Switzerland, Castle of Regnum

Philip Cain was sitting at the head of the table in the ‘High Council’ meeting chamber, dressed in the Primus regalia with a black mask on his face. What’s more, for the first time he was not even slightly annoyed by it; instead, he was grateful as it concealed his sweaty face and bloodshot eyes. Countless times before, he was sitting in this exact chair and felt like he was on top of the world; now, that intoxicating feeling of power over the others, he always felt here… was missing.

The moment when he found out that Michael Freeman had survived again, in spite of being a target of a Hellfire missile, was one of the most traumatic in his life. It was as if the man could not be killed, no matter what he tried. That was the reason he was having a prolonged nervous breakdown. Philip Cain was afraid that he would be hunted down for the things he had done. To someone like him, that was an unacceptable state.

The plan to take into custody the families of people on the spaceship was his own, it was easy to convince the leaders of powerful nations to follow his lead. A simple and effective tactic and he had a long history of similar stratagems as proof of that. If that missile had been successful at doing what it was built for, the plan would have worked and that spaceship would have been delivered into his hands. Now, everything has turned into an unimaginable disaster. He certainly did not want to end up like the supreme leader of North Korea; they could not even find any pieces of the man for the funeral.

This council meeting was all about finding a way to deal with the threat Michael Freeman represented and his absurd Solarian Union, once and for all. Even if it meant doing mass killing on the grand scale, regardless of the collateral victims it would involve. That was the latest plan they were discussing, based on Freeman’s action during the Millennial Arena attack. If enough people’s lives were endangered, he would come as some sort of action hero to save the day. But this time there would be no happy endings, the planned mother of all explosions would disintegrate the hostages and Michael Freeman with them. The Solarian Union would consequently fall apart without its leader, and they could rip it to pieces and take the juicy bits for themselves.

This too was the plan he devised, but he had deep-seated doubts that it would work; the man must have sold his soul to the devil himself. Nothing stuck to him… not even death.

Despite the strong and confident front he was projecting to the others, inside he was anxious and was starting to develop an infuriating facial tick, his eye could not stop twitching.

“I don’t care how much it is going to cost us, how exposed some of our operations are going to get, I want Michael’s Freeman head on a platter, or at least his remains!” He screamed at the assembled members, to put down any objections and hoping his roar would awaken that primal fear they used to have in his presence.

At that moment, he heard a strange sound from the direction of the great chamber doors.

***

Transporter 001

Switzerland, Above Castle of Regnum

“Boys, are you ready to finish this?” Michael asked three men beside him.

“We were born ready for this; it’s about time to cut the head off the snake.” Tyron’s deep baritone rumbled beside him.

They decided that this time an all-out assault would be unwise. There were close to two hundred fifty guards on the property, and these were not some amateurs, but highly trained warriors with enough weapons to start a small war. Besides, there was an entire outer perimeter made of official Swiss troops, and Michael wondered what strings the ‘High Council’ had to pull to arrange that. They had a whole system set up to call for additional reinforcements from the Army, which would have choppers and armored vehicles fast-moving to this location as soon as the alarm was given.

Motion sensors and laser detectors infested the entire property, and there were enveloping electrified fences around the property, and numerous guard dogs roaming the grounds. Only a crazy person would even think of attacking this location.

The solution to this challenge was technological. Max created hundreds of those mosquitoes he designed to transfer medical nanites to President Garner. This time they were carrying small needles with the tranquilizing agent that was to be injected by miniature pressurized air canisters. To ensure the alarm would not be activated, Max has spent some time recording and analyzing all outside communications. He was ready to take over, using voice modulators to imitate the soldiers and their security checks.

At a prearranged time, all the mosquitoes speared their intended victims; the needles even had an analgesic coating on themselves, so the guards did not feel the punctures. Only a few seconds had passed from start to finish of the attack; all that training and firepower was defeated by a swarm of miniaturized drones. Even the guard dogs were asleep and would remain so for the next eight hours. More than enough time for Michael and the team to do what they had agreed upon when this mission was planned.

The transporter landed close to the castle entrance. All the tranquilized guards were lying on the floor and some would have a mother of all headaches when they woke up; falling on your face will do that to you.

Following the building's plans projected on their HUDs, they took the stairs that led underground. It was like an obsession for these people, Michael thought, they sure love their basements. A few levels beneath the surface they came to the massive ornate double doors, with two guards in archaic livery, who laid unconscious against the walls. The doors must have been pretty thick and offered very good sound insulation if those inside did not hear guards falling down.

