Chapter 21 - The Labyrinth of Souls

Author's Notes: Please reference to the flashback in "Chapter 14 - Devourer of Souls" if you'd like a better understanding of what is going on in this particular chapter. Hope you enjoy!

The scene that greeted my eyes was wholly unexpected. I couldn’t help but blink repeatedly as I shook my head slowly from side to side. Had I taken one too many magical shocks to the brain lately? Something must be shorted out and smoking, else I could find no rational explanation for the sight laid out before me.

“Sir?”

My head moved minutely to one side, where a grim-faced man wearing the all-too familiar dark with grey stripes uniform of the United Federation Army stood at attention, watching me closely. It was a young man, his features sharp and graceful with the air of aristocracy. His eyes were those of a hardened veteran, yet behind them I could glimpse the same bitter contempt that had poisoned much of my time in high command within the army.

Indeed, no matter how many impossible battles against overwhelming odds I managed to conquer, the established cadre of officers had never acknowledged me as one of their own. Whether it was because of my unconventional methods, the insidious cunning of my strategies, or the utter confidence and disregard for others that coiled like serpent about my shoulders, they had always hated me deep down.

Perhaps it was as simple as envy.

I could see it now in the eyes of this captain who was forced to stand at attention in front of a man he would have doubtlessly considered far inferior due to his lowly birth, were it not for the insignia indicating I was, in fact, their superior officer. Usually, I would either pretend I was oblivious to it until an opportune moment arose and I could exert my full retribution - which in most instances became a final one as well; or I would mercilessly stab at their wounded pride until they bled themselves to death, all the while I choked on the mad laughter that bubbled up within me at the sight.

“Sir?” came the question again. His eyes took on a strange look now, one of doubt, of uncertainty. Whatever else, he hadn’t expected my current reaction. Truthfully, I would have never expected such a reaction either.

All I did was stand there, dumbfounded and mute, while swiveling my head from side to side to take in the surroundings. Dozens of screens covered every wall within this room, with individuals orderly and systematically manipulating holographic interfaces to control a host of buttons and dials.

This was a field command bunker. Not just any command bunker, at that. It was MY command bunker. I could instantly recognize the telltale signs that confirmed that this was the same room I had used for that extended campaign down in the South American Protectorates.

“Sir, the message has been rated extremely urgent from HQ. Your orders?” the captain repeated once more, more slowly this time, even going as far as to shuffle his feet nervously.

“P.. play message on main screen,” I mumbled, still feeling dazed as though I were lost in a lucid dream.

The captain nodded and turned around to issue a few commands. Shortly thereafter, the main screen within the room lit up with the red insignia employed by HQ to denote a code red priority order. This meant it should be executed with extreme prejudice and was to take top priority over all other outstanding orders.

The message had already been playing through the speakers for a while before the words reaching my ears actually registered in my brain, and a wave of cold suddenly flooded my heart, chilling me to the bone.

“.. Must evacuate the area immediately. Operation Swift Retribution is a go. Repeat, Nuclear Strike codes are hot and operation Swift Retribution is green, all assets to clear the area imm..” the voice cut off abruptly as I found, much to my surprise, that my fist had already collided against the screen, eliciting a startled cry from the nearby operators and sending up a shower of sparks and smoke.

It couldn’t be. Impossible.

“S.. sir?” stammered the captain standing next to me, looking at me, then moving his gaze down my arm and into the mess of blood and shattered glass, then back at me once more.

“Belay that order,” I managed past my constricting throat. “Pull back all ground teams. Prepare immediate air support for extraction at point Zeta-Nu-Alpha at preset coordinates.”

“Sir, we have strict orders to..” he never got to finish his next words as I whipped my pistol out of my side holster, raised it above my head and fired off three shots in quick succession. Startled shouts of surprise and alarm instantly followed the loud cracks, then a deathly quiet hung upon the room as the personnel within realized who had fired the shots.

