I left, the agents would massacre everyone here, and the bomb would ensure no evidence remained. I wasn't sure if I could live with that, especially leaving Mike behind. No, that was a lie. I can certainly live with their death, but I didn't want to use a tool as useful as Mike.
Emily's voice cut through the noise, calm but urgent.
"I've accessed part of their network through the cameras," she said. "The bomb is real. I can't pinpoint its exact location, but the auditorium is rigged with additional explosives. If you confront them there, they might detonate it just to take you out."
I clenched my fists. "What about the primary bomb? Any leads?"
"Not yet," Emily admitted. "But I intercepted fragments of communication. The device might be tied to their access points—a failsafe triggered remotely. If I can get into their command signal, I might be able to block it."
"Can you disable the main bomb?"
"Only if I locate it first," she replied. "But I need more time to scan for its precise position."
Time we didn't have.
Mike approached cautiously, his Glock still in hand. "What's the play, man? They've got us boxed in. We can't fight through this many agents and civilians at the same time."
I looked around, taking stock of my surroundings. The mall's sprawling layout was working against me, with too many blind spots and too much chaos. But the agents had made a critical mistake—they'd underestimated Emily.
"They want me in the auditorium," I said aloud, my mind piecing the plan together. "Fine. Let's give them what they want—but on our terms."
Mike's eyebrows shot up. "You're actually going there? Are you insane?"
"I don't intend to stay long," I said, my tone sharp. "Emily, can you connect to the mall's PA system?"
"Yes," she replied instantly.
"Good. Announce an evacuation. Use the threat of the bomb to drive civilians toward a single exit. Keep it away from the auditorium. The more people out of the way, the fewer variables we have."
"I can do that," Emily confirmed.
"What about the agents guarding the doors?" Mike asked.
"They'll be distracted by the mob trying to escape," I said. "That's when we move. I need you to stay close to the civilians. Take down any agents you see. The more of them we finish the fewer they will have to use against us in the future."
"Got it.," Mike snapped.
I gave him a grim nod and adjusted the watch on my wrist. "Emily, any update on the bomb?"
"Still scanning," she said. "Be careful, Will. This could still be a trap."
"It is," I said as I turned toward the direction of the auditorium. "But I'm not leaving these people to die."
The intercom crackled again, the man's harsh voice booming once more.
"Zaun. Last chance. Come to the auditorium, or we detonate the bomb. Your choice." where the hell did they get that name from? So they know I am a mercenary? Or I was.
I ignored the threat, my mind steeled. With Mike keeping the civilians occupied and Emily working behind the scenes, I had one job: face whatever waited in that auditorium and buy enough time to ensure this mall didn't become a graveyard.
I took a deep breath, letting my ability slow the world around me, and began my approach.
The auditorium was eerily quiet when I stepped inside. Rows of empty seats stretched out before me, their silence amplifying the tension in the air. A single podium stood at the center of the stage, a harsh spotlight illuminating it as though inviting me to stand there and plead my case.
But there was no one to plead with—at least not at first.
Suddenly, a man materialized out of thin air ten meters in front of me. His appearance was jarring, even surreal. He was massive, his wide frame draped in a striped shirt and a vest that stretched taut against his chest. A fedora cast most of his face into shadows, but two features stood out: his piercing, ghoulish blue eyes that seemed to glow faintly, and the cigar clenched between his teeth, its smoke curling unnaturally downward as if gravity worked differently around him.
"So, you did show yourself, coward," he said, his harsh Albo-Saxon accent unmistakable. It was the same voice that had taunted me over the intercom.
I raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Me? A coward?" I shot back. "Didn't I take down one of your bases a few days ago?"
"And you ran away!" he snarled, his voice dripping with disdain. "With our technology."
I shrugged. "It's not really yours," I retorted.
His expression darkened—or at least, I imagined it did, hidden as it was by the shadows of his fedora. He raised his hand, and I froze. It turned gray, the texture shifting unnaturally as machinery seemed to flow across it, forming something alien and menacing.
Before I could react further, he pointed directly at me. A wave of metal erupted from his finger, a writhing mass of nano-machines hurtling toward me.
I barely managed to throw myself to the floor, the wave tearing through the space where I had been standing moments ago. It crashed into the stage behind me, embedding itself into the wood and spreading like a virus, consuming and reshaping the material into jagged, metallic tendrils.