Michael turned to his team, “I need to do this myself; I will call you in… when I’m done.”

They nodded in confirmation, knowing how important it was for him to banish the demons still residing within his soul.

He slowly opened the massive doors and entered the chamber, overhearing the end of the enraged rant that was apparently about him.

The chamber itself was regal, to say the least, gold and jewels, grand tapestries, and priceless paintings on the walls. It was much more luxurious than Phillip Cain’s basement, but there was a similar feel to it. The only place where he saw more wealth concentrated in one place was in Max’s treasure room.

Twenty people were sitting around the massive round table, wearing black masks and robes; they were all looking towards him, well, towards the open doors because they could not really see him.

It was comical in a way, their masks were frozen in somber expressions, but something in their eyes reminded him of a deer caught in the headlights. Underneath the camouflage, Michael smiled; yet there was no sense of humor or joy in that smile. It was a grin of an apex predator that had finally caught his prey.

He closed the door behind him and then he switched off his camouflage. He knew it was not a smart thing to do, but he took off his helmet so they could see him, and placed it on a nearby chair. Cracking his knuckles, he looked at the sitting group of people and said, “You don’t need to search for me, and I like my head right where it is. So…”

He gave them a menacing smile.

“Let’s begin.”

***

Switzerland, Castle of Regnum

‘High Council’ Meeting Chamber

Phillip Cain’s heart was pounding impossibly fast and he wanted to pinch himself to wake up.

This is not happening! He screamed in his mind as the man who has lately been haunting his dreams, appeared as if he was a summoned demon.

This place was their organization’s holiest of holy, or unholy, as it were. To get inside, one would need to breach so many security measures… it should be impossible. He truly believed this was one of the most protected places on the entire planet.

Not once since the formation of the ‘High Council’, had their meeting ever been interrupted. The only nonmember individuals allowed inside were those who had personally wronged the “High Council” and were brought here for their executions. The last thing they ever saw was the splendor of the room.

Now, like a wraith, the black figure materialized after the doors opened by themselves, and removed his helmet. It was the man whose face he knew so well. He wanted to reach for a weapon, but even he could not bring one here. Those rules were mainly created to protect the Primus from those beneath him, and even those brought for execution were garroted, kneeling before them and choking slowly so they could die in pain. He believed that Michael Freeman was not someone who would ever allow himself to be put in such a position.

“Kill him, damn you!” He screamed to the other members, while his panicked eyes were looking for some way to escape. Getting out of this nightmare, and this room, was the most important thing on Philip Cain’s mind.

The masked men surged toward the smiling one, and that smile had something ominous in it; the man did not look at them in fear, but showed excitement at facing so many adversaries.

He let the others physically confront the beast while he stayed in the back. Some grabbed heavy golden crosses and other ornaments, to use them as clubs… but it was to no avail. Michael Freeman moved impossibly fast, avoiding their attacks, while constantly dishing out his own. Almost all his strikes were accompanied by the distinctive sounds of breaking bones. It did not even seem as if he was using his full strength, just enough to prolong the fight… all the while smiling and beating people as if he was in a common barroom brawl.

At one point, numerous Council members came at him at once, burying him under their collective weight. Philip Cain saw this as an opportunity and decided to use the advantage to strike a blow of his own. The fear and the adrenaline were making him lightheaded and part of him wanted to eradicate the source of that fear. If he managed to put Freeman out of action for a few seconds, he could sneak away behind his back and escape. He grabbed his chair and approached the mass of people, with it above his head.

The big pile of bodies exploded, the ‘High Council’ members were flying everywhere, and the demon stood up from its center… still sinisterly smiling.

He froze under that piercing gaze, but in the next moment realized that he needed to act now, so he swung it down with all his strength, even at that moment amazed that he managed to do so since the chair was remarkably heavy.

The demon grabbed the chair with one of his arms, completely arresting its descent.

What happened next was the worst experience in Philip Cain’s life; he was severely beaten as if he was an ordinary man. Never before in his life has anyone dared to lay a hand on him; such an action was unthinkable. He wanted to cry from the excruciating pain that blossomed all over his body; the eternity of hits striking his flesh, bruising soft tissue, and breaking bones. Finally, he was thrown to the side like a piece of garbage, and Michael Freeman turned his attention to other ‘High Council’ members.