I ignored it all as I jammed the smoking barrel of the gun up the underside of the captain’s jaw. A sizzling sound was followed by an involuntary cry of pain as the man instinctively tried to move out of my reach. However, I easily followed his motion until his head hit the console behind him and he squirmed and writhed as he desperately used both his arms to try to escape my grip. It was rather pleasing to feel the resistance created by the man’s struggling hands clash against the unforgiving strength of my arms, then instantly scatter and melt away like waves upon striking a wall of solid granite. Slowly, it all came back to me with a peculiar sort of familiarity, the addictive rush of supreme confidence that came with knowing I was the deadliest man in this room, likely this whole battlefield.

This poor devil didn’t even stand a chance.

The smell of scorched flesh and gunpowder spread out in the room, and the only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of my victim’s impotent struggles and the bullet casings rolling across the smooth plexiglass floor.

The captain finally seemed to realize he had as much chance of moving the moon with the power of his mind as of making my arms budge a single inch, and instead started to fumble about blindly at his waist for his own sidearm.

Yeah, I remembered this little bastard now. The weaselly little bastard, I’d tossed him out of the airlock while we were still en-route to HQ, 18,000 feet in the air, when I found that he had been the one to override my express commands and not only pull back the cover fire units for my evac team, but had also taken the liberty to report me as going rogue and MIA.

One thing was to spy on me for those rat-faced pigs back at the Council. I had put up with it for a long, long time. It was another thing entirely to try to have me killed, then have the gall to ride back on the same command ship as I was in.

I added just a little additional pressure on my arm, leveraging the pressure of the gun’s muzzle against the steely grip I had on his sternum, and I fancied that I could feel the vertebrae on his neck slowly separating from the rest of his body. He instantly froze and stared at me helplessly.

“Captain,” I drawled out, in a low, clear voice that carried across the room. “I have two questions for you. Answer correctly, and you will live. Anything other than a yes or no will get your brains splattered all across the map of Lower Asuncion Valley at your back.”

“Wh..” Just a few more grams of pressure, and even the Captain caught on. “Y.. yes!”

“First question: Did you covertly gather intelligence on our operations and without the express written consent of your immediate superior officer proceed to employ short-wave microtransmitters to transmit said classified information to a remote site?”

The captain’s eyes went wide and his face went completely pale, but he could see it in my eyes that I was dead serious. Anything other than a yes or no would mean a bullet straight to the brain.

“Y.. Yes!” He panted out, then opened his mouth to say more, but I viciously pushed his mouth shut and resumed my interrogation.

“Second question: What is the immediate and irrevocable penalty for any member of the United Federation Armed Forces who is found to be secretly and unlawfully transmitting classified information during wartime?”

“Wha.. No!” The young man cried out. “It was under the orders of the..”

I must admit, I let him speak just a little longer just out of spite. When I didn’t immediately pull the trigger after he began his explanation, the poor bastard must have thought he still had a way out of this that didn’t involve having a supersonic round inflicting fatal tissue damage to his cranial cavity. That was on purpose, and would perhaps be the only thing I might feel the slightest bit guilty about, were I to ever sit upon the shore of a tranquil lake and meditate on my past sins.

Then again, who am I kidding. That was probably the best part.

He must have seen it in my eyes, too. Realized that I’d waited for him to regain that tiny spark of hope in his own eyes just so that I could now ruthlessly snuff it out. His eyes seemed to hold a myriad questions, but chief among those was most likely, “Am I really going to die like this?” Such questions are often the last to cross the minds of any who take the plunge into the great void beyond death. Trust me, I’ve been there plenty of times. Whenever possible, one should dignify such queries with a definitive answer. Just the way I did.

I pulled the trigger.

There was a flash, then a wet THWAACK, and a correspondingly gruesome splash of blood, gore and bone fragments. I was professional enough to ensure that most of it ended up on the wall opposite from me, but inevitably a few drops and pieces splattered across my face.

“Lieutenant, let the record show that Captain Avery Magnusson willingly admitted to having committed high treason during a military campaign and was thus sentenced and summarily executed by the current High Tribunal on the field. Oh, and send Senator Magnusson my condolences as well. With a bottle of Le Forte, a late 1972 vintage should do.”

An absolute silence howled within the room, with every man and woman in that room rooted in place, staring blankly at the scene before them. Their commanding officer had just executed his own second in command in cold blood. Not only that, he had blown his brains off all over the command bunker with no hesitation whatsoever.