"Emily, what the hell was that?" I muttered, scrambling back to my feet.
Through the mask's camera, Emily observed him carefully. "Nano-machines," she replied. "One of my creator's inventions. They were originally designed to eliminate cancer and other diseases from the body."
I glared at the man as he approached, the cigar smoke trailing ominously behind him. "Doesn't seem like a cure to me," I growled.
Emily's voice remained steady, though there was a hint of unease. "I wasn't aware of any models capable of operating outside the body, let alone being weaponized like this. This… this wasn't supposed to happen."
Frustration bubbled within me. "Your benevolent creator sure seemed to have a lot of his inventions stolen—or sold. How the hell did they get their hands on this? And if they're so advanced, why couldn't they make the damn watches easier to use?"
The man cut off my thoughts, raising his arm again. I didn't wait for another attack. I leveled my Beretta and fired a quick burst. The bullets flew true, but just before they hit him, the points of impact darkened and turned black. Machinery erupted from his body, deflecting the rounds harmlessly to the ground.
"Pathetic," he sneered, his voice filled with contempt.
"Emily?" I said through gritted teeth.
"Still working on diffusing the bomb," she replied, her tone strained but focused. "Don't let him close the distance—those nano-machines will overwhelm you if they make contact."
I gritted my teeth and took a step back, keeping my gun trained on him. "You know," I said, my voice laced with mockery, "for someone with all this tech, you'd think you'd have found a way to make an entrance without looking like a caricature."
The man's glowing blue eyes narrowed, the cigar bobbing in his mouth. "Keep talking, Zaun. I'll enjoy breaking you down piece by piece."
I smirked, masking my unease. "Oh, I'll bet. But you might want to hurry. That bomb you planted? I'm guessing you wouldn't enjoy getting caught in your own blast."
His sneer faltered for the briefest moment, and I knew I'd struck a nerve. I just needed to keep him distracted long enough for Emily to finish her work.
"Let's dance," I muttered, shifting my stance and preparing for his next move.
Without hesitation, I pulled a grenade from my bag and hurled it at him. The explosive arced through the air, landing at his feet. For a moment, his blue eyes widened, but then his hand transformed, and machinery erupted from it, enveloping the grenade in a cocoon of metal.
It absorbed the blast, the force contained within the writhing metallic shell. The floor shook slightly, but he stood there unharmed, though slightly startled. His cigar smoke spiraled unnaturally around him, as though mocking the scene.
He wasn't invincible—just arrogant. I used his brief distraction to fire more shots, aiming at different parts of his body. He reacted quickly, the nano-machines spreading to intercept the bullets. They struck with a dull clang and ricocheted harmlessly to the floor.
Then it hit me—his defense was fast, but it wasn't instantaneous.
"Emily," I muttered, gripping my weapon tightly. "Teleport me behind him. Now."
She didn't question me, her voice calm and precise. "Initiating."
In the blink of an eye, the world around me shifted, and I appeared directly behind the hulking figure. Without missing a beat, I drew in a deep, deliberate breath. Time slowed to a crawl, the world around me bathed in a surreal stillness.
I raised my Beretta and fired five shots into his back. The bullets tore through his vest, each impact producing a satisfying spray of sparks and blood.
Even in his slowed perception, I could see his body twitching as he struggled to react. The nano-machines couldn't keep up with the barrage. They tried to spread, but they were too slow.
He roared in pain, twisting as though to retaliate. A wave of metal surged toward me, its jagged edges gleaming menacingly.
"Emily!" I snapped.
"On it," she replied, and I vanished just as the wave was about to reach me.
I reappeared near my original position, the slowed world resuming its natural pace. Time snapped back into motion, and the man collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. His cigar tumbled from his mouth, rolling across the floor.
"You bastard!" he bellowed, clutching his wounds as blood seeped through his vest. His eyes blazed with fury, and his voice echoed with raw hatred. "You'll pay for this!"
I lowered my gun slightly, letting out a slow, measured exhale. "You talk a lot for someone bleeding out on the floor," I said, my voice cold.
Emily chimed in. "Good work, but don't get cocky. His nano-machines might still pose a threat if he regains control."
I nodded, keeping my eyes locked on the man. "Then let's make sure he doesn't get the chance." -*-*-*-*-*
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