All Philip Cain could do was lay on the floor and moan, with all thoughts of escaping gone in the agony his body was going through. Without even caring who he is, a few men Freeman brought with him, put plastic ties around his hands and feet, treating him like an animal. And then they dragged his battered body towards one wall.

He blissfully lost consciousness for a minute and was happy for it, but some primal instinct jarred him back to a cruel reality. Like a prey would suddenly wake up when it feels that a predator approaches. On one was now approaching him, the very daemon from his nightmares was once again before him, reaching for his mask.

***

Beating the living daylights out of twenty people was hard work, but to Michael, it felt cathartic; all his pain, his misery, all those dark thoughts he had owing to them, were expressed in a symphony of violence. He even had to pull his punches, if he used his full strength, his enhanced muscles would kill them on the spot. Many tried to escape but Tyron was blocking the doors from the other side, preventing them from evading his punishment. Michael methodically punished one after the other; not caring who they were, or what they were individually guilty of. They brought enough pain and misery to the entirety of humanity that no mere physical punishment could ever compensate for; still, it was a good way to release his accumulated anger.

They tried to fight back, they went so far to even attack him in groups, thinking to overpower him with sheer numbers. For all that, these were not people used to physical confrontations, they had underlings to do that for them. For most of them, it was the first time in their lives to be exposed to such brutal physical combat.

It took him half an hour until he was finally done; his adversaries were all scattered on the floor in different states of consciousness. Tyron entered the chamber after Michael contacted him through his CEI.

“I guess you had a good workout.” The big man smiled.

“Yeah, I feel much better now; you were right, physical exercise is good for the soul,” he replied with a smirk.

“Tell Pete and Al to bring down the equipment.”

Ten minutes later, they were ready to begin. All the Council members were secured with zip ties and were lined up against the wall. Michael went from one to the next, ripping the masks from their faces and crushing them in his hands. The identities of the members were beyond shocking, he was used to seeing many of their faces on TV. An amazing percentage of them were featured each year in Forbes’ lists of the rich and powerful.

Then, beneath the mask with the number one on it, was the face he was looking for.

“Pleased to meet you, Mister President… in person. How do you do?” He said to the acting President of the United States of America, Philip Cain.

The man was conscious, as were all the others by now; a split lip and a big shiner in his cheek marred the very familiar face.

“Freeman… you realize that you cannot harm me. I am the President of the United States of America, killing me would be a declaration of war. Your puny Union will be crushed into oblivion.” He said in a shaky voice, trying to project that aura of power Michael saw many times during the debates and TV interviews.

Michael looked at Tyron, who shrugged his shoulders and then returned his gaze to the bound man.

“In that case… I’m so sorry, Mister President. This was all a huge misunderstanding; can you ever forgive me?” Michael asked in the most sincere voice he could fake.

“Untie me and… you are making fun of me!” The man shrieked as the redness of his face indicated his rising anger.

“Now I know how you got to be the most powerful man in the world, with such astute reasoning skills, you are like Sherlock Holmes.”

“I will not allow you to disrespect me!”

Michael grabbed the screeching man by the neck and lifted him off the floor.

“I respect the Office of the President, but you are not worthy of it.” He brought him close to his face. “I’ve been to your secret basement and read all of your files. You killed my father… you son of a bitch… and hurt those I love and care about. I should snap your worthless neck and immediately make the world a better place.” He said through the clenched teeth.

Philip Cain’s eyes grew wide as if he could not truly believe what the man in front of him had said.

Michael closed his eyes and with all his will suppressed the fury burning inside; his fists opened and Philip Cain fell to the floor with the painful squeal. He turned his back to the whimpering man and went to the table where Pete and Al had put down two big black boxes.

“But we’ll talk about that later; now, let’s start with party gifts,” Michael said and took out from one of the boxes something that was similar to his own battle-suit helmet, except this one looked more sinister as it was painted in blood-red color.

“This is a little contraption my AI friend made.” He lifted it into the air to show it to the bound men. “Once placed on your head it will do something similar to what a hospital MRI machine does… with some extra features, of course. It will know when you are lying by reading your brain waves and monitoring your heart rate, speech inflections, and pupillary response. There is also a microphone and a small sound dampening field built inside. Now, the reason for this gadget is that he thinks you are the proverbial fountains of information, so we would like for you to unburden yourselves.”

There was a panicked expression on the faces that until now, mostly showed pain.

“It would be a shame to waste this opportunity to interrogate you. Besides, you should be grateful, old ways of getting information were not this elegant. Of course, if it catches you in a lie… It will administer an electroshock. The more you lie, the more pain you will experience. Just answer all the questions the voice will be asking you and this experience should be relatively pain-free.”