This wasn’t just any junior officer. No captain would be able to command such a high position within a field operation as large and important as this one. This meant he would either be incredibly wealthy, influential, or talented.

The fact of the matter was, the kid had been all three. He was a scion of Magnus Industries, one of the largest arms suppliers for the Federation, which had ensured that he received the best education money could offer, and had graduated with flying colors from West Point. He was also the youngest son of Senator Magnusson, a long time incumbent who was a second generation politician, with a vast network of hangers-on and allies, most of whom outranked me both socially and militarily.

So, one more enemy. Take a ticket and join the line.

At least I’d dodged the pain in the ass official inquiry tribunal I had to face back in the real world, when most of my crew had been forced to admit that yes, General Michael Lee had suddenly pulled out his gun in mid-flight, shot the computer terminal he had been frantically working at for the past couple hours, then immediately and inexplicably, grabbed his second in command, Captain Avery Magnusson, by the throat. General Lee had then manipulated Captain Magnusson’s body - mostly his face - to destroy all the furniture and decorations readily at hand, including but not limited to several lamps, display screens, chairs, desks, flower pots, drinking glasses, and even a waste disposal unit or two. General Lee had then dragged the now barely conscious and profusely bleeding Captain Avery across the deck, once more manipulated his face to depress the emergency air hatch switch, then unceremoniously propelled the still screaming Captain Avery out through the hatch, then stooped to throw out one of the Captain’s boots which had come off during the whole ordeal. Only then had General Lee slowly returned to his seat and buckled on his safety belt, before closing his eyes and remaining still for the duration of the flight.

Yeah, maybe I should have thought this through a little better. There were so many more sharp, breakable objects in this room than inside a military jet flying at 18,000 feet. Then the gun. Always save the gun for last.

Ah, such are the regrets we must bear upon our poor, afflicted souls.

Now, back to the matter at hand. I turned a cold, imperative gaze upon all the gazes directed at me. They all shrunk back like rabbits who had been caught gazing into the eyes of the big bad wolf.

Just the way I liked it.

“Get back to your duties. You have your orders,” I called out with that practiced air of command, and they leapt to obey without hesitation.

I turned my gaze onto the bloodless face of my new second in command. “Lieutenant, by the authority vested upon me by the United Federation, I am granting you the temporary rank of field Captain, effective immediately. You will take command of operations as of this moment when I am not present. Your most imperative duty will be to follow the orders I leave you to the letter. Do you understand?”

The lieutenant nodded dumbly, shakily lifting his hand in a pathetic attempt at a salute. Well, I can work with that. No time to consider any other options.

“Oh, and Lieutenant, I need you to prepare the following package for me,” I added, almost as an afterthought.

If the man had been shocked before, he now openly gaped at me as though I’d gone raving mad. “S.. sir?!”

“You heard me Lieutenant. I need the package prepared within the next thirty minutes. Make this your top priority. Am I perfectly clear?”

The poor man nodded numbly at me, then scrambled to comply with my special orders as I moved off to make the rest of my preparations.

Forty five minutes later I was speeding along on a hovercycle, loaded with three times as much ammunition and with several units’ worth of battery packs for the military issue combat exoskeleton I was wearing. Last time I had neglected such in my mad panic to reach Pasha’s side as soon as possible. Although I’d known it to be a stupid reason to go in unprepared and practically unarmed, my recklessness had gotten the better of me.

Not this time. I was fully loaded to lay siege to a freaking military super fortress, let alone a tiny speck of a village of less than 10,000. Besides, I carefully cradled my secret package within the container I’d brought along for just that purpose.

Things were going to go very differently this time.

On the ride, which I knew from past experience would last at least a couple hours, I had time to think about exactly what was going on here. The last thing I could remember was pulping that red armoured bastard’s hand and hearing their despairing screams as they fell to their ignominious deaths. Then I had opened the way into the fancy pantsy dungeon in order to rescue Sol and retrieve any artifacts of power I could from the Arakian Monastery.

Then I had opened my eyes to find Reaver gone, and I was trapped reliving one of the most god damn awful days of my life. What was going on here?

