Austria, Earth

It was drizzling on the old retirement home in the outskirts of Vienna. For decades, this place was a luxurious private twenty-bed mansion. Now, it was nothing more than a sad doorstep to death. Careless management and a refusal to invest in the structure had reduced this beautiful building to nothing more than a mausoleum where the forgotten came to die. The Mountain Ridge Residence was where the ingrate children of the rich parked their senile parents as they plundered their estates.

Takeda, the resident of room 20C, was the patriarch of this sad place. This old man had trampled the lives of many over the course of his life. He'd made sure he loved no one. In fairness, no one ever loved him back. If Takeda were conscious, he'd find his impending end fitting. He would be the first to send himself to die in this shit-hole. To Takeda, a virologist, humans were nothing more than an apex predator.

He was the only human worthy of having his photo on the nightstand of the most dangerous man on earth.

The road of the Sixth Attraction sadly travelled to the horrors of this place.

The Vienna night air was damp and cold; this was the type of night when rooms at the Ridge were vacated by dead bodies. Tonight, if destiny was given a chance to roam these halls, Room 20C would need a new resident. The faint beep of Takeda's heart monitor was the only sound in his dark room. Takeda's only heir, his son, made sure the old monster was neglected or even mistreated by the staff.

The hallway to his room needed paint. Around the thin bed laid shabby furniture that had known far better days. The curtains covered an open window, allowing a cold wind to continually caress the immobile body pushing it to hell. The dying man's heart rate was no more than a whisper. At the age of 104, nothing in this room could be cause for concern. Takeda was in a deep coma from which he would never awaken.

A lonely wooden chair awaited in the corner of his. Its placement was odd, as if it was reserved for death herself. Given the monstrosities Takeda had perpetuated in his life, Mountain Ridge Residence remained an impressive improvement over the deepest pits of Hell. That would be rectified soon enough. After all, Takeda held a pre-punched ticket to Satan’s favorite nightclub. Just by looking at his body today, it was impossible to guess that this man was once one of most influential men in the world.

His former power was irrelevant; Takeda was now rotting.

Outside the Ridge, five dark cars were driving up the winding road. No one was there to notice, but the first and last two cars were security escorts for the reinforced middle stretch limo. In it, arrived human evil.

"Remi," murmured the old man sitting in the back of limo, "get on the phone the head of that shitty place. A private, secured line." The driver pushed a button and connected his passenger. The conversation would play on the speakers as this man cared little about bothering others. The man's skin was white and his eyes sunken in deep blackened sockets.

"Yes?" answered the voice. It spoke English with a strong German accent.

"This is the new owner. Is everything ready for 20C? We are minutes away."

"Yes, Mr..." The man's voice on the other end became tense. He had almost said the name he was instructed never to disclose.

The old man in the back of the car, looked up. His limo driver held two fingers in the air. "Two minutes," he said to the man in the Ridge. “Don’t fuck this up.”

"We did not expect you so soon. I will initiate the evacuation. Give us ten minutes. The instruments you requested are in the room under the chair."

The limo driver lifted a hand with five spread fingers. This indicated to his valuable passenger that, at best, he could slow down and be there in five minutes. The pale man continued, "You have three minutes until we arrive. Once we are on-site, no one, including yourself, will be permitted to leave if still there. Understood?" Nick hung up. The question had been rhetorical. Nick was neither a kind or tolerant man. He made the comatose Takeda, locked in Room 20C, appear warm and caring by comparison. Takeda was, the only one he considered a friend and he was looking forward to what would come next.

The rain continued to fall amidst a light fog.

Tadeka had once been an amazing man. As a student, his dorm room was covered with plaques and awards. He was brilliant and gifted, certainly, but he lacked compassion or humility. At thirty, fresh off his post-doctorate, he was an established biochemist and a virologist. His fuzzy ethical boundaries got him noticed by important scummy investors. He quickly climbed the ladders of a secret branch within the Hitabi Corporation.

At fifty, after creating the worst virus humankind could conceive, he became a powerful CEO on the board of multiple Keiretsu. Tadeka's life was not perfect, but it had been full. His first wife remarried, his second wife was long dead. His only son hated him for killing her. The bastard was right, he had killed her. The perfect murder was rather easy to commit for someone with above-average intelligence.

Tadeka had many secrets. He was the only human still alive who knew everything about the awful viruses he had created. With the exception of one of these weapons, none of them, to his knowledge, had ever been used. If he was still capable of thought, he wouldn't care. Blame was for others. In exchange for his service, for the viruses, influential friends had retired him to a management role where he had finished his long life in wealth. Takeda was already dead inside, and his body was simply catching up.

On the road, several cars quickly left the Ridge via the winding gravel road. They passed the convoy on their way out as they arrived at the rotting manor.

Inside, the elevator of the Ridge dinged, but Takeda could not hear it. Men walked out from it in a paramilitary formation. They were part of a heavy security detail. In the middle of the group walked the man from the limo. The signs were clear, the man was infected with the Meta virus, the powerful bug once created by Takeda. He was one of the infected, yet the man would disagree on the choice of word. Nick felt he was blessed by the virus. Few would share his views.

Nick, known as the Ghost was walking slowly with the help of a long black cane. The man took his time; no one ever rushed him. Today would be no exception. The security guards opened the door to room 20C. They increased the light in the room and surveyed the memorabilia. The man in the bed was a sad copy of his former self. The husk was now a hundred pounds below a comfortable weight. If Nick cared, the scene would sadden him, but the CEO smiled as he entered the room. He confirmed, this was his former employee: the great and forgotten Takeda. He touched his hand.