Michael nodded to Tyron and the others to help him put the helmets on the ‘High Council’.

“Bear in mind that this is a prototype so accidents may occur. I tried one myself, and I can tell you I didn’t like the experience, then again, some of you may have masochistic tendencies so… knock yourselves out.”

The interrogation helmets were not really that humane and would have never been accepted under the Geneva Convention, but these people were not enemy combatants or civilians… just scumbags.

The team helped to put the helmets on the bound men's heads and were soon faced with the realization that every single one of them was trying to lie his ass off. It must have been painful if the twitching and the urine smell were any indicators.

In the meantime, Michael and the team were quite busy with removing all the valuables from the room and carrying them to the transporter. If it was not for their enhanced strength, they could have never managed to carry so much weight; even with that, it took them almost an hour to clean the entire room. Then the additional half an hour to transfer all the confidential files that were stored in antique book cabinets placed on the far wall. Michael browsed through a few files. There were pictures and memory cards inside. One of the files that he randomly chose was about a well-known tech industry mogul and all his misdeeds; a few pages in, he understood that the man was totally in their control.

“I’m finished, Michael,” Max told him through his CEI. “There’s far more than we even suspected, I’ve already started with cleaning out all of their accounts.”

The helmets were removed from the ‘High Council’, and the expressions on their faces were significantly different than before they were put on. Gone was that haughty demeanor they still managed to project, even while in pain; now most of their eyes showed the emptiness of a broken spirit.

“If I can have a moment of your attention,” Michael said. “I will give you a choice and it will be up to you to decide what your future will be.”

“We gave you all that you wanted,” Philip Cain uttered, looking at Michael with a tear-streaked face. “What more do you want?”

Michael’s gaze fell on this poor excuse for a human being. “You are mistaken, Mr. Cain; as I said before, those questions were from my friend, who is currently busy with stripping you of all your wealth and earthly possessions. But don’t worry, they will be put to good use. I, on the other hand, came here to exact my revenge… and by God, that is exactly what I will do.” He said in a rising voice but again managed to keep his emotions subdued.

“Forgive me; I almost let my opinion of you guide my actions; if I succumb to it… well, let’s just say that it will be quite fatal for all of you. As I was saying, the choices are: option one, a bullet to your heads.” He said and drew his gun, placing it on the table. “Which is exactly what every one of you rightfully deserves. Of course, there is option two, but that would entail for all of you to be put in jail for the rest of your lives. I’ll give you a minute to make your decision.”

It took less than five seconds for every single ‘High Council’ member, including Philip Cain, to choose option two.

“You know, I thought you were smarter than this,” Philip Cain told him and gave him a smile that lacked a few of his teeth. “All this evidence is not admissible in court, and you will never get a conviction.”

Michael looked at him with a raised eyebrow and then took the gun from the table. “Who said anything about the court?”

Then he used the gun in his hand to shoot the acting President of the United States with a tranquilizer dart.

***

Switzerland, Castle of Regnum

It was, apparently, a very unpleasant work to carry all those tranquilized bodies of the entire ‘High Council’ to the transporter that was still parked in front of the castle. Especially if someone asked Al since he could not stop complaining about the noxious odor of said individuals.

“I swear killing them would have been easier—and far more sanitary,” he said to Pete.

“Shut up Al, and don’t just pull them up the stairs by their feet either, the last guy will have a mother of all concussions since his head hit every single step on the way up,” Pete answered.

“Hey, it’s by the legs or the hands; I’m not doing a princess carry, especially those guys with sphincter muscle control problems.”

“Al… Shut up!” Tyron’s deep voice reverberated from the Council chamber, one level beneath them.

Part of the plan for the “High Council” punishment that Max and Michael came up with, was to temporarily transport the entire Council to the City-ship first and put them into a makeshift prison Max constructed on one of the empty levels. They were to remain there, isolated, until their permanent accommodations were finished.

When they were done with all the cleanup chores, Michael and the team left Switzerland, viewing the numerous bodies of security guards littering the immaculate grounds of the ‘High Council’ headquarters. In no time, they were above the atmosphere and approaching their new home, the Ascension. Luckily, for Al, there were others there to help them unload the packed transporter. Max had arranged for a group of helpers, who would take care of the prisoners, and sort through their spoils of war. But most importantly of all, scan all those precious files and upload the data from digital media, that were to their resident AI more valuable than gold.