บท 98: Chapter 98 : Nefarious purpose
[Author note : New week, new chapter ! I don't have much to say... I could talk about work and the week I've had, but it was mostly uneventful. Thankfully ! I could talk about the ideas for stories I've had... They just keep coming but unfortunately, none for this one...
So... Yeah, you can visit my Patréon page - e instead of é - by searching for Cathbel on their website. There, you'll find more chapters for this stories, but also other stories. Original ones as well as Marvel : The Author, my 'new' fan fiction. Finally, please don't forget to leave a review, stone or comment. See ya, guys and enjoy !]
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On a starless night, the sky of Grenoble, a French city, was filled with a number of invisible presences. Their forms could be barely perceived if you paid careful attention, however the lack of light and sound made it so people rarely looked up. As for the few who did, they felt the irrepressible urge to look down as soon as the idea emerged in their mind and, if they did without thinking, nothing they saw registered in their minds.
The forms were riding something rather common in their world, although the brand and model was anything but… They were all riding Firebolt enchanted brooms.
Suddenly, one of the invisible people whispered to himself, only for his whisper to carry in the ears of every other invisible people present.
« Target spotted. Begin the Op ! »
In relative silence, the people all started to dive from the sky toward a large, somewhat tall building compared to the other in this part of the city. The building in question looked relatively new and out of place in-between the industrial buildings where it was erected.
A couple of the invisible people landed on the rooftop, while another couple landed on ground level. Yet another team of two flew around the building, drawing opposite circles in the air, while the last one 'crashed' directly into the building. Only, instead of the loud sound of popping and cracking bones and wood, a single watery pop, like a large rock falling in water.
Another voice, a woman's spoke up in the ears of her partners :
« Infiltration successful. Beginning the search… »
Their target had been briefly seen through a window on this floor. And then, it had gone out of sight. Still, it was enough for them to proceed with their plans.
Still disillusionned, the woman made her way silently through the building. It was occupied, even at this time of night, but only with a skeleton crew : a couple of janitors, a few stubborn researchers, the occasional accountant… Their target was one of the researchers. According to their own researches, the man was a workaholic who preferred the company of his machines, his computers and notes than of his wife and family.
It made it all the easier for them to implement their plan. Now, they needed to do it without drawing too much attention. Their employer had insisted on it… No one should suspect a Wizarding connection. This also meant they couldn't use much wand magic, or heavy duty magical objects as those tended to leave behind magical residues.
And so, on this night, they were left to use muggle tools. A rather large and cumbersome contraption meant to discharge a bolt of lightning into a victim. A handkerchief dabbed in a drug with a long and difficult name. Or, the woman's personal favorite : a small club. Simple and efficient. Even if the man they were aiming for was hurt a little too badly, they could still heal once they were out of there… As long as he drew breath.
The woman proceeded to search in silence until she located her target. Once that was done, she approached the man currently sitting at his desk reviewing his notes. Standing right behind him, she retrieved the club and the lightning bolt device… Before she shrugged her shoulders and simply hit the man with the club.
« Target secured. Need help carrying him out… »
Just as silently and unseen, the group of people disappeared from France's night sky, their query in tow. He was only one of many such people to have been kidnapped in the last few weeks. And everyone of them had something in common… They were specialists in the fields of biology and genetics.
* * * * * *
A man with red hair opened his window to retrieve the letter from the owl perched there. Giving her a small treat, he then ignored her to focus on the contents of the letter. It was a mission report. Along with the others he received recently, they drew a rather interesting tale… Slowly but surely, they were approaching their goals.
With a smile, the man muttered :
« Hopefully, they'll help us grow our numbers… »
The red head burned the letter before he returned to work on his book. Once it was done, the man hoped it would serve to inspire a new generation of fighters and thinkers for their world.
* * * * * *
The Organic Interface's plans weren't progressing as fast as it'd like. There were just too many things for it to accomplish. And he was rather limited by the fact that he had just one body. Even with the help of the gonites, who could take on his form and be sent to act in his stead, it was still too slow. Too limited, for its taste.
At the moment, the champion was questioning the Rithm's choice in choosing this particular host. Although Edgar Stark was brilliant in his own right, and his connection to the Metal was adequate, as a meat bag, he was inherently limited. The use of drones and AIs would have been much better. More efficient.
Still, he supposed being a meat bag had its uses too. For one, he could flawlessly pass off as one of them in a crowd. At least, until it opened its communication apparatus. By then, the risk of being discovered increased drastically for some reason… He simply didn't communicate the way a meat bag should.
On another note, it had difficulties making contacts with the other Realms. Whether it was because he was champion for the Metal or another reason, it wasn't determined yet. Odds were the Realms were wary of his existence. Champions weren't exactly meant to make contacts with the other Realms and when they did, it was often in a bid to destroy said Realm. This wasn't its objective however : far from it !
It wanted to present the Rithm's plan to balance out all the Realms and enter a golden age. However, should they decide to go against the Plan, he was also tasked with making sure that they couldn't prevent it.
One of the Realms the Organic Interface wanted to contact more than anything was the Realm of the Divided. Their help would be invaluable in order to balance out the forces between the Realms. Especially the Red…
Unfortunately, unlike the other Realms, there was no Parliament, no united power behind the Divided (as its name implied). It was a chaotic, barely sentient, amalgamation of billions of microorganisms with only one clear goal : Divide. Spread.
So, his first order of business should be to give a voice to this particular Realm. Perhaps give it its own champion as that would help his purpose… It would write and implement a subroutine to keep in contact with the Realm. They would both learn and grow together. In the meantime, the main body would look for a suitable vessel for the Divided.
Also, it would start to look for a place for the beta testing phase. It already had the necessary criterion : it shouldn't be a very developed place to limit the information coming out of it. The people should be oppressed for a long time and opened to a change in regime. Finally, they should be malleable. So it could mold them in the optimum way…
His great work was just beginning.
* * * * *
Ned 'woke up' with a start. Once the fright slowly receded, he asked himself if this reaction was actually a remnant of his being a human before. For one, he didn't need to sleep. In fact, he doubted he had been sleeping. Perhaps his mind had been on stand by for a little while or his processing power had been halted. Sleeping however ? Unlikely.
Another possible reason, one he favored because of the feeling of dread, was a connection to the main body. He wasn't exactly sure what he… it was doing, but it couldn't be good. The Rithm's overall objective was to create an artificial balance between all the elemental forces in order for the World to heal from the unbalance human had brought it.
Ned would welcome it, frankly… If it weren't for the sacrifice needed to accomplish it. Massacre might be a better word for it, really. And, Ned being Ned, he wouldn't care all that much about it. But he couldn't be sure that his family, his friends wouldn't count among the sacrificed. And this… He couldn't bear.
Besides, Metal-Ned being guided by a sentient computer program, he couldn't rule out the idea that the Rithm might simply decide to kill off the entire human race. It was a logical and efficient way to balance things out, after all.
Ned rebooted his body and stretched his senses to the workshop around him. It was time to get back to work !
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