If it was some benign type of test, then I would assume they would at least warn me about it. So, since they were not playing nice, I wasn’t going to either. That meant I was going to blow some shit up until I really made someone’s day and they had to show up to stop me.

It all started when I crashed the hovercycle into the eastern-most advanced outpost of the rebels, along with several pounds of everyone’s favorite brand of c6 high concentration explosives. After setting off that pretty fireworks display, all hell had broken loose.

I set up several hidden supply caches and used my bionically amplified vision to zero in on their heat signatures from over a mile away. With the kind of caliber I could pump out with Katherine - my custom made .625 cal kinetic pulse rifle - it would tear through trees like tissue paper before vaporizing any flesh it met on its way, well clear to its maximum rated range of 2.25 miles. No flash, barely any sound except for a muted sonic boom as the superheated bullets flashed on their way to their intended prey, and it was almost like sitting at a shooting gallery.

Every ten confirmed kills, I would use my heavily modded exoskeleton to change locations. With the camouflaging technology on it, as well as the stealth propulsion engines it employed, I was practically a ghost as I shredded their perimeter into bloody ribbons.

They started to rain napalm on wide areas to try to flush me out or at least deny me cover, but by then it was too little too late. My overgenerous estimation of their numbers had failed to meet the mark, as I was running low on bullets across most of my caches by the time they started to slash and burn their way to me. This meant they were truly desperate, since they had always sought to keep a low profile and stay under the radar of the Federation Army who were hunting them.

When I eventually ran out of bullets, it only served to confirm my theory. By then I had run through over 40 cases of ammunition. With the kind of caliber I was packing, that meant over 1200 rounds spread out over several hours. Yet, it was still dark and the bombs had yet to go off. Not only that, but the enemies just kept on coming, endless wave upon wave of live target dummies that seemed to have no end.

Try to test me, will you? You little punk.

I will break you.

*TTIRING*

Your Talent: Stubborn Mule has ranked up!

Talent Name:Talent Rank:Talent Level:Talent Experience:Stubborn MuleF925%The mighty God of Rebirth, Judge of the Dead and Forger of Souls has granted you this special talent. Even in the face of all logic or reason, though oceans crash upon your shoulders and storms flail at your sides, you remain stalwart, an unmovable object, an unstoppable force.

You are the stubborn mule.

Strength +5

Agility +3

Vitality +5

Intelligence -2

Wisdom -2

Leadership +3

Luck +7

Resistance to charm, fear or other mind control effects +100%.

Resistance to bind, stun, knockdown, and other forms of crowd control +100%

Excellent. My talent had improved once more. That was not all, either.

Interestingly, though I received no experience, the tattoos in my hand were revolving fiercely as I became the personification of the Angel of Death, descending upon that battlefield to reap the hapless souls of my foes. With each casualty inflicted, I could feel myself growing just a little stronger, faster, better. I eventually had to dump my exoskeleton as it ran out of juice, even with the backup batteries I had prepared. However, once I removed the armor, I almost felt as though it had been restricting my movements instead of the other way around.

My body felt incredibly light, and my every motion felt deliberate, almost as though it had been rehearsed a thousand times, and executed to perfection. My senses felt alive. I could smell and hear and see anything within a huge sphere of perception that revolved around me. I fancied I could hear a single droplet of dew hit the ground after slowly rolling down a leaf over a hundred paces off.

Enough.

Though I could stay here and continue to pump up my stats until perdition, I was actually worried about Sol and Reaver. I knew where this place wanted me to go. I had a vague idea of what it hoped to accomplish. Better yet, I knew what I was going to do.

I reached the clearing that had been so vividly imprinted into my mind long ago. I had dreamed of this place enough times that I fancied that I could count exactly how many trees stood around us in the dark places that lay between the tiny flashes of moonlight. I had revisited this particular scene so many times in the past, that it now felt a little crinkly and worn around the ages, like a picture you carefully unfold and gaze at for a few seconds before you just as delicately fold back into your pocket.

The same little girl was still there, waiting for me. She stood in the center of the darkness, her dark eyes reflecting the tiny beams of starlight that managed to filter through the trees above. Her short curls hugged a tiny, adorable face that was scrunched up something beyond the usual fear of the dark kids of that age fell prey to.