The pale ghost nodded to his team and pointed his cane at the packages under the chair and bed. A doctor wearing a white coat entered the room holding a silver suitcase. The nervous practitioner clicked the latches open and pulled out from it what appeared to be very expensive equipment. The doctor pulled two long cables and connected a first small electrode to the base of the skull of the comatose body, and a second electrode he placed on the armrest of the chair in the room.

"Sir, we are ready for the link. Be very careful. The dreams of this man may be..." He looked at the old ghost and stopped talking. Nick simply did not care. The ghost sat, placed his cane carefully against the wall and connected the second electrode on his own neck. Nick closed his eyes and fell into the dream of the comatose man under the watchful eye of the Doctor.

Takeda's blood was filled with pain medication, and his mind was fogged by the drugs, his age and his deterioration. Once in this old brain, the ghost felt like he was floating in water or in some thick gas. "Takeda, my friend, are you in this somewhere?" said the ghost in the dying man's mind.

There was silence. No image. No friend. "What, who?" finally said a distant voice. It was irritated.

"You are in a coma, my friend, at death's door."

"Who the fuck is this?"

"Nick." There was a chuckle.

"Will you haunt me to no end? Leave me alone." Takeda waited to see what the Meta would say. He said nothing. "Why are you here?"

"We need you. We have one last task for you."

The words coming from anyone else would have sounded ridiculous, but not from this inhuman bastard. Takeda was in no condition to humor the man. "I am dying. What the fuck do you want?" The conversation wasn't sophisticated, it was the best the dying man could muster.

"We need to know if you still have the will to live." The question was difficult to answer.

"No. Leave me alone."

"Is there nothing you want?"

"Go fuck yourself," said Takeda.

"We can offer you our eternity."

"Not as one like you. Have you seen yourself? You look like vampire from a cheap movie."

Nick laughed. "We know, we know. We never understood that about you." The debate was too philosophical for the dying man. "We kept our end of our bargain, and you kept yours. Our secret dies with you today. There is no one on Earth our organization trusts more. We now need your help again." That was a start. "Takeda, what we need from you is..." There was a pause, and then finally both voices spoke at the same time. The first said "worst" the other "evil." Both were right.

"My body is dying," said Takeda.

"We can fix that. I brought a cocktail to regenerate your body."

"There is one thing I want."

"There is?"

"Yes."

"What is this?"

"A boon, a boon from your mafia of old fucking bats."

Nick's laughter resonated in the mind. Nick did not recall the last time he laughed so hard. He loved Takeda. The Visconti, the council of the Meta was clear, it could grant no boons. The practice was forbidden, and against the charter of the group. The medieval version of the Visconti, the original secret society, was destroyed because of a boon it granted to the Templars. A boon was a vow of obedience; a favor that could not be refused. The Templars had asked the Visconti to take part in the last crusade.

Finally Nick replied, "Let me ask. If you end up in hell, the council has refused your demand."

In the blink of an eye, Nick was back in the room next to the dying carcass. The Meta removed his electrode and returned to the sad reality of the retirement home. Outside, it was still raining. Nick looked at his Rolex. He had been in this man's mind for nearly two hours, but it had seemed to him like only minutes. He gestured for everyone to leave the room except the doctor who was tending to his patient.

"He is weakening," said the doctor. "We have, if any, little time."

Nick picked up a small hand-held cell phone, a relic from an earlier generation phone from a different era. He pushed a button and the thing dialed automatically. There were advantages to owning the corporation making these devices.

"Speak," said a slow whisper of a voice. "The Visconti council is assembled and hears you. Has he accepted?"

Nick Schmidbauer, the Chairman of that group, answered. "Takeda never asked what we need of him. He knows it must involve some form of genocide; it always does. He agreed but at one condition." The ghost knew the others would immediately refuse, "The only payment he will accept is a boon from the council itself." As expected, there was an outcry on the line. But all the members, like himself were individuals infected by the Meta virus and incapable of speaking loudly. "There is little time."

"Can he even do what we need of him?" asked one ghost on the line. The question was mostly rhetoric.

"If he fails, we owe him no boon." replied Nick. "He is the only human with any chance of success. We have little time. You are the ones who trusted that other idiot, not me."

The situation was obviously complex. "The council cannot grant a boon. It is against our rules," said a woman in a slow voice.

Nick was quick with his reply, "The council can do as it pleases in this matter, but the vote must be unanimous. I think Takeda is the only human who deserve this honor irrespective to this new request. We owe him."

"We owe no one! How does he know about the boon?" queried a different voice from the Council.

"Good question," answered Nick. "For the moment, I do not know. There is no negotiation. He is on the edge of death and has accepted it. He does not know, but what we ask of him is beyond value, we all know it. No human alive can or would be willing to do it. The boon if given will be in the Ark." Several people on the line agreed. "We never expected the cost to be free. Our father would not have made a mediocre request. A boon is actually a reasonable payment under these circumstances."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Anyone opposes?" asked Nick.

"Me," said a voice. "We must impose a limitation. We cannot give a blank check to this man. We have other options."

"May I remind to this Council, and to you personally, Tim, who Takeda is. He is the Council's only ally. He held our secret unto death. He was under no obligation to do so."

There was silence.

"Sir, I am losing the pulse," said the doctor in the room. The Visconti members heard him.

"Takeda is slipping away. We must proceed now. My contact with him was stressful on this frail body. Do we have unanimity?"

After a long silence, a different voice talked. "The Council agrees. The boon will be his once and if he succeeds. Assuming we use his solution. Please proceed with the regeneration. I want to see him suffer."

"So do I."