She was worried, like adults will worry.

Already, I could see her shedding her innocence as she witnessed the various horrors of a war that had never been hers. She had lost all her family, and now she was deathly afraid that she would lose more. That’s why she had come, to try to convince herself that she was worrying over nothing, that Senor Miguel would come and hug her and bring treats and everything would be fine.

I closed my eyes and took one last deep breath, before slowly stepping forward, my arms open, and a huge smile upon my face. It was one of the few times in my life I’ve had a smile of genuine happiness come effortlessly forth. No hidden agenda, no bitter aftertaste.

“Senor Miguel!” Pasha fairly squealed while rushing into my embrace. “I thought you weren’t coming!”

I crushed her in my embrace, with a mix of raw emotions I had never allowed myself to show in her presence before. One part of my mind pointed out that it was likely the fact that I knew little Pasha was already dead, and she would never come back, no matter what I did. This allowed me to show her a vulnerable side of me that I never would allow others to even glimpse. In my mind, I could attempt to rationalize it, to understand this phenomenon. In the end though, I threw all that out the window.

Because in the end, who really gives a damn?

“Pasha, I would not miss this for the world,” I answered feelingly.

Pasha paused slightly while pushing herself off my chest for a moment to look up at me, her tiny brow crinkled in a suspicious frown. “Are you really Senor Miguel?”

I laughed heartily at that, and pinched her little nose. “Pasha, who else would come out in the middle of the night under this kind of rain to see an ugly girl like you?”

Pasha glowered at me with all the fury a little 11 year old could muster, but it quickly dissolved into laughter as she told me about her day, of tending to llamas and caring after her younger siblings at the orphanage whom she had adopted as her own.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I remember you said this was important, right?” Pasha shuffled her feet nervously while looking down. “What is it?”

I didn’t say a word. Instead, I carefully withdrew the package from the special container in my back. It was about time. Good things are good precisely because they can only last so long. Otherwise they would rapidly lose value and eventually become fatally commonplace.

“This is for you, little Pasha,” I whispered. “Don’t open it until you get home tonight.”

Pasha’s eyes glittered with surprise as she looked at the package. “What is it?”

“It’s a special surprise,” I explained. “I promise you will like it.”

“Would you like to.. umm..” Pasha slowly withdrew an envelope from her pocket.

I smiled at her, another genuine smile, one I didn’t know I still had, born from deep within my dessicated heart. “Of course, Pasha. For you, anything.”

Pasha looked at me suspiciously. “You’re acting strange today Mister. Is everything ok?”

I shook my head sadly. “No, dear Pasha. This world is all wrong. But tonight, just for tonight, you are everything that is right in my world, and that is enough for now.”

Pasha gagged. “Ewww, Senor Miguel, you’re going all soft and mushy on me. You’ve gotta toughen up if you want to make it in this world, ya know?”

I scratched my head, then nodded down at the unsolicited advice.

“Alright, thanks for the gift. I have to go back now. My sisters will be worrying sick. Oh, and read this when you get back home,” She hurriedly added as she shoved the little scrap of paper into my hand. “Make sure to read it when you get home, ok? I’ll get really mad if you don’t. And make sure you come. Ah, that is, make sure you do what it says in there, ok?”

Strangely, more than anything, it was this last gesture that reminded me so vividly of little Pasha that almost broke my composure, but I held on to the very end. I kept smiling and nodding as she waved her good-bye, then dashed off into the gloom.

I watched her small silhouette disappear into the distance, then took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

“Enough. I’m done playing your little games,” I grated out, in low and measured tones charged with killing intent.

After a brief silence, a female voice, rich and resonant filled my ears, as though it were echoing from within my own head.

“Most impressive, mortal. Thou art the first to pierce the dreams of lives past quite so effortlessly. I am the Lady Elienne, First of the Eternal. I bid thee welcome to the Labyrinth of Souls.”

I turned around to gaze at the speaker, wearing my most vicious, blood-thirsty wolf grin.

“About damn time. Let’s you and I get this show started.”